by Joanne Fluke
“Yes, quite a bit younger.”
“It must be difficult to chase a younger female,” Barbara said, laughing a little. “Those are words to live by, Hannah . . . especially if you’re our mayor.”
Hannah laughed and so did Barbara, but Barbara sobered quickly. “Do you think Moishe will wake up if the monster comes?”
Hannah felt her heart sink down to her toes. It was obvious that Barbara still had one of her delusions. “I’m sure he’ll wake up,” she said.
“That’s a relief. I just know he’s coming tonight. There’s a moon. There’s always a moon when the monster comes. That’s how I know he’s white.” Barbara stopped speaking and frowned. “What is it called when you’re white but you shouldn’t be? Everyone else around you is colored. It’s . . . something to do with lack of pig . . . pig . . . pig-something.”
It took Hannah a moment, but then she caught on. “Pigment,” she said. “A person or an animal lacking pigmentation is called albino.”
“That’s it! Albino! My mother said they had an albino hired hand on the farm when she was growing up. He had to wear dark glasses all the time because he had trouble with his eyes. Thank you, Hannah. I’m not sure I would have remembered that word without you.”
“You’re welcome, Barbara. You mentioned your mother. What was your mother’s name?”
“There she is at the kitchen table, eating a big bowl of strawberries. Berries. Berry. My mother’s name was Terry. That’s short for Theresa. My mother’s name was Theresa.”
“Wonderful! How about your dad? What was his name?”
“There’s Dad at Hal and Rose’s Café, eating a patty melt. Paddy. That’s short for Patrick. My dad’s name is Patrick.”
“What was the former sheriff’s name?”
“He’s in his office watering a plant. It’s . . . Sheriff Grant!”
“Very good. Now, what was your father’s name?”
Barbara was silent for a long moment and then she shook her head. “I don’t like that one, Hannah. I don’t remember. I’m tired now and I think I want to go to sleep. Is that all right with you?”
“That’s fine with me, Barbara. I’m tired, too. I’ll sleep right here on the cot.”
“All right, Hannah. Sweet dreams.”
“And sweet dreams to you, Barbara.”
The cot was uncomfortable, but she was tired. Even though she tried to stay awake for a while, Hannah felt herself dozing off. She dreamed of a white monster and she felt her eyes fly open. And there it was! Right there on the wall! It was a shadow, a grotesque shadow that looked like a combination between a rat and a humpback seal. The monster was gliding along the floor.
She must be dreaming. She had to be dreaming. The shadow was at least four feet tall and the monster was as long as Barbara’s hospital bed. It was stealthy and silent as it traveled around the room, and Hannah didn’t seem capable of moving, or calling for help, or doing anything except stare at the monster.
And then there was a thud as something heavy hit the floor. And a screech, followed by a yowl that split the night air.
Moishe was a blur of movement as he hissed, and puffed up to twice his normal size, and confronted something on the floor at the foot of Barbara’s bed.
“Moishe!” Hannah sat bolt upright on the cot as something white, a creature much smaller than the menacing shadow, raced toward the window and leaped out through the screen.
Hannah moved faster than she’d ever moved before in her life, jumping off the cot to catch Moishe in mid-air as he was about to leap out of the window in hot pursuit.
“It was the monster!” Barbara exclaimed. “I told you there was a monster! Nobody believed me when I said it was real.”
“They’ll believe you now,” Hannah promised, shutting the window, but not before she saw the torn screen. Then she took Moishe back to Barbara’s bed and put him down so that Barbara could pet him.
“My big brave Moishe!” Barbara murmured, petting and soothing him. “What a wonderful brave kitty you are! You saved me, Moishe. I knew you would.” And then she turned to Hannah. “The monster was real, wasn’t it, Hannah?”
“Yes, it was,” Hannah answered, shivering slightly. Perhaps, in the daylight, she might not have been so startled, but the shadow had been truly frightening.
“What was it?” Barbara asked her. “Was it some kind of animal?”
“It was a weasel. Some people call them stoats. I saw a couple of them when I stayed overnight with my grandparents on the farm. The weasels used to try to get into my grandmother’s hen house to steal the eggs, but I’ve never seen any that large before. You were right, Barbara. It was an albino weasel.”
“I’ve never seen a weasel.” Barbara’s voice was shaking. “No wonder I didn’t know what it was! Will it come in here again?”
“Never,” Hannah promised her. “The window’s shut now so it can’t get in. Your screen was torn at the bottom and that’s how it got in. I’ll find Freddy in the morning and ask him to replace it for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Aweasel!” Michelle exclaimed. “No wonder Barbara was scared. They’re ugly.”
“That’s true and its shadow was huge. It was enough to scare me when I saw it.”
“And you’d seen weasels before,” Delores pointed out.
Lisa gave a little shiver. “I’m glad I wasn’t there. I’ve never seen a weasel and I don’t think I want to.”
“At least it’s all taken care of now,” Delores said. “Doc said Freddy replaced that screen at seven this morning. Barbara won’t have to worry about monsters anymore.”
Just the two-legged kind, Hannah thought, remembering what Barbara had said about her brother.
