by Joanne Fluke
“I’m positive. The faster you solve Connie Mac’s murder, the faster we can get back into our own kitchen.” Lisa gestured toward the bowls of dough they’d set on the counter. “I should have these ready for you by noon.”
“Great. I’ll drop them off at the venues. You shouldn’t have to do everything.”
“Okay, but only if you want to.”
“I do. I have to go out there anyway. Norman’s a judge at the dogsled competition, and I need to warn him that he’s a suspect.”
“I hope he’s got an alibi, and I won’t forget to check with Herb. Is there anything else I can do?”
Hannah started to shake her head, but then she thought of something. “See if you can get Alex talking about her background. I need to know everything I can about her.”
“I can do that,” Lisa said, and then she began to frown. “Do you think Alex killed Connie Mac?”
“No, but everyone’s a suspect until we can eliminate them. And there’s something about Alex that puzzles me. She was really upset when she found out that Janie was missing, and they only met a couple of days ago. I thought she overreacted, and I’m wondering why.”
“Okay. I’ll find out everything I can for you,” Lisa promised. “Working with you, I’ve learned how to get people to spill their guts.”
Hannah went out the door with a smile on her face. Perhaps some people wouldn’t regard what Lisa had said as a compliment, but she did.
“Look, Aunt Hannah. Isn’t Danny wonderful?” Tracey looked up and smiled. “He’s got all his toes. Francine took his booties off so I could count.”
Hannah laughed. She’d been keeping Tracey occupied while Andrea spoke to Sally’s stepmother, an attractive silver-haired lady whose smile seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face. “Does Danny have all of his fingers?”
“Oh, yes. He has eight and that’s just right.”
“Not ten?” Hannah couldn’t resist teasing her niece a bit.
“Of course not, Aunt Hannah. You know that people have only eight fingers. The other two are thumbs.”
“That’s right. I was just testing you. Thumbs aren’t fingers.”
Tracey nodded. “But they’re really important. They’re opposable and we couldn’t pick up things if we didn’t have them. Watch and see how Danny does it.” Tracey picked up a rattle and dangled it front of Danny. The baby reached up to grab it, and Tracey leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Good boy, Danny. You did that just fine.”
“Did Miss Cox teach you that in school?” Hannah asked, wondering how Janice Cox, Tracey’s teacher at Kiddie Korner, was managing to cope with such a bright four-year-old.
“No, Mr. Herman told me about it when we looked at his animal collection. Monkeys and gorillas have opposable thumbs, and there was another animal, too. I think it had something to do with oranges.”
“Orangutans?”
“That’s it.”
Hannah reached out to ruffle Tracey’s blond hair. “You liked Mr. Herman?”
“Oh, yes. He knows lots of things, but he told me that sometimes his memory turns into a butterfly.”
“A butterfly?”
Tracey nodded solemnly. “He has to sneak up on it if he wants to catch it and there’s a trick he uses. If he can’t remember something right away, he makes himself think of something else. Then it flutters straight into his mind.”
“Ready, Tracey?” Andrea came over to take her daughter’s hand. “Thank Francine for letting you play with Danny.”
After Tracey had thanked Francine, Andrea herded her toward the door. Hannah lagged behind to take one last peek at Danny. He’d fallen asleep with his fist in his mouth, and as she stood there, she found herself wishing that her life had taken a different turn. If she’d married, she’d probably have children by now.
“He’s a very good baby,” Francine said softly, reaching out to straighten his blanket. “Sally and Dick are so lucky.”
“Yes, they are. I’d better go. I’ll see you later, Francine.”
Hannah walked out and shut the door softly behind her. Danny was sweet and he’d definitely awakened her maternal instincts.
“What took you so long?” Andrea called out from the end of the hallway.
“I was just looking at Danny.” Hannah hurried to catch up with her sister and her niece. They had a murder to solve, and she could think about her lack of progeny later.
