Blackberry Pie Murder (A Hannah Swensen Mystery)

by Fluke, Joanne

  “I did,” Michelle said. “I used to love taking baths, but now I’d rather take showers.”

  Carly sighed. “I know all that. I prefer showers now, too. It’s just that . . . well . . . something’s not right about Jennifer. I asked her what she used to hide in her napkin and pass to me, and she didn’t remember what I was talking about.”

  “What were you talking about?” Hannah asked her.

  “Sweet potatoes. Jennifer really hated yams and sweet potatoes. She used to take a small helping just to please Mom, but she’d hide the pieces in her napkin when no one was looking. Then she’d pass it to me and I’d get up to get more milk or something and throw her napkin in the trash. It was our secret.”

  “That was years ago, Carly,” Michelle said. “Maybe she just didn’t remember.”

  “Maybe, but one of these nights when I don’t have to work, I’m going to make sweet potatoes and see if she eats them.”

  “Does she remember anything about her life with you before she ran away?” Hannah posed the question that was uppermost in her mind.

  “Yes. That’s part of the problem. She remembers a lot. And some days I’m sure she’s really Jennifer. But other days, I think she’s not.”

  “Does she know things that only Jennifer would know?” Hannah followed up on her initial question.

  “Yes. She remembered all the names of her teachers, even the ones that aren’t there anymore. And she described the cabin we used to have on Eden Lake. And when Mom got out the birthday tablecloth she always used for us when we were kids, she remembered that.” Carly looked from Hannah to Michelle and then back again. “Do you both think I’m crazy for doubting her?”

  “No,” Hannah said, before Michelle could reply. “But if she’s not the real Jennifer, why is she here pretending to be Jennifer?”

  “That’s what I can’t figure out. It’s not like we’re rich or anything like that. And we don’t have anything valuable to steal. As far as I can see, there’s nothing for her to gain by pretending to be Jennifer.”

  “Have you told your mom about your suspicions?” Michelle asked the question before Hannah could.

  “No. I wouldn’t do that to Mom. What if I’m wrong?”

  “Do you think your mother believes she’s Jennifer?” Hannah asked the next question.

  “I know she does. Mom’s so happy that Jennifer’s back. She’s all relaxed now and she smiles all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy.”

  Hannah felt a surge of sympathy for Carly. No wonder she needed to talk to them! “So even if you have doubts, you feel you can’t discuss them with your mother?”

  “That’s right, especially because I can’t put my finger on anything concrete. It’s just a gut level feeling I have. And I only have it once in a while.”

  “But do you still like Jennifer?” Michelle asked.

  “Yes. That’s the strange thing. Even when I doubt she’s really my sister, I still like her a lot.”

  “Do you think part of your doubt is due to jealousy that your mother is so happy about someone other than you?” Michelle asked. “Think about that before you answer, Carly. If you do feel jealous, it would be entirely natural.”

  Hannah held her breath. Michelle had asked a very difficult question of Carly.

  “I’ve thought about that,” Carly answered. “And I don’t think it’s due to jealousy on my part. I’m more concerned with seeing Mom hurt if I’m right and she’s really not Jennifer.” Carly turned to face Hannah. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, too. I know you’ve solved a slew of murders in the past couple of years. And that means you’re a really good investigator. Would you . . . could you . . . investigate Jennifer and find out if she’s really my sister?”

  CHOCOLATE HAZELNUT CRACKLES

  (Nutella Cookies)

  Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  1 cup melted butter (2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½ pound)

  2 cups brown sugar (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  2 teaspoons vanilla

  1 and ½ teaspoons baking soda

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 cup Nutella (like peanut butter, but made with chocolate and hazelnuts)

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

  3 cups all-purpose flour (no need to sift)

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

  Measure out the Nutella. (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 them in.

  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 half-hour or so and try again.)

  Push the dough balls down just a tiny bit so they won’t roll off the sheet when you slide them into the oven. (Yes, that’s happened to me—it’s a horrible mess, even with a self-cleaning oven!)

  Bake at 375 degrees F. for 8 to 10 minutes. The balls will flatten out, all by themselves.

  Cool the cookies on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to finish cooling.

  Yield: 5 to 6 dozen chocolaty, nutty treats, depending on cookie size.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was the best night’s sleep she’d had in four days. Hannah woke up at four-thirty and sat up in bed. Moishe was purring beside her, curled up on his own pillow for a change, and he opened one eye, his good one, to stare at her in surprise.

  “Who did you expect? Norman?” she asked, smiling at her furry friend. “You’re home, and so am I. And doesn’t it feel absolutely wonderful?”

  Moishe didn’t comment. She didn’t expect him to. He just rolled over so that she could rub his back and scratch the base of his tail. Hannah chuckled softly under her breath. She talked to Moishe frequently, just as if he could understand her and answer her questions when she asked them. She was thinking about what she’d do if he opened his mouth and answered her in a tiny cat voice. She’d be so shocked that she’d probably have a heart attack on the spot. And that would put an end to her silly questions.

