by Joanne Fluke
“They are good,” Lisa said, taking another bite. “They’re crunchy and simple and absolutely delicious.”
“You really like them?”
“Well…I’m not exactly sure, now that I think about it.” Lisa gave an impish grin. “I might have to eat a few more before I can make up my mind.”
Hannah laughed. “Go ahead. This batch is a test run. I won’t sell them until I get them perfect.”
“They’re perfect.” Lisa grabbed two more cookies and headed for the swinging door to the coffee shop. “I’ll start the coffee and fill the rest of the serving jars.”
The chores didn’t take long with both of them working together. When they’d finished, they had twenty minutes before it was time for them to open, and they carried mugs of coffee to their favorite table in the back of the coffee shop.
“Did you decide?” Lisa asked, taking the chair across from Hannah.
“About the Cinnamon Crisps?”
“No, about Rhonda. You’re going to catch her killer, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to try.”
“Good.” Lisa shivered slightly and cupped her hands around her mug of coffee. “I just can’t get over it. She was here one day and dead the next. How about that pie you found? Do you think it has anything to do with her murder?”
“Maybe, but even if it doesn’t, it’ll help me establish a timeline for the day of her death. I need to know where she went, who she talked to, and what she did.”
“That seems like a good place to start. What can I do to help?”
“Just keep your ears open. People talk and someone may know something about Rhonda’s last hours. If you pick up anything, tell me right away and…” Hannah stopped speaking and winced.
“What’s the matter?” Lisa asked, looking concerned.
“I’m getting a terrible headache. I swear I can actually hear my head pounding.”
“That’s not your head. It’s some kind of noise coming from outside. Hold on a second and I’ll go look.”
Lisa unlocked the front door and peered out. When she came back, she was grinning. “You were right. It’s a headache, all right.”
“What is?”
“The Jordan High marching band. What you heard was their bass drum. I’ll get the aspirin bottle. They’re headed this way.”
After she’d washed down two aspirin, Hannah watched as the band came into view. Even though the doors and windows were closed, she could hear the mutilated strains of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”
“They’re awful,” Lisa said, reaching up to cover her ears.
Hannah did the same. The trumpet section could certainly use a review lesson in sharps and flats, and she shuddered to think of what would happen when they got to the piccolo obbligato, since there wasn’t a piccolo in sight.
Hannah held her breath as the band reached the critical measures and then she groaned aloud. Two girls on clarinets were attempting the part, and it was obvious they weren’t at all skilled on the upper registers.
“Maybe they’ll get better in time for the parade,” Lisa mused, but after a glance at Hannah’s pained expression, she shook her head. “You’re right. That’s probably asking too much.”
When the hands of their wall clock reached nine, Lisa unlocked the door and customers began to come in for morning coffee and cookies. Business was brisk for the first hour and it took the efforts of both Hannah and Lisa to serve their customers. Things didn’t slow down until after ten and that was when Andrea walked in. By the smile on her sister’s face, Hannah knew she had information about Rhonda.
“What is it?” Hannah asked, pouring Andrea a glass of orange juice.
Andrea glanced around her. The only other people at the counter were Amalia Greerson and Babs Dubinski, engrossed in a conversation of their own. “The subject’s car is still there.”
“You mean Rhonda’s?”
“Shh!” Andrea put a finger to her lips.
“It’s okay.” Hannah leaned forward across the counter. “Babs is trying to play matchmaker.”
“You mean for her son?”
“Right. And Amalia’s not buying it. She thinks he’s too old for her granddaughter.”
“He is. She just graduated from high school and there’s got to be at least a fifteen-year difference. And the fact that he’s a tax accountant tacks on another ten years.”
“You’re right,” Hannah said, remembering the ill-fated evening when Delores had set her up with Babs’s son. To say that it had been boring would be kind. “What else did you find out? When you came in, you were grinning like the Cheshire cat.”
“Let’s go in the back,” Andrea suggested, picking up her glass of orange juice and leading the way. She was mum until she’d taken a stool at the workstation and then she grinned proudly. “I got the autopsy report from Doc Knight this morning.”
“You mean you saw Bill’s copy?”
“No, he doesn’t have it yet. I had to drop off a sample for Doc Knight and I asked him about it.”
“A sample?”
“You know, a sample. I couldn’t give him one yesterday and it’s all Mother’s fault. Remember how she always said to go before we left the house?”
Hannah caught on immediately. “So you did, and then you couldn’t give him a sample?”
“That’s right. It was a good thing, though. I asked him about Rhonda, just making conversation, and he said he thinks she was killed between eight and nine on Friday night. And then he talked about stomach contents. Your lemon pie was there and so was the osso buco.”
Hannah was surprised. “Doc Knight actually identified it as osso buco?”
“No, but the ingredients were right.”
“How do you know?” Hannah was puzzled. “You’ve never made it, have you?”
Andrea shook her head. “I looked it up in a cookbook.”
“You have a cookbook?”
“Of course I do. My friends got together and gave me a whole set for a wedding present. The only ingredient that didn’t fit was ripe olives.”
