by Joanne Fluke
“Why? What did you do?” Hannah asked, giving her an encouraging smile.
“Wayne and I had a signal when we were in high school. He lived on the next block and when he walked by my window and I was home, I used to open it and coo like a mourning dove. It was my way of saying, ‘I love you.’ He’d whistle back like a whippoorwill and that was his way of saying, ‘I love you, too.’”
“That’s sweet,” Andrea said.
Sweet, but silly, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it. Instead, she asked, “Did you coo at Wayne when he walked past your window?”
“No. I was all ready to do it, but he never walked past.”
“Is it possible you missed him?” Andrea asked her.
“No. I sat right there waiting. I was really excited to see him again, even if it was just through a window. I kept looking for Wayne right up until I saw all the flashing lights when the deputies drove up in front.”
ANGEL PILLOWS
Preheat oven to 275 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
(Not a misprint—that’s two hundred seventy-five degrees F.)
Hannah’s 1stNote: Don’t even THINK about making these if it’s raining. Meringue does best on very dry days.
3 egg whites (save the yolks to add to scrambled eggs)
¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
½ teaspoon vanilla
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup white (granulated) sugar
2 Tablespoons flour (that’s1⁄8cup)
1 cup chocolate chips (6-ounce package—I used Ghirardelli’s)
½ cup chopped nuts (I used pecans)
Separate the egg whites and let them come up to room temperature. This will give you more volume when you beat them.
Prepare your baking sheets by lining them with parchment paper (works best) or brown parcel-wrapping paper. Spray the paper with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray and dust it lightly with flour.
Hannah’s 2ndNote: You can do this by hand, but it’s a lot easier with an electric mixer.
Beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar, vanilla, and salt until they are stiff enough to hold a soft peak. Add the cup of sugar gradually, sprinkling it in by quarter cups and beating hard for ten seconds or so after each sprinkling. Sprinkle in the flour and mix it in at low speed, or fold it in with an angel food cake whisk.
Gently fold in the chocolate chips and the chopped nuts with a rubber spatula.
Drop little mounds of dough on your paper-lined cookie sheet. If you place four mounds in a row and you have five rows, you’ll end up with 20 cookies per sheet.
Bake at 275 degrees F. for approximately 40 (forty) minutes, or until the meringue part of the cookie is hard to the touch.
Cool on the paper-lined cookie sheet by setting it on a wire rack. When the cookies are completely cool, peel them carefully from the paper and store them in an airtight container in a dry place.
Hannah’s 3rdNote: The refrigerator is NOT a dry place!
Yield: 3 to 4 dozen melt-in-your-mouth cookies.
Chapter Eleven
“Sorry I’m so late tonight, Moishe,” Hannah apologized to her furry roommate as she spooned some vanilla yogurt into one of the antique cut glass dessert dishes that Delores had given her several Christmases ago. It had been seven-thirty by the time she’d dropped Andrea off at her house and driven home. Of course she’d fed Moishe right away, and now it was time for a little dessert.
“Go ahead and eat,” Hannah told him carrying the dish out to the coffee table and setting it down. “I’ll have mine later. I need to make a few notes while the conversation with Jenny is still fresh in my mind.”
While her cat licked rather daintily at the yogurt, oblivious to the fact that Hannah’s mother would have suffered a coronary event if she’d seen how her expensive gift was being used, Hannah paged through what she thought of as her murder book and jotted down the new facts she’d learned from Wayne’s ex-wife.
“Wayne had to walk around the side of the building,” she said, causing Moishe to look at up her in midlick. “There’s no other way to get to the parking lot. But Jenny swears he didn’t and that’s substantiated by Cyril Murphy, who also swears he didn’t see Wayne.”
Chin in hand, unaware that she was a modern, female, clothed version of Rodin’s The Thinker, Hannah went through the possibilities. “There’s only one conclusion to reach. Even though I saw him go out that way, Wayne didn’t walk from the back door to the parking lot.”
Moishe looked up at her and purred, and Hannah interpreted that as approval for her logic. “Thanks. I know my conclusion is logical, but it doesn’t make sense. I followed the trail of candy canes that fell out of the hole in Wayne’s pocket and his body was only a few feet from the path. The way it stands now, I said good-bye to Wayne and he went out the back door in his Santa suit. He disappeared before he went around the side of the building and down the path to the parking lot, but he reappeared behind the snow bank, dead. That’s impossible. Or if it’s not impossible, I can’t think of any scenario that could account for it.”
The phone rang, and Hannah almost cheered. It temporarily interrupted her frustration and she was smiling as she reached out to answer it. It was Norman and her smile grew wider.
“Hi, Norman. What’s new with you?”
“A lot. I just finished doing a little research. One of the plants Melinda showed us this afternoon has small pink blossoms that contain deadly poisonous stamens in the center.”
“Which plant was that?”
“Fresindodendrun Rhochlepeous, the giant variety. The dwarf is perfectly benign.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“No reason you should. It was just a plant with green leaves and small pink blossoms. The only reason I looked it up was that you said it was pretty, and Melinda gave kind of a funny smile.”
“But she must have shown us a hundred different plants. How did you remember the name?”
