Banana Cream Pie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “I don’t know about that,” she said, rising to the challenge. “I think Moishe would love it. Lizard with Mole-A sauce could be good. I might even gopher it.”

  Doc groaned and so did everyone else. That made Hannah feel justified that she hadn’t lost her touch. “And then there’s always mouse-sakka if you want to go Greek, or that traditional American standard, ground beef-snake.”

  “What’s going on out here?” Delores asked, arriving with a tray of drinks. “I heard you groaning.”

  “Hannah’s punning again,” Michelle complained. “Make her stop, Mother!”

  “That’s like asking the wind to stop blowing,” Delores said. “It does no good whatsoever. Hannah won’t stop and you know it. It’s much easier if you stop listening.”

  Norman took a sip of his coffee and smiled at Delores. “This is really good iced coffee.”

  “It’s vanilla mocha,” Delores told him. “They make it fresh when you order it. They have all sorts of flavors.”

  “But it has caffeine, doesn’t it?” Hannah asked her.

  “Of course, dear. I wouldn’t order anything for you without caffeine. Doc always says that decaffeinated coffee is a waste of good water.”

  Hannah laughed and took a big sip of her iced coffee. “It’s really good,” she said, and then she turned to Doc. “How would you go about getting Tori’s business manager’s name if you knew the name of the firm, but not the name of the person who handled her investments?”

  “I’d probably call and try to convince them that Tori had referred me,” Doc said. “That might not work, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’ll attempt to contact Tori to make sure that she referred you. If she’s been with them for years, the person who handled her is probably a senior member of the firm by now and only takes select clients. My guess is that they’ll ask you questions about how much money is involved, who handled that money for you in the past, and request a bank reference. And if you can’t answer those questions to their satisfaction, they’re likely to refer you to a junior member of their firm.”

  “Oh,” Hannah said with a sigh. “Isn’t there any way around that?”

  Doc thought for a moment. “You could go there in person. It’s always more difficult to say no to a person face-to-face. But you’d have to be very convincing.”

  Hannah felt gloom settle over her like a shroud. “I can’t go to New York so I guess I’ll just have to wait until Stan Kramer gets back from his convention and try to convince him to give me the name.”

  “Sorry, Hannah,” Doc said, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “That does seem like your best bet. Stan knows you and you can be honest with him. I know you want the name right now and I’d call that firm myself to try to get it, but I don’t think I’d have any better luck than you would.”

  * * *

  Hannah was silent all the way back to her condo as she attempted to think of a way to get Tori’s business manager’s name. By the time Michelle pulled into the underground garage and parked in Hannah’s designated space, she had to admit that no viable plan had occurred to her.

  “Come on, Hannah,” Michelle said, shutting off the engine and opening the driver’s door. “Let’s go up and I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate.”

  Hannah nodded and got out the passenger’s side. She was disheartened about the way her investigation was progressing. Very little had gone right so far and she was out of suspects. The only new clue that had materialized was the man with black tennis shoes and silver laces, and she doubted that he was Tori’s killer. All he was doing in Tori’s condo was retrieving a letter or a note that he shouldn’t have written to her in the first place.

  “But how did he get in?” Hannah said aloud as she followed Michelle up the covered, outside staircase to her unit on the second floor.

  “The man with the black tennis shoes?” Michelle asked, catching Hannah’s cryptic meaning immediately.

  “Yes. Norman locked the door behind us after he picked the lock. And that means the intruder must have had a key. Norman agreed that it was either a key or the man knew how to pick locks, but I really doubt that the man had professional tools like Norman brought. The man must have had a key.”

  “You’re right. Do you think he might be the killer?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I really don’t think so. He just didn’t seem like the type. He was too broken up over Tori’s death and he sounded more sad than mad when he found the letter in Tori’s bed table.”

  “A former lover?”

  “Perhaps. I just don’t know, Michelle. I know he fits in the picture somehow, but I’ll have to identify him to find out exactly where he fits.”