“I’d better start the coffee in the coffee shop,” Lisa said, carrying her coffee cup to the sink.
Michelle was right behind her. “I’ll get the tables ready,” she said.
“And I’d better go over to Granny’s Attic and get to work. Luanne brought in some items from an estate. I have to price them and put them out on the floor.”
Hannah sat there for a moment, wondering what she should be doing. Michelle and Lisa were taking care of the coffee shop, the baking was done, and the industrial dishwasher was washing all the bowls and utensils they’d used. There really wasn’t anything for her to do.
“Except to solve Doctor Bev’s murder case,” Hannah said aloud. “And figure out who attacked Barbara in the penthouse garden.”
“Hannah?” Lisa came through the swinging restaurant-type door that led to the coffee shop. “Oh! I thought your mother was still here.”
“No, she left right after you went out to the coffee shop.”
“But . . . I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
“It was no one important,” Hannah said with a laugh. “I was just talking to myself.”
“I do that all the time. But I’ve got Sammy so I can always use the excuse that I was talking to the dog.”
“Too bad he’s not here. I could have used that excuse.” Hannah pointed to the small padded envelope that Lisa was carrying. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s for you. I stopped by the post office before I went home yesterday, and this was in our box.” Lisa handed it over. “What smells like chocolate?”
“Brownie mix cookies. I decided to use up the brownie mix that Andrea bought for me and I just threw them together as an experiment.”
“Can I have one?”
“Sure. Get it from the bottom rack. Those are the Fruit and Nut Brownie Cookies.”
Lisa went to get a cookie and Hannah looked at the address on the envelope. It was written in green ink and it read, Hannah Swensen, The Cookie Jar, Lake Eden, Minnesota. “No street address,” she said.
“I noticed that. There’s no zip code either.” Lisa took a bite of her cookie and smiled. “These are really good cookies, Hannah.”
“Thanks.” Hannah looked down at the envelope again. “Our box numb
er’s not on here, either. It’s a good thing we live in Lake Eden and they know who we are at the post office. I wonder who sent it.”
“Maybe you should open it and see what’s inside. There could be a note or something.”
“Good idea.” Hannah pulled the tear strip on the padded envelope and peered into the envelope. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything inside.” She held the envelope open, turned it upside down, and shook it out on the counter.
There was a clink as something hit the countertop. Both Hannah and Lisa stared at it for a moment and then Lisa asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a button. And it’s shaped like a . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and grabbed Lisa’s hand as she reached for it. “Don’t touch it!”
Lisa pulled back quickly. “Why?”
“It’s a button from the blouse Barbara wore the night she jumped from the penthouse garden. There could be fingerprints on it. Do we have any paper bags?”
“Sure.” Lisa ran to the pantry to get out one of the wax-lined paper bags they used when someone bought one or two cookies to go. “Here.”
Hannah considered the bag for a moment and then she shrugged. It was lined with wax, but it would have to do. If she left the button out on the counter, someone would be sure to pick it up and destroy any potential fingerprints.
“Okay,” she said, grabbing a paper napkin and pushing the button into the bag. “I’d better call Mike.”
“I’ll do it,” Lisa said, heading back into the coffee shop to use the phone there.
A few seconds later, there was a knock on the back door and Hannah went to answer it. It couldn’t be Mike. Lisa had barely had time to pick up the phone and punch in the number for the sheriff’s station.
“Norman!” Hannah was pleased when she saw him standing there. “Come in and have coffee. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“What did Bev send you?” Norman asked, noticing the envelope on the countertop.
“Doctor Bev?”
“Yes. That’s her handwriting.” He pointed to the padded envelope on the counter. “And she always used green ink, even years ago when we were in dental school.”
Hannah felt her knees turn weak and she leaned heavily against the counter. It was a package from a dead woman, a woman who had been murdered.
“What is it?” Norman hurried over and put his arms around her to steady her. “Take a deep breath, Hannah. You look like you’re about to keel over.”
“I’m okay now,” Hannah said, even though she wasn’t entirely sure she was. “It was just a shock, that’s all.”
“You still look kind of shaky. Do you want some water, or something?”
“Water would be good, but chocolate would be better.”
“Where is it?”
Hannah pointed to the baker’s rack where her experimental brownie cookies were cooling.
“I figured that around here chocolate would be easy,” Norman said, heading over to the baker’s rack and picking up a cookie. He carried it over to her and put it in her hand. “Eat this.”
Hannah took a huge bite and her eyes began to water. “Where was this cookie? Which rack?” she managed to gasp out.
Norman shrugged. “I think it was the top rack. Do you want me to check?”
“No, but water would be good now. Water would be very, very good! Second thought? Milk! Just bring me the carton. And please hurry!”
Norman was back in very short order with a carton of milk in one hand and a glass in the other. “Here you go,” he said, trying to hand her the glass. But Hannah waved the glass away and grabbed the carton. A second later, she was glugging down milk straight out of the carton, something she’d never been allowed to do when she was a child.
“Is there something wrong with this cookie?” Norman asked her, bending down to pick up the rest of the cookie that Hannah had dropped on the floor.
