Apple Turnover Murder, Key Lime Pie Murder, Cherry Cheesecake Murder, Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “What sewing machine?”

  “The one they had on the living room set. You must have seen it. It was all the way in the corner, right next to the desk where you-know-what happened.”

  Hannah remembered the sewing machine. The top had been down, with the sewing head tucked inside, and it had been covered with a large crocheted doily.

  “Your mother was pleased as punch to sell it, ’specially because it went for a fortune.”

  “It did?” Hannah was puzzled. “I thought that model was mass-produced by Sears, or one of the other big mail-order chains in the fifties.”

  “You’re right, but that young actor from the film paid close to a thousand dollars for it. He’s having it shipped back to California.”

  Now Hannah was even more puzzled. Why would Burke pay that much for a common sewing machine? Then her mind kicked into high gear and the truth dawned. Burke would pay through the teeth if he’d hidden something inside that perfectly ordinary sewing machine, something like the prop gun!

  But why hadn’t the deputies found the gun when they’d searched Granny’s Attic? Hannah considered that for a moment and came up with a possible explanation. The sewing machine had looked exactly like a table with a false front and two small drawers on either side. What if the deputies had searched the drawers but hadn’t realized that the sewing head swiveled up from a hollow below, where there would be plenty of room to hide a revolver?

  “Holy cow!” Hannah gasped, taking Daisy, Buttercup, and Petunia’s breed in vain. She knew where Burke had hidden the prop gun and she had to get it before it headed off on a moving van for California!

  Chapter

  Thirty-Two

  A light, lazy snow was falling as Hannah drove to Granny’s Attic. There weren’t quite enough snowflakes to keep her windshield wipers from squeaking against the glass, but the snowfall was a bit too much not to use them. She was about to turn into the alley when she saw the taillights of a semi idling in back of Granny’s Attic. Rather than drive in behind it, Hannah went around the block and entered the alley from the other way, effectively blocking the semi. Expecting to hear an angry shout from the driver when she got out of her much smaller truck, Hannah heard nothing but the powerful motor idling. She’d gotten here just in time. The driver must be inside with Delores, getting ready to load Burke’s sewing machine.

  Hannah raced for the back door, almost slipping on the blacktop in her dress shoes. She hadn’t wanted to take the time to get her boots and it was a good thing she hadn’t or she might not have caught the semi. “Mother!” she called out as she opened the back door and hurried past the section her mother called “Trash or Treasures,” the unsorted items that might or might not be valuable.

  “In here, dear,” Delores sounded surprised. “We’re just filling out some paperwork for a shipment.”

  “Stop!”

  “What was that, dear?” Delores sounded even more surprised and she looked surprised, too, as Hannah burst into the large main room of Granny’s Attic, the room that was still decorated as a living room set.

  “I need to look at that sewing machine, Mother!”

  “You mean the one that Burke bought?”

  “That’s right. Where is it?”

  “Over there,” Delores pointed to a large crate sitting on a dolly near the door. “You can’t look at it now, dear. It’s all crated up.”

  Hannah turned to the driver. Do you have a crowbar?”

  “Got one in the truck.”

  “I’ll need to use it. I have to uncrate that sewing machine and inspect it. It may contain evidence in a murder investigation.”

  The driver, a large man who looked like he could handle a sledgehammer as well as a crowbar, stepped back a pace. “No way I want to have anything to do with a murder!”

  “Then help me uncrate that sewing machine and you can go.”

  “But how about the guy on the other end? He’s not gonna be happy when that sewing machine he bought doesn’t get delivered.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Hannah said. “If I’m right about what’s inside that crate, he won’t be there to receive it anyway.”

  “Ready?” Hannah said, lifting the lid the driver had loosened with his crowbar before he’d left and propping it up against the nearest wall. “Did you see them crate it, Mother?”

  “They did it the day Burke bought it.”

  “When was that?”