“I didn’t. I took along my pocket recorder and…hold on. Cuddles is climbing the bookcase again and she’s stuck on The Republic.”
Hannah waited while Norman rescued Cuddles, the cat he’d recently adopted, and he was back on the line. “I didn’t know you read Plato.”
“One of my friends in Seattle gave me his complete works. She thought it would expand my mind.”
Hannah gripped the phone a little tighter, wondering if the “friend” had been Beverly Thorndike, Norman’s former fiancée who was now a dentist in Seattle. But before she could even think about asking, which she wouldn’t have done in any case, Norman went on talking.
“The plant’s common name is Flower of the Shroud, and the symptoms of poisoning are virtually undetectable unless you already suspect it and know what to look for.”
“And you know what to look for?”
“I do now. It causes renal failure over a period of several weeks. The symptoms are swelling and a slight yellowing of the skin. She did it, Hannah. And when the poison didn’t work fast enough, she hit him over the head.”
“For the money?”
“Yes. It’s a powerful motive, Hannah.”
“But Melinda couldn’t have done it. You know that. You were with me when we talked to Pierre. He swears he was with her the whole time. And for proof, he said to just look at her roots and see if we could find any brown.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. It’s a blonde-thing. Andrea explained it to me. Did you think he was lying?”
“No. I just wish I could ignore the facts and go with my gut instinct. I know Melinda had something to do with Wayne’s death. Everything about her is such a fake.”
Hannah couldn’t help but smile. That was exactly the way she felt about Melinda.
“Okay, so maybe Melinda’s in the clear,” Norman went on. “How about Cory? He seems devoted to her. I think Melinda could have talked him into killing Wayne.”
“Maybe she could have, but he didn’t do it, either. Cory was with me when W
ayne was killed.”
There was a long silence while Norman thought that over. And then he gave a long sigh. “Pretty handy, if you ask me! They’ve both got motives and they’ve both got alibis.”
“I know. Hold on a minute and let me write down what you said about the poison.”
Hannah’s pen flew across the paper as she jotted notes. She only hoped that she could read them later. It was possible that Melinda had been poisoning Wayne with stamens from the plant that Norman had mentioned when his life had been ended, much more abruptly, by a blow to the head. If that were the case and Doc Knight collaborated that Wayne’s liver was enlarged, Melinda could be charged with attempted murder.
“Hannah?”
“I’m here. I’m just wondering if I can get Doc Knight on the phone tonight and find out if Wayne’s liver was enlarged.”
“I’ll do it, and I’ll call you as soon as I know. Are you going out tonight?”
“I might run out to the mall. I want to question Cory again.”
“Why? You said he couldn’t have done it.”
“I need to find out the name of Melinda’s gardener.”
“Okay. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Take your new cell phone with you and don’t forget to turn it on. Doc Knight will probably have to get back to me, and I’ll let you know as soon as I know.”
“Thanks, Norman,” Hannah said, hanging up the phone and turning to the cat, who couldn’t be less interested. “I have to know if Melinda or Cory requested that particular plant, or if either of them knew it was poisonous. I’ll think of some excuse to ask Cory for the gardener’s name.”
Moishe looked up at his mistress and gave a yowl that was midway between, Figure something out, lady with no fur, and, If you’re leaving, don’t forget to give me more food. Hannah recognized the look, and gave him more food. She was about to go out the door when the phone rang again.
“So soon?” she said, assuming it was Norman with Doc Knight’s answer.
“So soon what?”
It was Mike’s voice. Hannah did an abrupt turn-around and apologized as she did so. “Sorry, Mike. I thought you were someone else.”
“I was me the last time I checked.”
“Of course you were. So what’s up?”
“There isn’t any.”
“There isn’t any what?”
“Hole. There’s no hole, Hannah. I called the crime lab and they checked it for me. No hole.”
It all came back in the rush. She’d asked Mike to check the Santa suit Wayne was wearing for the hole in the pocket. But there wasn’t a hole. And that meant that Andrea had been right about her Hansel and Gretel analogy. The miniature candy canes had been dropped deliberately. Had Wayne known that he was in danger and dropped candy canes to lead someone to the scene of his murder?
Hannah reined in her imagination. No, that was simply too far-fetched. But what if the killer had murdered Wayne and then dropped the candy canes deliberately so that the body would be found?
“Are you okay, Hannah?”
“I’m fine,” Hannah pulled herself together enough to answer normally.
“Anything new on your end?”
“Not really. It’s all speculation.”
“Okay, then. Let me know if you get anything.”
“I will.”
Hannah felt a bit guilty as she hung up the phone, but she told herself that there was no reason to tell Mike about the poisonous plant that Norman had discovered growing in Melinda’s orangery. She’d tell him if Doc Knight confirmed that Wayne’s liver was enlarged, but not before. In the meantime, she had to hurry if she wanted to get out to the mall before it closed for the night.
Chapter Twelve
The mall was closing. Hannah could tell by the long string of cars coming toward her as she approached the entrance. One frustrated Christmas shopper was beeping his horn, as if the sound might make the dozens of cars in front of him go faster.