  “You unlock the door and I’ll catch Moishe,” Michelle offered. “And right after we get inside, I want you to go straight to your bedroom and change into something comfortable. Then come back out here to the couch. You’ve been working all day and you’re tired and depressed. A cup of hot chocolate will pick up your spirits and then you’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Hannah said, only half joking as she unlocked the door and opened it to release the orange and white ball of fur that hurtled into Michelle’s arms by way of greeting. For the umpteenth time today, she was grateful that Michelle was staying with her. She was so tired, she probably would have fallen over if she’d tried to catch Moishe herself.

  Ten minutes later, after a hot shower, Hannah reappeared in the living room and joined Michelle on one of the new sofas. She picked up her cup of hot chocolate, took a sip, and smiled at her sister. “Thank you for being here, Michelle.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I was just thinking about how lonely I’d be with Ross in New. . . .” She stopped and gasped, suddenly remembering what Doc had said about how refusals were more difficult if you spoke to people face to face.

  “What is it?” Michelle asked her.

  “Ross is in New York! Do you think I should ask him if he could do a little legwork for me?”

  “Of course you should ask him! You know Ross loves to help you investigate.”

  “Do you think it’s too late to call him?”

  Michelle glanced at her watch. “It’s ten o’clock here and that means it’s eleven in New York. Is Ross a late night person?”

  Hannah thought back to their honeymoon. “He’s probably still awake.”

  “Then call him. Use your cell phone so he’ll know who it is and then put it in the charger. You keep leaving it on the table overnight and forgetting to charge it.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Hannah said for the second time in less than an hour. “I’ll call Ross right now.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Hannah ended the call with the phrase they’d promised to use every night before they went to sleep. “I love you too, Ross.”

  Michelle, who’d been busy in the kitchen during Hannah’s call, walked back into the living room carrying two dessert plates.

  “What’s this?” Hannah asked her.

  “Half of a piece of Sally’s Peanut Butter Cheesecake with Chocolate Sauce. I was going to save it for our breakfast, but I wanted you to have sweet dreams.”

  Hannah laughed. “Sweet dreams,” she repeated. “I get it. I was wondering what was in the bag you carried upstairs.”

  “From the look on your face as I walked through the living room to go to the kitchen, I figured you might want to celebrate. I’m guessing that Ross agreed to help you with the business management firm?”

  “He did. And he told me he was almost positive that he could get the name of Tori’s business manager for me.”

  “Then he probably can. Try the cheesecake, Hannah. It’s really good.”

  Hannah took a bite of her cheesecake and smiled in pure enjoyment. “Wonderful! I’ll get the recipe for this cheesecake from Sally tomorrow. If Ross is successful about getting the money man’s name for us, we can serve it to him when he comes back home.”

&
nbsp; “How about if he’s not successful?”

  Hannah thought about that for a second or two and then she laughed. “We’ll serve it anyway. This is so good, I want another piece!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It had to be Georgia, because she was up on a ladder that was leaning against a peach tree, reaching for a perfectly beautiful peach that was above her head, but just out of her reach. Of course they had peach trees in many states other than Georgia, but Hannah was almost certain that Georgia was where they must be.

  “Can you reach it?” Ross asked her, and Hannah looked down to smile at him. Ross was with her and he was steadying the ladder so that she wouldn’t fall.

  “I can almost reach it,” she replied, climbing up another step.

  But the elusive peach, the most beautifully ripe peach she’d ever seen, was just out of her grasp.

  “I can’t reach it,” she told him, feeling small and inadequate. “I’m sorry, Ross, but I can’t do it.”

  “Sure you can. Stand on the top of the ladder.”

  “But . . . you’re not supposed to climb up higher than the top step. There’s a warning right on the ladder.”

  Ross laughed. “There’s a warning on everything, Cookie. It’s true you’re not supposed to stand on the very top, but that’s when you’re all alone. I’m here and I’m holding the ladder for you.”

