Plum Pudding Murder Bundle with Candy Cane Murder & Sugar Cookie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Aren’t you going to write him down?” Andrea asked her.

  “No. Jon and his wife were at the Lake Eden Inn for dinner last night and they were just being served their entrees when Norman and I left.”

  “Oh, drat!” Andrea looked very disappointed. “I thought we had another live one.”

  “Another live one?”

  “Yes! I forgot to tell you. Right before I left the office, Mayor Bascomb came in to see Al. I already knew he’d signed a private contract with Larry when he invested in the Crazy Elf, so I asked him whether he’d visited Stephanie last night and how she was doing in the hospital.”

  “Smart,” Hannah said.

  “He said Stephanie’s still there and he stayed with her until visiting hours were over. And I promised to go see her tonight and take her something.” Andrea turned and stared at the baker’s rack.

  It didn’t take a particle physicist to understand Andrea’s gesture. “I’ll pack up some cookies for you,” Hannah said.

  “Anyway, I called the hospital to check on visiting hours and I found out that everyone has to leave at nine. It’s only about ten minutes from the hospital to the park, and that means Mayor Bascomb might not have an alibi for the time of Larry’s murder.”

  “Bingo,” Hannah said, flipping to the suspect page again and putting a star by Mayor Bascomb’s name. “I’ll send Mother to see him. She’s fearless.”

  “Good! If anybody can intimidate Mayor Bascomb, it’s Mother.” Andrea picked up her last cookie and by the expression on her sister’s face, Hannah knew that if there were a little gauge from Andrea’s mouth down to her stomach, it would be full to the brim. “Can I take this one with me?” she asked.

  “Of course. Let me go pack up those cookies for Stephanie.”

  Andrea nibbled at her one remaining cookie as Hannah packed a dozen of Lake Eden’s first lady’s favorite Carrot Cake Cookies. By the time she turned back to her sister, the Cherry Wink had disappeared and Andrea was blotting her lips with the napkin.

  “I couldn’t help it. They’re so good,” Andrea said by way of explanation. “I’m showing a house at four, but I’m free until then. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Hannah was about to shake her head when she thought of a bit of legwork that Andrea could do quite easily. She pulled out one of the papers that Luanne sent with Delores and referred to it again. “How about dropping by to see Jessica Murphy?”

  “She’s not a suspect, is she?”

  “No. I just need to know what Larry paid her for those crocheted animals she makes. And I also need to know if he asked Jessica to sign any blank receipts.”

  “I can do that. I need to talk to Jessica anyway about finding a bigger place now that they have two children. That house is going to be too small for them really soon now. Anything else I can do?”

  Hannah glanced down at the sheet again. “Larry got his Christmas trees from Winnie Henderson’s farm. I need to ask her what he paid and whether she signed any blank receipts.”

  “You got it,” Andrea got up from her stool, took the box of cookies Hannah handed her, and headed for the door. “Don’t worry. I won’t eat these cookies. I know they’re really good, but I’ve finally had enough.”

  It was almost five in the afternoon when Hannah finished frosting the last apple cake. She was about to carry it to the walk-in cooler to join the others she’d made when Norman came into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Hannah,” he greeted her with a smile and came up to give her a hug. But when he was close a worried expression replaced his smile. “You look tired. How about going out for a steak at The Corner Tavern with me?”

  Hannah didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to!” she said quickly. “A steak is exactly what I need. Thanks for asking me, Norman.”

  “And after the steak, I can help you wrap those presents,” Norman offered. “If you’re not too tired, that is.”

  “That would be perfect. We can even have dessert at my place. I want to try out a new bar cookie recipe.”

  “Hi, guys!” Andrea breezed into the kitchen wearing a huge smile. “I just sold another house!”

  “Congratulations!” Hannah said.

  “From me, too,” Norman added. “How about a celebratory steak at The Corner Tavern? Hannah and I are going and we’d love to have you join us.”