  “Thursday afternoon. He came in with two carpenters from the crew to crate it for him.”

  “It looks like it’s wrapped in furniture pads and then taped,” Hannah said using the scissors her mother handed her to cut the tape.

  “It’s also secured on the inside. I watched Burke do it. He wrapped a strap around the top so it wouldn’t open or twist on the hinges, and he taped the drawers so they couldn’t bang open and closed during transit.”

  “And he did it himself,” Hannah noted, unwrapping the pad and letting it fall to the bottom of the crate.

  “Yes. I did think that was a little unusual, but then he told me why.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He said he knew he had to have that sewing machine the moment he set eyes on it. His mother died when he was only ten, you know, and she had one just like it. Every year, before school started, they used to go shopping for material so she could sew new shirts for him. He still has several of them. They’re keepsakes. And now he has a replica of the sewing machine, too.”

  “Right,” Hannah said, not believing the story of the dead mother and the shirts for an instant. “So that’s why he offered you so much money for it?”

  “That’s what he said. I pointed out that old Sears machines weren’t worth even half of what he offered, but he said he didn’t care, that he wanted that particular model. He said he was buying it in honor of his mother and he’d think of her every time he saw it. And he was also buying it because it was on the set and he wanted a memento of his very first movie.”

  “Oh, brother!” Hannah breathed, wondering how her mother could have swallowed such a line. But then she reminded herself that Burke was a superlative actor and if he’d told her the same story, she probably would have fallen for it, too. It was entirely possible that Burke’s mother had owned a Sears sewing machine. Hundreds of thousands of women had. And it was also possible that Burke remembered that you could lift the lid and drop something inside to hide it from view. There was plenty of room around the sewing head to conceal an object the size of a revolver.

  “So what did you find?” Delores asked.

  “Nothing yet.” Hannah couldn’t pull out the drawers. The crate was built too snugly around the machine. But she didn’t worry about that because the deputies probably checked those. “I’m going to cut the strap and lift up the lid. If I’m right, that’s where Burke hid the prop gun after he put the real revolver in its place.”

  “Wait,” Delores advised, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of gloves. “Put these on. You don’t want to destroy any fingerprints.”

  “Good thinking, Mother,” Hannah said, “but fingerprints don’t prove anything in this case. Everyone on the set saw Burke practice taking the prop gun out of the drawer right before the first take. He got his fingerprints on it then. And since he was using the real gun when he convinced Dean that he was having trouble doing the scene, his fingerprints are on that, too.”

  “So he was only pretending he’d lost his motivation for the scene?” Delores asked.

  “That’s my theory. And if I find the prop gun stuck in this sewing machine, I can prove it.”

  Hannah held her breath as she cut the strap and lifted the lid. She felt around in the largest space between the bottom of the sewing machine head and the sewing platform and she began to smile.

  “You found it?” Delores asked, interpreting her daughter’s smile to mean success.

  “Oh, yes. Now all I have to do is…” Hannah stopped speaking and worked to extricate the gun. “Yes.
Here it is!”

  “So Burke just said he loved my sewing machine because he needed it to get rid of the evidence?”

  “I’m afraid so, but at least it didn’t work. Let’s get back to the party and tell Mike what happened. He can arrest Burke.”

  Delores looked worried. “I just hope Mike can catch him in time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Burke danced with me earlier, he asked me to supervise the loading of the crate because he was leaving tonight. He said he had to drive back out to the inn, pack up his things, and catch a midnight flight out of Minneapolis.”

  “A flight to where?”

  “Somewhere in Europe. He told me he was taking a little vacation now that the movie was over. That’s why he made arrangements with the moving company to store the sewing machine until he got back.”

  Hannah glanced at her watch. If Burke was taking an international flight, he had to arrive at the airport at least two hours in advance. That meant he had to leave the inn less than thirty minutes from now to make it on time.

