Fudge Cupcake Murder hsm-5

by Joanne Fluke

  "We were steaming," Don admitted, evidently not realized he'd just given them a motive for murder.

  "Yes, we were." Sean looked a little sheepish. "I wanted to go out to the station and demand them back, but Don stopped me."

  "I told him it wasn't smart to make a county sheriff mad. And then, when we found out Sheriff Grant had been murdered, I was really glad I'd stopped Sean from going out there."

  "I was glad too," Sean added, standing up to let some people into their aisle.

  While the twins were busy making small talk with their new seatmates, Andrea nudged Hannah. "Did you get that?"

  "I did and it's a motive… sort of. I wonder which twin was working on Monday night? And I wonder what the other twin was doing?"

  "I'll ask around," Andrea promised. "I know a couple people who can tell them apart."

  "Good. So what did you say to Mother to make her forget about criticizing me?"

  "Oh, that." Andrea gave a nonchalant shrug. "I just told her that if the baby was a girl we were going to use her name."

  Hannah's eyes widened. "But I thought you told Bill's mother that if you had a girl, you'd use her name."

  "I did."

  "But…" Hannah stopped speaking and sighed. "Okay. I know you think it's a boy, but what happens if it's a girl? You can't use both names. Mother and Regina would be all upset over which one you put first."

  Andrea shook her head. "Relax, Hannah. I know it's a boy. I had the test. Just don't tell anyone, okay? Bill's old-fashioned and he wants to be surprised."

  The service was long and Hannah shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It seemed everyone who had known Sheriff Grant wanted to give some sort of eulogy. Hannah felt sorry for Nettie Grant, who had to sit through it all and be gracious. Why did people feel they had to share so much? Hannah could care less that Sheriff Grant had once helped Lydia Gradin get her car out of the ditch in the middle of a snowstorm.

  "I'm glad the casket's closed," Andrea leaned over to whisper to Hannah. "Otherwise it looks like dead people are just sleeping and they might get up any minute."

  Hannah didn't want to mention why an open casket would have been impossible. She'd seen Sheriff Grant right after his demise and there was no way that Digger could work a miracle of that magnitude with putty and makeup.

  It seemed as if the line of people who were waiting to sing Sheriff Grant's praises in life would never end. Hannah glanced at her watch and saw that over an hour and a half had passed. She was almost ready to nudge Andrea and ask her to pretend that she'd gone into labor so that they could leave, when Digger went to the podium.

  "We all loved Sheriff Grant and I know some of you have been waiting for quite a while to give your remembrances of him, but out of courtesy to his widow, I'll ask you to be seated so that we can conclude the service."

  Hannah breathed a big sigh of relief when a final tribute had been uttered and the service ended. After a reminder that there would be a brief ceremony at graveside, Hannah and Andrea slipped out of the row and headed for the parking lot.

  "Are you okay?" Hannah asked, unlocking the passenger door so that Andrea could get into the cookie truck.

  "I'm fine. I just don't want to go to graveside, that's all. That always depresses me and I just read an article that said a mother's emotions can affect her unborn baby."

  "Okay," Hannah put her truck in gear. "I'll have to hurry and take you home then. I need to go out to the cemetery."

  "But why?"

  "I need to check the crowd. The killer might be there."

  "You think?" Andrea looked surprised.

  "It's Mother's idea. She saw it in a movie."

  Andrea shrugged. "It's worth a try. Go ahead, Hannah. I'll wait in your truck and watch for anyone who drives in and lurks around."

  "Thanks, Andrea." Hannah put the truck in gear and drove out of the parking lot. "I can always use another pair of eyes."

  "I know, and it's going to cost you."

  "I figured that," Hannah said, gesturing toward the rear of the truck. "I've got a couple of dozen cookies back there."

  "What kind are they?"

  "Surprise cookies. They were Lisa's idea and they're leftovers from the meeting I catered last night."

  "What's the surprise?"

  "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise." Hannah reached back to get one of the bags and handed it to Andrea. "Taste one and tell me if you like them."

