Peach Cobbler Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  Hannah knew she was a goner if she looked into his eyes, so she concentrated on the area right between his eyebrows instead. “Going to the movies?” she asked, with what she thought was just the right note of casual curiosity in her voice.

  “Not unless there’s something you want to see.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure how to respond. Had he just invited her to the movies? Or was he merely asking if she approved of the lineup the six-plex was showing? If it was the former, she wasn’t interested. If it was the latter, it was only polite to respond. The safest thing would be to treat it as a joke and Hannah settled for the first thing that popped into her head after a quick glance at the marquee. “I’ve already seen Revenge of the Turtle Gods three times. I guess I don’t really need to see it again.”

  “Revenge of the…” Mike stopped and stared at her. Hard. Then he laughed. “You’re kidding…right?”

  “Right.”

  “So why don’t we go get something to eat? I’m not working tonight, and I’d really like to talk to you, Hannah.”

  “Sorry, but I’m out here with someone, and…”

  “Hi, Mike,” Andrea interrupted Hannah in mid-excuse. “What brings you out here? Crime in the mall?”

  “Just checking out a couple of alibis. How about you?”

  “Ordering pens for Al.”

  “Hannah and I were just talking about going to get something to eat. Are you interested?”

  “No, you two go ahead. I have to be home by nine.” Andrea ignored the dirty look her elder sister gave her. “I’ll call you later, Hannah. The fruit’s fake, and I found out more.”

  Mike gave Andrea a wave as she headed off and then he turned to Hannah. “Somebody’s selling fake fruit?”

  “No, it was just a window display. I said it looked too good to be real, and Andrea went in to ask.”

  Mike reached out to take Hannah’s arm and tucked her hand in his. “So where are we going for dinner?”

  “The Lake Eden Inn,” Hannah said promptly, naming one of her very favorite restaurants. She figured that since she’d been shanghaied by Mike with the help of her sister, she might as well make it worth her while.

  “Great dinner,” Mike said, pulling up in back of The Cookie Jar. “Are you sure you don’t want me to follow you home?”

  “I’m positive,” Hannah replied, not voicing the full sentence that ran through her head. I’m positive I do want you to follow me home and I’m also positive I shouldn’t let you do it.

  “So did you mean it when you said you’ve got it?”

  “Got what?” Hannah asked, thoroughly confused by the question.

  “The recipe for Orange Julius.”

  “I’ve got it. It might not be the recipe for the bona fide Orange Julius, but it tastes close enough to the real thing to fool everyone.”

  “Did I tell you why I need it?”

  Hannah wondered whether the two glasses of wine Mike had consumed during dinner had somewhat altered his perceptions. But that was unlikely. She’d seen him drink much more than that and remain perfectly sober and lucid. “You said you knew a couple of people who were really disappointed when the stand at their mall closed.”

  “Right. And our mall doesn’t have a stand, either. I checked the directory while I was out there. Do you think the Orange Julius company went out of business?”

  Hannah shrugged, wondering why he was so interested. “I don’t know.”

  “How about the recipe? Do you have it here at The Cookie Jar?”

  “Yes, it’s in my master file. We use it a lot for children’s parties. I just made some for a birthday party we catered a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Then you’ve got everything you need to make it?”

  “Sure. It’s one of our staples. We offer lemonade, Orange Julius, milk, or punch.”

  “So you could make it anytime you wanted to make it?”

  Hannah turned to look at Mike in the dim light that was coming from the dash of his car. He was acting very strange and she wasn’t sure why. “I guess I could make it anytime. Why?”

  “I’d really appreciate it if you’d go inside and make me some.”

  Hannah stared at Mike in bewilderment. “You want an Orange Julius right now?”

  “Yes. I really need it, Hannah. Will you do it?”

  “Sure,” Hannah said, climbing out of Mike’s car and leading the way to the back door of her shop. If she didn’t know him so well, she’d swear Mike was having a nervous breakdown. Come to think about it…maybe she didn’t know him all that well. In any event, he’d just bought her an incredibly good dinner and the beef Wellington she’d ordered hadn’t come cheap. The least she could do was honor his request, throw the ingredients for Orange Julius in the blender, and zoop them up for him.

