Wedding Cake Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  The towels were warm, and Hannah snuggled into hers, wrapping it tightly around her body. Leave it to her mother to have the very best luxury towels that money could buy! She let Delores lead them all inside and down the hallway to the bedroom that she used for an office. And over to the window that looked out onto the city street.

  One glance out the window and Hannah knew why Delores had brought them there. “City Hall!” she exclaimed. “Were you in here that night, Mother? And if you were, what did you see?”

  “I saw Mayor Bascomb’s car pull up at ten-thirty. And I saw it leave at eleven o’ clock.”

  Hannah gave her youngest sister a look that said, Don’t make a comment right now. If you do, it’ll take forever for Mother to tell us what she knows.

  Michelle must have caught her unspoken message, because she said nothing. Just as Hannah had hoped, Delores continued her story.

  “As you can see, I have a great view of the mayor’s office from here. And although I can’t see into his office from this floor, I can see when the lights go on and off, and when the curtains are pulled.”

  “You were looking out the window that night?” Andrea asked.

  “Yes. I always look out that window when I’m searching my mind for a word or phrase I need for my books, or when I just want to rest my eyes. Doc was gone and I couldn’t sleep, so I worked late. There was an emergency appendectomy at the hospital, and he went because he knew the patient. His new intern had only done the procedure a dozen or so times. I decided to finish a chapter in my newest book, and I was here, working on the computer.”

  “And you saw . . .” Hannah prompted.

  “Ricky-Ticky’s car pull up at ten-thirty. Then someone pulled the curtains in his office. I didn’t see any more until the lights went out and Mayor Bascomb’s car left at eleven o’clock.”

  “Speed racer,” Michelle said, under her breath.

  “Then his car came back at midnight,” Delores continued, either not hearing Michelle’s comment or deliberately refusing to acknowledge it. “He was in his office until twelve-fifteen, and then the curtains were opened, the lights went back out, and a few minutes later, he drove away.”

  “You’re right, Mother. That clears him,” Hannah said.

  “I’m really sorry to hear that,” Michelle said, giving a heartfelt sigh. “He was number one in my book.”

  “Michelle!” Delores looked shocked. “He’s our mayor!”

  Michelle shrugged. “I know, Mother. That’s my problem. He’s our mayor!”

  Just then, the doorbell rang and Delores gestured toward the large bedroom at the side of the penthouse that her daughters had used for a changing room. “Go change out of your bathing suits, girls. Our guests are here and I want all three of you to enjoy the evening.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The evening had been enjoyable and the night’s sleep had been even more so. Hannah was energized and excited as they arrived at the Lake Eden Inn for the final night of the competition.

  “Ready?” Michelle asked.

  “I’m ready. I just hope we chose the right recipe.”

  “What’s better than apple pie?” Michelle asked her.

  “Absolutely nothing. It’s a really good pie.”

  “And it’s an American tradition. Not only that, we’re pleasing everyone by making it two ways.” Michelle smiled. “It’s going to be wonderful, Hannah.”

  “The toppings are really good,” Hannah said. “The judges are bound to like one of them, maybe all of them, but especially your ice cream. You make incredibly good ice cream, Michelle.”

  Michelle looked proud. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

  “I’ll say! I got hungry in the middle of the night so I got up and had a bowlful.”

  Michelle laughed. “No wonder there was only half a container left! We had the rest on our pancakes this morning, you know.”

  “You added it to the batter?”

  “No. I added the leftover pureed bananas to the batter. The ice cream was mixed in the whipped cream on top.”

  “No wonder it was so good! I just hope that the apple pie isn’t too ordinary. Everyone else will probably make fancier desserts.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t matter. You’re right going with the apple pie, Hannah. Just wait and see.”

  It was time for the judging, and Hannah was a bundle of nerves.

  “Smile,” Michelle said, giving her a nudge with her elbow.

  “I can’t. My face is frozen.”

