Candy Cane Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Very poetic!”

  “I know. It must be a reaction to all that flowery language at the Regency luncheon.”

  “That could be. But you did read my mind.”

  “Not really. I just noticed that you were squinting, that’s all.”

  Norman clicked on his turn signal and they made a left turn at the bright green shamrock-shaped sign that spoke of Cyril’s heritage. Hannah’s truck hadn’t required Cyril’s services for several months and she hadn’t had occasion to visit the garage. During this time, a new building had been erected between the huge corrugated shed that housed the used cars Cyril sold, and the garage itself. The garage was a fairly large structure containing four work bays in the rear and gas pumps out in front. The new building was attached to the side of the garage and there was a bright green sign just under the roof that read, SHAMROCK LIMOS. The building had a door that was presently rolled up and Hannah could see three sparkling white limousines parked inside.

  “Looks like Cyril is branching out,” Norman said, pulling past the pumps and parking at the side of the new building. “The last time I was out here, he had just one limo.”

  “Business must be good,” Hannah said, reaching in back to select one of the bags while Norman got out and walked around the car to open her door. They had arrived at an unspoken arrangement over two years ago. Norman knew that Hannah could open her own car door, but he liked to do it for her. And although Hannah bristled slightly, sitting there and waiting for him to do something she could perfectly well do for herself, she let him do it because it pleased him.

  Norman took her arm and Hannah let him. This time it wasn’t an unspoken arrangement; it was necessity on both of their parts. It was icy and their chances of falling were greatly diminished if they hung on to one another. Slipping and sliding, they made it around the side of the building and through the door to the garage.

  Cyril was sitting behind the counter, talking to one of his mechanics. Hannah knew he was a mechanic because everyone who worked at Murphy’s Garage wore shamrock-green coveralls. Cyril gave them a wave to acknowledge them, said something about rotors, tolerances, and millimeters, and the mechanic hurried back into the first work bay.

  “Hannah. Norman.” Cyril gave them a smile that made his eyes crinkle. He was what Hannah’s dad would have called “black Irish.” His hair was curly black and his eyes, under dark expressive brows, were such a deep blue color, the pupils were just barely distinguishable from the irises. “Something wrong with the cookie truck?”

  “Not a thing,” Hannah answered, handing him the bag of cookies. “These are for you. They’re Christmas Date Cookies.”

  Cyril looked pleased as he accepted the bag. “Thanks, Hannah. They’re my favorites. What did I do to deserve cookies?”

  “It’s not what you did. It’s what you’re going to do.”

  “Uh-oh.” Cyril gave a long sigh. “This must be about Wayne Bergstrom. I figured you’d hear about that fight we had sooner or later, and it looks like it’s sooner. Who told you?”

  “Two people,” Hannah said and left it at that. It was a slight exaggeration, but it all depended on how you counted. Lisa had told her about the fight, but Herb had been the one to tell Lisa.

  “So you think I killed Wayne?”

  “Of course not!” Hannah shook her head. “You couldn’t have done it. You’re Irish.”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Your heritage is part of your personality. My dad was part Irish and he explained it to me. If an Irishman’s mad enough to kill somebody, he doesn’t lie in wait like some coward and attack when nobody’s looking. He takes his enemy on fair and square in front of everybody in town.”

  Cyril threw back his head and laughed. “Your dad was part Irish, all right! He told you a whopper and you bought it.”

  “I guess I did,” Hannah said with a laugh, glad that the story she’d made up on the spur of the moment had worked to relax Cyril. “But you didn’t lay in wait and kill Wayne last night, did you?”

  “No. I was mad enough to do it, but I had another sort of revenge in mind.”

  “What was that?” Norman asked.

  “I was going to undercut him and sabotage his limo business. It probably would have bankrupted me before it was over, but it would have been worth it.”

  It took a few minutes and some cogent questions for the story to come out, but at last they had the facts. The reason Cyril had bought two more white limousines was that Wayne had promised to use his limo service for the weddings he booked through the new Wonderful Weddings department at the store.

