by Joanne Fluke
“It sure smells good in here,” Michelle said, mirroring Hannah’s thoughts exactly.
“I know. How’s that bacon coming?”
“Almost done. I’m going to stick it in your freezer on a paper plate to cool it down fast. Do you want me to get out a pan?”
“Yes. I need an eight-inch square metal pan. I would have doubled the recipe and made it in a nine-inch by thirteen-inch if we’d had more ingredients, but we didn’t.”
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry. It just smells good, that’s all.”
Ten minutes later, Mike’s breakfast was assembled and Hannah slipped the pan in the oven. “Done,” she said. “Now we can have a cup of ...” She stopped and gave the phone an unhappy glance as it rang. “If that’s Mike and he says he’s not coming, we’ve just made something for nothing.”
Michelle plucked the phone from its wall cradle and answered it. “Hannah’s place. Michelle speaking.” She listened for a minute and then she laughed. “I don’t believe it! You never get up that early, especially two days in a row! Hold on for a second and I’ll get her for you.”
Michelle didn’t have to tell Hannah who it was. Only one person they both knew deserved the comment Michelle had made about never getting up early two days in a row. She took the phone from Michelle and said, “Hi, Andrea. What’s up?”
“Me, but I’m going to bed right after this phone call. I’m picking you up tomorrow morning at six. We’re driving to the Cities.”
“Why?”
“Because Bill says we’re going to run into traffic from all the weekday commuters and we have to leave that early if we want to get there by nine.”
“Okay. I’ll buy that. Why do we have to get there by nine?”
“Because I have a meeting with Swartznagel Realty.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to show my client a house they just listed in White Bear Lake.”
“Why do I need to go with you?”
“Because you’re the client, but don’t tell Bill. He thinks you’re just going with me to keep me company.”
“Why am I going with you? And why am I pretending to be your client? I’m not in the market for a house.”
“Because I can’t tell Bill the real reason we’re going to see the Swartznagel house.”
“Cut to the chase, Andrea. We’re going in circles. What’s the real reason you’re taking me to see this house?”
“Because it’s right next door to Doctor Bev’s mother’s house, and we need to see Diana. Then we’ll go to breakfast, and then we’ll drop in at Club Nineteen at noon.”
“Are they open that early?”
“They are tomorrow. I just called and they’re holding auditions for new jazz bands starting at noon. They do it one Saturday a month, and this is the Saturday for April. The waitress I talked to said everybody’s welcome and the audience fills out comment cards on the band. I made a reservation for us. I’m pretty sure that between the sets, we can find a way to talk to the management and ask some questions.”
“Okay. That’s worth doing, but I have to be back right after that. Lisa’s still telling her stories tomorrow, and the second day is just as popular as the first. She’s going to need lots of cookies.”
“That’s not a problem. I called Lisa, and she said that Marge, Patsy, and Jack are coming down to help her. Pasty and Marge will take turns baking, and you know what great bakers they are. Michelle will be there, too, so Lisa says you don’t have to come in at all tomorrow.”
“That’s fine, I guess, but I’m still a little confused about something. I can understand talking to the people at Club Nineteen. They might know more about the woman with the brown hair that Lynette saw with Buddy backstage. We should ask them about Buddy’s background, too. Maybe he mentioned where he came from, or anything that might help us find out ...” Hannah stopped short. Perhaps Andrea wasn’t up to speed yet. “You do know that Buddy wasn’t Buddy, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Mother called me right after she called you.”
“Good. What I don’t understand is why we need to see Diana. I don’t think it’ll do us any good.”
“It’ll do a lot of good! We can’t very well get a DNA sample if we don’t see her ... now can we?”
“But how are we going to get a DNA sample? I think her grandma might notice if we swabbed the inside of her cheek.”
“We’ll just ... .” Andrea stopped and frowned slightly. “I’ll think of something tomorrow, don’t worry. I’m good at subterfuge. All you have to do is be convincing as my real estate client.”
“How do I do that?”
“Look interested when I ask about the neighborhood. And be kid-friendly, especially if Diana’s right there with her grandmother.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Not really, unless ... yes, a couple of things. Don’t wear jeans, whatever you do! Do you have any slacks?”
“One pair.”
“Pull-ons?”
“Yes, with an elastic waist.”
Andrea muttered something that sounded vaguely like, Great! Just great! to Hannah, and then she asked, “What color are they?”
“Dark grey. Claire picked them out for me.”
“Okay, then they’re fine. Wear them with a sweater under your parka. A nice sweater, not one that’s all stretched out.”
“I’ve got the sweater you gave me for Christmas last year. That’s a nice sweater, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That’ll do just fine. Do you have any dress boots?”
In Hannah’s mind the phrase dress boots translated into boots that wouldn’t keep the snow off your feet. “No,” she said.
Andrea sighed deeply. “All right, she said. “Wear those moose-hide boots of yours. If everything else is totally acceptable, you can have one fashion eccentricity.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said, chomping down on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“Be ready at six. I’ll call you from my cell phone when I pull into the garage. And don’t be late.”
“Right,” Hannah said, grinning as she hung up the phone.
