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

by Joanne Fluke

  Hannah realized that was possible, especially if Santa sounded gruff. “I could make an announcement.”

  “What kind of announcement?” Santa Wayne asked in a rasping voice that left no question about his ability to speak in normal tones.

  “I could tell the kids that you ran into some thick fog over Greenland and you had to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ really loud so your voice would bounce off the ice caps and Donner and Blitzen wouldn’t fly into them.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard!” Santa Wayne rasped.

  Hannah shrugged. “I know, but I think it’ll work. Do you want me to do it?”

  Santa Wayne and Sally exchanged glances. “I guess it’s better than nothing,” he said, settling the question.

  Smile. Scatter left, scatter right, Hannah told herself, trying not to pant as she skipped. She’d only covered about half the distance and she was already out of breath, puffing faster than the caterpillar smoking a hookah in Tracey’s volume of Alice in Wonderland.

  Uh-oh! There was Mike, her sometime boyfriend! Hannah put on the best smile she could muster and tried to pretend she was having the time of her life. The fact that those portions of her anatomy she often wished were smaller and firmer were bouncing up and down and sideways like a loose bar of soap in a shower stall didn’t help. No one who saw her could possibly call her graceful. The best she could hope for was that they might consider her a good sport.

  Only a few more yards to go. Hannah concentrated on skipping forward and peppering her audience with candy canes. At least she’d finally figured out why the green leggings she wore were called tights. It was because they were tight. Extremely tight. So very tight that she felt like a sausage about to split open on a blazing hot barbecue grill.

  The ordeal was almost over and Hannah stopped to toss another few candy canes as Wayne climbed the steps to the stage. Then the curtains opened and the audience applauded as he gave Tracey a smile and sat down in his chair. He patted his knee, and Tracey climbed on to whisper in his ear. It was a sweet and heartwarming scene, and Hannah was grateful that everyone in the audience was watching Santa with Tracey as she climbed the steps to the stage and took her place to do what her Grandma Ingrid had always called speak her piece.

  “Santa almost didn’t make it tonight,” Hannah spoke the words she’d been rehearsing in her head, “so let’s give him a big round of applause to show how glad we are he made it here to the Lake Eden Inn.”

  The audience broke into loud applause and once it had diminished in volume, Hannah continued with her story. “Did you know that there was an awful storm at the North Pole when Santa started his Christmas journey?”

  “No!” several children shouted, and Hannah gave them a smile. “There was, believe me. Santa didn’t think he was going to make it, but do you know what he did?”

  “No!” This time the response was louder and Hannah went into her story about the polar ice caps and the fog as heavy as green pea soup. “So Santa had to sing all the way to the coast of Newfoundland to keep his reindeer from crashing into the ice caps. And he sang so loudly and so long, he strained his voice.”

  The younger children in line were nodding gravely. They’d believed her, just as she’d known they would. “Would you like to hear how funny Santa sounds?” she asked.

  There was a clamor of yeses and not all of them came from the children. Some of the adults were getting into the spirit of the evening, too.

  “Would you please say Ho Ho Ho for us, Santa?” she requested, turning toward him.

  “Ho, Ho, Ho!” Santa Wayne exclaimed hoarsely, and some of the children giggled. That drew a good-natured laugh from the adults and Hannah figured she’d done her part. There was only one more thing to mention. “So you won’t be afraid of Santa’s scratchy voice, will you?”

  “No!” several children shouted and almost all of them shook their heads. Her mission was accomplished and Hannah skipped over to take her place next to the mound of color-coded presents. The Santa, Tracey, and Elf Show was about to begin.

  Hannah and Tracey knew the drill. They’d even rehearsed it with Sally. Hannah would hand Tracey the appropriate present, Tracey would carry it to Santa, and Santa would give it to the child on his lap. Norman Rhodes, Hannah’s other boyfriend, would snap a picture for posterity. Then Michelle would escort the child to the rear of the line as Andrea brought the next child forward.

  The smallest children were at the front of the line and Hannah studied the mound of presents. They were arranged by age group. All she had to do was work from left to right and everyone would get an age-appropriate present. The packages were also color coded. If they were wrapped with gold and green paper, they were for the girls. The boys got presents wrapped with silver and red paper.

