Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen Mysteries)

by Joanne Fluke

  Hannah let her sister say all the right things to ease Claire’s embarrassment. She didn’t think it was possible for Claire to look rumpled, even in the slacks and casual cotton blouse she was wearing. Andrea and Claire were two of a kind, the type of women who could wear gunnysacks with house slippers and still generate admiring glances.

  “I love this color,” Andrea said, reaching out to touch a lavender silk suit hanging on the rack of clothing that Claire had indicated. “Do you think it’s too Easter-ish?”

  Hannah set her bag of cookies by the coffeepot and tuned out as Claire and Andrea began to discuss colors and their association with various holidays and seasons. Fashion wasn’t one of her interests. Instead, she mentally reviewed the questions she wanted to ask. Of course she’d find out about the pies, but Claire might have some other useful information. As Andrea was fond of saying, everybody who was anybody in Lake Eden bought designer clothes at Beau Monde. While the stores at the Tri-County Mall might be less expensive, Claire provided the personal touch that pampered women everywhere craved. Her customers often arrived in pairs and while they were trying on clothes, they gossiped. It was possible that Claire might have overheard something about Rhonda’s private life.

  “How about this, Hannah?” Andrea asked, holding up a maternity top.

  “You’re asking me a fashion question?” Hannah laughed.

  “Second thought, I’ll just try it on.” Andrea exchanged a grin with her sister and then she turned to Claire. “If you don’t mind, I’ll try all of them on.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  Claire gathered the hangers and led Andrea toward the dressing rooms, leaving Hannah to fend for herself. It wasn’t for long. Claire was back before Hannah even had time to walk over to the racks to look at the new shipment.

  “Your sister’s all set,” Claire said, heading toward the small coffee machine she kept next to the sink. “I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”

  “Sure,” Hannah said, even though Claire’s coffee was nothing to write home about. Conversation over coffee tended to be candid and invited confidences. “I brought you a half-dozen cookies.”

  “Thanks, Hannah. What kind are they?”

  “Chocolate Chip Crunch.”

  “Oh, good. I could use a pick-me-up. I’ve been pressing out wrinkles since eight. Take my desk chair and I’ll get the coffee. How about one of your own cookies?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Claire poured two cups of coffee while Hannah sat down. She carried one to the desk, set it neatly on a coaster, and then perched on a stool with her coffee in one hand and a cookie in the other. “You’ve lost weight.”

  “Do you think so?” Hannah felt a swell of pride. Claire studied everyone’s appearance. If she thought Hannah had lost weight, it was probably true.

  “I make it my business to notice things like that. If one of my ladies comes in and she’s gained weight, I need to substitute a larger size without commenting on it.”

  “And you can tell that by just looking at her?”

  “Of course. I have a very discerning eye.”

  Hannah was thoughtful. Claire’s discerning eye might provide a way for her to avoid the dreaded scale. “Can you tell me how much weight I’ve lost?”

  “I’d say about three pounds. Your face is thinner and I think you dropped a bit from your upper arms.”

  “Wonderful,” Hannah said, disappointment setting in. She wasn’t trying to lose weight on her face or her upper arms. It was her waist and her hips that concerned her.

  “Andrea said you wanted to ask me something?”

  “I do.” Hannah relegated weight-loss thoughts to the back corner of her mind. “Lisa said you bought three lemon pies last Friday. I was wondering if Rhonda ended up with one of them.”

  Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s right! How did you know that?”

  “Just a lucky guess.”

  “Are you working on Rhonda’s murder investigation?”

  “Yes. And I already told Mike, so it’s no secret this time. Do you know anything personal about Rhonda that might have given someone a motive to kill her?”

  Claire sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, but I did hear some rumors last year. Someone said that Rhonda had a boyfriend, but no one seemed to know anything about him.”

  “I’ve heard that. Any guesses?”

  Claire shook her head. “No name was ever mentioned.”

  “Anything else about Rhonda’s personal life?”

