“I’m for that,” Hannah said quickly and then she looked at everyone else around the table. “Does anyone else want Sally’s baked Brie?”
“I do,” Michelle said. “I’m in a cheese mood.”
“I feel like meat,” Mike said, turning to Sally for advice.
“How about our flatbread covered with pulled pork, cheddar, and baked apples? Or flatbread that’s topped with mozzarella, feta cheese, caramelized onions, and chopped fresh tomatoes with a hint of fresh basil? Both of them are really good. I had pulled pork flatbread today for lunch.”
“Let’s try both,” Norman suggested. “And I’d like to order some wine. “What do you have in a white?”
“I’d recommend the Stone Cellar Chardonnay, the Matua Sauvignon Blanc, or the Rodney Strong Sauvignon Blanc. They’re all excellent wines.”
“Hannah?” Norman turned to her. “What’s your preference?”
“I’ll let Sally choose. I know I’ll be fine with whatever she thinks will go best with her baked Brie.”
“Sally?” Norman looked up at her.
“I’ll bring the Matua. I think Hannah will like that. Do you want wine, Michelle? I know you’re over twenty-one.”
Michelle hesitated for a moment and then she nodded. “Just half a glass. I really enjoy white wine with Brie.”
“How about you boys? Would you like a red?”
“I wish!” Mike said, sounding wistful. “Unfortunately, I have to write some reports when I get back tonight.”
“How about you, Lonnie?”
Lonnie glanced at Mike, who nodded. “Go ahead. You’re off duty and I won’t need you anymore today.”
“Thanks,” Lonnie told him and then he turned to Sally. “I won’t drink any more than one glass. It’s a waste to open a whole bottle for just me.”
“It won’t be just you,” Hannah told him. “Bill will have some when he gets here. He likes red wine. And I know that Andrea will share our bottle of white.”
“She’ll like it, I’m sure,” Michelle said, deliberately avoiding Hannah’s eyes. Both of them knew that Andrea adored the wine that Hannah privately called Chateau Screwtop. Andrea fancied herself a wine snob and the last time she’d tasted it, she’d described Hannah’s wine as “a delicate but impish white with a hint of citrus.” Both Hannah and Michelle knew that Andrea would be horribly embarrassed if she ever found out that Hannah bought it by the jug at CostMart for well under ten dollars. Hannah kept the jug hidden behind a large pickle jar on the bottom shelf of her refrigerator and never let Andrea pour her own wine.
“So what else did you do in Vegas for fun?” Norman asked Hannah when Sally had left.
Hannah avoided glancing in Michelle’s direction. “We discovered a couple of new recipes.”
“For what?” Mike asked.
“German Chocolate Cupcakes,” Michelle answered him. “They were delicious.”
“I’d like to taste those,” Lonnie said. “My mother made German Chocolate Cake. It was one of her specialties.”
Hannah thought this was a bit strange, considering Bridget Murphy’s background. Bridget O’Sheehan had come to Lake Eden as a high school exchange student from Ireland and Cyril’s parents had hosted her. Cyril had shepherded the pretty Irish girl through the six months she’d spent at Jordan High. When Bridget went back to Ireland, Cyril had stayed in touch and when he’d taken over his father’s business, he’d called Bridget and asked her if she’d like to come back to Lake Eden and run his front office. Bridget had accepted his offer and the rest was history.
“I’m surprised Bridget didn’t make an Irish dessert her specialty,” Hannah told Lonnie.
“I asked her about that once. She said she grew up eating Irish desserts and she wanted to make something completely different.”
Dot came up with the wine before Hannah could ask any more questions about Irish desserts. She handed a full, two-serving wine carafe to Norman, along with an empty tumbler. “Here you go, Norman. Do you want me to pour?”
“I can do it, Dot. Go ahead and open the wine for everyone else.”