Hannah turned in at the outside entrance to Bergstrom’s Department Store. There was no one behind her and the parking lot that flanked the Christmas tree lot at the side of the store was deserted. Hannah pulled right up in the loading zone next to the lot and jumped out of her truck to rush toward the door. She ran past a sign saying that they were expecting a fresh shipment of Douglas fir trees tonight, past another that listed the prices per foot, and around the corner of the building to the entrance. The bright lights were off and there was only dim lighting inside the store, but she hoped she could catch an employee leaving late who would call Cory and ask him to come down from the penthouse and talk with her.
The door was locked, but she could see someone moving inside. Hannah hammered on the door with gloved fists until she got his attention and he moved toward her. The lights were dim, but as he drew closer she realized that he was in a Santa suit.
“I’m Hannah Swensen and I need to see Cory,” she shouted, hoping he could hear her through the heavy glass door. “It’s really important.”
“Hold on,” the man dressed as Santa shouted back. Then he unlocked the door and ushered her in.
“Is Cory still here?” Hannah asked him.
“He’s here.”
The Santa gave a chuckle and pulled off his hat, white wig, and beard. It was Cory! Hannah was so startled, her mouth dropped open.
“I didn’t recognize you in that costume,” she said, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I guess you must have been playing Santa tonight.”
“That’s right. The guy I hired to replace Wayne called in sick.”
“Well, you make a great Santa,” Hannah complimented him, and then she got down to business. “I came out here to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Ask away.” Cory said.
“The first thing I need is the name of Melinda’s gardener.”
“Why do you need that?”
Hannah was all ready with her excuse. She’d devised it on her drive out to the mall. “I told Mother about Melinda’s beautiful solarium and one of her friends wants to hire her gardener to do something similar on a smaller scale for her.”
“Okay. It’s Curtis something-or-other. I can’t think of his last name right now, but he comes tomorrow and I’ll get his card for you.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m having trouble with the timeline on the night that Wayne was killed. I saw him leave the inn the back way, wearing his Santa suit. And that’s the last time I saw him alive. I found his body later in the evening.”
“Right. What’s troubling about that?”
“Cyril Murphy was out in front of the inn, working on Florence Evans’s car. He didn’t see Wayne walk past and Wayne had to walk past him to get to the path where I found him.”
“That’s easy to explain. Come with me for a second. I need to turn off more lights.” Hannah walked into the interior of the store with Cory as he continued to talk. “Wayne wouldn’t have said anything to Cyril. For one thing, they were on the outs because of the limousine thing. And for another thing, Wayne had laryngitis. If Cyril didn’t see him, Wayne probably hurried on by and figured that was a good thing.”
“That’s exactly what I thought, at first. But when I went out to the inn tonight, I talked to one of Sally’s guests and her room has a perfect view of the side of the building and the path to the parking lot. She was in her room when Wayne left the stage. She heard the applause he got. That’s when she started watching for him to pass by her window. But he never did.”
“She must have looked away for a minute or two and missed him. I watched him walk around the corner and then I dashed back in. It was cold out there! And I know he didn’t come back inside for any reason. I was standing right there waiting for you, and I would have seen him down at the end of the hall.”
“I’m sure you would have.” Hannah gave a quick nod. “It’s not like he could blend with the party crowd. That Santa suit would stick out like a sore thumb.”
; “You’re absolutely right. Do you mind if I take this off, Hannah? These things are really heavy.”
“Go ahead.”
Hannah watched while Cory took off the top part of his Santa suit. He was wearing a regular shirt under it and that gave her an idea. “Think about this, Cory,” she said. “What if Wayne was wearing regular clothes under his Santa suit? Then he could have taken off the suit, hidden it somewhere, and slipped back inside. Would you have seen him if he’d done that?”
Cory began to frown. “I’m not sure. Maybe not.”
“Was Wayne in the habit of wearing regular clothes under his Santa suit?”
Cory’s frown deepened. “I don’t know. Let me call Melinda and I’ll find out.”
As Cory disappeared around the corner, Hannah came close to laughing. He looked ridiculous in big red Santa pants with white fur cuffs, topped by a regular shirt. It reminded her a bit of a centaur, the top half of a man rising from the back half of a horse. If he’d greeted her that way at the door, she would have recognized him immediately. But it was almost impossible to tell who was inside a Santa suit. Unless you recognized the voice, of course.
It was one of those frightening moments of clarity when the pieces of the puzzle flew together from every direction. They locked into place with a series of lightning fast clicks, sounding like a million tiny firecrackers that illuminated the dim and confused picture in her mind. Cory killed Wayne. He’d rolled Wayne’s body behind the snow bank, planted the candy canes so someone would discover him, and then, while everyone was waiting for Wayne to appear as Santa, he’d put on another Santa suit, perhaps even the one he was wearing tonight, and appeared in Sally’s kitchen as Santa Wayne with laryngitis. It was the reason he’d seemed a bit confused when Sally had handed him the receipt from Mayor Bascomb. Santa Wayne would have known what it was, but Santa Cory didn’t.
Immediately after the party, Santa Cory had stepped outside the back door, ditched his Santa suit, and stepped back in, dressed for the party.
