by Joanne Fluke
Hannah frowned as she turned into The Cookie Jar parking lot, and her headlights flashed across the rear of the building. The back door of her shop was slightly ajar.
The fact that her door was unlocked didn't set off warning bells in Hannah's mind. Everyone in Lake Eden knew that she emptied the cash register before she went home, and there wasn't much else to steal. If some homeless person had jimmied the back door to secure a warm place to sleep, Hannah couldn't really blame him. It had been a bitterly cold night. She'd just give the unfortunate soul a hot cup of coffee and a bag of cookies and send him on his way.
Hannah parked in her usual spot, plugged her extension cord into the strip of outlets on the white stucco wall, and walked closer to examine her door from the outside. The lock was intact and the door showed no sign of pry marks. Janie had simply forgotten to lock it when she left with Connie Mac. Thanking her lucky stars that the gusty winds hadn't tom her door off its hinges and caused a massive jump in her heating bill, Hannah pushed it open and flicked on the lights. At first glance, her startled mind refused to believe what was right in front of her eyes. Then her mouth opened in a soundless gasp of shock. A bag of cake flour was on the floor, its contents scattered over the tiles like super-fine snow. Stainless steel mixing bowls filled with dried cake batter covered every inch of the work island, and sticky spoons and spatulas stood up inside them like miniature flagpoles. Several cartons of eggshells and dirty utensils were piled on the counter near the sink, and next to them was Hannah's industrial mixer with cake batter glued to its beaters.
Hannah fumed as she surveyed her usually immaculate kitchen. Janie never would have left this incredible mess. She must have gone back to the inn early, and Connie Mac just hadn't bothered to clean up before she left. Uttering a string of expletives that would have made her mother run for the soap, Hannah stepped inside. It would take her at least an hour to clean her kitchen, and she didn't have any time to waste. She had just started to wipe off the counters when she realized that there was a sickeningly sweet, charcoal-laden smell in the air. Something was burning!
Hannah raced to her oven, opened the door, and jumped back as a cloud of black smoke rolled out. Through the smoke, she could see several charred, smoldering lumps that had once been layers for the official Winter Carnival cake.
With lightning speed Hannah turned off the gas and hurried to her second oven. Smoke was beginning to leak out the door, and she didn't have to look to know that there were similar lumps inside. She turned it off, ran to the windows to yank them open, and flicked the exhaust fan on high. Coughing slightly from the smoke and the exertion, she ran out the back door and propped it wide open behind her.
Hannah was livid as she paced back and forth in the parking lot, kicking up snow with the toes of her boots and waiting for the smoke to clear. Connie Mac had waltzed out of The Cookie Jar with cakes in the ovens, and if Hannah hadn't come to work early, The Cookie Jar might have burned to the ground!
After ten minutes of pacing and fuming, Hannah approached the doorway and took a tentative sniff. There was still a trace of smoke in the air, but it no longer made her eyes water. She stomped into her kitchen with a scowl on her face and headed straight for the sink. There was no time to waste. She had to clean up the mess and begin mixing her cookie dough for the day.
Hannah swept the egg cartons and shells into the nearly overflowing trash can and turned on the hot water to fill the sink with soapy water. Once she'd set the dirty dishes to soak, she carried out the trash and lined the can with a new plastic bag. She was gathering up her cake-batter-encrusted mixing bowls from the work island, preparing to move them to the counter by the sink, when she noticed something that made her stop cold.
Connie Mac's leather handbag was sitting on top of a stool. She must have forgotten it, unless. . . Hannah swiveled around with a frown on her face. Connie Mac's sable coat was still hanging on a hook by the back door. It had dropped down below zero last might. Connie Mac must have been in a real rush to leave if she hadn't taken the time to grab her coat.
Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place, and Hannah glanced around her uneasily. Janie had left early. That much was obvious. Her car was gone, and so were her coat and something had frightened her away.