  Once Mike was seated on a stool at the workstation, Hannah gathered the supplies she needed and plugged in her heavy-duty blender. “This is going to make almost two quarts and you’re supposed to serve it over ice. Do you want to take it home with you?”

  “Yeah. Except I’m not going home. I’m going across the street to Shawna Lee’s.”

  Hannah stopped in the act of pouring the orange juice into the blender. “Vanessa’s back?”

  “Not yet.” Mike glanced at the clock on the wall. “She’s landing right about now. As soon as she picks up her luggage, she’ll get her car from the airport lot and drive to Lake Eden. Traffic should be light, so I figure she’ll get here by midnight at the latest.”

  “So…you know her schedule?”

  “Yeah. I talked to her on the phone this morning. When she said she was driving back to town tonight, I said I’d meet her in the bakery.”

  “You’ve got a key?”

  “Shawna Lee gave me one so I could, uh, check out the interior when they weren’t home. You know, in case someone broke in.”

  “Right,” Hannah said, instead of Who do you think you’re trying to kid here?

  “Anyway, I didn’t think she should go into the bakery alone in the dark. I mean, with her sister being killed there and all. So I said I’d meet her.”

  Suspicion narrowed Hannah’s eyes. Some people might think it was sweet of Mike to think of Vanessa’s feelings, but he could have recommended that she stay at a hotel and drive to Lake Eden in the morning. Was there another reason why Mike had agreed to meet her inside when she got home? Local gossip had it that the two southern sisters traded boyfriends. When one would tire of a certain guy and stop dating him, the other sister would take over where her sibling had left off. Had Vanessa planned to step in with Mike when Shawna Lee tired of him?

  Whoa! Hannah’s mind shouted out a halt. Perhaps Vanessa really wanted Mike, wanted him so badly, she’d do anything to get him. And perhaps Shawna Lee hadn’t wanted to give him up quite yet. Would Vanessa kill her own sister to get the man she wanted for herself? Had she really flown back to Georgia on the night that Shawna Lee was killed? Or had she shot her own sister and caught a later flight? It was a possibility that Hannah couldn’t ignore.

  “We’re going to spend the night talking about Shawna Lee,” Mike went on. “Vanessa wants it to be like a wake.”

  Hannah hadn’t really thought about it before, but Quinn was an Irish name. “So they’re Irish?”

  “No. Their great-grandfather shortened the family name to Quinn because nobody could pronounce the real one.”

  “Okay. If Vanessa’s not Irish, why does she want a wake for Shawna Lee?”

  “Because she saw it in a movie and she thought it was a good way to remember someone. She said she’s got lots of stories to tell me about when they were growing up. I’d invite you, but I know you didn’t really like Shawna Lee all that well.”

  You got that right! Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it. Instead, she asked, “So why did you want a pitcher of Orange Julius?”

  “It was Shawna Lee’s all-time favorite drink. Vanessa told me they used to spike cups of Orange Julius with vodka and walk around
the mall sipping. Then, when they worked up the nerve, they’d go into the bridal store and try on the wedding gowns. Isn’t that sad?”

  “Isn’t what sad?”

  “That Shawna Lee loved to try on wedding gowns, but she never got to wear one.”

  “Mmm,” Hannah said, figuring that a noncommittal response was her best bet. How could she be charitable toward Shawna Lee when the southern sister had been doing her utmost to wear that wedding gown with Mike?

  “Anyway, I didn’t want to go over there too early. Too many memories, you know? That’s why I was so glad to see you at the mall. Going out to dinner with you was a great way to kill some time. I mean…we both had to eat, right?”

  “Right.” Any guilt Hannah might have felt about ordering something expensive vanished into thin air. Mike had used her, pure and simple.

  “And then, when you said you knew how to make Orange Julius, it was just perfect.”

