Candy Cane Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  ½ ounce peppermint schnapps

  Combine in a shaker and shake with ice. Strain into two martini glasses and garnish with miniature candy canes hooked over the rims of the glasses.

  PEPPER MINT MARTINI

  Hannah’s 2ndNote: Here’s the second recipe. You may notice that “pepper” and “mint” are separated in the title. The reason will become obvious when you read the recipe.

  6 ounces pepper vodka

  2 ounces white crème d’menthe

  one fresh sprig of mint

  Crush the mint with the back of a spoon. Combine with the other ingredients in a shaker and shake with ice. Strain into two martini glasses and garnish with miniature candy canes hooked over the rims of the glasses.

  Chapter Two

  Hannah gave one more glance in the mirror and this time she smiled. Claire Rodgers, her business neighbor on Main Street, had chosen Hannah’s party outfit from her selection at Beau Monde Fashions. Claire and Hannah had worked out a barter system in the two years they’d been neighbors. Hannah dropped in with cookies for Claire, and Claire sold Hannah fashionable clothing at her cost. Tonight’s outfit was a color Hannah had always wanted to wear, one she thought of as “lavender blue,” the title of one of her grandmother’s favorite folk songs. She’d always assumed it would clash with her hair, but Claire had urged her to try it on and it worked perfectly. The romantic lines of the long, draped jacket hid two of her figure faults, and the black silk pants emphasized her height and made her look thinner.

  One last smoothing pat to the curls she’d given up trying to tame while she was still in grade school, and Hannah was ready for the party. She turned to look at the elf costume still hanging on a hook. Wayne had told her she could have it, but she knew she’d never wear it again unless someone had a gun to her head. And even then, she might take several moments to think it over. If she left it there behind the door, perhaps someone would take it before the night was over. Someone who’d enjoy it. Someone who didn’t have bright red hair and ten extra pounds around the middle.

  “How’re you doing, Hannah?” a voice greeted her as she stepped out of the dressing room and Hannah turned to see Cory Reynolds, Wayne Bergstrom’s brother-in-law, leaning up against the wall. Since there was no other reason he’d be in this particular hallway, he was obviously waiting for her.

  “Fine, Cory. How about you?” Hannah put on a smile. Cory was a nice enough guy, and it wasn’t his fault that his sister had married a rich tightwad like Wayne.

  “Things are good. I just wanted to tell you that the story you told about how Wayne lost his voice was great.”

  “Thanks. I was hoping it would work. Wayne sounded awful.”

  “I know. He’s even worse now. I ran into him outside the back door and he said he was going straight home to have some of that hot lemonade and brandy you told him about.”

  “Good. It should make him feel better.”

  “I really didn’t think he’d be able to do Santa tonight. I even offered to take over, but he wouldn’t have it.”

  Too bad you didn’t, said the voice in Hannah’s head, because maybe you would have given me the rest of those candy canes! But that was meanspirited and this was the Christmas season. She could afford to be a little charitable. “Has Wayne been hoarse all day?” she asked.

  Cory shook his head. “He was fine at noon. We had a manager’s meeting at the store during lunch.”

  “You mean you had to give up your lunch break?”

  “Yeah, but at least it was on a weekday. Sometimes we have managers’ meetings on Saturdays. Or Sundays. Wayne says that anyone who’s not willing to come in twenty-four/seven will never be a manager at Bergstrom’s.”

  “I’ll bet that makes him really popular,” Hannah muttered. But she must have said it a little louder than she thought, because Cory gave a startled bark of laughter.

  “It doesn’t put him in the top ten for the Best Boss of the Year award. But it’s like he always says…it’s his money and it’s his store. He can run it any way he wants to.”

  “What department do you manage?” Hannah continued to make polite conversation.

  “Wonderful Weddings. I moved there last year from Men’s Clothing. We book weddings and provide everything the wedding party needs.”

  “Sounds nice,” Hannah said, wondering why Cory had chosen to talk to her. Perhaps he was just lonely, now that Wayne had left?

  “So tell me about Wayne’s laryngitis,” she prompted. “Sally said he could barely talk when he came in the kitchen door.”