Everyone at the table knew the identity of the liquid in Norman’s carafe. It was ginger ale. Norman didn’t drink, but only Hannah knew why he never touched alcohol. He’d told her one day in strict confidence and she’d never told anyone else. It all had to do with a night, several years before he’d moved to Lake Eden, when he was working as a dentist in Seattle. He’d gotten drunk, done some things he knew would embarrass his mother, and ended up in jail. Norman hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since.
“Here come Bill and Andrea,” Hannah said, spotting her sister and brother-in-law coming in the door to the dining room.
“Hey,” Bill said when they got to the table. “How’s my crackerjack detective team?”
“Good,” Mike said, and Lonnie nodded.
“Hannah, Michelle . . . I’ve been so busy, I haven’t seen either one of you since you got back from Vegas, but Andrea tells me you had a great time.”
“We did,” Michelle said.
“It was fun,” Hannah responded, glancing at Andrea who gave a little shake of her head. Hannah knew what the shake meant. Andrea hadn’t told Bill anything personal about Hannah’s relationship with Ross.
“Norman?” Bill went on. “Thanks for the invite. It’s always good to see you again, unless I have to sit in your dental chair. Then it’s a real pain.”
“Not true,” Norman looked perfectly serious, but Hannah noticed that his eyes were sparkling with humor. “Don’t you know? I’m the painless dentist.”
There was laughter around the table, and Bill and Andrea joined in.
Then Andrea said, “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long. Bethie wanted to watch Snow White and it took me awhile to find it. We have over a hundred children’s movies. Our den is practically a kid theater!”
When they were seated Norman said, “We ordered some appetizers and some wine.” He gestured toward the bottles Dot was opening. “Red wine, Bill?”
“That would be good. I’m through for the day.”
“And white for you, Andrea?”
Andrea nodded. “What is it?”
“Matua Sauvignon Blanc,” Dot answered her. “I haven’t tasted it yet, but Sally says it’s very good.”
Andrea smiled. “If Sally says so, it’s got to be good. She really knows her wines. Of course, nothing can compare to the wine that Hannah lays in for me. It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said, and her mind went into high gear to search for another topic to discuss. Her gaze focused on Andrea’s lovely red and gold scarf and she knew she had the perfect conversation changer. “That’s a beautiful scarf, Andrea. And that reminds me . . . did you leave a scarf at my place the last time you were there?”
“I don’t think so. What does it look like?”
“It’s silk and it’s over . . .” She turned to Michelle. “How long would you say that scarf was?”
“It’s just a guess, but I’m sure it’s around three feet. I didn’t measure it.”
“I have some long scarves. Bill gave me one for Christmas. What color is it?”
Hannah did her best to remember. “It has gorgeous blue flowers on a green background.”
“It’s not a geometric design,” Michelle added. “The flowers are large and almost abstract. And each one is a different size and a slightly different shade of blue.”
“That sounds beautiful, but it’s not mine. I’ve never had a scarf like that. Where did you find it?”
“Moishe found it. He had it on the floor in the living room when Michelle and I got back after work.”
“It could be Mother’s,” Andrea suggested. “She always wears a scarf with her suits. Do you want me to text her?”
“Not really. If it’s hers, I can’t get it to her until she comes home anyway. In the meantime, we’ll just ask everyone who’s been at my place if it’s theirs.”
“I don’t suppose
you know where Moishe found it,” Mike said, and Hannah figured his detective mind wasn’t idle.
“No,” she answered him. “I’m sure it wasn’t in the living room. I would have found it long before this. It’s a mystery.”
Mike smiled. “Well, you like mysteries. I’m sure you can solve a little one like that. All you have to do is make out a list of women who’ve been in your condo. And then you have to call each one and ask her if she’s missing a scarf. That’s what I’d do.”
Hannah wanted to tell him that she wasn’t an idiot and she’d already done that, but she didn’t say it. This was Norman’s party and she wasn’t about to spoil it. “Thanks, Mike,” she said sweetly and hoped her thanks hadn’t come out too sarcastically.
“You’re welcome, Hannah.”
