by Joanne Fluke
Hannah let the springs on the machine she thought of as the Push Me, Pull Me snap back into place with a loud thwack. It was bad for the machine, she knew that, but she simply didn’t have enough energy to return the pedals and the handlebars to the starting position any other way. She was weary, worn out, ready to drop, and dead beat. In other words, she’d had it!
Three hours of exercise classes was too much for any normal human being. Hannah was willing to testify to that. Thank goodness she didn’t have to go back to The Cookie Jar today! She could go straight home, take a shower, feed Moishe, make some sort of dessert, and drive to Norman’s to watch surveillance tapes. Big whoopie.
“Miss Swensen?”
Hannah turned to see an older man with short-cropped gray hair smiling at her. He was wearing a mall security uniform, his bearing was stiffly military, and he looked alert and competent. “Yes?”
“I’m Frank Hurley. Charlotte called and said you might want to talk to me.”
“Hello, Frank,” Hannah greeted him. She should have known that Charlotte would jump the gun. “I’m glad to meet you, but I don’t really have any questions for you. You weren’t working the night of Ronni’s murder, were you?”
“I was working, but my shift ended at midnight. I heard she was killed a lot later than that. Is that right?”
“Yes.” Hannah didn’t see any harm in telling the security guard the facts. “Doc Knight says it was sometime between one and two-thirty in the morning.”
“It was a terrible thing to happen, but I won’t lie and say I’m sorry she’s gone. Miss Ward wasn’t a nice person. She caused a lot of hurt feelings around here. I’m just sorry that Tad was working that night. I know it was hard on the boy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s never been at a murder scene before.”
“And you have?” Hannah was curious.
“A couple of times when I worked private security for an after-hours club in the Cities. People get liquored up and do crazy things. Most of the time we could break it up before things got too hot, but there were a couple of altercations that got way out of hand.”
“You sound pretty calm about it.”
“Sure…now. That was over thirty years ago, and I don’t take that kind of work anymore. It’s usually pretty tame duty out here at the mall. That’s one of the reasons I wanted Tad to work here.” Frank took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Please don’t say anything to anybody, but Tad’s my nephew and I got him the job. I told the head guy I knew somebody good who was looking for a mall job, and he took my recommendation and hired Tad. He wouldn’t have done it if he’d known that we were related. There’s some kind of rule against it.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks. Tad’s my sister’s youngest, and he’s always been like a son to me. As far as I can see, he’s only got one weakness.”
“What’s that?”
Frank looked a bit embarrassed. “It’s women,” he said. “He picks the wrong ones.”
“Quite a few people I know have that problem,” Hannah said, giving him a commiserating smile.
“Tad needs a nice girl, one with good moral fiber, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I do.”
“I’ve tried to talk some sense into him, but he won’t listen. He just keeps trying to get the wrong girls to go out with him.”
Hannah nodded, remembering that Charlotte had told her Frank liked to lecture people.
“Well, I’d better get back to work,” Frank said, turning to go. “Nice talking to you, Hannah. Just call me if you need me for anything. Charlotte said she gave you my number.”
When Frank left, Hannah dragged her tired body to the dressing room, slipped on her coat, and grabbed her clothes. She’d change at home. Right now all she wanted was to be transported to her condo in an instant by the flick of a magic wand, or the click of ruby slippers.
She’d almost made it to her cookie truck when a voice hailed her. Hannah turned to see Tad Newberg heading her way. He was dressed in a parka that said MALL SECURITY over the breast pocket. A fur-lined hat with the same designation embroidered in green was clamped on his head, and he looked a lot warmer than she felt in her perspiration-soaked workout clothes.
“I noticed you were still here,” Tad said, giving her a smile in greeting.
“I’m just leaving. What are you doing here so early?”
“I’m pulling a double today. One of the day guys called in sick. How are you girls coming along with the investigation?”