  Claire thought for a moment and then she shrugged. “Not much. Most of my customers seemed to think that Rhonda was a little silly, wearing all that makeup, and dressing young, and flirting with every man who walked up to her cosmetic counter to buy perfume for his wife. But no one took it seriously and I don’t think anyone ever harbored her any ill will.”

  “Okay. Let’s get back to the pie. Did Rhonda give you the money and ask you to pick it up for her? Or did she just freeload one of yours?”

  “She freeloaded one of mine,” Claire said with a chuckle. “She came in here on Friday afternoon and bought some outfits for her trip. The pie boxes were stacked on my counter. She noticed them when I rang up her purchases.”

  “And she mentioned that lemon was her favorite so you almost had to give her one?”

  “That’s exactly how it happened. She spent over six hundred dollars and I figured the least I could do was give her a pie.”

  Hannah preened a bit. Her scenario had been correct. “I’m curious, Claire. What were you going to do with three pies anyway?”

  The color began to rise in Claire’s cheeks. She looked as guilty as a kid caught going through the lunch line twice. “If I tell you, will you keep it to yourself?”

  “Yes, if it doesn’t have anything to do with Rhonda’s murder.”

  “It doesn’t. You heard that our church is trying to raise the money for new hymnals, didn’t you?”

  Hannah had heard about the hymnal fund the last time she’d catered a Redeemer Lutheran board meeting.

  “We had a meeting two Sundays ago to discuss fund-raising ideas. I suggested holding a weekly bake sale on Saturday mornings.”

  “I bet they roped you into organizing it,” Hannah guessed, knowing how local church politics worked.

  “You’re right. They nominated me and I couldn’t say no, since it was my idea in the first place. And of course I had to contribute something, but I don’t bake.”

  “So you bought three of my pies to take to the bake sale?”

  “Exactly. I repackaged the two I had left and I didn’t exactly say I’d baked them, but I didn’t say I hadn’t, either. Do you think that’s cheating?”

  “Maybe technically, but it was for a good cause and I don’t mind. How much did they sell for?”

  “Ten dollars apiece. The bake sale was a huge success, Hannah. Bob was very impressed.”

  “Bob who?” Hannah asked. It was a fairly common name in Lake Eden, and she knew at least a dozen local Bobs.

  “Reverend Knudson. He asked me to call him Bob.”

  Hannah watched the color come up on Claire’s cheeks again and one possible explanation occurred to her. Claire had broken off her long-standing affair with Mayor Bascomb last winter. As far as Hannah knew, Claire hadn’t dipped her toe into the dating pool again, but the pink rising in her cheeks was a dead giveaway. Unless Hannah missed her guess, something new was going on in Claire’s love life. “Hold on a second, Claire. Are you dating Reverend Knudson?”

  “Not exactly. But we’re really good friends and I just adore his grandmother.”

  A tactless question popped into Hannah’s mind and she asked it before she could stop herself. “But don’t you find him boring after all that time with the mayor?”

  “No, not at all. You wouldn’t think Bob was boring if you knew him as well as I do. He has a wonderful sense of humor.”

  Hannah hoped she didn’t look a
s dubious as she felt. Reverend Knudson’s sermons about the wages of sin hadn’t seemed the least bit humorous to her. Of course, the subject matter didn’t leave a whole lot of room for jokes.

  “Before you ask, Bob knows all about my affair with the mayor,” Claire interrupted Hannah’s thoughts. “I told him myself.”

  “What did he say?” Hannah held her breath. Reverend Knudson had never struck her as the liberal type.

  “He said it wasn’t important and I shouldn’t worry about it.”

  Hannah blinked. “Reverend Knudson said an affair wasn’t important?”

  “That’s right. He’s not as strict and proper as you think he is, Hannah. Bob’s really a lot of fun once you get him out of his clerical garb.” Hannah’s eyebrows shot up at that turn of phrase and Claire started to giggle. She sounded giddy, like a teenage girl, and her eyes sparkled with pure laughter. “I didn’t mean it that way!”