  Andrea bit into the cookie and smiled. "This is good, Hannah, and I love the chewy part in the middle. Is it a chocolate-covered nut?"

  "It could be. Try another one. Lisa put at least a half-dozen different surprises in the middles."

  "Mmm," Andrea bit into another cookie. "This one tastes like some kind of nougat. I like these, Hannah. They're fun because you don't know what you're going to get. How do you make them?"

  "Bridge mix."

  "What?"

  "Bridge mix. You've had it before, Andrea. It's mixed kinds of chocolate candy in a bag. They've got it down at the Red Owl."

  "I know exactly which candy you mean."

  "Lisa says if they're out of bridge mix, you can use those miniature candy bars they have for Halloween. All you have to do is cut them up into pieces."

  "Good idea," Andrea said, taking another cookie. "Did you decide on your cookies yet, Hannah?"

  "What cookies?" Hannah pulled up to the gates of Brookside Cemetery and parked outside the wrought iron fence. She could see Sheriff Grant's grave in the distance, but no one was there yet. The mourners were probably still at the school, paying their respects to Nettie.

  "The cookies you're going to bring to the Halloween party."

  "Not yet," Hannah said, mentally adding the Halloween cookies to her list of things to do. "Are you sure you want to stay here by yourself?"

  "I'm sure." Andrea clutched the bag of cookies a little tighter. "I should be able to see the back of the crowd from here. Make sure you stand on the other side of the grave and then we'll have it covered."

  "Good idea. Anything else?"

  "Yes. Do you think you can duck out before they say the final prayer? I don't want to be here when they lower the casket. I just hate that part."

  "Me, too," Hannah said, knowing that Andrea was thinking about their father and reaching out to give her a hug.

  Surprise Cookies

  Do NOT preheat the oven-dough must chill before baking

  1 cup melted butter (2 sticks)

  1 cup white sugar

  1/2 cup brown sugar

  2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork) 1 teaspoon baking soda

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  2 Tablespoons water (or coffee, if you have some left over from breakfast)

  3 cups flour (no need to sift)

  1 package bridge mix or assorted chocolate candies ***

  4 to 5 dozen walnut halves (or pecan halves)

  *** If I can't find bridge mix, I like to use chocolate wafers or Hershey's assorted miniature candy bars cut into four pieces. You can even use full size chocolate candy bars if you cut them up into small pieces.

  Melt the butter and mix in the sugars. Add the beaten eggs, baking soda, salt, vanilla, and water (or coffee). Add-the flour and mix thoroughly. Then chill the dough for at least an hour (overnight is fine, too).

  Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  Scoop out a tablespoon of dough and form it around a chocolate wafer (or a piece of cut up candy bar). Place a walnut half (or pecan half) on top and place it on a greased baking sheet, 12 cookies to a standard sheet.

  Bake at 375 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes, or until nicely browned. Cool on cookie sheet for two minutes and then transfer the cookies to a wire rack.

  Yield: 8 to 10 dozen, depending on cookie size.

  (When I use Hershey's miniatures, Mother always tries to guess which cookies have the Krackles bars inside. If she gets one with a piece of Mr. Goodbar, she passes it to me.)r />
  Chapter Fourteen

  There was no one suspicious at graveside, unless Hannah wanted to count Bertie Straub, who stared at the casket throughout the short service without blinking. But Hannah knew that Bertie was probably trying to figure out what Nettie had spent on the funeral. Andrea didn't see anyone that struck a sour note either, and Hannah had kicked herself all the way home for even considering taking a tip from her mother.

  "Hi, Moishe," Hannah called out, opening the door to her condo and bracing herself to receive the flying ball of orange and white fur that hurtled itself in her arms. She carried him in the kitchen, set him down by his food bowl, and filled it with the food he liked. Then she headed off to her bedroom to put on her usual Sunday attire.

  Five minutes later, dressed in jeans and an old pullover sweater, Hannah settled down on the couch to vegetate. She was a bit hungry, but that could wait. She wanted the mindless oblivion of a documentary on something of absolutely no interest to her. Then she could curl up and doze and perhaps catch up on some of the sleep she'd lost since Sheriff Grant had been killed.