  The next few minutes were busy. Hannah chose the gifts, Tracey gave them to Santa, and Santa presented them. The children were delighted and Hannah was really getting into the spirit of the season by the time she picked up the last present. It was over. And she hadn’t died of mortification. Perhaps the mirror in Sally’s dressing room had waved the wrong way and caused her to look larger than she actually was. And perhaps all that skipping had jumbled her brain and affected her ability to separate reality from wishful thinking.

  There was standing applause as the children, all of them clutching their presents, were led out the door to their waiting bus. And then the curtains closed and Hannah fanned herself with her tasseled cap. Except for a few dropped candy canes and one toddler who would absolutely not sit on Santa’s lap and screamed bloody murder despite Tracey’s, Hannah’s, Andrea’s, Michelle’s, and Santa’s best efforts, all had gone smoothly.

  Sally was waiting for them in the wings and she handed Santa Wayne another cup of hot tea. “That was even better than last year! Sip some tea, Wayne. Your throat must hurt from talking to the kids.”

  “Thanks. Hurts.” His voice was as scratchy as sandpaper and he gave a rattling cough.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Sally told him. And then she turned to Hannah and Tracey. “You were wonderful, Tracey. And Hannah…your speech about Santa’s sore throat was just the thing.”

  “Whatever,” Hannah said, waving off the compliment even though she thought it had been pretty good herself.

  “Here’s your receipt for the presents, Wayne.” Sally passed him a folded sheet of paper. “Mayor Bascomb did it through the Lake Eden Boosters this year.”

  “My receipt?”

  “You know, the one you need for your corporate taxes. Mayor Bascomb said to tell your accounting department that the Boosters got their nonprofit status in June last year. He’ll fax you a copy of the paperwork for your files.”

  “Right.” He shoved the receipt in his pocket and turned to Hannah. “I’ll need the rest of that candy. I’m playing Santa at the store tomorrow.”

  What a cheapskate! Hannah thought. And being a cheapskate was probably how rich people got rich in the first place. Wayne Bergstrom owned Bergstrom’s Department Store, the busiest and most profitable retailer at the Tri-County Mall. He had displays of miniature candy canes at every checkout counter, the tubs stacked one on top of the other like red and white striped pyramids. There was no reason he needed to take what Hannah had come to think of as her leftovers.

  “Here,” Hannah said, handing over the basket.

  “It’s her basket,” he said, gesturing to Sally. “Dump the candy in my pocket.” Then he held open one of the massive pockets on the jacket of his Santa suit, and waited for Hannah to dump them in.

  “I’ll drop off the elf costume at the store tomorrow unless you want it now,” Hannah told him. “It’ll only take me a couple of minutes to change.”

  “Keep it. We couldn’t sell it anyway now that you stretched it out. You can use it again next year.”

  “No flying pigs around here,” Hannah muttered just under her breath, and she was rewarded by a startled chortle from Sally. When Sally had asked her if she would be Wayne’s
regular elf for future Christmas parties at the Lake Eden Inn, Hannah had responded with, Sure, when pigs fly!

  With Sally struggling to maintain her composure, Hannah was just searching around for a topic of polite conversation when Sally’s husband, Dick, walked up.

  “Good job, Wayne.” Dick clapped him on the back. “The kids loved you. Go change out of your suit and I’ll mix you a Peppermint Martini.”

  “Tempting, but not tonight,” he answered in his husky voice. “Got to rest my throat.”

  “Hot water, honey, and lemon,” Hannah advised him. “It’s like making hot lemonade. Then pour in a little brandy and top it off with grated nutmeg.”

  “Does the brandy help?” he asked her, clearing his throat with obvious difficulty.

  “Not really. Your throat still hurts just as much, but after three or four cups, you don’t care anymore.”

  PEPPERMINT MARTINI

  Hannah’s 1stNote: These recipes are from Richella and Priscilla, Dick Laughlin’s bartenders at the Lake Eden Inn. Dick says if you don’t have martini glasses, you should run right out and buy them. Both Dick and Sally swear that these martinis taste a hundred percent better in martini glasses.