  “Perfect,” Hannah repeated, gritting her teeth before she said something she might, or might not, later regret.

  “I’ll spike it with vodka just like they used to do, and if Vanessa wants to get smashed, I’ll stay and hold her hand. There’s only one problem with seeing her tonight. She’s going to want to know how the investigation’s coming along, and I don’t know what to tell her.”

  Now’s the perfect time to hit him with some questions! Hannah’s inner voice prompted. Opportunity had knocked. While Mike was at low ebb, feeling sad about Shawna Lee’s death, she could probe him about the murder investigation. He was far from his usual sharp self and he might tell her all sorts of useful information.

  On the other hand, was it fair to take advantage of a man’s grief? Hannah thought about that for a moment. Of course it wasn’t, but he’d used her to kill time. And he’d used her to make Orange Julius for the woman who might convince him to spend the night with her. All was fair in love and war, and this was one of the above, or both of the above, Hannah wasn’t quite sure which.

  “So how is the investigation going?” Hannah asked in her best casual voice, dumping ingredients into the blender.

  “It’s not. Everyone who had a motive has an alibi.”

  “Including me?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  “Including you. I’m beginning to think that this was a random killing and the killer’s long gone. That means we’ll never solve it.”

  “It’s possible, I guess,” Hannah said, although she didn’t believe it for a moment. “But do you really think a deranged killer would drive into Lake Eden, walk around to the back of the Magnolia Blossom Bakery, wipe a spot clean on the kitchen window, and shoot Shawna Lee for absolutely no reason when she was taking peach cobbler out of the oven?”

  “Not really. Not when you put it like that. But there aren’t any other suspects.”

  “How about someone from Shawna Lee’s past? Did you look into that?”

  “We knew the same people in the Cities and I checked with them. They couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to kill her.”

  “How about before that? When she was living in Georgia?”

  “Shawna Lee moved to Minneapolis five years ago. I don’t think anyone would carry a grudge that long.”

  “You’re probably right. But is it possible she made an enemy when she went back there in December for her brother-in-law’s funeral? That was only two months ago.”

  “It’s possible.” Mike looked thoughtful. “I’ll ask Vanessa about it tonight. Thanks for the idea, Hannah.”

  “You’re welcome,” Hannah said, and then she turned on the blender to discourage future conversation. Why had she given Mike a lead to investigate? He was getting information from her when it was supposed to be the other way around!

  It didn’t take long to make the Orange Julius. Hannah poured the mixture into a pitcher, added extra orange juice, and clamped on the lid. “Here you go. I want the pitcher back.”

  “You’ll get it.” Mike set the pitcher down on the stainless steel surface of the workstation and pulled her into his arms. He held her so tightly, Hannah could barely breathe, and her chances at normal respiration vanished when his lips met hers and he kissed her deeply.

  When Mike released her, more than a couple of minutes later, Hannah felt as limp as the rag doll her mother had displayed in the front window of Granny’s Attic. She reached up to touch her lips and was surprised they hadn’t burst into flames and disintegrated.

  “I’d better go now.” Mike picked up the pitcher and headed for the door. “Thanks, Hannah. I really don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re the best friend I ever had.”

  Hannah stared at the door as it closed behind Mike. How could he walk away so nonchalantly? Were the kisses that turned her knees weak and made her heart pound like a trip-hammer just casual kisses to him? She felt like the world’s biggest chump!

  FAKE ORANGE JULIUS

  3 cups orange juice

  1 envelope dry Dream Whip (the kind that makes 2 cups)

  1 package dry vanilla pudding (the kind that makes 2 cups)

  3 more cups orange juice

  Pour the orange juice into a blender. Add the dry Dream Whip and the dry pudding. Blend it for one minute on low and another minute on medium speed.

  Pour the mixture in a 2-quart pitcher. Add another 3 cups of orange juice and stir well.

  Serve over ice.