  Hannah and Claire were still laughing when Andrea appeared in the doorway, wearing one of the outfits. It was a dark green cotton dress with large gold sunflowers scattered over it. “I’m taking them all, Claire. And I’m wearing this.”

  “I’m so glad you like them.” Claire looked pleased. “That dress is wonderful with your coloring.”

  “I think so, too. I’m helping Hannah with her catering this afternoon and I need to look my best.” Andrea turned to Hannah. “Why don’t you pick out something else to wear, Hannah? I’ll even pay for it. Our greens clash.”

  Hannah felt herself climb firmly on the defensive. It was the old Queen-of-the-Hill battle they’d played countless times before. “You pick out something else. I was wearing my green first.”

  “But yours is at least two years old and mine is new. New takes precedence over old.”

  Hannah shook her head. “My green stays. The caterer takes precedence over the assistant.”

  The two sisters locked eyes, four orbs burning with equal intensity. But after a moment, what would have led to a pitched battle in the past suddenly dissolved into laughter.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah,” Andrea said through a volley of chuckles. “You’re the caterer. You win.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s pregnant and facing your dragon of a mother-in-law. You win.”

  “Really?” Andrea’s smile was as radiant as the sun after a sudden downpour. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, and you don’t even have to buy me a new outfit. I’ll just put it on my almost-maxed-out credit card.”

  Ten minutes later and eighty dollars poorer despite the huge discount Claire had given her, Hannah walked out of Claire’s shop. She was wearing her new outfit and it was in her very favorite color, one she’d always despaired of being able to wear. It was a summer-weight skirt and jacket in an odd shade of red that miraculously failed to clash with her hair. Claire had chosen the outfit from her new shipment and it had been worth every penny Hannah had spent. She felt svelte and gorgeous.

  “I’ll drive to Rhonda’s apartment building,” Andrea said, hurrying to keep up with Hannah’s longer stride as they walked across the parking lot toward the back door of The Cookie Jar. “You don’t have a hook in the back of your truck and I want to hang my new outfits so they won’t wrinkle.”

  “Okay.” Hannah opened the door, walked through the kitchen, and stashed her old pantsuit in the small cubicle that the owner called a bathroom. “Let’s go. I have to be back here by one-thirty.”

  “No problem.” Andrea led the way through the coffee shop and out to her car. She opened her car doors with a click and slid under the wheel while Hannah got into the passenger’s seat. “I thought you were going to give me a hard time about wanting to drive.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I drive too fast and I don’t keep my eyes on the road.”

  “That’s true,” Hannah said, reaching for her seat belt and buckling it. “It’s a source of wonder to me that you haven’t had an accident.”

  Andrea started her engine and pulled out into the street. “If I’m that bad, why are you letting me drive?”

  “I’m an eternal optimist. I keep hoping you’ll get better.”

  Andrea considered that a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t believe it. There’s some other reason you want me to drive. Come on, Hannah. Tell me what it is.”

  “You’re my sister and you deserve another chance?”

  “No way.”

  Hannah sighed. Andrea was persistent. She’d get it out of her sooner or later. “I love your air conditioning. Mine isn’t working right.”

  “I knew there was something!”

  Hannah glanced out the windshield and pushed her foot against a nonexistent brake pedal. “Slow down, Andrea. That light’s turning.”

  “I’ve got plenty of time,” Andrea argued, whizzing through the intersection. “See? I told you. It was yellow almost all the way through.”

  “Tell me when we get there.” Hannah leaned back against the leather seats, reminded herself again that Andrea had never been involved in an accident, and shut her eyes. It was the coward’s way out, but she knew she’d feel a lot safer if she didn’t watch.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  I t was noon by the time they finished canvassing Rhonda’s neighbors and Hannah was depressed. They hadn’t learned anything of value, but that wasn’t the cause of her depression. Not every lead in a murder investigation panned out and she knew it.

