Plum Pudding Murder Bundle with Candy Cane Murder & Sugar Cookie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Do you think I should go back to The Glass Slipper and have a little talk with the salespeople to see if I can find out more about the man who bought them? I wouldn’t mind a pair of new boots for myself.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Hannah said, handing her mother the package of cookie bars she’d wrapped for her to take home.

  “Thanks for the information, Delores.” Norman stood up and grabbed Delores’s coat. “It’s a big relief to know that the man Mother is dating is local.”

  Delores shrugged into the coat that Norman was holding for her. “Goodbye, dear,” she said to Hannah. “Goodbye, Norman.”

  “I’ll see you to your car,” Norman told her, grabbing his jacket and putting it on. “I’m leaving now anyway. Hannah needs her sleep.”

  Hannah waved and as the door closed behind them, she gave a relieved sigh. She was tired and she wanted to go to bed. Her alarm clock was set for four in the morning and it was already past ten-thirty. If she wanted to get more than five hours of sleep, she had to turn in right now.

  It only took a moment to put the coffee mugs and dessert plate in the dishwasher and make sure the cake pans with bars inside were tightly covered with cat-proof lids. Hannah switched off the bright kitchen light and was about to pick up her lethargic feline to carry him into the bedroom when there was a knock at her door.

  Hannah knew there were only two possibilities for callers who’d knock on her door this late. It was either Mike or a home invasion robbery. Hannah was betting on the former when she crossed to the door and opened it.

  Mike looked surprised. “Don’t you ever ask who’s there?”

  “Why should I do that? I knew it was you.”

  “How did you know that? You didn’t even stop to look through the peephole.”

  “The peephole doesn’t work. The security light’s too bright and all I can see is a dark shape in front of it.”

  Mike gave an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to invite me in? Or are we going to stand here and argue all night?”

  Hannah had the urge to shut the door. She was tired and she wanted to go to bed. But then Mike smiled and her irritation vanished in a wave of longing for a bit of private time with Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department chief detective. There was also the fact that Mike was investigating the same crime that she was, and she might be able to pry some official information from him.

  “Come in, Mike. It’s good to see you,” Hannah put on the cheeriest voice she could muster. “I’ll put on the coffee if you’d like some.”

  “That would be good. I’ve been out in the field all day.”

  Food. He wanted food. Hannah felt like groaning, but she managed to keep the pleasant expression on her face. “You didn’t eat dinner?”

  “Yeah, I ate. I stopped for a patty melt and fries at the café before they closed. I didn’t have dessert, though. All Rose had left was a piece of raisin pie.”

  There was a pregnant silence. Hannah let it go on for several seconds. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, waving him over to the couch. A half-dozen Nancy Dunn Cookie Bars ought to elicit some information from the man who didn’t like raisin pie.

  It didn’t take long to brew the coffee. Hannah sneaked out a cup before the whole pot had brewed, and emerged from the kitchen with a steaming mug and a plate of cookie bars. “Here you go,” she said, setting them down on the coffee table in front of her erstwhile boyfriend.

  “These look good,” Mike said, and took one. He took a bite, smiled, and said, “They are good. What are they?”

  “Date and oatmeal bar cookies.” Hannah figured it was time to ask him some questions before she fell asleep. “Do you have any suspects yet?”

  “Only one.”

  “And that would be…?” Hannah waited, but no answer was forthcoming.

  “When you and Norman entered the trailer, how far did you go?”

  “Not far. I told you before, I just had a funny feeling something wasn’t right.”

  “A premonition? Were there any subliminal clues that warned you that something was wrong inside?”

  Hannah just stared at him for a minute and then she laughed. “If they were subliminal, I wouldn’t have consciously registered them.”

  “Sorry. You’re right. Let me rephrase that. Were there any clues that warned you that something was wrong inside the trailer?”

  “I don’t think so, at least none that I remember. It was probably just that Larry said he’d be there, but he didn’t answer the door.”