Hannah was surprised. When they’d talked to Tad at the security station, none of them had mentioned that they were attempting to solve Ronni’s murder. “Who said we were investigating?” she asked, answering his question with one of her own.
“A couple of the ladies in your classes. They said you and your sisters always get involved when there’s a murder. I was just wondering if you found out anything.”
“Nothing yet,” Hannah said, deciding it couldn’t hurt to share that information. “How about you?”
“Me? It’s not my job to investigate murders.”
“I know that. I just wondered if you’d noticed anything unusual since the night Ronni was killed.”
“Like what?”
“Like somebody who used to come out here every night and hasn’t been seen since Ronni died. The regular detectives would miss that, but you’d notice.”
“You’re right. I would. I don’t think…no, I haven’t noticed anything like that. The only unusual thing that happened since she died was the attempted break-in at Bianco Shoes. They didn’t get anything. The alarm scared them off.”
A cold wind whipped around the corner of Hannah’s truck. She shivered and pulled up the zipper on her parka.
“You’re cold. You’d better get going,” Tad said, opening the door of her truck for her. “It’s supposed to get down to fifteen below tonight, and that’s not counting the wind chill.”
Hannah shivered again and climbed into her icy cold truck. She reached back for a roll of Molasses Crackles and handed them to him. “Thanks, Tad. Here’s a roll of cookies for you. They’re frozen, but they should thaw in about twenty minutes after you get back inside.”
“That’s really nice of you. Thanks, Hannie.”
“Hannie?”
“When I like someone, I give them a nickname. You know, like Susan is Suzie. Hannah’s a tough one.”
She certainly is! Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it.
“I hope you don’t mind the nickname thing.” Tad looked a bit worried. “If you’d rather, I can call you Hannah.”
“No, it’s okay,” Hannah said quickly. She just wanted to cut this conversation short and get on the road. “Good-bye, Tad.”
Hannah started her truck to cut off any further dialogue. She was just too cold to chat. Tad took the hint by giving a little wave and heading for the entrance.
As she drove home, Hannah began to smile. It was a good thing Tad hadn’t known that Louise was her middle name. He might have decided to call her Weezie instead of Hannie, and she didn’t know which nickname she disliked more.
“Again?” Hannah stared down at the empty Kitty Valet. “Good heavens, Moishe!”
“Rowww.” Moishe gave a plaintive meow and brushed up against her ankles.
“Okay. You can have more. Hold on a second and I’ll fill it up.” Hannah unlocked the door to the broom closet and came back with a scoop of dry cat food. She retraced her footsteps four times until the food tube on the Kitty Valet was full. “There it is,” she said, clamping the lid on tightly. “I just wish I knew where you were…the camera!”
The minute she thought of it, Hannah reached up to flick off the red switch on the camera. She pushed the button that extracted the tape and retrieved the carrier that Mike had left on the kitchen counter. Her next stop was the living room. Hannah slipped the tape and carrier into her VCR, set it to rewind, and headed toward her bedroom. She’d get o
ut of her soaked exercise outfit, take a lightning fast shower, put on the warmest clothes she owned, grab a fresh cup of coffee from the pot she’d put on when she’d arrived home, and settle down on the couch with the remote control to see where Moishe was hiding his kitty crunchies.
Fifteen minutes later, Hannah was still in the dark. The surveillance camera must have failed somehow, because there were only two shots of Moishe leaving the kitchen. In the first shot, he’d entered the living room and jumped up to the back of the couch to take a nap. At least Hannah assumed he’d been napping. The camera had clicked off. When it reactivated, it caught Moishe in the act of jumping down from the back of the couch and padding into the kitchen again. The third shot showed Moishe leaving the kitchen and heading off toward the laundry room, presumably to use his litter box. And that was all. The rest of the tape was blank.
Hannah removed the tape from her VCR, popped it out of the carrier, and took it back to the kitchen. She’d return it to the camera and run a little test. She’d turn on the camera and leave the kitchen a prescribed number of times. Then she’d turn off the camera and watch the tape to see whether it had activated correctly.
