Blueberry Muffin Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “I’d love to see her, too.” Hannah said, wondering if she’d be up for a fancy dinner out after what promised to be a hectic day.

  “There’s one other thing. Mayor Bascomb dropped by to see you. He’s at the barbershop now, but he’s coming back after Gus finishes up with him.”

  “Did he tell you what he wanted?”

  Lisa shook her head. “Not exactly. He just said he needed to talk to you about something really serious.”

  “I hope it’s not a snag in the Winter Carnival plans.” Hannah turned toward the door that led to the coffee and cookie shop. “He’ll probably want coffee. I’ll put it on.”

  “It’s all made. I put it up right after he left.”

  “Bless you, Lisa,” Hannah said gratefully. “Have I told you lately what a gem you are?”

  Lisa gave a girlish giggle, and Hannah was reminded of just how young she was. Howie Levine, Lake Eden’s only lawyer, had broached that subject when Hannah asked him to draft their partnership agreement. Hannah had cut off his objection at the pass by insisting that Lisa was a better worker and manager than most people twice her age. Steady, reliable, and capable of handling any emergency that came their way, Hannah was certain that she’d never regret signing over a third of her enterprise to Lisa.

  “Sit down and I’ll bring you a cup,” Lisa offered, motioning to a stool at the work island. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  “Because of Mayor Bascomb?”

  “Yes. He was really upset, Hannah. I offered him a warm Peanut Butter Melt and he said he couldn’t eat a thing.”

  “Oh-oh. That’s not a good sign.” Hannah gave a deep sigh as she sat down on the stool. Mayor Bascomb had an active sweet tooth and he was wild about her Peanut Butter Melts. For him to refuse to even taste his favorite cookie meant that there was definitely trouble in the making.

  Peanut Butter Melts

  Preheat oven to 375ºF, rack in the middle position

  1 cup melted butter (2 sticks)

  2 cups white sugar***

  2 teaspoons vanilla

  1⁄8 cup molasses (2 tablespoons)

  1 ½ teaspoons baking soda

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 cup peanut butter (either smooth or crunchy, your choice)

  2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

  2 ½ cups flour (no need to sift)

  Microwave the butter in a microwave-safe mixing bowl to melt it. Add the sugar, vanilla, and molasses. Stir until it’s blended, then add the baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Mix well.

  ***If you like a sweeter cookie, add ½ cup more of sugar or roll the dough balls in sugar before baking.

  Measure out the peanut butter. (I spray the inside of my measuring cup with Pam so it won’t stick.) Add it to the bowl and mix it in. Pour in the beaten eggs and stir. Then add the flour, and mix until all the ingredients are thoroughly blended.

  Form the dough into walnut-sized balls and arrange them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (If the dough is too sticky to form into balls, chill it for a few minutes and try again.)

  Flatten the balls with a fork in a crisscross pattern. (If the fork sticks, either spray it with Pam or dip it in flour.)

  Bake at 375ºF for 8 to 10 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to turn golden. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a wire rack to finish cooling.

  My niece Tracey’s Favorite PBJ snack: Spread jam on one cookie and stack another on top. Mother likes PBFs better (that’s fudge frosting between the cookie layers).

  Chapter Three

  “That’s all you want?” Hannah was surprised when the handsome mayor of Lake Eden nodded. She’d expected a problem of gigantic proportions, but all he’d asked her to do was meet Connie MacIntyre at the Lake Eden Inn at noon today. “Of course I’ll do it, no problem.”

  “Thanks, Hannah.” The mayor brushed a nonexistent piece of lint from his jacket and reached out to take a Peanut Butter Melt from the plate Hannah had placed between them on the stainless steel surface of the work island. “You know how these celebrities are. If someone doesn’t meet her and take her on a guided tour, she’ll feel slighted.”