  Yield: Makes almost 2 quarts.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hannah was not in the best of moods when she drove to work the next morning. It had nothing to do with the report Andrea had given her last night. As usual, her younger sister had gotten the goods from someone who probably didn’t even know he’d talked out of turn. Kyle had delivered Shawna Lee’s yellow roses at eleven. At that time, the bakery had been open and packed with customers. But on Kyle’s afternoon run, there had been another bouquet for Shawna Lee. When Kyle had delivered that, at four-thirty in the afternoon, the bakery had been closed and Shawna Lee had invited him in for a cup of coffee. Kyle had sworn to Andrea that Shawna Lee had been very much alive when he’d left her at five. And since Lisa and Herb’s wedding had started at five and the guests were already seated by then, Shawna Lee’s killer must have been someone who hadn’t attended the ceremony at the church.

  Of course Andrea had asked who’d sent Shawna Lee the second bouquet and the answer had set her back on her heels. Mayor Bascomb had sent it. Kyle remembered the card. It had read, Southern Flowers for a Southern Flower, and it had consisted of magnolias, camellias, and hawthorn. Since it was February in Minnesota, and the flowers had to be flown in from hothouse growers, it had knocked Mayor Bascomb back to the tune of a hundred and fifty dollars.

  All this had been interesting and most likely libelous, but Hannah knew Mayor Bascomb hadn’t shot Shawna Lee. He had been sitting in a prominent front pew of St. Peter’s Catholic Church with his wife during Lisa and Herb’s wedding, and when it was time to start for the reception, Lake Eden’s first couple had fallen into line right behind the limo that Hannah had been driving.

  Hannah shook her head to clear it. Her bad mood was growing worse and the weather wasn’t helping. Big wet flakes of snow splattered against her windshield and she was forced to use her wipers. Her windshield hadn’t been washed for a while, and the blades left streaks in the shape of arches to obscure her vision. Hannah slowed to a crawl, pulled over to the side of the road, left the wipers on to dance their stately wintertime gavotte, and got out to remedy the problem.

  It was quite a feat to find clean snow by the side of a busy road in February. The snow that was falling hadn’t piled up enough to be of any use, and the hard-packed snowbanks the county snow-plow had left were too dirty to clean anything. Hannah found a clear spot several feet away that was covered with a thin coat of ice. As she broke through the crust, pulled it apart with both hands, and scooped out the clean snow underneath, it reminded her of the way her father had broken open the crust of a chicken potpie to get at the meat.

/>   Hannah filled both hands with snow and trudged back to her truck. She tossed the clean snow at her windshield, and smiled as she went back for more. Someone from out of state had once recommended that she carry a can of Coca-Cola in her cookie truck during the winter to clean her windshield. Hannah was sure it would work. Miss Bruder, her fifth grade teacher, had shown the class how to clean coins by dropping them into a glass of Coke. But if Hannah stored a can of Coke in her truck and the temperature dipped below freezing, the soda would expand and she’d end up with Coke-flavored ice all over her floorboards.

  It took several more trips and at least two sets of wiper gavottes before her windshield was clean. Hannah dusted off her gloves, knocked the snow off her boots, and climbed back in behind the wheel.

  As she drove toward town, Hannah forced herself to smile and pretend that everything was hunky-dory. Sometimes the simple act of smiling, no matter how forced, was enough to lighten a person’s mood. It was as if the corners of the mouth told the brain what to feel. Unfortunately, the smile Hannah manufactured didn’t affect her outlook one iota and it quickly drooped to a glower. Her feet were cold from tramping around in the snow and it was difficult to be upbeat when cold feet were part of the equation.

  A glance at the clock on her dash, one feature of her truck that actually worked as advertised, told Hannah that she’d have to step on it if she wanted to get to The Cookie Jar by five. She didn’t have to be there by five. Unless she had a special last-minute dessert to bake for a catering job, she seldom came in before six. But this morning she had an ulterior motive for arriving an hour ahead of schedule. Although she knew full well that people who spied on other people often discovered things they wished they hadn’t, Hannah had decided to drive down the alley in back of the Magnolia Blossom Bakery to see if Mike’s Hummer was still there.