  “Then thaw it quick and freeze it again in a smile. The cameras are panning the cooking stages, and you look scared to death. ”

  Somehow Hannah managed to change her panicked expression to a smile. She held it, fixed in place, until the camera moved on. “Will this never end?” she asked, not expecting an answer.

  “It’ll end and you’ll win.” Michelle sounded very sure of herself. “Just try to stay calm. The judges are getting ready to give the results to the announcer.”

  As they watched, the announcer took center stage. “I’ll read the results from lowest to highest,” he said. “In fifth place is Chef Gloria Berkeley.”

  There was applause from the audience as Gloria took the stage to receive her fifth place medal.”

  “In fourth place is Chef Brooke Jackman.”

  Hannah and Michelle applauded as Brooke came up to the announcer to receive her fourth place medal.”

  “In third place is Chef Loren Berringer,” the announcer stated, and there was applause as Loren went forward to receive his third place medal.”

  “And now . . . an unprecedented event has occurred. Never in the history of our Food Channel Chef competitions, have our judges had such a difficult decision. Although our top two contestants have tied for first place in tonight’s challenge, only one of them can be crowned as Food Channel’s Top Dessert Chef.”

  The audience was silent. Everyone seemed to be holding their collective breath, and Hannah realized that she was also not breathing.

  “Would Chef Rodney Paloma’s team and Miss Hannah Swensen’s team please join me during our commercial break while the judges make a final tally of the scores?”

  Michelle nudged Hannah. “Breathe!”

  Hannah managed to draw a shocked breath as she turned to Michelle.

  “Smile, Hannah! I did the math last night. I’m sure you won the grand prize.”

  “But . . .” Hannah took another breath. “Are you sure? You almost flunked algebra!”

  “That was only because I was dating Doug Kreske, and I never bothered to study. Maybe I can’t deal with imaginary numbers and quadratic equations, but I can add up scores. You’re the winner, Hannah! I’ll stake my whole bank account on it!”

  “Then you must be overdrawn again,” Hannah said with a laugh that served to relax her, and she wasn’t quite as nervous as she’d been before.

  Michelle pushed her forward. “Get up there, Hannah! Rodney’s already hogging the spotlight.”

  Hannah walked up to join Rodney. The die was cast, the tally was done, what would be would be, and many other fatalistic phrases danced through her head while she waited for the results.

  The announcer turned to the contestants to give them a smile. “We’re back, folks!” And Helene Stone walked up to hand him the tally sheet for the grand prize.

  “The judges have spoken,” the announcer intoned. “The grand prize winner of the Food Channel Dessert Chef Competition is . . . Miss Hannah Swensen!”

  It took Hannah a moment to react. She simply couldn’t believe her good fortune. Her smile was still frozen in place as the audience applauded, and Rodney shook her hand.

  “How does it feel to win the Food Channel Dessert Chef Competition?” the announcer asked her.

  “I . . . I can’t believe it!” Hannah told him. “I never expected to win. I’m not even a real chef!”

  “You are now!” the announcer said, presenting her with the trophy. “Are you going to put this on the mantel at The
Cookie Jar?”

  Hannah couldn’t help it. She laughed. And then she began to smile. “We don’t have a mantel at The Cookie Jar,” she said. “We don’t even have a fireplace. But I’m going to put this wonderful trophy behind the counter in the center of our display jars of cookies.”

  “Are you going to take it with you on your honeymoon?” the announcer asked her.

  “I might, but we’re not going to have a honeymoon. We’re going to take the weekend off, but both of us will be back at work on Monday morning.”

  “Oh, no you won’t!” the announcer said, and there was a smile on his face. “We’ve cleared it with your groom’s employer, and your partner and your sisters are going to make sure that The Cookie Jar runs smoothly while you and Ross go on your Food Channel honeymoon.”

  Hannah just stared at him. “Our . . . Food Channel honeymoon?”

  “That’s right, Hannah. Not only are we going to film your wedding and reception for our viewers, we’re also going to send you on a ten-day honeymoon cruise to the Mexican Riviera, all expenses paid. What do you have to say about that?”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say. Except . . . thank you!”