  Hannah supposed that he was right. Connie Mac was a star and she’d expect to be treated like visiting royalty. It had been an incredible coup for Mayor Bascomb when a member of Connie Mac’s staff had called to say that she’d be honored to attend their Winter Carnival and bake the official Winter Carnival cake for tomorrow evening’s banquet. Hannah, who seldom took things at face value, suspected that the “Cooking Sweetheart” hadn’t agreed to attend this small-town event purely out of the goodness of her heart. One of Connie Mac’s kitchen boutiques was opening at the Tri-County Mall three days from now, and promoting it at the Winter Carnival was a smart business move.

  “Make sure you drive past the venues on your way to town,” Mayor Bascomb instructed between bites of his cookie. “Then take her to Jordan High so she can visit the hospitality hub and see the shuttle sleighs.”

  “Will do.”

  “Then drive her to the community center and show her the library. Marge is looking forward to meeting her.”

  Hannah grinned at that obvious understatement. Marge Beeseman, their volunteer librarian, had been positively ecstatic when Connie Mac had agreed to sign copies of her new cookbook as a fund-raiser for the library. According to Delores, Marge had paid Bertie Straub a small fortune to cover up the gray and give her a new, sophisticated hairstyle.

  “When you’re through with Marge, take her down to the banquet room. She wants to go over the menu with Edna.”

  “Got it,” Hannah responded, wondering how Edna Ferguson, Jordan High’s head cook, would react if Connie Mac suggested changes in the menu. The food for the banquet had already been ordered, and Edna had done most of the preparation in advance. “Where shall I take her after that?”

  “The Ezekiel Jordan House. Your mother promised she’d have it ready by noon. I called her yesterday to see if I could drop in for a quick peek, but she won’t allow anyone in until it’s completely finished. You know how your mother is, Hannah. She’s treating this whole thing like a state secret and there’s no reason she should…” Mayor Bascomb stopped speaking as the back door opened and Delores stuck her head in.

  “Speak of the devil,” Hannah murmured, and then she put on a bright smile for her mother’s benefit. “Hi, Mother. Is the house finished?”

  “Not yet, dear. I just came over to ask you about a very peculiar rolling pin I found with Mrs. Jordan’s kitchen utensils. Hello, Ricky-Ticky. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  Hannah covered her gasp of startled laughter with a cough. Her mother was the only person in town who dared call the mayor by his childhood nickname. Hannah’s grandparents had lived next door to the Bascombs, and Delores had been his babysitter one summer.

  “Morning, Delores.” Mayor Bascomb gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Hannah could tell that he didn’t appreciate being reminded of those early childhood years. According to Delores, he’d been a spoiled brat. “I’ve got to run, ladies. My meeting with the steering committee starts in fifteen minutes. The cookies are delicious, Hannah. I’m going to pick up a bag from Lisa on the way out and treat the committee.”

  Hannah watched as the mayor clamped his hat on his head and headed toward the swinging door that led into the coffee shop. The moment he was out of earshot, she turned to her mother with a frown. “I think you embarrassed him when you called him Ricky-Ticky.”

  “Of course I did. That’s exactly what I intended.” Delores walked over to take the mayor’s stool and reached out for a cookie. “He’s been acting like a big shot lately and it’s time someone reminded him that he had his diapers changed like every other child in Lake Eden. Now, about that rolling pin, Hannah…it’s carved on the outside with little panels of designs.”

  Hannah nodded. “It’s probab
ly a Springerle rolling pin. They’re used to make a type of rolled German cookie.”

  “Oh, yes. One of your great-grandmother Elsa’s friends used to bake them every Christmas. I always had to eat one to be polite, but I never liked them. They were flavored with licorice.”

  “Close enough,” Hannah said, not wanting to get into a discussion about the subtle differences between anise and licorice. “Most women who had Springerle rolling pins liked to show them off by hanging them on the kitchen wall. They were handed down from generation to generation, and sometimes the carvings were personalized.”

  “I’ll put it on the wall above the kitchen table,” Delores said, finishing her cookie and rising to her feet. “I’ve got to get back, Hannah. We’re almost ready to hang the parlor curtains.”