“What’s so funny?” Michelle asked.
“Andrea. She’s planning out this undercover operation, and she even told me what to wear.”
Michelle just shook her head. “That’s our Andrea. We love her, but she can be a royal pain. But you got off light.”
“What do you mean?”
“She could have told you to dye your hair!”
GERMAN PANCAKES
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
Prepare an 8-inch square pan by spraying it with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray, or coating the inside with butter.
Hannah’s 1st Note: You can double this recipe if you like, so that it will serve 8 people. If you double this recipe, it will take approximately 55 minutes to bake.
Hannah’s 2nd Note: This dish works best if you use an electric mixer.
6 strips bacon (I used applewood smoked bacon)
4 large eggs
1 cup whole milk (I’ve used heavy cream and that works also)
1 cup flour (Just scoop it up and level it off with a table knife.)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon salt
4 ounces cream cheese (half of an 8-ounce package) minced parsley to sprinkle on top (optional)
Fry the bacon in a frying pan on the stovetop until it’s crispy. Let it cool to room temperature, and then crumble it into the bottom of your baking pan.
In an electric mixer, beat the eggs with half of the milk (that’s ½ cup). Continue to beat until the mixture is light and fluffy.
Add vanilla extract and salt. Beat until they’re well combined. Mix in the flour and beat for 40 seconds.
Add the second half of the milk (another ½ cup) and beat until everything is light and fluffy.
Pour half of the mixture over the bacon crumbles in the 8-inch square pan.
Cut the
cream cheese into 1-inch-square cubes. Place them evenly over the egg mixture in the pan.
Pour the second half of the mixture over the cream cheese.
Bake at 375 degrees F. for 45 to 55 minutes, or until it’s golden brown and puffy on top.
Hannah’s 3rd Note: This breakfast entree is excellent when served with biscuits or crispy buttered toast.
Chapter Seventeen
It was eight-fifteen the next morning and the winter sun was already melting the snow at the sides of the exit ramp when Andrea turned off the highway.
“Why are we stopping here?” Hannah asked, as they pulled into a parking spot right next to the green and white striped awning over the front entrance of Perkins Family Restaurant.
“You need to get ready. My meeting with Swartznagel Realty is in forty-five minutes.”
“But I am ready ...” Hannah stopped and stared hard at her sister. “At least I thought I was ready. Tell me, Andrea. What is there about me that’s not ready?”
“It’s your hair. It just won’t do, Hannah.”
Hannah had a sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach. Michelle had predicted this. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“It’s too ...” Andrea paused and Hannah could tell she was searching for a word. “It’s just too memorable.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s like when witnesses give descriptions of somebody they saw holding up a bank, or breaking into a house. They always notice a person’s most memorable feature. Sometimes it’s a tattoo, sometimes it’s a birthmark, and sometimes it’s the fact the perp had a scar. You know what I mean. In your case, it’s your hair.”
“My hair is a disfigurement?”
Andrea gulped. “No! Of course not! It’s just that it’s ... distinctive. People notice it because it’s so ... unusual.”
“By distinctive you mean bright red, kinky, and unruly?”
“Well ... yes. And I want you to remember that you put it that way. I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, Hannah. Your hair looks good on you. You wouldn’t be our Hannah without it. But the thing is, I don’t want Doctor Bev’s mother to be able to describe you that accurately.”
“So?” Hannah held her breath. If Andrea had brought a bottle of black hair dye, she was going to refuse to use it. There was no way she was going to color her hair.
“So Bertie Straub gave me a wig for you to use as a disguise.”
Hannah couldn’t help it. She laughed. She’d never worn a wig in her life and all she could think of was the fake blond wig Delores had worn when she’d gone undercover in her black leather biker chic outfit at the Eagle.
“What’s so funny?” Andrea asked. “A lot of people wear wigs.”
“I know. I was just thinking about the blond wig Mother wore out at the Eagle.”
Andrea laughed. “I agree that was pretty awful, but she was trying to look cheap to fit in out there. This wig isn’t like that one at all.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Tell me what kind of wig you brought for me.”
“It’s a brown wig. I thought brown would be the best color because it’s nondescript. This wig is streaked with blond because Bertie didn’t have any plain brown ones, but a lot of people with nondescript brown hair streak it with another color.”
“Don’t let Michelle hear you say that! She has brown hair.”
“I know, but her hair isn’t nondescript. It’s not really brown, either. It’s more of a ... a chestnut color. And it shines in the light like ... like ...” Andrea stopped, lost for a descriptive metaphor.
“Like liquid chocolate?” Hannah suggested.
“Exactly! And that’s distinctive. I’m talking about plain brown here, the kind of brown paper bag brown.”
“Okay, but I still wouldn’t mention it to Michelle.”
“I won’t. Now let’s go in and try on that wig. I can hardly wait to see what it looks like on you.”
“Can’t I just leave my hair as it is and have Doctor Bev’s mother think I’m wearing a wig?”
“Hannah! You know that won’t work!”
Andrea stared at her in such dismay that Hannah relented. “Okay. Fine. This is your show, and I’ll wear the wig. You’ll have to help me get it on, though.”