  “Okay,” Mike took a sip of his coffee. “Back to the important stuff. Did you, at any time, approach the flat screen television set?”

  “No. I saw the bullet holes though. At first I thought maybe Larry got mad and threw something at the screen. And then I realized that they were probably bullet holes.” Hannah stopped speaking and stared at him. “Why do you want to know if I was close to Larry’s television set?”

  “Because there was a bloody footprint and the crime lab just got back to us this afternoon. The blood was Larry’s and they’re ninety-nine percent positive the footprint was made by a woman. I just stopped by to eliminate your prints. What boots were you wearing that night?”

  “The only ones I have, my moose-hide boots.”

  “Could I see them please?”

  Hannah got up to get them, but then she turned back to Mike. “You’re not going to take them, are you? I’m going to need them in the morning.”

  “All I need is the left one. And I may not have to take it.”

  “Thanks,” Hannah said a trifle sarcastically, already envisioning a one-footed hop down the stairs in the early morning to her cookie truck.

  Her boots were on the rug by the side of the door. Hannah picked up the left one and carried it over to Mike. “Here,” she said.

  Mike turned the boot over, took one look, and handed it back. “Okay,” he said. “The print’s not yours.”

  “You can tell if there’s blood on the sole of my boot by just looking?” Hannah was amazed at his investigative skills.

  “No. Your boot is a lot bigger than the boot that made the print. What size is it anyway?”

  “Six,” Hannah said, cheating by several integers. She was lying to the authorities, but she felt justified since her boot had already been eliminated. “How about Courtney? What size boot does she wear?”

  “Five, but it has a different type of heel. Mr. Jaeger’s fiancée left the park early and drove out to the Inn. A couple of the employees told me that she had an altercation with Mr. Jaeger before she left, but Sally said she was sitting in the kitchen talking to her from nine-twenty until almost ten.”

  “Are there any other women suspects?” Hannah asked, knowing that there was at least one more. If Dr. Love was lucky, Mike hadn’t found out about her marriage to Larry yet and Hannah could clear her before he did.

  “There were several women involved in Mr. Jaeger’s case. We found three local females who were having…uh…” Mike stopped and looked slightly embarrassed.

  “Play dates?” Hannah suggested.

  “That’s good. I like that! These three local women were having play dates with Mr. Jaeger, but they all have alibis for the time of the murder.”

  “So that’s it for the women suspects?” Hannah asked, wondering if she dared cross her fingers.

  “No, there’s one more. Thanks to your tip about Mr. Jaeger’s business practices, we did an extensive search of his financial records. That’s when we discovered that one woman suspect had a very compelling motive. Now all we have to do is gather more evidence and then we can make an arrest.”

  Hannah felt her spirits take a nosedive. She thought she knew, but she had to ask. “Who’s your suspect?”

  “Mr. Jaeger’s wife. She stands to gain the most from his death. I just came from interviewing her and I like her.”

  Hannah knew that Mike’s like was not the same as her like. When Mike said like, it referred to the person he’d like to arrest for Larry J
aeger’s murder. But what if Larry’s current wife wasn’t Dr. Love? What if he’d filed for a quickie divorce in another state and married someone else?

  “She has no alibi for the time of the murder, and over two million in various banks in the tri-state area is one heck of a motive. When her boots come back from the crime lab we’ll know for sure.”

  Hannah swallowed hard and asked the question. “Who is it?”

  “You probably know her as Dr. Love. She’s a psychology professor at the community college and she has this cock-and-bull story about how she hasn’t talked to her husband in fifteen years.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The alarm clock was set for four in the morning, but Hannah awoke before it went off. She sat up in bed and glanced at the clock. It was three forty-seven. What had happened to wake her up thirteen minutes before the alarm went off?

  All was silent in her darkened condo. Hannah had just laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes when there was a bloodcurdling yowl. It was the kind of sound that would have made her hair stand on end if it hadn’t already been impossibly mussed by an uneasy night’s sleep.