Hannah had just reinserted the tape when her cell phone rang. Since it was in her purse on the counter within easy reach, she answered it.
“Hello? This is Hannah.”
“Hi, Hannah. It’s Mike. Where are you?”
“I’m home. Why didn’t you call me here?”
“Because I didn’t know you’d be home this early.”
Hannah was puzzled. “You’re not calling me from home, are you?”
“Of course not. They might check my phone records. I picked up one of those disposable cell phones with the minutes already loaded.”
“Well I’m glad you called. I’m having trouble with this surveillance camera, and I was about to test it out.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I turned it on when Michelle and I left this morning, and I just watched the tape. It only showed Moishe leaving the kitchen twice all day. And when I got home, the Kitty Valet was empty.”
There was silence for a minute, and then Mike sighed. “Well, that can’t be right. There’s no way he could carry that much food in only two trips. He’s got to be eating it, Hannah.”
“But he’s not. I’m almost positive of that.”
“Okay. Let’s figure this out right now. I want you to put the tape back in the camera and turn it on.”
Hannah reached up to flick the red switch. The moment she did, her phone started to make a high-pitched hum. “I think there’s something wrong with my phone,” she told him. “It sounds like a mosquito.”
“I can’t hear it on this end. It’s probably some sort of interference.”
“Then it must be from the surveillance camera. It started the second I flicked it on. I’m going to turn it off and see if it stops.”
“Good idea. I’ll hold.”
Hannah flicked off the camera, and the mosquito sound disappeared. “It’s the camera. The sound stopped.”
“I’ll try it with my cell phone the next time I come over, and if it happens with mine, I’ll write it in my report to the company. In the meantime, let’s test out that camera. Turn it on again, and crawl into the living room.”
“Crawl?! Why do I have to crawl?”
“Because you’re a lot taller than Moishe. I want to see if the camera’s aimed right.”
Hannah thought about arguing, but it wasn’t worth the effort. She dropped to her knees and crawled through the doorway to the living room. She moved to the side so she wasn’t within camera range, and on the count of ten, she dropped to her knees and crawled back into the kitchen.
“Okay. Done,” she reported when she’d picked up her cell phone again.
“Great. Now do it three more times to make sure. And then turn off the camera, stick the tape in your VCR, and see if it caught the action.”
Crawling through the door and back three more times would kill her. Hannah was quite certain of that. But the surveillance camera picked up movement, and it didn’t really matter what was doing the moving, did it? That theory in mind, Hannah opened her pantry and surveyed the contents. What was capable of rolling and wasn’t any larger than Moishe? Almost immediately, Hannah had the answer. She grabbed three fifty-ounce cans of chicken broth. They were smaller than Moishe, but that was all right. She bought the cans of chicken broth whenever Florence had a sale at the Red Owl, and stockpiled them in her pantry to use in her Holiday Squash Soup.
Getting back down to the floor with the cans wasn’t easy. Hannah resorted to sitting on her haunches since her knees were so sore. Then she picked up one can, positioned it on its side, and rolled it through the doorway.
It was like bowling with soup cans. Hannah laughed out loud as she sent the second can rolling. Once it stopped several feet into the living room, she rolled the third can on its way. A moment later, she’d taken the tape from the camera, slipped it into her VCR, and was watching it on her television screen. In the first shot, she emerged on hands and knees through the doorway, but on the next three shots, the cans of chicken broth took center stage.
“It worked,” she reported, picking up her cell phone again.
“That was fast! I thought it would take you much longer. It’s difficult for people over thirty to crawl. I think we forget how unless we make it a part of our daily fitness routine.”
“I think you’re right,” Hannah said, her tongue firmly in cheek. “This must be one of the benefits from all that exercise I’m getting.”
Most cat owners could tell the difference between an inquiring meow, a grateful meow, and a downright thrilled meow. Moishe’s meow was a combination of all three as Hannah pulled up in the circular driveway at Norman’s country home.