Hannah made a mental note of that. “Did Doc Knight think Rhonda had anything else to eat?”
“No, but she drank some red wine. That was when he started talking about some other tests he’d run and I stopped listening because I was getting a little queasy.”
Hannah shoved a rack of cooled Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies closer to her sister. “Have a couple of cookies. The chocolate will settle your stomach. And while you’re at it, bag up a half-dozen for Claire Rodgers.”
“You’re going to Beau Monde?”
“Yes. Lisa offered to take over for me until my two-o’clock catering gig.”
“Your diet’s working and you’re buying smaller clothes?” Andrea guessed.
“Not exactly. Claire bought three lemon pies on Friday and I need to find out if she gave one to Rhonda.”
“I’m coming along,” Andrea announced, taking a cookie for herself and bagging another half-dozen for Claire. “Claire left a message on my machine that my maternity clothes came in. You can talk to her while I try them on.”
Hannah groaned. Andrea wasn’t exactly speedy when it came to trying on clothes. On the other hand, Claire would be delighted at the prospect of a big sale, so she might be more forthcoming about answering questions.
“How long are you free for?”
“Until one-thirty,” Hannah answered, trying not to wince at her sister’s sentence structure. When they were still in high school, she’d tried to break Andrea’s habit of tacking on a final preposition, but her grammar lessons hadn’t had any appreciable effect.
“Then you’ve got a couple of hours. When we’re through at Claire’s, let’s run out to Rhonda’s apartment building and interview her neighbors. I checked the mailboxes and almost everyone’s retired. They should be home in the middle of the day.”
“Okay,” Hannah agreed. Interviewing Rhonda’s neighbors wouldn’t be at all dangerous and Andrea was good with people.<
br />
“When we get through, I’ll help you with your catering. I can pour coffee while you do the rest.”
Hannah smiled. Catering was always easier with two people. “All right, but it’s only fair to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“My first job is at Trudi’s Fabrics.”
“What’s wrong with that? I like Trudi Schuman.”
“So do I, but she’s hosting a Lake Eden Quilting Society meeting and your mother-in-law will be there.”
“Oh.” Andrea rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. She didn’t get along well with Regina Todd. Bill’s mother was constantly complaining that Andrea should quit her job and be a stay-at-home mother and wife. “It should be all right, Hannah. I’ll wear one of my new maternity outfits and that’ll win her over. She’s crazy about Tracey, but she really wants a grandson.”
“All right, if you can handle it.” Hannah pushed away a mental picture of Regina haranguing Andrea about quitting her job and Andrea spilling scalding coffee on Regina’s hand. “It shouldn’t take more than a half hour. When we’re through, I’ll drop you back here and load up for my three o’clock.”
“Where’s that one?”
Hannah was so pleased by Andrea’s question, she almost forgot to answer. Were her years of correcting her sister’s grammar finally paying off? Or had Andrea merely forgotten to add the final, unnecessary at? “It’s in the library at the community center. Marge Beeseman is holding her monthly Friends of the Library meeting.”
“I’ll help you with that. Tracey needs a new book and I have to stop by the library anyway. She didn’t like the last one Bill read to her out of.”
Cinnamon Crisps
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.,
with rack in middle position.
2 cups melted butter (4 sticks)
2 cups brown sugar (loosely packed)
1 cup white sugar (granulated)
2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cream of tartar (critical!)
1 teaspoon salt
4¼ cups white flour (not sifted)
Dough-ball rolling mixture:
½ cup white sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Melt the butter. Add the sugars and mix. Let the mixture cool to room temperature while you beat the eggs, and then stir them in. Add the vanilla, cinnamon, baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix well. Add flour in increments, mixing after each addition.
Use your hands to roll the dough into walnut-sized balls. (If dough is too sticky, chill for an hour before rolling.)
Combine the sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl to make the dough-ball rolling mixture. (Mixing it with a fork works nicely.) Roll the dough balls in the mixture, then place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Flatten the dough balls with a greased or floured spatula.
Bake at 325 degrees F. for 10–15 minutes. (They should have a touch of gold around the edges.) Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove the cookies to a rack to finish cooling.
Yield: Approximately 8 dozen, depending on cookie size.
(Lisa loves these cookies—it’s the only time I’ve seen her eat a half-dozen of anything at one sitting.)
Chapter
Eleven
“I didn’t expect you this soon, Andrea.” Claire looked surprised as she opened the door of her dress shop and let them into the back room. The space wasn’t very deep, only about six feet, but it ran the entire width of the building and was crowded with racks of clothing, unassembled Beau Monde dress boxes, Claire’s small desk, and her ever-present ironing board and sewing machine. “I just left a message for you at home and it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes ago. How did you get here so fast?”
“I was already next door. I retrieved your message from my cell phone, and since Hannah wanted to come over here anyway, I tagged along. I know you’re not open yet. If I’m too early, I can always come back later.”
“You’re not too early. I’m just glad I pressed your maternity outfits first.” Claire ran a hand over her sleek hair and looked slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been unpacking my new shipment and I planned to change my clothes before I opened.”
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 weig
ht-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.”