  Hannah woke up to a ringing phone and an announcer's nasal voice describing the mating habits of the dung beetle. She reached out for the phone and said hello before she realized that she could have let the answering machine get it.

  "Oh, Hannah! I'm so glad you're home!"

  It was Andrea's voice and Hannah almost groaned out loud. She wasn't sure she had the patience to sympathize with another domestic crisis tonight. But sisterly concern took precedence over things like sleep, and food, and personal time at home. "What's the matter, Andrea?"

  "Bill cleaned out the refrigerator while we were at Sheriff Grant's funeral and he threw out all my nail polish!"

  Hannah wondered if she should have her hearing checked. Or perhaps she was still asleep and this was one of those strange dreams that didn't make any sense. She could have sworn that Andrea had said nail polish. "Bill threw out your what?"

  "My nail polish."

  Hannah was relieved to know that her hearing was fine, and she must be awake if she'd heard Andrea correctly. But asleep or awake, she was still confused by her sister's answer. "Why do you keep nail polish in the refrigerator?"

  "It lasts longer that way. You know how after you use about half a bottle, the rest gets all gunky and thick?"

  "No."

  Andrea sighed so loudly that Hannah could hear it over the line. "You'd know it if you wore nail polish. And you should, Hannah. Your nails are a disgrace. Mother and I were just talking about…"

  "Forget it, Andrea," Hannah interrupted. "In my line of work, nail polish would last about five seconds before I ruined it."

  "You're right, I suppose. Anyway… if you keep nail polish in the refrigerator, it doesn't dry out. I read that in a beauty tip column and it really works. I keep mine in those little round cups on the door."

  "The egg keepers?"

  "So that's what they're for! Anyway, I used to keep the bottles in the meat drawer, but they rolled around in there. I moved them to the egg keepers and they fit really nice."

  "And Bill threw out all the bottles?"

  "Well… he didn't actually throw them out, but he might just as well have. He took them out and put them in a box for safekeeping. And now he can't remember where he put the box. I just know that by the time we find it, the polish will be all gunky. That's why I need to get out of here, Hannah. I'm really mad at him and I have to cool off. And there's another reason, too."

  "What's that?" Hannah asked, settling back on the sofa. This could take a while.

  "Bill said that since Tracey's gone, he's going to clean out the attic tonight."

  "Where's Tracey?"

  "At Mother's. She called and asked if Tracey could stay overnight. I think she felt guilty because she turned me down the other day."

  Hannah snorted. "Guilty? Mother?"

  "You're right. That can't be it. But Bill's going to want me to go up to the attic with him and I just know we're going to have a big fight over which things to toss and which things to keep."

  "And if you're busy and you can't help him, he might forget the attic and do something innocuous like watch sports on television?"

  "Exactly. So what time can you pick me up?"

  Hannah shook her head to clear it and glanced at her watch. It was already eight-fifteen. "Forty-five minutes?"

  "Perfect. I'll think of some excuse for Bill. Just honk the horn when you get here and I'll come right out."

  "I brought the list of suspects Nettie gave us," Andrea said, as Hannah backed out the driveway. "I thought we could go over it together and try to remember if we spotted any of them at the funeral."

  "That's good. Where are we going?"

  "Let's go to Bertanelli's. I'm in the mood for one of their pizzas."

  "You didn't have dinner?"

  "Of course I did, but I didn't eat very much. Bill made chicken and it wasn't very good. You drive and I'll call a couple of names on the way there."

  Hannah glanced at her watch. It was already nine-fifteen. "It's a little late to call now, isn't it?"

  "For here it is, but I haven't checked out Ivan Hill yet. He lives in California and it's only seven-fifteen out there."

  Hannah took the road out of town. If Andrea wanted a pizza, that's what they'd get. "Who's Ivan Hill?"

  "The father of the other boy in the car when Jamie was killed."