  “Hold on a second.” Hannah carried the plate over to the counter and transferred the cookies to one of her distinctive carrier bags. It was a miniature shopping bag, white with red handles, and the words, “THE COOKIE JAR,” were stamped in red block letters on the front. “Take these with you. Carrie loves my Peanut Butter Melts.”

  “I know she does. So does Norman.” Delores frowned slightly as she took the bag. “You’ve been neglecting him lately, Hannah. Carrie tells me that Ronni Ward has been in twice this month to have her teeth cleaned, and you know what that means!”

  “Her teeth are dirty?” Hannah teased, knowing full well what her mother had meant.

  “Don’t be flippant, Hannah. Norman’s single and he’s got eyes in his head. Just in case you’ve forgotten, Ronni won the Eden Lake Bikini Contest three years in a row.”

  Hannah sobered as her mother went out the door. She found it difficult to picture Norman with a beauty queen, but thinking about it gave her an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. She told herself that it couldn’t be jealousy. Just because she dated Norman occasionally and their mothers continually tried to push them together didn’t mean that she was serious about him. All the same, it certainly couldn’t hurt to give Norman a call to let him know that she was still alive and kicking.

  Hannah felt a real sense of accomplishment as she glanced around her kitchen. Trays of cookies filled the slots on the baker’s racks and covered every inch of the counter. It had been a productive morning. While Lisa had waited on their customers, Hannah had baked more cookies. Even if the Winter Carnival visitors were as ravenous as a pack of starving wolves, they’d have enough cookies to last through tomorrow morning’s events. By then there would be fresh cookies, and Hannah planned to drop them off at the warm-up tents by noon at the latest.

  Unable to resist tasting her work, Hannah plucked an Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookie from a nearby rack and nibbled at the edge. The taste of butter and sugar blossomed on her tongue and she smiled in satisfaction. Her cookies were perfectly baked, crisp on the outside and sweet and flaky inside.

  There was a knock at the back door, and Hannah ditched the cookie in her apron pocket. She’d gone to her mother’s house on Tuesday for their weekly mother-daughter dinner and saved herself from store-bought pound cake with canned whipped cream, pre-chopped nuts, and jarred caramel syrup by claiming that she was on a diet.

  “Hannah? You’re here, aren’t you?”

  It was her sister’s voice. Hannah retrieved the cookie from her pocket and opened the door.

  Andrea blew in on a gust of wind, balancing a stack of real estate flyers in her arms. “Did Lisa give you my message?”

  “Of course. It’ll be great to see Janie again.”

  “I know. I’m really excited about it.” Andrea set her flyers down on the only available space, the top of a stool at the work island. “Good heavens! How many cookies did you bake?”

  “Enough to last until noon tomorrow. The girls from Mrs. Baxter’s home ec class are setting up food stands in the warm-up tents.”

  “If the weather stays this cold, they’re bound to have lots of customers.”

  Hannah noticed that Andrea was shivering, and she poured her a mug of coffee. “Here. You look half-frozen.”

  “I am. Is that decaffeinated?”

  “No. Do you want me to put on a pot?”

  “Absolutely not. I need all the caffeine I can get this morning. Al wants me to drop off flyers all over town. I even have to drive some out to the Lake Eden Inn.”

  Hannah placed a plate of Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies in front her sister. They were Andrea’s favorite. “You’d better have some chocolate for energy.”

  “That’s a great excuse; I’ll take it.” Andrea grabbed a cookie and took a huge bite. “Mbsoluphly muov mmmmeese.”

  “I know you do.” Hannah interpreted her sister’s mumbled comment, “Absolutely love these,” correctly. “I’ll take the flyers to the inn for you. I have to go out there at noon to meet Connie Mac.”

  Andrea swallowed her bite of cookie in a rush. “You’re meeting Connie Mac?”

  “That’s right. Mayor Bascomb’s tied up with a meeting and he asked me to give her a tour of Lake Eden.”

  “You have all the luck!” Andrea sounded envious. “Let me go with you. Please, Hannah?”

  Hannah remembered Tom Sawyer and the whitewashed fence. Andrea would be a big help on the tour, but she didn’t want to seem too eager. “I don’t know. I’m supposed to do it alone. Are you hoping to run into Janie?”