  “I need your help, Mother,” Hannah said, shrugging into her coat and pulling on her gloves. “Call the sheriff’s station, tell them it’s an emergency, and have them patch you through to Mike’s cell phone. Tell him Burke killed Dean and I found the prop gun to prove it.”

  “Right away, dear. Where are you going?”

  “Out to the inn. Tell Mike to meet me there just as fast as he can, and I’ll try to hold Burke until he arrives.”

  Sixteen minutes later, Hannah barreled down the circular drive of the Lake Eden Inn. She’d probably broken the winter land speed record for the gravel road that wound through the trees to the inn, and every spring in her truck could testify to that fact. The leftover cookies that Lisa bagged every night and Hannah stored in her truck to use as samples now decorated the floorboards in the rear. Hannah knew because she’d heard them hit the sides of the truck when she’d taken the turns. One errant Oatmeal Raisin Crisp, centrifugally challenged by the sharp bends she’d taken just adjacent to the inn’s parking lot, had whizzed past her ear and was now sitting, slightly the worse for wear, on the passenger seat.

  As Hannah approached the loading zone, four head-in spaces next to the entrance that were reserved for arriving and departing guests, she heard a car motor start. A second later, taillights went on and Hannah spotted Burke’s rental car, a sporty, bright yellow Toyota. She rolled down her window, zipped into the vacant space to the left of his car, and shouted out, “Hi, Burke!”

  “Hi, Hannah. What are you doing out here?”

  Hannah thought fast. “Mother told me you were leaving tonight, and I wanted to say good-bye.”

  “’Bye, Hannah. It’s been a real pleasure knowing you. Your cookies are the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Thanks.” Hannah glanced at the gravel road, but she didn’t see approaching headlights. Somehow she had to keep Burke talking until Mike got here.

  “I have to run, Hannah. I’ve got a plane to catch. I’m going to London to do another commercial.”

  “No you’re not!” Hannah shouted out. “Not until you answer some questions for me.”

  Burke gave her a boyish grin, the same grin that set the hearts of every female between sixteen and sixty beating faster than normal. “That sounds serious. Don’t you know you shouldn’t be serious on a night like tonight?”

  “Why not?” Hannah stalled for time.

  “This is a night for celebrating. The movie’s going to be a huge success, your niece is going to be the toast of the silver screen, and your cat will be famous. What could be better than that?”

  “Not much,” Hannah said, “except maybe the lead in Remember Last Tuesday.”

  “What was that?”

  Burke looked totally confused by what she’d just said, and Hannah would have sworn he’d never heard the movie title before if she hadn’t known better. “Remember Last Tuesday is the major motion picture that would have made you a star…” Hannah paused and let that sink in, “…except Dean Lawrence made a phone call and kept you from getting the part.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Burke still looked baffled and it was disconcerting. For a brief second Hannah wondered if she could be wrong, but then she reminded herself that Burke was a very talented actor who could play any part, including innocent.

  “Dean was angry about that interview you gave and he found a perfect way to get even. All it took was a couple of words to his important director friends, and your career was down the drain.”

  Burke gave her a tight smile. “I don’t know if you’re crazy, or if you had too much to drink at the wrap party. Whatever it is, I think you’d better go home and sleep it off.”

  About time! Hannah thought as she heard a siren in the distance. Mike was coming and she didn’t have to stall much longer. Within seconds, he’d pulled up on the other side of Burke’s car and was rolling down his window.

  “What’s going on here?” Mike asked, looking at Hannah and then Burke.

  “I want you to arrest Burke,” Hannah said, hoping that Delores had given him a satisfactory explanation. “He killed Dean.”

  Burke laughed long and hard, and then he turned to Mike. “That’s the third time she’s said that and I don’t know what she’s talking about. You’d better take her home and sober her up. She’s got some ridiculous idea that I’m a murderer.”

  “Is that right?” Mike addressed Hannah.