A glimmer of light caught Hannah's eye. The pantry door was open a few inches and someone had turned on the light. Hannah grabbed the first weapon she could find, the heavy pot she used to make boiled frostings. If the person who'd frightened Connie Mac away was hiding in her pantry, she'd get in a few good licks before she turned him over to the sheriff!
Once she had moved silently into position, Hannah inched the door open with her foot. She glanced inside, and what see saw caused the pot to slip from her nerveless fingers. Her earlier assumption was wrong. Connie mace hadn't left last night.
The Cooking Sweetheart was facedown on the pantry floor, her arms and legs sprawled out like a kid who'd hit the surface of Eden Lake in an ungainly belly dive. She had been struck down by a massive blow to the head in the act of sampling one of Hannah's Blue Blueberry Muffins.
Shock rendered Hannah immobile for a moment, but then she knelt down to feel for a pulse. The biggest celebrity ever to set foot in Lake Eden would never star in another episode of her television show or pose for pictures in her magazine. Connie Mac was dead.
-7-
Hannah was pacing the parking lot, trying to banish the gruesome sight from her mind, when she spotted the headlights of an approaching car. As it passed under the streetlight in the middle of the alley, she realized that it was Norman's car and that they had an early-morning coffee date.
Norman stepped on the gas when he spotted the sheriff's department cruiser. One glimpse of his concerned face as he jumped out of his car was all it took for Hannah to forgive him for not being jealous of her dinner with Mike.
"Are you all right, Hannah?" Norman asked, pulling her into his arms before she even had time to answer.
Hannah nodded, almost hating to admit it because it was so good to be hugged. Norman was solid and dependable, and it felt a lot better than she'd remembered to be in his arms. Actually, it was quite habit-forming. Once there, she didn't want to leave.
"What happened?" Norman asked her.
"Connie Mac's dead and I found her in my pantry this morning and someone bashed in her head when she was eating one of my muffins and I called the sheriff's department and that's why they're here." Hannah's words came out in a rush, with no pause for punctuation. She reminded herself to slow down so that Norman could understand her, and went on. 'Someone killed Connie Mac last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake."
"That's horrible. Do they know what time it happened?"
Hannah shook her head. "Not yet. Doc Knight's examining her now."
"Well, it must have been after nine."
"How do you know that?"
"I grabbed a quick sandwich and then I came back to test my fill lights. I saw Connie Mac and Janie through your window when I left to go home."
"You'd better tell Mike and Bill."
'I will. I'm sorry you were the one to find her, Hannah. It must have been awful.'
'It was.' Hannah nodded. Then she took a deep breath and managed a shaky laugh. 'After all the others, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.'
'I don't think you ever get used to something like that.'
'Maybe not, but if I keep on finding dead bodies, I'd better put the sheriff's number on speed-dial.'
Norman chuckled. 'Your sense of humor is coming back. You're gong to be fine, Hannah.'
'Of course I am.'
The back door of The Cookie Jar opened and Mike stepped out. He frowned when he spotted Norman, but then he put on a polite smile as he strode forward across the snow. 'Hi, Norman. It's a good thing you're here. Hannah shouldn't be alone at a time like this. I would have stayed with her myself, but I've got a job to do inside.'
'Go ahead,' Norman responded. 'I'll stay with Hannah.'
&
nbsp; That comment earned another frown from Mike, and Hannah's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Norman and Mike were facing off like two banty roosters, and she was no spring chicken.
'I've got some bad news for you, Hannah.' Mike didn't look happy as he turned to her. 'Your shop is a crime scene. We'll be securing it in a couple of minutes.'
It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, Hannah groaned. She'd seen enough cop shows and movies to know that only authorized personnel were allowed past the barrier of yellow crime scene tape. 'You mean I can't go back inside?'
'I'm afraid not. I'll send Bill out with your purse. I really shouldn't do it, but since it wasn't here when the crime was committed, I'm willing to bend the rules a little.'
'So what am I supposed to do?' Hannah asked him.
'Go home, get some rest, and try to forget about this. The forensics guys are on their way and we'll take care of everything.'