  Andrea’s smile grew wider, something Hannah hadn’t thought was possible. “That’s just perfect,” she said. “Tracey’s going out to Karen Dunwright’s house for a sleepover, Bethie has a little case of the sniffles so Grandma McCann is putting her to bed early, Bill has to work late, Mother’s having dinner with Dr. Love, and I have absolutely no plans for dinner.”

  “You do now,” Norman told her. “Just let me call for a reservation. What time can you leave, Hannah?”

  “Now,” Hannah said, glancing at the clock and making an executive decision. “I’ll tell Lisa to lock up right now and leave a little early. Her throat’s probably sore from all those stories she’s been telling about us finding Larry.”

  Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in a circular booth at The Corner Tavern, enjoying the chef’s famous Caesar salad. Hannah and Norman had anchovies while Andrea had opted for none. They were just picking up their forks when the owner, Nick Prentiss, came over with a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket.

  “I understand congratulations are in order,” he said, popping the cork. And then he turned to Hannah. “Is tonight a special occasion for you and Norman?”

  There was dead silence for a moment and then Andrea jumped into the breach. “It certainly is!” she said with a smile. “Hannah and Norman just ordered the porterhouse for two and that’s worthy of a celebration in its own right. But we’re here because I just sold another house this afternoon.”

  “Congratulations!” Nick reached out to shake Andrea’s hand and then he leaned closer. “Did you order the garlic bread?”

  “Of course. It’s the best in Minnesota.”

  “Thank you. And are you having your usual order to go for Sheriff Todd?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then please let me include a nice half bottle of Chianti with my compliments. It goes so well with the garlic bread. Mayor Bascomb was quite impressed with it last night.”

  “Mayor Bascomb was here for dinner?” Hannah asked, suddenly attentive to what Nick was telling them.

  “Oh, yes. He drove here right after he visited his wife in the hospital. Such a lovely lady. I hope she recovers soon.”

  “So do we,” Norman said, picking up on the questioning as Nick poured their champagne. “None for me please. I’m driving. Do you know what time the mayor arrived here last night?”

  “A few minutes after nine. He drove here directly from the hospital.” Nick leaned in a little so people in the neighboring booths couldn’t hear him. “He said he needed a good meal after he saw what they served to his wife in the hospital. Why can’t they cook something good in that place? Sick people need good food.”

  “Oh well,” Andrea sighed after Nick had poured champagne and left. “I didn’t really think Mayor Bascomb did it anyway.” She took a sip of her champagne and reached over to give Norman a hug. “Thank you for the celebration.”

  “My pleasure. I’m just sorry Bill isn’t here to enjoy it with us.”

  “Me, too.” Andrea turned to Hannah. “Do you want to know what I found out from Jessica and Winnie?”

  “Yes.” Hannah pulled her steno pad from her purse and flipped it to the proper page. “How about Jessica?”

  “Larry paid her ten dollars for each stuffed animal she made and he never had the receipts ready. She signed blank copies and he paid her in cash.”

  “So it was a hundred percent profit on Jessica’s toys, and not the twenty-five percent Courtney thought it was!”

  “That’s right. Winnie signed blank copies too, and Larry paid her in cash. She gave me her price list and I remember what I paid for my tree. It was a twenty dollar markup
over Larry’s cost.”

  Norman whistled. “If that’s true across the board, Larry wasn’t losing money after all.”

  “He was losing money on paper,” Hannah said, spearing an anchovy with her fork. “Luanne went over the books for Courtney and they showed that Larry was in the red. And there was barely enough to cover the check he gave us for his cookie order in his business account.”

  “Hold on,” Norman said. “If Larry was making a profit on everything he sold, where was the money going?”

  “To his private account at Lake Eden First Mercantile Bank and probably to accounts at other banks, too.”

  “You’re right,” Andrea agreed. “It’s pretty clear that Larry was cooking the books.”

  “We suspected that all along, but now we’ve got proof. The next thing we have to do is find out who else proved it.”

  “And killed him because of it,” Norman said.

  DIXIE LEE’S GERMAN APPLE CAKE

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.,

  rack in the middle position.