  The camera moved away to show the judges, who were all smiling at her.

  When the show was over, Hannah joined Michelle, who looked just as amazed as she was. “You didn’t know about the honeymoon?” Hannah asked her.

  “No! If I’d known, I would have told you. You did beautifully, Hannah. Everyone could see how surprised and happy you were.”

  Hannah smiled, but she knew she still wore the startled expression of a rookie pitcher who’d just managed to throw a no-hitter.

  “How do you feel?” Michelle asked her.

  “Grateful, happy, and . . . exhausted. Let’s go home, Michelle. I think I’m on overload, and all I really want to do is go to bed and cuddle with Moishe until I go to sleep.”

  Of course that didn’t happen, at least not right away. There was a television interview, a champagne celebration in Sally’s dining room, and congratulations from the other contestants. Michelle and Ross sat on either side of her, fending off the questions that she couldn’t handle, and gradually, very gradually, Hannah began to relax and actually enjoy all the fuss. There was only one little fly in the ointment, one pesky problem left unsolved. She still didn’t know who had killed Chef Duquesne, and she desperately wanted to solve the case so that she could put it off her to-do list and truly enjoy her special Food Channel honeymoon with Ross.

  Chapter Thirty

  It hit her with the force of a grand piano dropping from the top of a tall building. Ross liked red wine. Were they serving it on the tables at the wedding reception? Since she hadn’t been part of the planning, she didn’t know. She had to call her mother right away.

  Delores answered the phone on the second ring. “I have a question, Mother,” Hannah said. “Will there be red wine on the tables at the wedding reception?”

  “Of course, dear. We’ll have a bottle of red and a bottle of white for each table.”

  “Good!” Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. “I just remembered that Ross likes red wine. Do you know which wines you’ll be serving?”

  “No, dear. I left that up to Sally. She’s an expert when it comes to wines.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mother. I just thought I’d check.”

  “Just a minute, Hannah. Would you like me to get a special bottle of red wine for the bridal table? I could call Sally and ask her what she recommends.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll do it. I need to talk to her anyway. Thank you, Mother. I’ll see you at the church.”

  “All right, dear. The girls are at the church right now with your wedding clothes. They’re going to get everything arranged so all you’ll have to do is get dressed and look beautiful.”

  “Fat chance!” Hannah said, and then she winced. “Sorry, Mother. The words just popped right out. What I meant was that I don’t think anything could make me look beautiful, but I promise you that I’ll look as good as I can.”

  “You’ll be beautiful, dear. You’re already beautiful, even though you don’t seem to know it.”

  Tears sprang to Hannah’s eyes. Her mother had never said anything like that to her before. “Thank you, Mother. I love you and I’ll see you later.”

  The moment she’d hung up the phone, she reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. Her mother was being unusually sweet, and Hannah wasn’t quite sure how to deal with that. Instead of attempting to figure it out, she decided to run out to the Lake Eden Inn and ask Sally’s advice about a truly special bottle of red wine for Ross. She had plenty of time to talk to Dick and Sally in person. Her wedding was at eight-thirty that evening, and it was only a few minutes past five in the afternoon. There was nothing, absolutely nothing she had to do to get ready. She’d already taken a shower, carefully protecting the elaborate hairstyle that Bertie had fashioned for her. That meant her hair was perfect and she needed to do nothing with it before the wedding. Her sisters had picked up her bridal gown, and she would go to the church to get dressed with their help. Right now, she was wearing clean jeans and her favorite sweatshirt, and she could stay in her comfortable clothing until it was time for Andrea and Michelle to help her put on her wedding finery. Staying here at the condo was boring. Moishe was already gone. Norman had picked him up earlier this afternoon so that he could run off some energy by racing around Norman’s house with Cuddles.

  Did she have everything she’d need for her wedding? Hannah glanced around her condo. She didn’t need any extra clothing or toiletries. Her sisters had taken care of all that. And why in the world did she feel like crying as she took one last walk through the condo?