  "Right," Hannah said and turned onto the highway. If what Nettie told them was accurate, Ivan Hill could be their killer. Sheriff Grant had been harassing Mr. Hill, calling him on the phone and trying to dig up evidence that his son had been drinking and driving, even when the initial accident report clearly stated that Jamie was behind the wheel. Sheriff Grant couldn't bring himself to blame his son, not even when the lab reports confirmed that Jamie's blood-alcohol level had been three times the legal limit. Nettie had said it was possible that the long-suffering Mr. Hill finally snapped and decided to end her husband's harassment.

  Hannah kept her eyes on the road, but she listened as Andrea placed the call and got Ivan's wife on the line. Once Andrea had explained that Sheriff Grant was dead, the rest of the conversation was one-sided and there was little Hannah could learn from phrases like "Oh, that's too bad," and "I'm so sorry."

  "Well, that was a waste," Andrea said, disconnecting the call and tossing her phone back in her purse. "Ivan Hill had a heart attack the night before Sheriff Grant was murdered."

  "He's dead?"

  "No, he's going to make it. But his wife said they had to do a triple bypass and he's still hooked up to all kinds of monitors. He's in the clear, Hannah. There's no way he flew to Minnesota less than a day after open-heart surgery and bashed in Sheriff Grant's head."

  "I guess not," Hannah said, turning in at their favorite pizza place. Bertram and Ellie Kuehn owned the pizzeria and between the two of them, they couldn't come up with a single drop of Italian blood. But when they ran their first names together, it sounded Italian and that's why they'd named their place Bertanelli's.

  "I can hardly wait," Andrea said, unbuckling her seat belt and getting out of the truck. "I'll make more calls while we're waiting for our order. I want an Ellie's special with everything on it. How about you?"

  "That's fine with me. How about the anchovies?" Hannah raced a little to keep up. Even though Andrea complained she was having trouble with her balance, she could certainly move fast when there was food involved.

  "Hold on. Let me check." Andrea stopped in mid-waddle and looked down at her ankles. Even in the dim glow of the neon sign that beckoned them to the best pizza in Winnetka County, Hannah could see that they were swollen.

  "You'd better not," Hannah advised. "Your ankles look like sausages."

  "I know. I probably shouldn't eat pizza either, but I really want it."

  "Let's compromise," Hannah suggested. "We'll get a medium pizza instead of a large and then you won't eat as much."

  Andrea gave her a saucy
grin as she pushed open the door and the aroma of freshly baked pizza embraced them. "Wanna bet?"

  Five minutes later, they'd placed their order and were waiting at a table in the back with large diet cokes and a tray containing glass shakers of Parmesan cheese and crushed red peppers, and a basket of moist towelettes in individual foil packages.

  "I love this place," Andrea said, looking around her with pure adoration. "Their pizza's the best and they always…”

  "What is it?" Hannah asked, when Andrea stopped speaking abruptly.

  Andrea took a deep breath and when she replied, her voice was shaking. "It's him!"

  "Who's him?" Hannah asked, wondering if there was a more grammatically correct way to ask the question.

  "Mike." Andrea said his name with pure distaste. "He's sitting in a booth in near the front with someone I don't know. She's wearing a sheriff's department jacket, so maybe Mike hired her to…" Andrea stopped and swallowed hard, "…replace Bill."

  Hannah sat up straighter for a better view and her stomach slammed all the way down to her toes as she caught sight of Mike. He was so handsome and she was so ready for this whole fight to be over. Here he was, a mere twenty feet away, and she couldn't even smile at him the way the new deputy was doing, or reach out and take his hand the way the new deputy was doing, or… Hannah gasped as the new deputy turned to look toward their booth.

  "What's the matter?" This time it was Andrea's turn to ask. "Your face just turned a really funny color."

  "That would be green."

  "What?"

  "Never mind. The woman with Mike isn't a new deputy."

  "Well, that's a relief! Who is she then?"

  Hannah decided to answer, even though it wasn't a relief at all. "Her name is Shawna Lee Quinn."

  "What a name! She sounds like an actress, or a singer."

  Or an exotic dancer, Hannah thought, but she didn't say it. "She's the newest civilian employee at the station. Sheriff Grant hired her when one of the secretaries retired."