  4 cups peeled and sliced apples (4 or 5 medium size apples)

  3 eggs

  1 cup vegetable oil

  2 cups white (granulated) sugar

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  2 teaspoons cinnamon

  ½ teaspoon salt

  2 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  Grease (or spray with Pam or another nonstick baking spray) the inside of a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan. (I used Pam baking spray, the kind with flour in it.)

  Peel, core, and slice the apples as you would for a pie. Place the sliced apples on the bottom of the prepared cake pan.

  Hannah’s Note: You can mix the cake batter by hand or with an electric mixer. We use our electric mixer down at The Cookie Jar because we quadruple the recipe and make 4 apple cakes at once.

  In a medium sized bowl, whisk the eggs with the oil until they’re thick. Then add the sugar and beat it in.

  Mix in the vanilla, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. Mix thoroughly.

  Add the flour in one-cup increments, mixing after each cup.

  Scrape down the bowl, give a final stir with a spoon, and then drop the batter over the apples in spoonfuls. (Don’t worry if it doesn’t completely cover the apples – the batter will spread out during baking.)

  Bake at 350 degrees F. for 60 minutes. (Mine took only 50 minutes.) Cool the cake in the pan on a cold burner or a wire rack.

  Dixie Lee’s German Apple Cake Frosting:

  8-ounce package softened cream cheese

  (the brick kind not the whipped)

  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

  1 Tablespoon lemon juice (freshly squeezed is best of course)

  4 Tablespoons (½ stick, 2 ounces) melted butter

  2 cups confectioner’s (powdered) sugar (no need to sift unless it’s got big lumps)

  If you forgot to take the cream cheese out of the refrigerator to soften naturally, unwrap it, place it in a microwave-safe bowl and heat it for 20 seconds on HIGH. Check it to see if it’s soft. If it’s not, give it another 15 seconds or so, until it is.

  Stir the vanilla extract into your cream cheese. Then add the lemon juice and the melted butter. Mix until it’s smooth.

  Beat in the confectioner’s sugar in half-cup increments, checking the consistency after each addition. When the mixture is the consistency of frosting, stop adding sugar. (I ended up using all of the powdered sugar.)

  Dixie Lee has given us a win-win frosting for her apple cake. If it’s too runny, add more powdered sugar. If it’s too stiff, add a little more lemon juice or vanilla.

  Frost your cooled German Apple Cake, cut a slice to have with a nice cup of coffee, and enjoy.

  Lisa’s Note: I’m going to try this with peaches instead of apples when they’re in season.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hannah put her key in the lock, pulled open the door, and braced herself for the furry onslaught that greeted her every homecoming. But this time it didn’t happen. No orange and white feline launched himself into her arms. “Uh-oh,” she said.

  “Let me.” Norman stepped into Hannah’s condo and when he gave a little gasp, Hannah expected the worst. Moishe was hiding because of a misdeed. Moishe was ill, stretched out on the floor. Moishe was…she didn’t even want to think it!

  “What…?” Hannah queried, stepping in and surveying the room. There was no sign of mayhem or destruction, no orange and white cat on the couch breathing lethargically with a fever, nothing wrong that she could…

  “Do you have a stepstool, Hannah?” Norman asked, interrupting her assessment of the situation.

  “Yes, but why…” Hannah looked to see why he was staring at the ceiling and gave an identical gasp to the one he’d given earlier. Moishe was clinging precariously to one of the top branches of the Christmas tree, the last bird Great-Grandma Elsa had made in his mouth. He’d obviously missed one this morning and consequently his avian appetite had struck again. He’d climbed up the tethered Christmas tree to grab his prize, but now he couldn’t get down by himself.

  The last of Great-Grandma Elsa’s birds. Hannah felt like sitting right down on the rug and crying. But then her errant cat gave a pathetic, feather-muffled mew and she rushed for the kitchen stepstool. Moishe’s safety was more important than antique Christmas ornaments. And now that she thought about it, she was almost positive they’d left one of each kind in the ornament box.