Chapter Thirteen
It was only five miles to the Quick Stop, and Hannah negotiated the icy roads with a practiced ease. Once she’d reached a straight stretch of highway, she glanced at her sister. “Did you find out anything interesting?”
“A couple of things.” Andrea swiveled in her seat to look back at her daughter. “We can talk about it. Tracey’s got one of her books and she never listens to anyone when she’s reading.”
“That’ll come in handy when she’s sharing a dorm room in college,” Hannah said, remembering the times she’d lost herself in her studies when her roommates were discussing the men they were dating.
“Francine feels awful about mentioning Ezekiel’s ghost. She had no idea that reporter would take her seriously. His name is Larry Kruger, by the way. And I was right about Connie Mac’s ancestors. Her great-great-uncle was F. E. Laughlin’s secretary.”
“But was he playing in that poker game?” Hannah stepped on the gas to pass a lumbering bus.
“Francine says he could have been. F. E. always took his secretary along when he came to Lake Eden. He liked to work in the daytime and relax at night. And we know his secretary was there, because Francine found a letter he’d written on that date.”
“All right. You convinced me,” Hannah conceded, turning off the highway to take the access road. The Quick Stop was impossible to miss, even in a near-blizzard. The old wooden building was painted bright red with yellow trim around the windows, and it loomed like a beacon against the banks of snow.
Andrea waited until Hannah had parked at the side of the building. “It’s time to put your book away, Tracey. We’re here.”
“But I’m just getting to the best part.” Tracey looked up from her book reluctantly. “Can’t I stay here and read?”
“It’s too cold, honey. You’d turn into an icicle in two seconds flat.”
“But Aunt Hannah can leave the heater on. I won’t touch anything, I promise.”
Andrea shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. Come on, Tracey. If you come inside with us, I’ll buy you a snack.”
Hannah had all she could do not to laugh. Andrea, the mother who’d vowed to do everything perfectly, was bribing her daughter with fast food.
“Okay, Mommy.” Tracey shut her book and stashed it in her backpack. Then she looked up at her mother and grinned. “Can I have a hot dog?”
“May I have a hot dog,” Hannah corrected her.
“You don’t have to ask, Aunt Hannah. You’re all grown up and you can eat anything you want to.”
Andrea cracked up and so did Hannah. When they’d recovered, Andrea turned to her sister with a teasing smile. “See what you get for correcting people all the time? Now you’ll have to eat one of Sean and Don’s hot dogs.”
“That’s not exactly a punishment,” Hannah informed her, “especially if it’s smothered with mustard and pickles.”
“That’s exactly the way I like mine,” Tracey commented, zipping up her parka and waiting for her mother to get out and open her door.
After Tracey had climbed out of her truck, Hannah retrieved a bag of the twins’ favorite cookies. She never sold day-old cookies in her shop, but the twins wouldn’t mind. Her cookies were a whole lot fresher than the cookies they sold in little plastic packages.
The snow crunched underfoot as they walked the few feet to the front door. The building itself was almost fifty years old, and the twins had spent one whole summer renovating it. They’d added living quarters in the rear, put on a new roof, and painted it inside and out. Their color choices more than made up for the black-and
-white Minnesota winter landscape outside the windows. The front counter was bright blue, the shelves were bright yellow, and the inner walls were a brilliant green.
The first aroma that hit Hannah’s nose when they pushed open the door was of freshly brewed coffee. Quick Stop coffee was a source of controversy in Lake Eden. Some people said it was so thick, your spoon would stand straight up in the cup. Others argued that you’d lose your spoon if you stirred it for more than a second, because the acid would melt it away. Hannah wasn’t sure which opinion was accurate, since she’d never had occasion to put it to the test. She drank her coffee black.
“Hi, Hannah. Tell me that bag is what I think it is.” Sean, or perhaps it was Don, looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the counter. The newspaper was covering the name embroidered on his purple Quick Stop shirt, and Hannah had never been able to tell the twins apart.
“It is.” Hannah set the bag on the counter. “I brought you a dozen Twin Chocolate Delights.”