Hannah searched Mike’s face and decided that he hadn’t heard any sarcasm in her tone. If he had, he would have returned their exchange with a nasty comment.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve found something like that,” Michelle said. “Moishe was playing with some kind of sash the other day. It looked like it was from a robe or a dressing gown.”
“And I don’t have anything in that color,” Hannah added, and then she turned to Mike. “And we don’t know where he got that, either.”
“Maybe you’ve got a kleptomaniac cat,” Norman suggested, and everyone laughed.
“I know waitresses aren’t supposed to comment on people’s private conversations, but there are kleptomaniac cats.” Dot said, arriving with an ice bucket for the white wine.
“You’re kidding!” Michelle turned to Dot in surprise.
“No, I’m not. When I get off work late, sometimes I can’t fall asleep right away. That’s when I get up, go to the living room for a cup of tea, and turn on one of those late night news programs.”
“That’s exactly what I do,” Mike said. “It gets my mind off whatever case I’m working. And it’s so boring, it gets me sleepy.”
Dot gave him a smile. “That’s right. So I was sitting there sipping my tea and letting some anchorman jabber away when I heard something about a kleptomaniac cat.”
“So you listened,” Michelle guessed.
“Yeah. And the story didn’t come on for fifteen minutes. I was almost ready to turn off the TV and give up when he showed this picture of a tabby cat with a necklace in her mouth.”
“Photoshopped?” Norman asked.
“I don’t think so. I don’t remember exactly where she lived, but this lady said her cat went out prowling during the day and came home with other people’s things. She said the cat, I think she said her cat’s name was Tippy, had started coming home with her loot. She wanted to tell people about it and say that if they were missing any jewelry or clothing, they should come over to her garage on Saturday and claim their stolen items.”
“Do you think that could possibly be true?” Hannah asked.
Mike shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve heard of crows and ravens flying off with sparkling things and putting them in their nests. I guess cats could do the same thing.”
“Well, I just thought I’d mention the possibility.” Dot refilled any wineglasses that needed it and placed the white wine in the bucket of ice she’d brought. “I’m going to go check on your appetizers. They should be coming out in the next couple of minutes.”
“Thanks, Dot,” Hannah told her. “And thanks for telling us about that cat. I don’t think that’s the case with Moishe, but it’s really interesting.”
“Why can’t it be the case with Moishe?” Mike asked her after Dot had left them.
“Because he can’t get out.”
“Do you have any loose screens?” Mike asked her.
“I could have loose screens, but they wouldn’t do him any good. I never leave any windows open when I leave the condo in the morning.”
“Is there any other way you can think of that Moishe could be using to get out?”
Hannah shook her head. “No. I always check the windows to make sure they’re closed and locked. And right after I step out on the landing, I check the door to make sure it’s locked.”
“And there’s no other entrance or exit to your apartment?”
“No.” Hannah frowned slightly. Mike was acting as the interrogator again and she didn’t like it. “You’ve been there enough times to know that all I have is the one staircase.”
“How about a dryer vent? That would have access to the outside.”
“That’s true,” Hannah conceded. “But I close my dryer door after I use it and it’s still hooked up to the vent. I know because I used it last night and it was working just fine.”
“An attic?”
“I have an attic. It serves the whole building. But the only way to get up there is to go through a little trap door in the ceiling of my bedroom walk-in closet.”
“Have you checked that trap door lately?”
Hannah thought about that for a moment. “Actually . . . no. I’ll check it as soon as I get home.”
“If that’s not it, call me,” Mike said, looking amused. “I’ve got a new surveillance system that a security company asked me to test for them. I’ll come over and install it at your place and we’ll make sure that Moishe isn’t getting out.”
“Thanks, Mike,” Hannah said, and this time she was totally genuine in her gratitude. If Moishe was getting out during the day, she wanted to know about it so she could cut off his escape route and keep him safely at home.
Chapter Seventeen
She was getting dressed for church in a phone booth. It wasn’t an ordinary phone booth like the ones they had outside city hall in Lake Eden. This phone booth had stained glass on three sides, very like the church windows in Reverend Bob’s church. And now that she looked, she noticed that there were pews in front of the fourth side of the phone booth, the one with clear glass.