  5 ounces good grade vodka

  2 ounces white crème d’menthe

  ½ ounce peppermint schnapps

  Combine in a shaker and shake with ice. Strain into two martini glasses and garnish with miniature candy canes hooked over the rims of the glasses.

  PEPPER MINT MARTINI

  Hannah’s 2ndNote: Here’s the second recipe. You may notice that “pepper” and “mint” are separated in the title. The reason will become obvious when you read the recipe.

  6 ounces pepper vodka

  2 ounces white crème d’menthe

  one fresh sprig of mint

  Crush the mint with the back of a spoon. Combine with the other ingredients in a shaker and shake with ice. Strain into two martini glasses and garnish with miniature candy canes hooked over the rims of the glasses.

  Chapter Two

  Hannah gave one more glance in the mirror and this time she smiled. Claire Rodgers, her business neighbor on Main Street, had chosen Hannah’s party outfit from her selection at Beau Monde Fashions. Claire and Hannah had worked out a barter system in the two years they’d been neighbors. Hannah dropped in with cookies for Claire, and Claire sold Hannah fashionable clothing at her cost. Tonight’s outfit was a color Hannah had always wanted to wear, one she thought of as “lavender blue,” the title of one of her grandmother’s favorite folk songs. She’d always assumed it would clash with her hair, but Claire had urged her to try it on and it worked perfectly. The romantic lines of the long, draped jacket hid two of her figure faults, and the black silk pants emphasized her height and made her look thinner.

  One last smoothing pat to the curls she’d given up trying to tame while she was still in grade school, and Hannah was ready for the party. She turned to look at the elf costume still hanging on a hook. Wayne had told her she could have it, but she knew she’d never wear it again unless someone had a gun to her head. And even then, she might take several moments to think it over. If she left it there behind the door, perhaps someone would take it before the night was over. Someone who’d enjoy it. Someone who didn’t have bright red hair and ten extra pounds around the middle.

  “How’re you doing, Hannah?” a voice greeted her as she stepped out of the dressing room and Hannah turned to see Cory Reynolds, Wayne Bergstrom’s brother-in-law, leaning up against the wall. Since there was no other reason he’d be in this particular hallway, he was obviously waiting for her.

  “Fine, Cory. How about you?” Hannah put on a smile. Cory was a nice enough guy, and it wasn’t his fault that his sister had married a rich tightwad like Wayne.

  “Things are good. I just wanted to tell you that the story you told about how Wayne lost his voice was great.”

  “Thanks. I was hoping it would work. Wayne sounded awful.”

  “I know. He’s even worse now. I ran into him outside the back door and he said he was going straight home to have some of that hot lemonade and brandy you told him about.”

  “Good. It should make him feel better.”

  “I really didn’t think he’d be able to do Santa tonight. I even offered to take over, but he wouldn’t have it.”

  Too bad you didn’t, said the voice in Hannah’s head, because maybe you would have given me the rest of those candy canes! But that was meanspirited and this was the Christmas season. She could afford to be a little charitable. “Has Wayne been hoarse all day?” she asked.

  Cory shook his head. “He was fine at noon. We had a manager’s meeting at the store during lunch.”

  “You mean you had to give up your lunch break?”

  “Yeah, but at least it was on a weekday. Sometimes we have managers’ meetings on Saturdays. Or Sundays. Wayne says that anyone who’s not willing to come in twenty-four/seven will never be a manager at Bergstrom’s.”

  “I’ll bet that makes him really popular,” Hannah muttered. But she must have said it a little louder than she thought, because Cory gave a startled bark of laughter.

  “It doesn’t put him in the top ten for the Best Boss of the Year award. But it’s like he always says…it’s his money and it’s his store. He can run it any way he wants to.”

  “What department do you manage?” Hannah continued to make polite conversation.

  “Wonderful Weddings. I moved there last year from Men’s Clothing. We book weddings and provide everything the wedding party needs.”

  “Sounds nice,” Hannah said, wondering why Cory had chosen to talk to her. Perhaps he was just lonely, now that Wayne had left?