“Those are our favorites, and not just because of the name. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your cookies. Do you think we could work out a deal to stock them out here?”
“Why not?” Hannah smiled at him. New business was always welcome.
“What’ll it be? It’s my treat.”
“Just coffee, please. It smells wonderful.”
“And for you?” He turned to Andrea.
“I’ll have the same,” Andrea answered, “With extra sugar and cream.”
“And how about you, little lady?”
“I’d like a hot dog, please,” Tracey spoke up, “but only if Mommy says it’s okay.”
“I guess we’d better ask her, then.” Sean, or Don, slid off his stool and rose to his feet. Hannah caught a glimpse of the name on his shirt. This twin was Don. “Is it okay, Mommy?”
Andrea nodded. “She likes it with pickles and mustard, but go a little light on the mustard. And give her a package of chips, too. The plain kind, not flavored.”
“Where’s Sean today?” Hannah asked, following him to the glass-enclosed spit where the hotdogs seemed to turn eternally.
“I’m Sean.”
“But…” Hannah began to frown. “Your shirt says you’re Don.”
“That’s because it’s Don’s shirt. Mine haven’t come back from the laundry yet.” Sean glanced up at the clock that hung over the counter, then pressed a buzzer near the cash register. “Don’s favorite program just ended. He’ll be out here in a second.”
When Don arrived, Andrea chatted with him while Sean prepared Tracey’s hot dog. Once it had been decorated with mustard and chopped pickles, Sean wrapped it in a sheet of Quick Stop waxed paper and placed it in a cardboard carryout box with a package of chips.
“Here you go.” Sean handed the takeout box to Tracey and gestured toward an area near the front windows. “We have tables over there.”
The tables had been painted an array of bright colors, and Andrea pointed to the bright orange one, the one farthest from the counter. “Why don’t you eat your lunch at the orange table, honey? Your aunt Hannah and I need to talk to Sean and Don.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Tracey said with a resigned sigh. “I just knew you were going to talk about grownup stuff again.”
When Tracey had left, Don turned to Andrea. “Grownup stuff?”
“She’s talking about Connie Mac’s murder. You heard about it, didn’t you?”
Don frowned as he nodded. “The KCOW news team interrupted Video Auction, and I was all set to call in a bid on a coatrack with antlers instead of hooks. I thought we could use it by the front door.”
“What about the murder?” Sean asked, getting back to Andrea’s original question. “Do they know who did it yet?”
Hannah shook her head. “That’s one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you. They’re investigating anyone who might have had a reason to kill Connie Mac, and we found out that she fired her van driver that afternoon. Earl Flensburg said he dropped him off here yesterday afternoon to catch the bus home. His first name is Ray, he’s in his early twenties, and he has short, dark hair.”
“I remember him,” Sean said. “Winnie Henderson was here buying new wiper blades and he offered to put them on for her. He sure seemed like a nice guy to me.”
“That’s what Earl said. We’re just trying to find out if he has an alibi for the time of the murder. Did you see him get on the bus?”
“Yes. I was out front pumping gas and I saw him board.”
“Where was he going?” Andrea asked.
Sean shrugged. “North. That’s all I know. We’re just a stop on the highway. The driver pulls up and honks his horn and the passengers go out to buy their tickets directly from him.”
“He’ll be back here around noon if you want to talk to him,” Don added. “He’s got a short run on Saturdays.”
Andrea reached in her purse, pulled out two business cards, and handed one to each twin. “Could you have him call me on my cell phone when he gets in? It’s really important.”
“Okay,” Sean promised, and then he turned to his brother. “You stand in front of the bus so he can’t pull out, and I’ll drag him in to the phone.”
“No, you stand in front of the bus,” Don objected.
Hannah grinned. The twins had a long history of arguing with each other. “Just work it out before noon. I don’t care who does what as long as that driver calls Andrea before he puts his bus back in gear.”
“Can I go see Grandma again?” Tracey asked, trudging through the snow to Hannah’s cookie truck. “Please, Mommy?”