The pews were beginning to fill up with people. As she watched, Hannah realized she had to hurry to get ready or church would start without her. She turned to Ross, who was in the phone booth with her, and handed him his tuxedo jacket. Now Ross was ready, but she wasn’t. Where was her wedding gown? She couldn’t get married like this!
There was laughter from the front pew. Bertie Straub. Hannah recognized her laugh. Rod Metcalf sat beside her and he was taking photos. They would be in tomorrow’s paper and she couldn’t find her wedding gown. She searched the phone booth, but it wasn’t there. Had she left it at home in her closet?
And now the phone was ringing, one ring, two rings. She had no choice. She was forced to answer it.
She reached out and her fingers touched the phone on her bed table. Her bed table. It was a dream, but the phone was still ringing.
“Hello,” she managed to say, sitting up in bed and shaking her head to clear it.
“Hannah? Did I wake you?”
It was Mike. Was he real, or was he part of her dream?
She wasn’t in the phone booth any longer and she was wearing the sleep shirt she usually wore when she went to bed. “What time is it?” she managed to ask.
“Eight o’clock. I called The Cookie Jar, but Michelle said you weren’t in yet.”
Hannah glanced at her alarm clock. Mike was right. It was eight o’clock. Michelle must have turned off her alarm so that she could sleep late again.
“I did wake you, didn’t I?” Mike sounded apologetic, a rarity for him.
Hannah hurried to reassure him. “Yes, but I’m glad you did. I have to get up and get started. I have a ton of things to do today.”
“Don’t we all!” Mike gave an audible sigh. “Did you get a chance to check that trap door in your closet?”
For a moment, Hannah was at a loss. What was he talking about? Then she remembered why he’d asked about the trap door. “I checked it when I got home last night. It was closed.”
“And there’s no way Moishe could have opened it to get up there, and closed it when he came down?”
Hannah laughed. “He’s smart, but he’s no
t that smart.”
“Right. I was just exploring all the possibilities. I brought that surveillance system with me to work this morning. If you want me to, I can run out there and install it right now. It should only take ten or fifteen minutes.”
“That’d be great!”
“Then I’ll leave here in five and you’ll see me in twenty. Does that work for you?”
“Perfectly,” Hannah said. “Thanks, Mike.”
Five minutes later, she had gulped her first cup of coffee and was stepping into the shower. Ten minutes later, she was dressed and back in the kitchen, wondering what she could fix for breakfast. That was when she saw the note Michelle had left propped up between the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table.
Baked Fruited Oatmeal in the oven. Lisa picked me up again this morning and we’ve got it covered. Take your time coming in.
Hannah glanced over at her double ovens. The bottom one was set on WARM and the light was on. She could see a casserole dish inside and it was obviously filled with baked oatmeal. What in the world was baked oatmeal? She’d never heard of it before. It would be good. She knew that. Everything Michelle made was good.
A second or two later, she opened the oven door with a spoon in hand. As she did, a wonderful scent drifted out to entice her and she dipped in her spoon to taste the breakfast dish that Michelle had created. Once she’d blown on her spoon several times to cool it, she tasted the baked oatmeal. “Cinnamon,” she said aloud. “And vanilla, and brown sugar. And . . . apricots!” The complexity of flavors was wonderful. Michelle’s Baked Fruited Oatmeal was utterly delicious.
She wanted a whole bowlful immediately, but Hannah forced herself to put the lid back in place and have another cup of coffee instead. She’d wait for Mike and once he’d installed the surveillance system, they could enjoy Michelle’s breakfast dish together.
“I like your baked oatmeal,” Hannah said, the instant her youngest sister came into the kitchen of The Cookie Jar. “Mike liked it, too. He came over to install the surveillance system and said he hadn’t had time for breakfast, so I gave him a bowlful. He told me he doesn’t usually like oatmeal, but your oatmeal is the exception.”
Double Fudge Brownie Murder (Hannah Swensen series Book 18) Page 17