“Oh, I will! That’s no problem. Let’s go in and have coffee. I could use another cup. And then we’ll go to the ladies room and you can try on your wig. It’s going to look great on you, Hannah. You’ll see.”
Less than a minute later, they were seated in a four-person booth. There weren’t many people in the restaurant, and their waitress came up to them almost immediately.
“Good morning,” she said, giving them both a big smile. “Would you like coffee to start?”
“Yes, please,” Andrea replied. “And I think coffee is all we’re going to have.” She turned to Hannah. “Unless you want something.”
“Just coffee for me, too. Black.”
“Cream and sugar for you, Ma’am?” The waitress turned to Andrea.
“Cream, unless it’s that coffee whitener.”
“It’s real cream and it comes in those little covered cups. Do you want one, or two?”
“Two please. Where’s your ladies room?”
The waitress gestured toward the rear of the restaurant. “Back there. The ladies is the first door on your right.”
“Let’s go,” Andrea said as soon as their waitress had left. “I want to see how that wig looks on you. Bertie gave me a sock for your hair.”
Hannah was puzzled as she slid out of the booth and followed her sister. “A sock?”
“It’s like a hairnet, but she called it a sock. It’s made out of stretchy material, and you just gather up all your hair into a high ponytail on top of your head. Then you fasten the ponytail inside the sock. It’s easier to put on the wig if your own hair doesn’t get in the way.”
“Makes sense,” Hannah said gathering her hair into a high ponytail the way Andrea had instructed. She took the fastener Andrea gave her and secured the ponytail. “Can you put on the sock?” she asked. “I can’t see to do it.”
“No problem. Just crouch down a little, will you? You’re a lot taller than I am.”
A lot taller, a lot heavier, and a lot less pretty, Hannah thought to herself. Andrea and Michelle had inherited their mother’s petite frame and classic good looks, while Hannah looked more like her tall, big, gangly, and unhandsome father. When they were children and Delores had taken her three daughters out to lunch, or for an afternoon outing, everyone commented on the family resemblance and how you could certainly tell that Andrea and Michelle were Delores’s daughters. No one ever made that comment about Hannah. They probably assumed that she was a step-daughter, or perhaps a friend who’d been kindly included in the mother-daughter outing.
Hannah crouched, and Andrea slipped the elastic sock over her ponytail. She took the wig out of the wig box and settled it on Hannah’s head. Then she did something with a comb, pulling down sections of hair to frame Hannah’s face. At least Hannah thought that was what she was doing. Since her back was to the mirror, she had no way of actually knowing.
“All done,” Andrea said. “You can stand up and turn around now. I want to know what you think of it.”
Hannah stared at the stranger in the mirror. She blinked several times, and then she stared some more. It had to be her reflection. When she raised her arm, the stranger in the mirror raised her arm. And when she turned toward Andrea, the stranger mirrored her motion.
“Well?” Andrea prompted her. “What do you think?”
“I think I need a new name.”
“What?”
“I said, I think I need a new name. And then I think I need to go down to CIA headquarters and fill out an application for deep undercover work. Nobody will ever recognize me in this wig.”
“I knew it.” Andrea looked proud. “But you didn’t tell me. Do you like it?”
“I love it! The minute we get back to Lake Eden, I’m goi
ng to buy this wig from Bertie.”
“Because you like your new look so much?”
“Not exactly. I’ll buy it because it’ll be so much fun to wear it to the next potluck dinner, and see if Mike tries to pick up the new gal in town.”
“Here we are.” Andrea pulled up in front of a house that was eerily similar to the one the Cleavers had owned on every Leave it To Beaver rerun that Hannah had watched.
“It’s awfully big for just one person,” Hannah commented.
“It’s not just one person. You’re moving your whole family here. I told you that you were married with children, didn’t I?”
“Yes. My husband’s name is Phillip and I have two kids. They’re both in school so I’m concerned about the local elementary schools in the area.”
“Good. And your name is?”
“Joyce Newhall.”
“And you’re from?”
“Royalton. I drove up here today to house hunt while my husband’s at work and the kids are in school.”
“That’s just fine. You sound very convincing. Now why are you moving to Minneapolis, Hannah?”
“It’s Joyce, and I’m moving to the Cities because my husband just accepted a job at Xcel Energy. It’s a Fortune Five Hundred company, and Phillip is a tax attorney.”
“Excellent. You’re ready.”
“I know, but are you?”
Andrea looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Do you have a plan for getting the DNA sample?”
“Not yet, but don’t worry. I’ll think of something when we get there. Now let’s hurry up and take a look at this house so that we can go next door.”
After a quick glance in the mirror on the passenger side visor to make sure her wig was on straight, Hannah got out of Andrea’s Volvo and followed her up the front walkway. Once her sister had retrieved the key from the lockbox and opened the front door, they stepped inside.
“Gorgeous!” Hannah said, catching sight of the massive curved staircase that led up to the second floor. Then she turned to shut the front door, and noticed the round, faceted window that was at least fifteen feet above the front door. “Look at that window, Andrea.”