  “Are you upset that nobody saw Rhonda leave?” Andrea asked, noticing Hannah’s dejected expression as they walked down the sidewalk and headed toward her car.

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  Andrea stopped and put her hands on her hips. “There’s something wrong when your sister looks like she just lost her best friend. Now tell me what it is.”

  “I thought I looked good in my new outfit.”

  “You do.”

  “Then why did all Rhonda’s neighbors tell you that you looked adorable, and then say, And you look very nice too, Hannah.”

  “That’s because I’m wearing maternity clothes. You know how people treat you when you’re pregnant.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well I do. I’ve been through it before.” Andrea unlocked the doors to her car and climbed in. She waited until Hannah had buckled her seat belt before explaining, “Pregnant women look like blimps. It’s a fact of life. Rhonda’s neighbors were just saying I looked nice to make me feel better.”

  Hannah knew that Andrea was trying to spare her feelings. She appreciated the effort, but it wasn’t working. Usually Hannah didn’t mind when people complimented Andrea lavishly and then threw her a bone to be polite. Today it had gotten to her. It was a rerun of high school and the comments their teachers and friends had made when they saw tall, gangly Hannah with beautiful and dainty Andrea.

  “You’re taking things too personally,” Andrea chided her gently. “I think it’s because you’re on a diet. That’ll get anyone’s spirits down.”

  Hannah realized that Andrea was right. “I hate it when you’re more mature than I am.”

  “So do I. Being mature isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.” Andrea started the car and pulled out from the curb. “Is there anywhere else you want to go? We’ve got almost two hours before we cater.”

  “Let’s go out to the Quick Stop.”

  “Why?” Andrea asked.

  “I want to pick up a toy for Suzie Hanks, and then I thought we could drive out to see Luanne’s mother. Norman found out that she cleaned the Voelker place for Rhonda.”

  “She could know something,” Andrea mused. “Cleaning ladies notice all sorts of things. But we don’t have to go out to the Quick Stop first. My place is closer and I’ve got a whole bag full of toys I picked out for Suzie.”

  “Tracey’s things?” Hannah asked, knowing that Andrea had given Suzie cartons of clothing and toys that Tracey had outgrown in the past.
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br />   “No, they’re new. The toy store at the mall had a huge sale last month.”

  “If they’re new toys, you’d better have some sort of excuse for giving them to Suzie. You know how Luanne and her mother are about accepting anything they think is charity.”

  “You’re right. I’ll say they were Tracey’s. After all, they could have been hers. She had so many toddler toys she didn’t even get a chance to play with them all.”

  “You’re devious, Andrea.” Hannah turned to smile at her sister. “And you’re generous, too. I’m really proud to be your sister.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not that devious, at least not more than any other real estate professional. And I’m proud of you, too.”

  “All this for Suzie?” Marjorie Hanks gasped as she looked inside the shopping bag Andrea and Hannah had toted into her small cabin. She was a short but compact woman in her fifties with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. “Are you sure Tracey can’t use any of these?”

  “She cleaned out her closet herself,” Andrea said, pulling out a pink velvet teddy bear dressed in fake fur with a string of fake pearls around its neck. “Tracey especially wanted Suzie to have this. You know how girls are when they reach a certain age. She thinks pink is too young for her.”

  Marjorie picked up the bear and stroked its soft fur. “Suzie will love it. I’ll give it to her the minute she wakes up from her nap. But isn’t this one of those new bears like they have in the toy store out at the mall?”

  “It can’t be,” Andrea stated with what sounded like complete sincerity, “unless they reissued them, or something like that. One of my friends gave it to Tracey for a christening gift.”

  Hannah figured it was time to step in before Andrea dug an even deeper hole. “I need to ask you about Rhonda, Mrs. Hanks. I’m investigating her murder and Norman told me that you cleaned the Voelker place for her.”

  “That’s right. I did. I’m sorry the job’s over. It was one of the best I ever had.”

  “But wasn’t it a lot of work?” Andrea asked, jumping in to help with the questioning.