  Norman took the stepstool from her and climbed up to retrieve Moishe. Instead of scratching, as most cats would do, Moishe went limp in Norman’s arms and started to purr. Hannah truly believed it was a purr of contrition. At least that’s what she wanted to believe as she took the bird’s mangled body from her unresisting cat.

  “Coffee?” she asked Norman, figuring that both of them needed a cup after their scare with Moishe.

  “That would be great. Tell me where you keep your wrapping paper and ribbons, and I’ll get them organized.”

  For once Hannah was glad she’d taken her mother’s advice. All her Christmas wrap, ribbon, and tape were in one of the red and green boxes her mother had ordered from a catalogue for each of her daughters.

  “Everything’s in a red and green box under the bed in the guest room,” she told him. “I’ll put on the coffee and slip a couple of pans of Nancy Dunns in the oven for dessert.”

  “What are Nancy Dunns?”

  “They’re bar cookies with oatmeal and dates. I got all the ingredients ready to go last night, but I was too busy cleaning up feathers after you-know-who to bake them this morning. I’ll bake one pan for us and another to try at The Cookie Jar tomorrow. They’re supposed to be unbelievably rich and luscious.”

  “You’ve never made them before?”

  “No, I just got the recipe in the mail last week. If everybody likes them I’ll add them to the menu for catering.”

  Hannah hurried to the kitchen to preheat the oven, put on the coffee, and assemble the bar cookies for baking. Since the dry ingredients were already out on the counter, all she had to do was gather the rest of her baking supplies from the refrigerator and prepare the pans. She’d cooked the dates with the orange juice the previous evening and they were all ready to go. The recipe was simple and in less than ten minutes, the bars were baking.

  “That was fast,” Norman said, coming over to take his mug of coffee from her hand. “I think we have everything we need…except for the presents, of course.”

  “Right.” Hannah set her coffee on the end table by the couch and went off to get the presents she’d bought. She was about to carry them out when she realized that Norman’s present was among them. She quickly stuck it back in the bottom of her closet, made a mental note to wrap it later, and carried out the various bags and boxes that made up what Michelle still called Christmas loot.

  “Get out of the box, Moishe!” Hannah called out as her cat’s whole head disappeared inside.<
br />
  “I’ll get him,” Norman said, picking Moishe up and setting him on the back of the couch. “He’s just curious.”

  Past scenes of Moishe’s curiosity flashed before Hannah’s eyes. Her designer couch pillows completely de-stuffed with pieces of foam and other unidentifiable fibers scattered over her living room rug like snow. The wires from her cable box, video recorder, and television set pulled out and tangled like a bird’s nest on the floor. The pile of dry cat food in the bottom of her closet after Moishe attempted to move his food supply. And in the last two days, the fallen Christmas tree, the destruction of her great-grandmother’s handmade ornaments, and the feline who’d been stuck like a tree topper on the highest branch. Curious? She supposed so, but she could think of several other words that would also describe Moishe’s behavior, the nicest of which was naughty.

  “He’ll probably leave us alone to wrap if we give him something to play with,” Norman said, cutting off a length of ribbon and carrying it over to Moishe. “Here you go, Big Guy.”

  Moishe glanced at her and then he turned to look at Norman. Hannah could swear he was grinning as he batted at the ribbon and purred. Norman balled it up and tossed it to him, and then he walked back over to the box. “Coffee table, or floor?” he asked her.

  “Floor. I’ve got a couple of big things that won’t fit on the coffee table.” Hannah gestured toward the whiteboard and erasable markers she’d purchased for the back of Tracey’s bedroom door.

  “Fine with me.” Norman opened the first bag and assessed the contents. “We’ll need to wrap this one in the gold foil with the little green Christmas trees. It’s the only thing you have that’s wide enough.”

  “Right.” Hannah sat down on the other side of the red and green box and handed him the roll of paper.

  “I’ll unroll it on the rug. You set the whiteboard in the center about six inches from the end. Then we’ll know where to cut.”