  “I thought it was all set. Wayne promised to use Shamrock Limos, and I promised I’d get two more cars.”

  “But Wayne reneged on his promise?” Hannah guessed.

  “That’s right!” Cyril’s eyes glittered and both Hannah and Norman could tell that he was still steaming about it. “Wayne decided to start his own limo service. And since we didn’t have a signed contract, I couldn’t prove he’d agreed to use Shamrock Limos.”

  “That would have burned me up, too!” Norman said, and then he turned to Hannah. “Can we take Cyril off the suspect list?”

  “Just as soon as he tells us his alibi.” Hannah pulled out her steno pad and flipped to the suspect page. “Did you watch Wayne play Santa last night?” she asked Cyril.

  “Sure did. And right after that, I went out to take a look at Florence Evans’s van. She said it was cutting in and out, and she didn’t want to get stuck on the way home.”

  “And that was in the parking lot?”

  “No, she parked in front in the loading zone. She told me she figured she was entitled since she was carrying all the Christmas stockings the Women’s Club stuffed for the kids at the Home.”

  “Works for me,” Hannah said. “As far as we know, Wayne left by the back door and went around the side of the building to the path that leads to the parking lot. Did you see him?”

  Cyril shook his head. “I must’ve been busy working on Florence’s car. I fixed the problem, it was a loose spark plug, and then we went back inside.”

  “And you were with Florence the whole time?”

  “Most of it. She went back in a couple of times to bring me coffee, but she wasn’t gone more than five minutes. When we got back inside, Sally was telling everybody the buffet was open and we got in line with Brigit.”

  Hannah and Norman said their good-byes and left the warmth of the garage. A light snow had started to fall and as they walked to Norman’s car, Hannah was thoughtful. Cyril had an alibi, but it wasn’t exactly a get-out-of-jail-free card. Even if Florence substantiated his story, it was possible that Cyril had seized his opportunity and killed Wayne in the few minutes that Florence was inside getting coffee for him.

  “Where to?” Norman asked, once he’d settled Hannah in the passenger seat and climbed in behind the wheel.

  “The mall?” Hannah phrased her answer in the form of a question, something that had always driven her a little bit crazy when she watched Jeopardy. “I’d like to check with Wayne’s brother-in-law Cory if he’s in today. He’s head of the Wonderful Weddings department.”

  “Fine with me. I need to pick up something for Mother anyway. So far, all I’ve got is a book and that’s not enough for Christmas. Maybe you can help me choose something.”

  Hannah was about to make a sarcastic crack about the blind leading the blind when she remembered something Delores had told her. “I think you should buy her a silk wreath.”

  “You mean…a Christmas wreath?”

  “No, a flower wreath. Delores just bought one made from dried pink roses for her guest bath and Carrie thought it was beautiful. She said she might look for one for herself, but she wanted hers to be blue hydrangeas.”

  “I’m not really big on flower names. Are hydrangeas the velvety looking blue flowers clumped together on a stalk?”

  “Good description! But hydrangeas aren’t just blue. They can also be pi
nk, depending on the pH value of the soil.”

  “That’s interesting,” Norman said, and Hannah knew he was one of the few guys who would think so.

  “Grandma Ingrid liked the pink ones,” Hannah went on. “She used to take me outside to garden with her and I remember helping her dig around the hydrangea bushes so she could sprinkle in some chemical.”

  “It was probably lime. She would have used aluminum sulfate or sulfur if she’d wanted the blue. Maybe I should plant some hydrangeas. They’re like nature’s litmus strips.”

  “Red cabbage.”

  “What?”

  “Red cabbage really is nature’s litmus strip. I noticed it when I tested Minnie Holtzmeier’s recipe for Scandinavian Red Cabbage for the Lake Eden cookbook.”

  “Now why doesn’t this surprise me?” Norman glanced at her, gave her a quick smile, and then quickly returned his attention to the road. He’d been in Minnesota long enough to know that it was dangerous to get distracted when you were driving in the winter. “What, exactly, did you notice?” he asked her.