Before Hannah could even reach in the back of the truck to snap on Moishe’s leash, the door opened and Norman came out. He walked straight up to the passenger door and started to open it.
“I don’t have his leash on yet,” Hannah called out.
“That’s okay.” Norman opened the door all the way and held out his arms. Moishe jumped into them, purring all the while. “I’ve got him, Hannah.”
“I thought he only did that with me,” Hannah said. And although she tried not to react, she felt a tiny little stab of jealousy.
“He doesn’t do it for me very often. It happens only when I’ve got Cuddles waiting inside.”
That made her feel better, especially when she reminded herself that Norman had built this house with Moishe in mind. There was a kitty staircase leading to nowhere in the den, with several marvelous views of the purple grackles that gathered on Norman’s lawn. Both Cuddles and Moishe loved it, and they spent hours chasing each other up and down the carpeted steps, stopping every once in a while to look out at the aviary feast they longed to catch.
“Did you find out where the Big Guy is hiding his food?” Norman asked, scratching Moishe under the chin.
“Not yet. I talked to Mike on the phone, and he told me how to re-aim the camera to get the best results. I’ll have to wait until I get home to see if it worked.”
“I hope it did.” Norman juggled Moishe to a new position in his arms. “I’m with you, Hannah. I don’t think he’s eating more. He seems to be the same weight as always.”
Hannah retrieved her brownies from the cat-safe cooler in the back. “Can I use your stovetop? I didn’t have time to frost my dessert.”
“Of course. It’s as much your stovetop as it is my stovetop.”
Hannah smiled. She loved Norman’s stovetop. She’d chosen it when they’d entered the Dream House contest. It had been fun to design the ideal family home and choose appliances and furniture without even considering price. It had come as a total surprise when their dream house had won the contest. It had also come as a complete surprise when Norman had actually built their dream house and asked her to marry him!
There had been many times since then t
hat she wished she’d said yes. But there had been just as many times she’d been glad she was still single. As Hannah followed Norman into the lovely dream house they’d designed together, she decided this was one of the “yes” times. And she was sure of it when she saw Moishe leap out of Norman’s arms and race off to play with Cuddles.
“So what did you bring for dessert?” Norman asked her.
“Bonnie Brownie Cookie Bars. All I have to do is frost them.”
“I’ve never heard of those before. Are they something new?”
Hannah laughed. “Yes. It’s a new recipe that owes its existence to the fact that I didn’t want to drive to the store.”
“So you substituted?”
“Exactly. That’s how great recipes are born. I was going to make peanut butter brownies, but I didn’t have any salted peanuts. I did have some butterscotch chips, so I made these instead.”
“What sort of pan do you need for the frosting?”
“Just a medium-sized saucepan. I brought all the ingredients with me.” Hannah gestured toward the small soft-sided cooler she’d carried in with her.
Norman got out the saucepan, and then he stepped behind Hannah and massaged her neck for a moment. “You look so tired. I’m going to be glad when we solve this case and you can get some sleep.”
“So am I!” Hannah said, turning to give him a hug. “I don’t think I’ve had more than six hours total since Ronni was killed.”
They stood there for a long moment. Hannah no longer felt like making the frosting. She wanted to cuddle up with Norman, and perhaps it wasn’t very romantic, but she wanted to go to sleep in the warmth of his arms. Or maybe that was romantic, especially in the true sense of the word. She really wasn’t sure, but she knew it would be pure heaven.
The doorbell rang, and Norman pulled away reluctantly. “I’d better get that. If you’re too tired to make the frosting, I’ve got powdered sugar in the pantry. We can just sprinkle some on top and serve your bar cookies that way.”
“Good idea!” Hannah answered gratefully.
“The only thing that’s good about this night is your egg salad,” Hannah said, rubbing her eyes. They’d fast-forwarded through six hours of tapes, and her eyelids felt like they were propped up with toothpicks. “You did write down the recipe, didn’t you, Norman?”