  “But what if I fall?”

  “Then I’ll let go of the ladder and catch you. I’d never let you get hurt, Cookie. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Hannah took a deep breath and stepped up on the top of the ladder. It wobbled a bit, but she steadied herself against the tree trunk and tried to grab the peach, but it was still impossible to grasp. Her fingertips brushed the bottom of the perfectly formed fruit, but she wasn’t quite high enough to curl her fingers around it to pick it.

  “Stand on tiptoe,” Ross advised. “That should do it.”

  Hannah tried to do as he asked, rising up on her toes and stretching as far as she could. But the beautiful, prized peach was still just slightly out of her reach.

  “Jump a little,” Ross told her. “That ought to do it.”

  Hannah jumped, but the peach seemed to be rising higher and higher on the branch.

  And then another voice spoke from below. “Never stand on the top of a ladder,” that person said, and Hannah recognized her father’s voice. “How many times have I told you that, Hannah?”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I wouldn’t have done it, but my husband wants this peach and I need to get it for him.”

  “People in hell want ice water,” her father said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to go down there to bring it to them.”

  It was one of his favorite phrases and Hannah laughed. And when she laughed, she began to fall.

  She fell slowly, very slowly, so slowly that she could see every leaf pass her eyes. She saw other peaches, peaches she could have reached, but it was too late for that. All she could do was hope, blindly, that Ross would catch her.

  But he’d stepped away to film her instead, to document her fall for his next movie.

  The ground approached, faster and faster, and she screamed in terror. She was going to die, broken into pieces by the parched earth below. She screamed once. Twice. And then . . .

  “Hannah! What is it, Hannah?”

  Someone was touching her arm and Hannah’s eyelids flew up.

  “Where . . . ?” she began to ask, but suddenly it was all clear. She’d been dreaming and she was still in the lovely bed that Doc and Delores had bought for her wedding present. There was no hard, lethal ground below her, no fallen ladder, no peach tree laden with beautifully ripe peaches.

  “What in the world were you dreaming?” Michelle asked her, sitting down on the side of Hannah’s bed.

  “I was picking a beautiful peach, from a tree, I fell off the ladder, and . . .”

  “And you scared Moishe half to death!” Michelle interrupted, lifting up the dust ruffle on the bed and leaning down to peer underneath. “When I ran in here to see what was wrong, the first thing I saw was Moishe diving under the bed.”

  “It’s okay, Moishe,” Hannah said, attempting to reassure her pet. “You can come out now. It was just a bad dream.”

  Michelle rose to her feet and headed toward the bedroom door. “Put on your robe and come out to the kitchen,” she said. “Moishe will follow you if you don’t tie your robe. You know he loves to chase the ties. And once you get out there and I’ve poured you a cup of coffee, I’ll show you why you were dreaming about falling out of a peach tree.”

  By the time Hannah washed the sleep from her eyes and donned her robe and slippers, Moishe was out from under the bed. He eyed her warily as she put on her robe, but when she didn’t tie it, he came closer to bat at the ties.

  Michelle was right, Hannah thought to herself, as she walked down the carpeted hallway. “Coffee,” she breathed as she entered the living room and the enticing smell drew her like a magnet. Coffee in the morning was the most wonderful gift a sleepy body and mind could give to itself. It woke the senses, spurred on mental function, and engaged the phenomenon that most people referred to as their get up and go.

  The scent of ripe peaches grew more enticing with every step that Hannah took toward the kitchen. Once inside the doorway, she drank in the heady scent. “I’m here,” she announced.

  “I see that.” Michelle turned to smile at her. “Sit down at the table, Hannah. Your coffee is waiting for you.”

  Hannah sat. And Hannah drank. And Hannah sighed in wonderful contentment. Nothing in the world was more superb than coffee in the morning. “Thank you, Michelle,” she said gratefully. “You may have just saved my life.”