  “I shredded some red cabbage in the food processor and kept it in some cold tap water in the cooler until I was ready to use it. By that time it was bluish purple instead of red. Tap water is slightly alkaline, isn’t it?”

  “Usually. I’m almost sure it is here in Lake Eden.”

  “That’s what I thought. When I’d finished gathering the other ingredients, I drained the red cabbage. The water was fairly blue by that time. Then I added the dry red wine the recipe called for and the cabbage turned red again.”

  “The red wine was acidic.” Norman gave her another quick glance. “You would have made a good scientist, Hannah. You’re very observant.”

  “And you’re not,” Hannah smiled to take the sting out of her words.

  “What makes you think I’m not observant?”

  “Because we just passed the last entrance to the mall and now you have to look for a place to turn around and drive back.”

  CHRISTMAS DATE COOKIES

  Do not preheat oven quite yet. This dough must chill before baking.

  2 cups chopped pitted dates (You can buy chopped dates, or sprinkle whole pitted dates with a quarter-cup flour and then chop them in a food processor. I couldn’t find chopped dates, and a 10-ounce by weight container of whole pitted dates ended up being exactly 2 cups when I chopped them in my food processor.)

  ¾ cup boiling water

  1 cup melted butter (2 sticks,½ pound)

  2 cups white (granulated) sugar

  2 teaspoons baking soda

  ½ teaspoon salt

  4 beaten eggs (just beat them up in a glass with a fork)

  2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips (that’s a 12-ounce package)

  5½ cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  ½ cup white (granulated) sugar in a small bowl for later

  Pour the boiling water over the chopped dates, give them a stir with a fork, and set them aside on the counter to cool.

  Melt the butter in a microwave-safe bowl (I used a pint Pyrex measuring cup) for 90 seconds on HIGH. Set the melted butter on the counter to cool.

  In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine the white sugar, baking soda, salt and eggs. Beat well. (If you don’t have an electric mixer, don’t worry. You can do this by hand, but it’ll take a bit of effort.)

  Feel the bowl with the date mixture. If you can hold it comfortably in your hands, add it now and mix thoroughly. If it’s too hot, let it cool another couple of minutes.

  Once the dates are mixed in, add the chocolate chips to your bowl and mix. Then add the melted butter and mix thoroughly.

  Add the flour in half-cup increments (that’ll be 11 half-cups) beating after each addition. Take the bowl from the mixer, give it a final stir by hand, cover it with plastic wrap, and place it in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours to chill. (Overnight is fine, too.)

  When you’re ready to bake, preheat the oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position. (Yes, that’s 325 degrees F.—most of my cookies bake at 350 degrees F., but these are best if they bake slowly at a lower heat.)

  Roll the dough into walnut-sized balls with your hands. This dough may be sticky, so roll only enough for the cookies you plan to bake immediately and then return the bowl to the refrigerator.

  Roll the dough balls in the bowl of white sugar and place them on a greased (or sprayed with nonstick cooking spray) cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Flatten them slightly with your hand so they won’t fall off on the way to the oven.

  Bake at 325 degrees F. for 10 minutes. Cool on the cookie sheet for a minute or two and then remove the cookies to a wire rack to finish cooling.

  Yield: 8 to 10 dozen great cookies. You can freeze any extras for up to 3 months in freezer bags.

  Hannah’s Note: All the Murphy men are crazy about Christmas Date Cookies. Michelle said she baked a whole batch one day when Lonnie was visiting her at Macalister. They ate about a dozen and then they ran out of milk. Michelle dashed to the corner grocery to buy some and when she got back, every single cookie was gone!

  Chapter Seven

  The shadows of the pine trees were beginning to lengthen and cant toward the east as Hannah and Norman turned in at the Tri-County Mall. It was two-thirty on a Saturday afternoon and it seemed that everyone who lived in the Tri-County area was out at the mall shopping.