  “Daylight in the swamp,” she uttered her usual morning greeting to him. “Let’s go out to the kitchen and see if the cat fairies left you something good to eat.”

  Almost as if he were responding to her words, Moishe got to his feet, gave a little shake, and dropped down again in a belly stretch with his front legs extended as far as they could reach toward the foot of the bed and his back legs stretched out behind him so that they touched the edge of his pillow. Stretched out like that, Hannah noticed that he covered well over half the length of the bed.

  “You’re a really long kitty,” she told him. “No wonder you’re always trying to take over my half of the bed. And this is a king size bed. They don’t come any bigger than king size.”

  “Rrrrroww!” Moishe responded, just as if he were answering her.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” Hannah sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for her slippers. She pulled them on, shrugged into her robe and padded down the hall with Moishe playing tag with the belt of her robe.

  The kitchen light was on and fresh coffee was in the pot. Hannah poured herself a cup, fed Moishe, and was just sitting down at the kitchen table to drink her coffee when Michelle came out of her bedroom.

  “Morning, Hannah,” Michelle greeted her.

  “Good morning, Michelle.”

  “Are you going to take your shower right away, or can I use your exercise machine for a quick five-minute workout?”

  “You can use it. My eyes aren’t fully open yet. The last time I wasn’t fully awake for my shower, I slumped to the floor, fell asleep on my back wit
h my mouth open, and almost drowned.”

  “Really?” Michelle looked shocked.

  “No. I’m just kidding. But it’ll be at least twenty minutes before I’m ready to take a shower. Go work out and have fun . . . if that’s possible.”

  “It’s possible,” Michelle said with a smile. “I love to work out first thing in the morning. It’s so invigorating.” Then she turned on her heel and headed back the way she’d come.

  “She loves to work out first thing in the morning,” Hannah repeated to Moishe. “At times like this, I feel like Carly. You heard what she said about Jennifer last night. If Michelle likes to work out first thing in the morning, she can’t possibly be my sister.”

  They were standing outside Hal and Rose’s Café when Rose McDermott flicked on the lights, turned the sign that hung on the door from closed to open, and unlocked it to let them in. Hannah and Michelle trooped in and sat at the first booth so that Rose wouldn’t have to walk far.

  “What’ll it be?” Rose asked, coming up with two cups and the coffee pot without being asked.

  “Coffee, please,” Hannah answered. “I didn’t get my full four cups this morning. And then you can tell us what’s good for breakfast.”

  “Everything’s good,” Rose gave her standard answer. “If it wasn’t good, I wouldn’t have it on the menu.”

  “Do you have toast cups this morning?” Michelle asked her.

  “I always have toast cups, honey. Do you want one?”

  “Yes. I just love your toast cups. I tried to make them, but mine don’t turn out as good as yours do.”

  Rose looked puzzled. “But you watched me make them the last time you were home from college. There’s no mystery about them.”

  “I know, but I must have done something wrong.”

  “Did you pre-cook the bacon?”

  “Yes. And I drained it on a paper towel.”

  “Did you use a three and a half inch cutter for the bread?”

  Michelle nodded. “Yes, just the way you do.”

  “And you buttered the muffin cups?”

  “I did.”

  “You put the shredded cheddar in the bottom right after you put the bread rounds in?”

  “Yes, exactly the way you said I should.”

  Rose looked puzzled. “Then I don’t understand it. That’s exactly what I do.”

  “Maybe it’s because I have an electric stove. Your oven is gas, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but that shouldn’t make any difference. Did you preheat the oven to four hundred degrees?”

  “Four hundred?!” Michelle looked surprised. “But I saw you turn your oven to three seventy-five!”

  “That’s because my oven runs hot. You’ve got to know your oven, honey. If yours doesn’t run hot, you should set it for four hundred degrees. You won’t get the toast crisp enough if you don’t.”

  “Got it,” Michelle said, looking pleased. “Thanks for clearing that up, Rose. When I get back to college, I’m going to try to make them again.”

  “Good.” Rose smiled at her. “Do you still want one today?”

  “Yes, I do. I just love them for breakfast.”

  Rose turned to Hannah. “How about you?”

  “I’ll have one, too. And then we’re going to have dessert.”

  It was Rose’s turn to look surprised. “Dessert for breakfast?”

  “Why not? There’s no rule that says you can’t have dessert for breakfast. And that reminds me . . . I have a question for you, Rose.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Did you have blackberry pie for sale last Thursday or Friday?”

  “No.”

  The answer had come so quickly, it made Hannah wonder if Rose had taken time to think about it. “But you have lots of different kinds of pies. It’s important. Are you sure you didn’t have blackberry pie?”

  “I’m positive. And that’s because I never serve it. Some of the people who come here for pie are slobs. And if they drop a forkful of blackberry pie and I don’t notice it right away, it’ll stain my white countertop. It’s just like beets. I don’t serve beets, either.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Rose.” Hannah mentally crossed Rose off her to-do list.

  “So what do you want for dessert?” Rose asked. “Pie?”

  “I want a chocolate doughnut,” Michelle said, making up her mind immediately. “Why don’t you have one too, Hannah? Unless you don’t want chocolate, of course.”