  “That figures. He called me around five-thirty on my cell phone and he was already pretty hoarse. I had to ask him to repeat himself a couple of times and it didn’t exactly make him happy. That’s when I asked him if he wanted me to take over for him at the party.”

  Hannah heard Sally’s voice over the loudspeaker, inviting everyone to come to the buffet tables. Cory heard it too, and he extended his arm. “Shall we, Hannah?”

  “Absolutely. Thank you, Cory.” Hannah took his arm and hoped he hadn’t heard her stomach growl as they headed off to join the line for the buffet.

  Sally’s dessert buffet was splendiferous. Hannah eyed a piece of Italian Apple Tort and was about to succumb to temptation when she remembered how tight the tights on her elf costume had been.

  “Trying to decide?” Mike asked, causing her to jump.

  “Trying to resist,” Hannah corrected him. “How do you do that anyway?”

  “Do what?”

  “Sneak up on people.”

  “We learn it in cop school.” Mike flashed her a grin that made her stomach do a little flip-flop. If someone conducted a poll of the single, divorced, and widowed women in Lake Eden, Minnesota, Mike Kingston, Chief Detective at the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department, would be a shoo-in for most desirable husband. “Too bad you took off your costume. I thought you looked cute in it.”

  Hannah stared at him for a minute in utter disbelief and then she said, “I think the county pays for that.”

  “Pays for what?”

  “Eye surgery. I understand they’re doing wonders with lasers now.”

  Mike laughed so loudly several guests at the buffet turned to look at him. “Very funny, Hannah. But I really did think you looked cute. If you’re not going to have a slice of that apple thing, do you want to dance?”

  Did she want to dance? Hannah ranked that question right up there with Do you want to breathe? Did she want Mike to put his arms around her and hold her close? Did she want to look up at him and realize that their lips were only inches apart? Did he even have to ask?!

  “Hannah?” Mike prompted, and Hannah came out of her musings to realize that he was holding out his arm.

  “Thanks, Mike. I’d love to dance,” she said quickly, accepting his arm and walking with him to the dance floor.

  Dancing with Mike must have broken the ice, because once the last notes of music had faded away, Norman appeared to claim her for the next dance. After that, Andrea’s husband, Sheriff Bill Todd, piloted her around the floor. Then there was a series of local men, one right after the other, including Cory Reynolds, Mayor Bascomb, Doc Knight, Reverend Knudson, her host Dick Laughlin, and the town druggist, Jon Walker.

  “I’m not moving for at least ten minutes,” she declared, sinking into a chair at the table she was sharing with her sisters. She slipped off her shoes and wiggled her feet, hoping that the feeling would eventually return to her toes.

  “Feet hurt from all that dancing?” Andrea asked her.

  “Sure do. And skipping in those pointy toed elf shoes didn’t help either.” She glanced around and didn’t spot Bill. Lonnie Murphy, one of Bill’s deputies and Michelle’s date for the evening, was nowhere in sight either. “Where are Bill and Lonnie?”

  “Lonnie’s dancing with his mother. His dad’s outside fixing a car,” Michelle explained.

  “And Bill’s dancing with Barbara Donnelly,” Andrea named the head secretary at the sheri
ff’s station. “I’m so glad she’s not married!”

  Michelle and Hannah exchanged a Did-you-understand-that? glance, immediately followed by a Not-me! shrug.

  “Okay, I’ll bite.” Hannah caved in and turned to Andrea. “Why are you glad Barbara’s not married?”

  “Because then her husband would ask me to dance, and I’d have to do it to be polite. And I’m too tired to dance. I made four batches of Whippersnappers this afternoon.”

  Hannah stared at her sister in utter amazement. When most women talked about “batches,” they were referring to cookies, brownies, muffins, or some type of baked goods. Surely Andrea had another explanation. As far as Hannah knew, her sister didn’t even know how to turn on her oven, much less mix up a batch of anything and bake it.

  “Tracey has her dance class Christmas party tomorrow and I promised Danielle I’d make enough for everybody. Most of the other mothers are bringing refreshments, too.”