  “I’ve never seen it this crowded before,” Hannah said, eyeing the rows of cars in the parking structure.

  “Only fifteen shopping days before Christmas.”

  Hannah turned to him in surprise. “I didn’t know you counted things like that.”

  “I don’t. There was a big sign at the entrance.”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “I know. So now who’s the observant one?”

  “Neither one of us. Or maybe both of us. Whatever.” Hannah grinned and shrugged it off. “I think we’re going to have to park in the back forty and walk in.”

  “The back forty?”

  “It dates back to the days when there were large family farms. The back forty was the section of land farthest away from the farmhouse.”

  “Oh. Like the toolies.”

  “Right.”

  Norman turned down another row and braked to a stop when he encountered a driver parked in the middle of the garage, effectively blocking traffic from both directions.

  “There’s one in every parking lot,” Hannah commented. “She’s waiting for that couple to load all their packages in the trunk and she’s determined to get their space.”

  “And she’s going to make everyone behind her wait until she does,” Norman added.

  “Makes you wish for an accordion car.”

  It took Norman a moment, but then he nodded. “One with collapsible sides?”

  “You got it. Then we could skin right past her, idle in front of her and snag that parking spot before she could get it. But they don’t make accordion cars, so we’re stuck. Do you want a cookie while we wait?”

  “Sure. Do you have anything in chocolate?”

  Hannah laughed. “I’ve got four different kinds and three are chocolate. Do you want Angel Pillows, Devil’s Food Cookies, or Chocolate Candy Cane Cookies?”

  “Hold on. I’ve never had a Chocolate Candy Cane Cookie. What are those?”

  “They’re rich dark chocolate cookies with a sugary candy cane topping.”

  “Sounds great! I’d like to try one of those.”

  Hannah turned around and reached into the backseat for the correct bag. “I brought another dozen of these in one of my signature bags for Cory.” She pulled out two cookies and handed one to Norman. “Here you go.”

  The cookies were exactly as she’d described them, and the contrast of the sweet, dark chocolate with the tongue-tingling peppermint coating was deliciously startling.

  “These are your best cookies,” Norman said, finishing his first cookie and dipping in the bag for a secon
d.

  “I thought the Old Fashioned Sugar Cookies were your favorites.”

  “They were until I tasted these.”

  “Fickle,” Hannah teased him.

  “If I am, it’s understandable. My favorite cookie is the cookie I’m eating at the moment.” Norman stepped on the gas as the driver ahead of them finally pulled into her parking spot and ceased being a roadblock. “I feel lucky. Let’s try that first row again.”

  Norman’s lucky feeling turned out to be a premonition of good things to come. As they turned down the first row, a van parked right next to the entrance backed out. Norman quickly nabbed the spot and before you could say Jolly Old Saint Nicholas, Hannah and Norman were stepping through the double entrance doors and into the mall.

  “Whoa,” Hannah said, stopping in her tracks.

  “This way, Hannah.” Norman pulled her out of the mainstream of traffic and over to the side. “What’s wrong?”

  It was a rare occasion for Hannah. She was completely at a loss for words. Strains of loud Christmas carols were assaulting her ears, the combined scents of popcorn and potpourri were overpowering, and the voices of hundreds of holiday shoppers created a roaring buzz in her head.

  “Are you okay?” Noman asked her.

  “I will be. It’s just too much to take in all at once.” Hannah eyed the milling crowds of people, the flashing colored lights, and the Christmas decorations. Combined as a class that she called holiday madness, they seemed to be occupying every available foot of wall and floor space. “All these people. All these flashing lights and decorations. All this noise. Christmas is breaking out all over!”

  Norman laughed. “You don’t do much Christmas shopping at the mall, do you?” he said, and it was more a statement than a question.

  “Not if I can avoid it. If Claire doesn’t have what I need at her dress shop, and I can’t get it from the drugstore, I pick up the phone and order it from a catalogue. Maybe we should just forget it, Norman. I’m not sure if Cory’s here today anyway. I can always call him at home tonight.”