  “That’s right. Dean wrecked Burke’s career and Burke got even by switching the revolvers. He stood right there and let Dean demonstrate the suicide and he knew the gun would go off.”

  “Isn’t that the craziest story you’ve ever heard?” Burke was joviality personified as he beamed at Mike. “I don’t know where she gets her ideas, but I think she ought to try writing a movie script.” He pulled up his coat sleeve and made a big show of checking his watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to miss my plane.”

  “You can’t leave!” Hannah protested, glancing over at Mike. “Tell him he can’t leave, Mike.”

  Mike shook his head. “Sorry, Hannah. It’s an interesting theory, but I don’t have enough evidence to hold Burke.” Mike turned to the actor and said, “You’re free to go.”

  Burke gave a little wave and put his car in reverse. He was about to back out of the parking spot when Hannah grabbed the prop gun and aimed at him. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.

  “Hannah! Where did you get that revolver?” Mike looked shocked.

  “From the sewing machine at Granny’s Attic.” Hannah answered, and then she turned to Burke again. “I’m a good shot, so don’t fool around with me. Get out of the car with your hands up, or I’ll shoot.”

  “No, you won’t,” Burke said with a nasty laugh. “That gun doesn’t have a firing pin.”

  “Gotcha!” Hannah said. And then she watched as the smug look on Burke’s face disappeared. “The only way you could know that is if you hid the prop gun in the sewing machine right after you switched revolvers. And you know what that means!”

  Burke stepped on the gas, but Mike was quicker and his squad car shot back to block Burke’s exit. At the same time, a second squad car arrived with Lonnie Murphy at the wheel and his brother, Rick, riding shotgun. Literally. Rick had his department-issued twelve-gauge pointed at the driver’s side window of Burke’s yellow Toyota.

  “Read him his rights and take him in,” Mike told his deputies and he stood by to watch them do it. It was only after they’d cuffed Burke, loaded him into the backseat of the squad car, and were pulling away that he walked over to Hannah’s cookie truck and leaned down to talk to her through the open window.

  “Did you know all along that the revolver I had was the prop gun?” she asked.

  “Sure I did. Your mother told me all about it.”

  “I don’t understand. If you knew how Burke killed Dean and you knew that we’d found the prop gun, why did you wait to arrest him?”
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  “I wanted a little extra insurance, and we got it. Burke admitted in front of both of us that he knew the gun in the sewing machine didn’t have a firing pin.”

  “And you were afraid that without that admission, Burke might convince a jury that he was innocent?”

  “It’s possible. Don’t forget that he’ll be playing the part of a lifetime.” Mike leaned through the window and touched his lips to Hannah’s. “I’ve missed you, Hannah.”

  “Because you were busy working on the murder investigation and I wasn’t with you?”

  “Yup.” Mike moved forward and kissed her again, a little more deeply and a lot longer. “Guess I should’ve deputized you after all,” he said.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Three

  Hannah glanced in the mirror as she fastened the pendant Ross had given her around her neck. The red stones in the miniature cherries sparkled brightly in the sun that was streaming in her bedroom window and flashed scarlet streaks against the wall. Ross had presented her with the pendant the previous night, right before he’d left for the airport and his flight to California. “Think of me every time you wear it,” he’d told her. “If Crisis in Cherrywood makes it to Cannes, I’ll send you a ticket.”

  Then he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Hannah had been spared a reply. Of course she wanted to go to Cannes. Who wouldn’t want to go to Cannes? But wanting and actually going were two different things. She’d thought about it for hours after Ross had left, imagining what it would be like to be an important producer’s date at a gala movie premiere.

  It seemed as if she’d just fallen asleep when the phone had rung this morning. It was Andrea and she’d sounded on top of the world when she’d invited Hannah to join them for a family brunch. It would be the usual crowd and Norman would pick her up. And now Hannah was sitting at Sally’s largest table at the Lake Eden Inn, directly across from Bill, who was resplendent in his raspberry pink shirt.