  There was total silence while Hannah and Michelle digested that information. Refreshments meant food, and both of them knew that Andrea’s only culinary skill was heating water in the microwave for instant coffee or Jell-O.

  “What’s the matter?” Andrea asked, realizing at last that her sisters were perfectly silent.

  “We’re wondering what…uh…Whippersnappers are,” Michelle explained.

  “They’re cookies.”

  “You baked cookies?!” both Michelle and Hannah exclaimed in unison.

  “Yes, I did. And they were so easy! Carli Spurr e-mailed me with the recipe. You remember Carli, don’t you? She coached the cheerleading squad.”

  “I remember,” Hannah said, her mind flying through dire possibilities. Perhaps, through some miracle, Andrea had managed to mix up and bake several batches of cookies, but they couldn’t possibly be good. Of course she couldn’t say that without hurting her sister’s feelings, and Andrea looked very proud of her accomplishment. It would be kinder to pretend that everything was fine, at least until she found out more.

  “I’ve never heard of Whippersnappers before,” she commented, fishing for information. “What kind of cookie are they?”

  “I made lemon. Carli said you could make any flavor, and Tracey really likes lemon.”

  “Lemon’s good.” Hannah gave a quick smile, but she felt more like groaning. Lemon cookies usually called for lemon zest and she was almost positive Andrea had never heard of it.

  “Did you have to go out and buy a zester?”

  Michelle asked the question, and Hannah turned to give her a quick nod. She was willing to bet that they were on the same page.

  “What’s a zester?”

  That answered that question! Hannah gave a little groan before she responded. “A zester is like a grater for lemon peel,” she explained.

  “Why would I need that? There’s no lemon peel in Carli’s recipe.”

  “No lemon zest, either?” Hannah quizzed her, trying to cover all the bases.

  “No. What does lemon zest do?”

  “It makes things taste really lemony,” Michelle answered her.

  “Well, I didn’t need any zest, because my Whippersnappers taste nice and lemony without it. Is that a word?”

  “Yes. Zest is the yellow part of the lemon peel,” Hannah told her.

  “Not that. I was talking about lemony. Is lemony a word?”

  “If it’s not, it should be,” Hannah settled that query and moved on toward her objective. “If Michelle and I drop in at Tracey’s party, can we taste your cookies?”

  “Sure, but you don’t have to wait until then. Just give me a ride home and we’ll have some. Bethie caught a little cold and I want to check in on her.”

  “Good idea,” Hannah said, giving her sister an approving nod. Andrea had been a nervous first-time mom with Tracey, reading every baby care book she could get her hands on, and trying to follow everyone’s advice. Of course that was impossible, but Andrea still felt like a failure as a mother whenever Tracey cried. Finally, in desperation, she’d gone back to work as a real estate agent and hired the best nanny in Lake Eden, “Grandma” McCann, to take care of Tracey.

  “Won’t Bill mind if you leave?” Michelle asked her.

  “No. He’s already danced with me twice, and that’s all the time he has for me tonight. He’s got fifteen ladies to go.”

  “Fifteen ladies?” Hannah asked, glancing at Michelle, who looked every bit as puzzled as she felt.

  “I asked Sally for an advance copy of the guest list and Bill and I made up our game plan last night. A sheriff has certain obligations, you know, especially if he wants to serve more than one term. Bill has to play politics and dance with all the important women here.”

  “Are you talking about women who are married to important men?” Michelle asked, frowning a bit.

  “Not necessarily. Rose McDermott is on Bill’s list. You might not think she’s important, but a lot of local people go into the café. If Rose likes Bill and thinks he’s doing a good job, she’ll mention it and that can influence a lot of people when they go to the polls.”

  “You’re right.” Michelle looked thoughtful.

  “And then there’s Bertie Straub. She’s not shy about telling her customers down at the Cut ’n Curl who they should vote for.”

  Hannah was amused. The next election for county sheriff was over three years away. “So you’re already launching Bill’s campaign?”