  “Bridal nerves,” Hannah said out loud. It was a simple case of anxiety before the wedding. She remembered how nervous her mother had gotten before her marriage to Doc. Delores had been a bundle of nerves, and it had taken chocolate to calm her. Even Doc, who wasn’t convinced that the endorphins in chocolate made a difference, had agreed that if eating chocolate worked to make his bride-to-be less nervous, he was definitely in favor of doing it.

  Hannah hurried to the kitchen, ripped the top off a bag of chocolate chips, shook out a handful, and popped them into her mouth. It was a bit too late to start counting calories. Today was her wedding day and she intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

  Once a second handful of chocolate had been consumed, Hannah picked up her purse and headed for the door. It was time to go. Perhaps the chocolate would start to work on her drive to the Lake Eden Inn.

  The air outside was crisp and it was scented with a mixture of pine and something vaguely flowery. It puzzled Hannah for a moment, and she paused at the landing on the outside staircase to try to identify it. She’d smelled this particular scent before, usually in the late afternoon. It was coming from the direction of the condo directly below hers, and this was the time that Sue Plotnik usually did her laundry.

  “Dryer sheets!” Hannah exclaimed, identifying the scent. One glance at her neighbor’s window, as she hurried down the staircase and passed by, told Hannah that she was right. The light was on in Sue’s laundry room.

  Hannah was smiling as she raced down the concrete steps to the underground garage and hurried to her cookie truck. She was right about the dryer sheets, this was her wedding day, and she was marrying the man she loved. Could anything be more perfect than that?

  She drove out of the garage, out of her condo complex, and down the access road to the highway. There was very little traffic on the roads, and Hannah felt her spirits soar as the miles clicked by on her odometer. It was a picture-perfect evening, warmer than anyone had the right to expect in late October in Minnesota, and the stars were just beginning to emerge in a darkening sky. There were no clouds. The starry night would be perfect. It made her wish for a skylight in her bedroom so that she could watch the stars with Ross and Moishe, but the attic that ran the length of the building made that dream impossible. That didn’t ma
tter in the giant scheme of things. All the rest of her dreams would come true tonight. And she could always go out on her tiny second-floor balcony, or stand on the landing by her door to watch the stars.

  It didn’t take long to get to the Lake Eden Inn, and by the time she got there, she knew the red wine she wanted. It was the very same Cabernet Sauvignon that Chef Duquesne had been drinking in the kitchen on the night he’d been killed. Thank goodness she wasn’t superstitious, or ordering the same wine for the bridal table might have bothered her. Instead, it was quite the opposite. Chef Duquesne had been touted for his knowledge of vintage red wines in several magazines devoted to spirits. Any wine he’d chosen would have been the very best Dick and Sally had to offer.

  Hannah pulled up in front of the Lake Eden Inn and found that the parking gods had smiled on her. There was a vacant spot just to the left of the door. She pulled in, shut off her cookie truck, locked it, and headed inside.

  “Hi, Miss Swensen. What are you doing here?” the college student who manned the desk asked. “The wedding’s still on, isn’t it?”

  Hannah laughed. “Yes, it’s still on. I just made a quick trip out here to talk to Dick or Sally.”

  “Sally’s upstairs getting ready for your wedding, but Dick’s in the bar.” The student paused and then he said, “Your hair looks nice.”

  Hannah’s first instinct was to ask him if it usually didn’t look nice, but she quickly squelched that impulse. “Thank you,” she said, following her mother’s advice for dealing with compliments and heading across the lobby in the direction of the bar.

  The large room was crowded, but there was a stool at the bar and Hannah took it. There were two women she didn’t know on either side of her and she presumed that they were new guests at the hotel. Some of the Food Channel guests had already left, and only the contestants, the judges, and the members of the film crew were staying on for another night. Everyone would leave the following morning, and Sally and Dick were hosting a convention at the new convention wing they’d built in a separate addition attached to the side of the existing hotel.