  “So tell me about Wayne’s laryngitis,” she prompted. “Sally said he could barely talk when he came in the kitchen door.”

  “That figures. He called me around five-thirty on my cell phone and he was already pretty hoarse. I had to ask him to repeat himself a couple of times and it didn’t exactly make him happy. That’s when I asked him if he wanted me to take over for him at the party.”

  Hannah heard Sally’s voice over the loudspeaker, inviting everyone to come to the buffet tables. Cory heard it too, and he extended his arm. “Shall we, Hannah?”

  “Absolutely. Thank you, Cory.” Hannah took his arm and hoped he hadn’t heard her stomach growl as they headed off to join the line for the buffet.

  Sally’s dessert buffet was splendiferous. Hannah eyed a piece of Italian Apple Tort and was about to succumb to temptation when she remembered how tight the tights on her elf costume had been.

  “Trying to decide?” Mike asked, causing her to jump.

  “Trying to resist,” Hannah corrected him. “How do you do that anyway?”

  “Do what?”

  “Sneak up on people.”

  “We learn it in cop school.” Mike flashed her a grin that made her stomach do a little flip-flop. If someone conducted a poll of the single, divorced, and widowed women in Lake Eden, Minnesota, Mike Kingston, Chief Detective at the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department, would be a shoo-in for most desirable husband. “Too bad you took off your costume. I thought you looked cute in it.”

  Hannah stared at him for a minute in utter disbelief and then she said, “I think the county pays for that.”

  “Pays for what?”

  “Eye surgery. I understand they’re doing wonders with lasers now.”

  Mike laughed so loudly several guests at the buffet turned to look at him. “Very funny, Hannah. But I really did think you looked cute. If you’re not going to have a slice of that apple thing, do you want to dance?”

  Did she want to dance? Hannah ranked that question right up there with Do you want to breathe? Did she want Mike to put his arms around her and hold her close? Did she want to look up at him and realize that their lips were only inches apart? Did he even have to ask?!

  “Hannah?” Mike prompted, and Hannah came out of her musings to realize that he was holding o
ut his arm.

  “Thanks, Mike. I’d love to dance,” she said quickly, accepting his arm and walking with him to the dance floor.

  Dancing with Mike must have broken the ice, because once the last notes of music had faded away, Norman appeared to claim her for the next dance. After that, Andrea’s husband, Sheriff Bill Todd, piloted her around the floor. Then there was a series of local men, one right after the other, including Cory Reynolds, Mayor Bascomb, Doc Knight, Reverend Knudson, her host Dick Laughlin, and the town druggist, Jon Walker.

  “I’m not moving for at least ten minutes,” she declared, sinking into a chair at the table she was sharing with her sisters. She slipped off her shoes and wiggled her feet, hoping that the feeling would eventually return to her toes.

  “Feet hurt from all that dancing?” Andrea asked her.

  “Sure do. And skipping in those pointy toed elf shoes didn’t help either.” She glanced around and didn’t spot Bill. Lonnie Murphy, one of Bill’s deputies and Michelle’s date for the evening, was nowhere in sight either. “Where are Bill and Lonnie?”

  “Lonnie’s dancing with his mother. His dad’s outside fixing a car,” Michelle explained.

  “And Bill’s dancing with Barbara Donnelly,” Andrea named the head secretary at the sheriff’s station. “I’m so glad she’s not married!”

  Michelle and Hannah exchanged a Did-you-understand-that? glance, immediately followed by a Not-me! shrug.

  “Okay, I’ll bite.” Hannah caved in and turned to Andrea. “Why are you glad Barbara’s not married?”

  “Because then her husband would ask me to dance, and I’d have to do it to be polite. And I’m too tired to dance. I made four batches of Whippersnappers this afternoon.”

  Hannah stared at her sister in utter amazement. When most women talked about “batches,” they were referring to cookies, brownies, muffins, or some type of baked goods. Surely Andrea had another explanation. As far as Hannah knew, her sister didn’t even know how to turn on her oven, much less mix up a batch of anything and bake it.