  Another yowl, equally loud, followed the first, and Hannah sprang into action. She jumped out of bed, no time for her slippers, and raced down the hallway. No time to flick on the light. Moishe was in trouble and she had to help him.

  Enough light spilled in from the outside for Hannah to see what was wrong. Her cat was hanging perilously from the top branch of her Christmas tree in a repeat performance of last night’s gravity-defying stunt.

  It was a good thing she’d forgotten to put away the stepstool. Hannah positioned it quickly and climbed up to rescue her pet. Something had to be done about her Christmas tree and fast.

  She’d just poured her first cup of coffee when Michelle appeared in the kitchen doorway. “What happened?” she asked. “I heard Moishe yowling.”

  “He climbed the Christmas tree again and he couldn’t get down.”

  “That’s bad. I know they say cats climb down from trees eventually, but I’m not sure I believe it.”

  “Me, either.” Hannah filled a second cup with coffee and handed it to her sister. Then she led the way to the almost-antique kitchen table and they both sat down.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Michelle asked. “Enclose the whole tree in a cat-proof cage?”

  Hannah gave a little shrug. “It’s either that or enclose the whole cat in a tree-proof cage.”

  Of course Lisa had urged her to go and not give a second thought to their business at The Cookie Jar. And when Hannah worried aloud about how Lisa could handle everyone alone, Lisa said she’d already called Herb’s Aunt Patsy who was coming down to wait tables for her. Hannah was free to go search for Larry’s killer. Lisa and Patsy would take care of everything else.

  Hannah watched the weather go by outside the passenger window of Norman’s car. The weatherman on KCOW radio was predicting snow later tonight with an increase in wind velocity.

  “Did you hear that?” Norman asked her, taking the access road to the college and driving up the big hill where Hannah had seen the students sledding.

  “I heard. I hope it’s not the beginning of a big storm. Michelle said they’re giving several more performances before they close with a matinee on Christmas Day.”

  “I checked with the national weather service on the computer this morning and the maps didn’t show anything big in the works for the rest of this week. Next week is anyone’s guess.”

  “I’ll guess snow,” Hannah said with a grin. “There’s always snow this time of year.”

  Once Norman had parked and they’d crossed the road to the campus, Hannah led the way to Stewart Hall. “Miss Whiting’s classroom is on the second floor, third from the end on the left,” she told him, and opened the door to the stairway.

  Since they hadn’t rushed from the car to Stewart Hall, Hannah wasn’t out of breath when they reached the top of the stairs. As they stepped out of the stairwell, they heard a bell ring and the deserted hallway that stretched before them was suddenly filled with students. Norman took Hannah’s arm and steered her toward the end of the hall.

  Miss Whiting looked up when she saw them in the doorway. “Hello, there,” she said. “Did you come to turn in your homework?”

  “Not yet,” Hannah said. “I’d like you to meet Norman Rhodes. He’s a dentist in Lake Eden.”

  “You might be interested in my class,” Miss Whiting told him, “especially if you own your own practice. Do you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Miss Whiting opened her center desk drawer and pulled out a folded packet of papers. “This is our syllabus. I teach four business courses and the curriculum for each is enclosed. It’s very important for a professional to have a business plan. Do you have one?”

  “Yes.”

  Hannah decided it was time to rescue Norman from Miss Whiting’s questions. “Do you mind if I ask you something, Miss Whiting?”

  “Not at all as long as it pertains to your homework. Does it?”

  “As a matter of fact, it does. Was the handout you gave us from a Madison, Wisconsin business called Hollywood Home Theater?”

  Miss Whiting looked shocked. “Don’t tell me I failed to screen out the business name!”

  “No. You covered it completely. But are they records from Hollywood Home Theater?”

  “Well…yes. Yes, they are.”

  “It’s an amazing coincidence,” Norman said, stepping in to continue the questioning. “That business was owned by Larry Jaeger and he was murdered two nights ago in Lake Eden.”