  “The coffee is that good?” Michelle asked with a laugh.

  “Yes, but it’s not just the coffee. You woke me up before I hit the ground. Someone once told me that if you die in your dream, it means that you’ll die in real life before you wake up.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Michelle said, walking over to the wire rack on the counter, “but it smacks of superstition to me. I really doubt that it’s true. Because, if it were true, and whoever dreamed it did die, how would they let you know that they’d dreamed it and it was true?”

  “I don’t know, but at least we don’t have to find out this morning. You came in to wake me before that happened.”

  “Good. Tell me your schedule for today.”

  “I’ll be at The Cookie Jar until eleven-thirty and then I’m driving out to the Lake Eden Inn to meet Sally for lunch. Don’t worry, Michelle. I’ll get that recipe for Peanut Butter Cheesecake for you.”

  “Good. How about after that?”

  “I’ll check in at work and if they’re okay, I’ll drop by Jordan High to watch your rehearsal. If that’s okay with you, that is.”

  “It’s great. How about after that?”

  Hannah shrugged. “It’s back to work, I guess. I wish I could identify the man who came into Tori’s condo last night, but I can’t very well go door-to-door, looking through everyone’s closet for black sneakers with silver laces and a silver stripe down the sides.”

  “Right. If they don’t need us at The Cookie Jar, will you go to Mayor Bascomb’s office with me? I’ll call and make an appointment at three o’clock if that’s okay with you.”

  “I’ll go, but why do you need to . . . never mind,” Hannah thunked the side of her head with her hand. “I get it, Michelle. You’re going to tell him that you’re holding a bake sale as a fundraiser for the Lake Eden Players and you’d like him to be a contestant in the pie eating contest?”

  “Exactly right.”

  “Do you have a game plan? Mayor Bascomb likes to be thought of as a dignified public official. And getting whipped cream and pudding all over his face isn’t exactly very dignified.”

  “Don’t worry, Hannah. I’ve got a plan. I worked it all out this morning. I’m going to tell him that his sister was going to write a check to cover
some of the expenses for the makeup she’d ordered, but she didn’t get around to it before she died.”

  Hannah began to frown. “He’s going to think you’re asking him for money.”

  “That’s exactly what I want him to think. And then I’ll tell him about the fundraiser we’re having, and he’ll be so relieved that he doesn’t have to honor his sister’s wishes that he’ll agree to be a contestant in our pie eating contest.”

  Hannah thought about that for a moment. “That’s not bad, Michelle. As a matter of fact, it’s really good! I think it might just work.”

  “It’s worth a try. Are you curious about the reason I want you to go to his office with me?”

  “Yes. I was wondering about that.”

  “I figure he’ll sweat bullets about turning me down with a third person there, especially since he knows it’ll get out that he reneged on his sister’s obligation.”

  “Very clever, Michelle. And I think it might work, especially on a man with an ego as big as Mayor Bascomb’s. You have the mind of a politician.”

  “I hope not! That’s practically an insult!”

  “Sorry. I meant it as a compliment.” Hannah began to smile. “I’m really looking forward to seeing the mayor squirm.”

  “Me, too.” Michelle came back to the table with a crock of soft butter and two muffins. “Try these and tell me what you think. They’re peach muffins. And that’s probably why you dreamed about picking peaches.”

  Hannah removed the cupcake paper and took a deep breath of the delicious-smelling air. “Nice aroma. And your assumption is absolutely right. Do I smell almonds, too?”

  “Yes. I thought almond extract would be better than vanilla extract with the peaches. They just seemed to go together.”

  “They do. I put almonds in my Peach Bread.” Hannah took a bite of the muffin without even bothering to butter it.

  “Well?” Michelle asked eagerly.

  Hannah took the time to take a second bite, chew it, and swallow. Then she smiled at her youngest sister. “Perfect!” she said. “These could just be the best breakfast muffins you ever made for me.”

  “Better than the strawberry?”