Hannah's thoughts were so jumbled, it was difficult to think clearly. If she couldn't get into her kitchen, how could she bake the cookies she needed for the Winter Carnival? 'I know I have to wait until the forensic team is through, but I can get back I soon, can't I? I've got to bake cookies for this afternoon.'
'Sorry, Hannah.' Mike looked glum as he shook his head. 'I can't let anyone disturb the scene until the lab results are in.'
'How long does that take?'
'It depends. Our lab's not set up for DNA testing and we have to send it out. And depending on the results, our guys may have to come back in to collect more samples. I know it's an inconvenience, but I can't let you contaminate possible evidence.'
'Just a minute,' Norman said, stepping up to face Mike squarely. 'You didn't answer Hannah's question. How long could she be locked out?'
'It's not up to me, Norman. If I had my way, I'd let Hannah back in just as soon as we collect all the samples. Unfortunately, it's not up to me.'
'How long could she be locked out?' Norman repeated his question. 'At least give Hannah a ballpark figure. She's got to make plans.'
Mike sighed and turned to Hannah. 'Worst-case scenario, it could be as long as it takes us to catch the killer.'
'What happens if you don't catch the killer?' Hannah frowned at the man who had recently been the subject of her romantic fantasies.
'We will. I just spoke to Sheriff Grant and he's putting every available man on this. You have to be patient. It could take a while.'
Hannah's frown turned into a glare. 'But I don't have a while! If my shop is locked up for long, I'll go bankrupt.'
'Let's not borrow trouble.' Mike reached out to take her arm, but Hannah snatched it back out of his reach. 'I'm not the enemy here, Hannah. It's police procedure and there's nothing anyone can do about it.'
Hannah glared at him. 'Is it fair that I should lose my business because a killer committed murder in my pantry?'
'Of course it's not fait, but I have to follow procedure here.'
Hannah knew that Mike was a by-the-book cop. When it came to procedure, nothing would budge him. 'Could you bring out my muffins? They're on a shelf in the pantry in plastic containers, and I need to deliver them this morning.'
'Sorry. There could be prints on some of the containers.'
Hannah gave a resigned sigh. Her muffins would be history by the time the crime scene guys got around to lifting the prints. 'How about the cookie dough I mixed up last night?'
'That depends. Where is it?'
'In the cooler, and that's completely separate from the pantry. Since Connie Mac brought her own ingredients, there was no reason for her to go in there.'
'If we don't find any suspicious prints on the cooler door, I'll release your cookie dough. In the meantime, try to find an oven you can use temporarily.'
Once Mike had left to go back inside, Norman pulled Hannah close again. 'It's not the end of the world. All we have to do is have to do is find you another oven to use. Let's go to the clinic and I'll help you make some calls.'
'It won't be that easy.' Hannah was about to explain the difference between a home oven and a commercial oven when she saw another car pull into the alley. 'Oh-oh! There's Mother. She's convinced I'm on a perpetual safari for dead bodies just so I can embarrass her.'
Delores fishtailed to a stop when she noticed the sheriff's cruiser. She rolled down her window and called out to Hannah. 'Are you all right?'
'I'm fine, but Connie Mac's dead.'
With no regard for any other traffic that might come along, Delores left her car in the center of the alley and got out. When she arrived at Hannah's side, she was breathless. 'Did you say dead?'
'That's right,' Norman said, moving close to Hannah. 'Someone killed her last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake.'
'In my shop,' Hannah added. 'Now it's a crime scene and Bill and Mike are going to close it down.'
'That's terrible!' Delores gasped.
'Yes, Hannah said, not sure if her mother was referring to Connie Mac's demise, or the fact that The Cookie Jar would be closed.
'A murder scene right next door,' Delores moaned. 'Now no one will come to tour the Ezekiel Jordan House.'
Hannah glanced at Norman, who was having trouble keeping a straight face. Delores wasn't concerned that her daughter's business would be closed, or the fact that Connie Mac was dead. Her only worry was that people wouldn't come to see her historic re-creation. 'Relax, Mother. Most people are fascinated by murder scenes. Since they can't get into The Cookie Jar, they'll take your tour and peek through the windows.'