  “Really? What was the owner of Hollywood Home Theater doing in Lake Eden?”

  “Running another business, the Crazy Elf Christmas Tree Lot,” Hannah said, catching the conversational ball. “And unless we’re mistaken, it looks as if he was involved in the same sort of bad business practices.”

  “And you think that’s why he was murdered?”

  “That’s right. What we’d like to know is why you chose Hollywood Home Theater for a homework assignment.”

  “Well, that’s simple. My graduate thesis involved bad business practices leading to bankruptcy. I researched all the bankruptcies in a five-state area to pick the most egregious cases, and Hollywood Home Theater was one of my examples.”

  “How about future homework assignments?” Norman asked her. “Do they involve other businesses that went bankrupt?”

  “Yes. That’s my area of concentration. Next week we’ll examine a used car dealership in Fargo. That will be followed by assignments concerning a video game franchise in Pierre, a fast food business in Des Moines, and an exotic juice bar in Rochester.”

  “Thank you, Miss Whiting,” Hannah said, as the next class of students began to file into the classroom.

  “You’re quite welcome.” Miss Whiting turned to Norman. “Do think about taking one of my classes, Dr. Rhodes. I think you’d enjoy it…and I’m sure I could teach you a thing or two.”

  Norman didn’t speak until they’d left the classroom, walked out of the building, and were several feet from the door. “Am I crazy, or do you think she was flirting with me?” he asked Hannah.

  “She was flirting with you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Norman looked pleased at her answer. “Not that I’m interested or anything like that, but I’m glad she didn’t just want her teeth whitened for free.”

  “I hope he’s got the coffeepot on,” Norman said as he pulled up to the county tow truck and snowplow driver’s house.

  “No, you don’t. I once heard Cyril Murphy refer to Earl’s coffee as one step worse than motor oil. And Cyril’s coffee comes in second on the worst coffee scale.”

  “Who’s number one?”

  “Jon Walker. He hasn’t washed his pot in years. The baked on old coffee residue is probably the only thing that’s keeping it from falling apart.”

  Norman dige
sted those comments for a moment and then he laughed. “Thanks, Hannah. I was craving a cup of coffee a minute or two ago.”

  “And now you’re not?”

  “That’s right. Tell me why we’re here, especially after Mike told you the killer was a woman.”

  “Mother said Earl was evasive about where he was when Larry was killed. And he refused to tell her if he was one of Larry’s investors. It may not have anything to do with Larry’s murder, but I want to find out why Earl’s not talking to Mother. They’ve been friends for years and he hurt her feelings. I could tell.”

  “Good answer. What do you want me to do?”

  “When we start talking about where he was at the time of the murder, I’m going to go into the kitchen for a glass of water. That way, if he was somewhere doing something he’s embarrassed to admit in front of Mother or me, he’ll tell you and then you’ll tell me later.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ve got that urge for coffee again and I don’t know how long I can fight it.”

  Earl looked surprised to see them when he opened the door. “Hannah,” he said, stepping back. “And Norman. Is somebody stuck in the ditch?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, Earl. We just wanted to talk to you for a minute. Can we come in?”

  “Well…yeah…sure. Sure you can come in.” Earl stepped aside and let them enter his living room. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “Tuesday night,” Hannah said jumping in quickly. “Where were you on Tuesday night, Earl?”

  Earl swallowed hard. Hannah could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he glanced at Norman and then back at her. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because it’s important. Why don’t you want to tell us?”

  “I…I can’t.” Earl looked so uncomfortable Hannah took pity on him. She gave a little cough, cleared her throat, and said, “I need a glass of water. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  As she went into the kitchen, Hannah heard Norman say something about certain subjects he wouldn’t want to discuss in front of women. Hannah smiled and hoped the man-to-man camaraderie would work. It was clear the two men liked each other. There was a good chance that Earl would tell Norman what he wouldn’t tell Delores or her.