“Are you sure Grandma wants you to come back?”
“I’m positive. Grandma said she’d find a dress for me to wear, and I can help her show off her house. And Grandma Carrie said Uncle Norman would take my picture, too.”
Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “Grandma Carrie?”
“That’s what she told me to call her. And my real grandma said it was okay, because someone was bound to come to their senses eventually.”
“Oh, brother!” Hannah muttered.
Tracey climbed into the back of the van and waited for her mother to get in. Once Andrea was settled in her seat, Tracey tapped her on the shoulder. “Why does Aunt Hannah look so funny? Does she have a headache?”
“I think she does.”
“Then you should give her an aspirin, but we have to know exactly what kind of headache it is. It’s very important.”
“Why is that?” Hannah asked her.
“Because they have aspirin for different types of headaches. I learned all about it on TV. What type of headache is yours, Aunt Hannah?”
“It’s the mother of all headaches,” Hannah quipped, “and if they ever invent a special aspirin for that, I’ll buy a whole case.”
Hannah and Andrea waited in the back room of the Ezekiel Jordan House while Delores helped Tracey change into a costume in one of the two dressing rooms. Hannah opened the door to take a peek at the unoccupied cubicle and was surprised to see that her mother had decorated it to look like a man’s dressing room. The wallpaper was gray with a silver stripe, and hunting prints hung on the walls. There was an oval mirror on a stand, a wooden rack with ball-and-claw feet that had been fashioned to hold items of clothing, and a high-backed chair sitting next to a table that sported a set of silver-backed brushes and combs.
“Oh, Hannah! Just look at this darling dress!”
Hannah shut the door and turned to look at her sister, who was examining the contents of a chifforobe that had been placed against the far wall. A variety of women’s dresses hung inside, and Andrea removed a burgundy silk and held it up for her to see.
“I think I’ll wear this for my picture. What do you think?”
“It’s a nice color,” Hannah said, frowning a bit at the tight waistline. From where she was standing, it looked ridiculously small. “Are you sure it’s not too small for you?”
“I can get into it. It comes with a corset that pushes you up a
nd nips you in at the waist. One of the maid’s jobs was to lace you in.”
“What if you didn’t have a maid?”
“Then you looped the strings around a bedpost and used it to pull them tight. You’ve seen pictures from that period. That’s why all the fashionable women had hour-glass figures.”
“And misshapen ribs,” Hannah added. “They also fainted a lot, probably because they couldn’t breathe.”
“It’ll only be for a couple of minutes, just until Norman snaps the picture, and I want to look authentic. I think I should ask Bill to wear one of those tall silk hats.”
Hannah glanced up at the rack that held the hats and began to chuckle. The only hat her brother-in-law liked was a baseball cap. “Do you think he’ll do it?”
“Of course he will. Bill will do anything to make me happy. How about you? What are you going to wear?”
“I’m not having my picture taken.”
“Yes, you are. Mother signed you up for a group picture with us. She wants to hang it on her wall.”
Hannah groaned. The camera was her worst enemy. The darned thing always caught her with a crooked smile or one eye half-closed. To refuse to be in the portrait would mean an argument with Andrea and her mother, and she just didn’t have the energy for that. “I’ll do it, but I’ll be the unfashionable aunt. At least I won’t have to wear a corset that way.”
“But it’s going to hang on Mother’s wall. You really should look your best. Just let me find something in here for you and…”
“Look at me, Mommy!” Tracey called out, emerging from the dressing room in a sky blue dress with a ruffled white pinafore. “Grandma says I look precious, and she even gave me this old teddy bear to carry around.”
“Antique teddy bear,” Delores corrected her. “It’s a Steiff, and you have to be very careful with it. It belonged to Ezekiel Jordan’s youngest daughter.”
“I will, Grandma. I promise.”
“Let’s go, dear.” Delores herded her toward the door that connected with the main part of the house. “You’ll say your speech right after you enter the girls’ room upstairs.”