  “It’s never too early to play politics.” Andrea glanced around the room and spotted her husband, deep in conversation with Mayor Bascomb. “Just let me tell Bill I’m leaving and we can go.”

  “Can I go with you?” Michelle asked, when Andrea had left.

  “Sure. But I thought Lonnie was bringing you back to my place.”

  “He was. But he’s pulling a late shift and it’ll save him a trip.”

  “If you go with us, you’re going to have to taste Andrea’s cookies,” Hannah warned.

  “I know. But my nose is all stuffed up and I won’t be able to taste much. I’ll just chew and swallow. And then I’ll tell her how delicious they are.”

  Hannah wished that she had a similar ailment, hoping she’d be able to lie convincingly. Praising Andrea’s cookies would constitute a lot more than a little white lie, but it would make her sister very happy.

  “It smells like Christmas trees out here!” Andrea said, taking a deep breath and expelling it in a cloud of white vapor.

  “That’s because we’re walking past a whole grove of blue spruce,” Hannah told her.

  They walked in silence for a moment, and then Andrea held out her gloved hand. “It’s snowing again. I just love knowing that every snowflake is different. We learned it in school. They called it one of nature’s miracles because no two are alike.”

  “That’s what they thought back then,” Hannah said. “But then Jon Nelson, a cloud physicist from Kyoto, Japan, found that it’s probably not true for the smaller crystals, the ones that barely develop beyond the prism stage.”

  There was another long silence. Hannah was about to tell them more about the physicist from Japan when Michelle almost stumbled over a drift of snow on the walkway.

  “Careful,” Hannah warned, and Michelle stopped walking.

  “Let’s just stand here for a minute and look at the stars. It feels like you can reach out and touch them, they’re so huge tonight! They weren’t like this last night when Mother had us over for dinner.”

  “That’s because it’s darker out here,” Hannah explained. “Lake Eden has streetlights on every corner, and there are lights in all the houses. If you combine the lumens from the old-fashioned globe streetlights Dick and Sally put in on this walkway and add the lights they have at the inn, it doesn’t add up to a fraction of the output of a single arc light in the parking lot at Jordan High.”

  Both Michelle and Andrea turned to look at her and Hannah immediately realized her mistake. She was offering science textbooks when what they wanted was poetry.

&nb
sp; “Of course maybe it’s not true,” she said, trying to ameliorate the damage.

  “Maybe what’s not true?” Andrea asked, and Hannah could tell she was still upset about the snowflakes.

  “All of it. But let’s take the snow crystals first. That same cloud scientist compared the number of possible snowflake shapes with the number of atoms in the universe. It would be impossible for scientists to examine them all.”

  “So he really doesn’t know.” Andrea looked very relieved. “It’s just a theory, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How about the stars?” Michelle asked.

  Hannah stuffed her gloved hands in her pockets. “They could be bigger tonight,” she said, crossing her fingers. “It’s not an absolute certainty. I like to think the stars and the moon react to us when we watch them. That makes the night magical.”

  This drew smiles from both of her sisters and Hannah relaxed a bit. She had to remember to curb her impulse to be realistic and practical when her sisters wanted whimsy and romance.

  “Uh-oh!” Michelle stumbled again. “I just stepped on something slippery,” she said.

  “What?” Hannah asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hold on a second.” Hannah drew a tiny flashlight from her pocket. “Norman gave this to me the last time I dropped my keys in the snow.” She switched on the light and trained the beam on the walkway. “You were right here and you slipped on…this!”

  “What is it?” Michelle asked.

  “A miniature candy cane wrapped in plastic.” Hannah held it up so both of them could see it. “It’s one of Wayne Bergstrom’s and he must have dropped it on his way to the parking lot.”

  “You seem pretty happy about finding it,” Michelle commented, reacting to the smile on her older sister’s face.

  “I am. I know it’s mean of me, but I’m glad he lost it. I wanted to keep the leftover candy canes to try out a new cookie recipe, but he told me he wanted them all back for his next Santa appearance.”

  Andrea just shook her head. “Wayne’s such a tightwad. It’s not like he doesn’t have more. And they probably cost him practically nothing. What were you going to use them for?”