  “Bite your tongue!” Hannah said with a laugh. “I always want chocolate.”

  Rose nodded. “Almost everybody who comes in here needs a little chocolate. It seems to just set people up for the day. I know that because I always have to order four times more chocolate doughnuts than I do of any other kind.”

  It was eleven in the morning and Hannah stood in the kitchen at The Cookie Jar, mixing up yet another batch of cookies. It seemed everyone in Lake Eden wanted to listen to Lisa’s story of how they had driven through the terrible summer storm, and Hannah had hit and killed the stranger no one in town or the surrounding towns seemed to know.

  Today something new had been added to Lisa’s story and everyone had turned out to hear what it was. Hannah had listened to Lisa talk about the injuries Doc Knight had described from the fight the man had been in with an unknown assailant, and how the assailant’s ring had slipped off and could be the very same high school or college ring the stranger had been wearing.

  Lisa was just coming to the part about the blackberry stain on the stranger’s white shirt when Hannah popped more pans of cookies in the oven. She set the timer, poured herself another cup of coffee, and tried not to listen. Unfortunately, trying not to listen was a bit like trying not to jiggle a sore tooth. The more the tooth loosened, the more you jiggled. Hannah found herself listening with rapt attention as Lisa described the blackberry stain on the man’s expensive white shirt.

  “Blackberries?” Hannah heard a shocked voice say. “Are you sure it was a blackberry stain?”

  “Yes, we’re sure,” Lisa said. “Doc Knight tested the stain in the hospital lab.”

  “Well, Winnie Henderson’s the only one who raises blackberries around here,” someone said. “Maybe he raided her blackberry patch, or ate a piece of her blackberry pie. I know she made some for her grandson’s birthday party. I took my boy there and I had a piece myself.”

  Hannah thunked the side of her head with her hand. Of course! Winnie had told her on Friday morning that she had to bake another blackberry pie because one of hers had been stolen.

  The stove timer dinged and Hannah went to take the cookies out of the oven. She’d just placed the last sheet of cookies on the baker’s rack when there was a knock at the back door.

  Hannah hurried to open the door. Perhaps it was Norman, on break from the dental clinic. But when she pulled open the door, she saw her mother standing there.

  “Hello, Mother,” Hannah said, trying not to sound disappointed.

  “Hello, dear. I just popped in for coffee.”

  “You’re in luck then. I made a fresh pot no more than five minutes ago and I’ve got fresh cookies that just came out of the oven.”

  “Perfect timing then,” Delores said, taking a seat at the stainless steel work counter. “I’m considering butterscotch tarts for dessert at the wedding reception, dear.”

  “Butterscotch tarts?” There was a question in Hannah’s voice when she repeated her mother’s choice. “Do you think they’ll be festive enough for a fancy dinner?”

  “I don’t know. That’s one of the reasons I came over here. I was thinking that perhaps we could decorate them in some way.”

  “I’ll have to think about that. But I thought you wanted something chocolate.”

  “I did. I still do, but it’s not just for me, dear. Doc is Scottish and I thought we should have something to reflect his heritage.”

  “There’s your main course, Mother. You could have haggis.”

  “What’s that, dear? I don’t think I�
�ve ever tasted it.”

  “It’s the chopped organs of a sheep mixed with oatmeal and stuffed in a sheep’s stomach.”

  “Ohhh!” Delores gave a delicate shiver. “That sounds simply dreadful!”

  “I understand it is, but I’ve never eaten it either.”

  “Forget Doc’s Scottish heritage for the moment. I’d much rather have a half Cornish game hen with apricot glaze.”

  “But I thought you’d decided on individual Beef Wellington.”

  “That did sound marvelous, but I’ve reconsidered. And I’ve decided on the colors for the bridesmaid dresses. I want something in lavender lace.”

  It was Hannah’s turn to shudder. Lavender was a shade of purple and she’d never been able to wear any shade of purple. Of course, there was no sense in getting upset about it. Her mother was bound to change her mind at least a dozen more times before the wedding.

  “Would you like to have a cookie, Mother?” Hannah asked, hoping to change the subject. Wedding planning with Delores was always frustrating and the last thing she needed today was more frustration.

  “Cookies would be lovely, dear. I’m not sure I’ll have time for lunch. I have to run out to the hospital this afternoon. Doc has some filing for me to do.”

  It was love, pure and simple Hannah decided on her way to the baker’s rack to get cookies for her mother. Delores hated filing. She hated office work of any type. She’d never done any office work at Hannah’s father’s hardware store. But here she was manning Doc’s office in addition to heading the Rainbow Ladies, the hospital volunteer group. Yes, it had to be love. There was no other explanation for it.

  Hannah thought about this while her mother munched a Molasses Crackle. Like her mother, Hannah wasn’t fond of office work. She knew how to file and write a business letter, but would she do it for either of the men she dated and loved? Norman didn’t need her to do his office work. He had a part-time helper from the Jordan High business class for that. And Mike didn’t need her either because he used the secretarial pool at the Winnetka County Sheriff’s station.