  “Janie won’t be there. She told me she’d be out at the mall most of the day, helping Mr. MacIntyre with the boutique. But I’d just love to meet Connie Mac. I’m her biggest fan, and I can help you give the tour. You know how good I am with people.”

  “True,” Hannah conceded. Andrea had the knack for turning a stranger into a friend in five minutes flat. It was one of the reasons that she was so successful as a real estate agent.

  “Can I, Hannah? I’ll do something for you, I promise. Anything you want.”

  Hannah began to smile. The expression on Andrea’s face was the very same one she’d worn in sixth grade when she’d begged to wear Hannah’s pearl confirmation earrings to school. “Well…I guess so.”

  “Oh, thank you, Hannah!” Andrea glanced down at her red plaid jacket and tailored slacks. “I wonder if I should dash home and change clothes.”

  “You look fine,” Hannah said, averting what would surely turn out to be an hour of primping. “We have to leave in thirty minutes, and we don’t want to be late.”

  Andrea glanced at the clock that hung over the sink. “You’re right. We certainly wouldn’t want to make Connie Mac wait for us. Maybe we should leave now.”

  “Half an hour,” Hannah insisted, amused at her sister’s eagerness. “It only takes twenty-five minutes to drive out to the inn.”

  “All right, if you think so. Maybe I should drive.”

  “Good idea,” Hannah agreed quickly. She’d been meaning to clean out her truck for weeks, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Andrea’s car was always pristine because she used it to transport her potential buyers.

  There was a knock on the back door, but before Hannah could get up from her stool, Delores opened it herself. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re here, Andrea. Now both of you can see the Ezekiel Jordan House. Put on your coats and come right over. And use the front door so you can get the full effect.”

  The door closed again and Andrea looked amused as she turned to Hannah. “Nothing’s changed. Mother still orders us around like she did when we were kids.”

  “I know,” Hannah said, getting up to grab her parka. “But it’s not just us. Mother orders everyone around.”

  “I can’t believe Mother put the whole thing together in less than a month,” Andrea commented as they emerged from the back door of the Ezekiel Jordan House and walked across the snow to her Volvo.

  Hannah waited until her sister had unlocked the doors and then she slid into the passenger seat. “I’m just as impressed as you are.”

  “It’s bound to be the highlight of the Winter Carnival.” Andrea started her engine and pulled out into the alley. �
��Especially since she’s got Ezekiel Jordan’s original rosewood desk. What I wouldn’t give for a desk like that! The gold inlay is just spectacular.”

  Hannah thought about the re-creation they’d just seen as they drove down the alley. Delores had a real knack for arranging period furniture for display, and despite her concern about Abigail Jordan’s kitchen utensils, Hannah had found only two out of place. “I liked the parlor the best. It looked so authentic, I could just see Ezekiel and Abigail sitting on their horsehide sofa watching television.”

  “Television?” Andrea turned to give her a sharp look, but then she noticed the grin on Hannah’s face. “Stop teasing me, Hannah. You know they didn’t have television a hundred years ago!”

  “That must be the reason they had so many children. No electricity. No television. There was nothing else to do at night.”

  Andrea did her best to appear disapproving, but she blew it by laughing. “You’re incorrigible.”

  Hannah leaned back in her seat and enjoyed the ride through town. The streets were bustling with activity today. Everyone was getting ready for the Winter Carnival.

  “You should have told me that Norman was going to take period portraits in Ezekiel’s parlor,” Andrea said, pulling out on Old Lake Road and picking up speed. “I could have signed up early.”

  “I didn’t know. I haven’t talked to Norman for a week or so. It’s a great idea, though. I love those old sepia-toned pictures.”

  “Mother told me that Norman’s going all out for the Winter Carnival. He hired another dentist to fill in for him at the clinic, he’s taking all those portraits to raise money for the historical society, and he’s even judging a couple of the contests. Norman’s really a wonderful man.”

  “It sounds like Mother converted you.”