“No. It’s perfect. Mike’s going to love them when he gets here. Better dump the rest of that cookie in the garbage and wash your hands before you touch your face or rub your eyes.”
Norman examined the pieces of cookie he held in his hand, and started to laugh. “Chopped Jalapenos,” he said.
“Right. I made three batches of brownie cookies. One has raisins, chocolate chips, and walnuts. They’re called Fruit and Nut Brownie Cookies. The second batch has chopped green chilies. They’re called Hot Stuff Brownie Cookies. And the third batch has chopped jalapenos. I’m calling those Four Alarm Brownie Cookies.”
“And I gave you a cookie from the four alarm batch?”
“Right. And guess what?”
“What?”
“I don’t feel at all shaky any longer. I just feel like drinking more milk.”
By the time Norman left, Hannah felt much better. She’d told him all about Moishe’s encounter with the weasel and he’d shared her excitement over the fact that one of Barbara’s delusions hadn’t turned out to be a delusion after all. But Norman hadn’t been able to offer any reasonable explanation for the button that Doctor Bev had sent to Hannah. They’d gone through the possibilities and had come up with only one scenario that worked. The crime scene team had missed the button when they’d searched the penthouse and Doctor Bev had come across it when she’d moved some of her things to the penthouse on the morning of her death.
The oven timer rang and Hannah took the final batch of cookies from the oven. The Cookie Jar was crowded again today and she’d mixed up a batch of Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies just in case the dozens and dozens of cookies they’d already baked weren’t enough. Once the cookie sheets were on the racks and cooling, Hannah sat down with a cup of fresh coffee and thought about the package that Doctor Bev had sent her.
There were so many unanswered questions. Why hadn’t Doctor Bev written her name anywhere on the envelope? Was it because she had wanted to remain anonymous? Or had Doctor Bev simply dropped the envelope in a handy mailbox, intending to tell Hannah where she’d found it before it came in the mail? There was another possibility, a darker possibility that neither Norman nor Hannah had mentioned. Was Doctor Bev the person who had attacked Barbara? She hadn’t been a large woman, but neither was Barbara and Doctor Bev was younger and stronger. But then why had Barbara told them that her brother had attacked her? If Barbara was unable to remember Doctor Bev’s name, wouldn’t she have said her sister instead of her brother?
Hannah gave a sigh of pure frustration. She simply couldn’t explain why Doctor Bev had sent the button to her. That was the trouble with trying to devise a likely scenario when you were missing key pieces of the puzzle. There was only one person who could have filled in the gaps and that person, Doctor Bev, had been murdered before she could explain anything to anybody.
“Lisa called the station and said you needed me,” Mike said, walking into the kitchen from the coffee shop. “What’s up, Hannah?”
Hannah pointed to the padded envelope on the counter. “This,” she said. “It came in yesterday’s mail and I opened it this morning. The only thing inside the envelope was a button from the blouse Barbara was wearing the night she was attacked.”
“Did you touch the button?”
“No. I used a paper napkin to push it in here.” Hannah handed him the small paper bag.
Mike opened the bag and glanced inside. “It’s pretty small and it’s got a rough surface, but maybe they can recover some partials. You touched the envelope when you opened it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and so did Lisa. She got it out of our box at the post office and she carried it in here to me.”
“I think we can forget about fingerprints on the envelope. It went through the mail and it must have been handled by several people including Lisa and you.” Mike walked over and picked up the envelope to examine it. “There’s nothing distinctive about the envelope. You can buy them at any stationary store. No return address?”
“None, but I know who it’s from.”
Mike looked surprised. “You do?”
“Yes.
Norman recognized the handwriting. And the fact that it was addressed in green ink convinced him that it was from Doctor Bev.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re sure the button is from Barbara’s blouse? Maybe somebody else had the same outfit.”
“No. We noticed the buttons the night of the party. Barbara told us her outfit was a designer original from Beau Monde Fashions. Claire would never sell two outfits that were exactly the same.” When Mike looked perfectly clueless, Hannah laughed. “Never mind. It’s something a guy would never understand. Let’s just say that I’m almost positive no other woman in town has a button like that.”
Mike stared at the button for a moment and then he looked up at Hannah. “So what do you think? Was Doctor Bev trying to tell you that she attacked Barbara?”
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think so. That would mean that she felt guilty and wanted to confess. And I don’t think she ever felt guilty in her life.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
“There’s another reason I don’t believe she attacked Barbara. What possible motive could she have? She barely knew Barbara.”
“So you have any idea why she sent the button to you?”
“None whatsoever. Norman and I talked about it. It could be something as simple as the crime scene techs missed the button when they searched the penthouse and she found it later.”
Mike shook his head. “I’m almost sure that didn’t happen. I was there and I saw them go over every inch of the place.”
“How about the penthouse garden?”
“They raked all the dirt and vacuumed everything else. If that button was there, they would have found it.”
“How about outside in the rose garden where Barbara landed?”
“They raked that, too. I don’t believe Doctor Bev found that button in or around the hotel. I think she came across it somewhere else.”
“Okay, but why did she send it to me?”
“Because she knew you were Barbara’s friend and you’d visited her in the hospital.”