'Do you really think so?'
'Absolutely.'
'Maybe you're right. I went to a lot of work, you know, and everything is absolutely authentic for the . . . ' Delores stopped speaking and her eyes narrowed. 'Who found her?'
Hannah winced. It would come out sooner or later, and it might as well be now. 'I did.'
'Hannah! You've simply got to stop finding bodies. I swear you attract them like a magnet. If you're not careful, everyone's going to get the wrong impression of you.'
'That's unfair,' Norman objected. 'Hannah just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'
'That's exactly what I thought . . . the first few times. But five? That's enough to make people wonder. If she's not careful, no decent person will want to associate with her.'
Norman gave Hannah's hand a squeeze and then he stepped up to Delores. 'I'm not afraid to associate with Hannah, and I certainly don't have the wrong impression of her.'
'Well . . . I'm glad to hear it.' Delores backed off slightly. 'You're a good man, Norman.'
'I try to be.'
Delores turned back to Hannah. 'Where did you find her?'
'In my pantry.'
'Don't' tell anyone. If people hear that she died in your pantry, they won't want to eat your cookies you'd better throw everything out and start fresh.'
Hannah didn't follow that logic at all, but she nodded. 'Yes, Mother. I'll do that just as soon as they let me back in.'
'Good. If you're sure you're all right, Hannah, I have to run. You have no idea how many last-minute things I have to do before we open to the public.'
'I'm fine, Mother. Go ahead.'
'I'd stay to lend moral support, but ' '
Norman held up his hand to interrupt her. 'Don't worry, Delores. I promise I'll take care of Hannah.'
'All right, then.'
Hannah watched as Delores turned and walked back to her car. Then she looked over at Norman. 'You'll take care of me?'
'Just a figure of speech. I figured she'd like that sort of thing.' Norman glanced up as another car turned into the alley. 'Is that Andrea?'
'Yes, and Tracey's with her. Bill must have called her to tell her what happened.'
Andrea pulled up and got out of her Volvo. The passenger door remained closed, and Hannah assumed that she'd told Tracey to stay in the car until she assessed the situation.
'Hannah! You poor thing!' Andrea rushed up to her. 'Bill told me all about it. Ha
ve they taken her away yet?'
'Not yet. Doc Knight's still in there.'
Andrea waved and the passenger door opened. A moment later, a small blond-haired bundle in a bright pink parka hurtled across the snow toward Hannah.
'Hi, Aunt Hannah.' Tracey gave her a hug. 'Mommy said you found another one, and now Grandma's going to be so-o-o mad at you.'
Hannah glanced down at Tracey's earnest face, and she had all she could do not to laugh. 'Oh, well. That's nothing new.'
'Grandma never gets mad at me. Why does she get mad at you, Aunt Hannah?'
'Because I'm all grown up and I'm supposed to be perfect. You're four years old and you're still allowed some mistakes.'
Tracey thought about that for a moment and then she nodded solemnly. 'We came to tell you that you can use our oven for your cookies. It's a really nice oven and Mommy's only used it once.'
'From the mouths of babes,' Hannah commented, glancing at Andrea who was having trouble keeping a straight face. Then she turned back to Tracey. 'That's really nice of you, honey, but I can't use your oven. I need to fin done that's a lot bigger.'
Tracey looked very disappointed. 'But I was going to help you and everything. I need to learn how. I heard Daddy ask Mommy why she never bakes cookies and she said it'll be a cold day in . . . '
'That's enough, Tracey,' Andrea warned, but Hannah could tell that she was more amused than angry. 'Give Aunt Hannah a kiss and then go back to the car. We need to talk about some grownup things.'
'I never get to listen when you talk about the good stuff,' Tracey said with a sigh. 'Grownups get to have all the fun.'
Norman turned to Tracey. 'I know something you can do for fun if your Mom says it's okay, I'll take you next door to see the house your grandma made.'
'Can I, Mommy?' Tracey asked, starting to smile again.