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Authors: Joanne Fluke

Apple Turnover Murder (20 page)

BOOK: Apple Turnover Murder
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“When I came out of the closet, she was too shocked to look for anyone else. And I blocked the doorway with my body until I’d shut the door.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t think the sheriff’s wife should be seen skulking around in a murder victim’s apartment.”

“You’re right. Especially by the mayor’s wife!” Andrea began to frown. “I wonder why she didn’t ask why you were there.”

“She was so busy trying to cover her you-know-what, she probably didn’t even think of it.”

They walked out the door in silence and hurried to the parking lot, where Hannah had parked her cookie truck. Once they’d climbed in, Andrea turned to her sister. “That was a little too close for comfort. My heart’s beating a hundred miles a minute.”

“Hold on a second.” Hannah got out of the truck and went around the back. When she came back, she was carrying a paper plate filled with cookies.

“For me?” Andrea asked when Hannah handed them to her.

“For you. I was going to give them to Norman as a thank you for taking me to Casino Night, but then he got that phone call and he left so fast, I forgot.”

“Norman’s loss, my gain.” Andrea glanced down at the cookies and smiled. “What kind are they?”

“They’re Sun Moon Cookies. Have you ever heard anyone call the sun a big orange ball in the sky?”

“Yes, I have.”

“These are orange-flavored sugar cookies. That’s to remind you of the sun. After they’re baked, half of each cookie is dipped in chocolate.”

“So it’s dark like it is when the moon shines at night?”

“Exactly right. Try one and see how you like them.”

Hannah started the truck and drove down the hill from the college as Andrea peeled off the plastic wrap covering the cookie plate. She took a cookie and held it up. “I suppose I should start with the sun part,” she said.

“Whatever. It’s your cookie.”

Andrea took a bite of the white part of the cookie and made a little sound of enjoyment. “I love the way your sugar cookies crunch,” she said. “And the orange is wonderful. It’s very refreshing.”

“Try the chocolate part next,” Hannah urged her.

Andrea turned the cookie around and took a bite. She chewed and gave a little groan of enjoyment that was louder than the preceding one. “The moon part is just great!” she exclaimed. “These are wonderful cookies, Hannah!”

“Thanks.” Hannah turned at the base of the hill to follow the access road that led to the highway. “Do you think we should sell these at The Cookie Jar?”

“Definitely! I think they’re one of your best cookies.”

“We’ll have to charge the same as we do for frosted cookies.”

“People won’t mind that once they taste them. I’ll think I’ll try the sunset next.”

“The sunset?”

Andrea chuckled. “That’s what I’m calling the part of the cookie that’s halfway between the moon and the sun. I’m going to take a bite right where the chocolate part meets the white part.”

“Okay …” Hannah said, hiding a grin. It was pretty clear that the chocolate had put her sister in a playful mood, or perhaps it was just relief at getting out of a potentially
damaging situation. If she had to choose, Hannah would bet on the chocolate.

“Perfect!” Andrea exclaimed once she’d taken a bite and swallowed. “Sunset is very tasty.”

“How about sunrise?” Hannah asked, deciding to get into the spirit of things.

Andrea laughed. “I’ll just have to find out, won’t I?”

There was a crunch as Andrea took a huge bite on the other side of the cookie. “I’d say sunrise is equal in goodness to sunset.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hannah said, stepping on the gas as she merged onto the highway.

“Bill’s just going to love these.” Andrea glanced down at the cookies on her lap. “And so will Tracey, and Bethie, and Grandma McCann.” She reached down to open the plastic wrap again and took out another cookie. “If there’s any left by the time I get home, that is.”

SUN MOON COOKIES

DO NOT preheat oven. Dough must chill before baking.

2 cups melted butter
(4 sticks, one pound)

2 cups powdered sugar
(not sifted)

1 cup white
(granulated)
sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons orange extract

1 teaspoon orange zest

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cream of tartar
(critical!)

1 teaspoon salt

4¼ cups flour
(not sifted—just scoop it up and level it off with a knife.)

½ cup white sugar in a small bowl
(for later)

Melt the butter in a microwave-safe bowl in the microwave for 3 minutes on HIGH.

Add the sugars to the melted butter and mix. Let the mixture cool to room temperature on the counter.

When it’s not so hot it’ll cook the eggs, mix them in, one at a time, stirring well after each addition.

Add the orange extract, orange zest, baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix well.

Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition.
(You don’t have to be exact about measuring—just guesstimate—it won’t come out even anyway.)

Chill the dough for at least one hour.
(Overnight is fine.)

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F. and place the rack in the middle of the oven.

Use your hands to roll the dough in one-inch balls
.
Roll the dough balls in a bowl containing the last half-cup of white sugar.

Place the dough balls on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-size sheet. Flatten the dough balls with a greased spatula
(or the palm of your impeccably clean hand)
.

Bake at 325 degrees F. for 10 to 15 minutes.
(They should have a tinge of gold on the top.)
Cool on the
cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove them to a rack to finish cooling.

When the cookies are completely cool, prepare them for dipping by laying out sheets of waxed paper on your counter, enough to hold all the cookies you baked.

Make the Chocolate Dip.

Chocolate Dip:

2 cups chocolate chips
(12 ounces)

1 stick butter
(½ cup, ¼ pound)

Melt the chips and the butter in a microwave-safe bowl on HIGH for 90 seconds. Stir to make sure the chips are melted. If they’re not, heat in 20-second increments until you can stir them smooth.

Dip the cookies, one by one, so that half of the cookie is chocolate coated.
(The half you hold will not be chocolate coated, naturally!)
Place them back on the wax paper to dry.

Yield: Approximately 10 dozen
(depending on cookie size)
pretty and tasty cookies. Yum!

Chapter Twenty-One

I
t was almost ten by the time Hannah and Andrea got back from the college. “Back to Casino Night?” Hannah asked. “Or would you rather go home?”

Andrea glanced down at the cookies in her lap. “Home,” she said. “I’ve got four cookies left and that’s just enough for the family.”

Hannah bit back a startled burst of laughter. There had been a dozen cookies on the plate when she’d handed it to Andrea, and her sister had eaten two-thirds of them.

Andrea and Bill lived only a few blocks from the school, and after Hannah had dropped off her sister, she took a run past the school parking lot. She drove up and down the rows, but Doc Knight’s vehicle was gone. She also kept a sharp eye out for her mother’s sedan, since Delores could have met Doc Knight at the school, but that wasn’t parked in any of the spots, either.

Should she call her mother, or shouldn’t she? That was the question. Hannah debated it for all of ten seconds before she decided to drive past her mother’s house to assess the situation.

There weren’t that many variables. It had been years since she’d taken a logic class, but Hannah was fairly confident that she could come up with all the possibilities. If Doc Knight’s vehicle was parked outside on the street, it meant one of two things … either he was inside with De-lores after driving her home from Casino Night, or he had parked there earlier and they had taken her mother’s sedan. One glance in the window of the garage would tell her if this was the case. And if her mother’s car was gone, Hannah would know that Delores had driven somewhere with Doc and no one was home.

Not bad
, the logical part of her mind praised her.
Now what if Doc Knight’s vehicle is gone and your mother’s car is in the garage?

“I’ll go in because she’s there alone … unless, of course, the lights are off,” Hannah answered aloud, feeling a bit silly to be talking to herself. “That means she went to bed and I wouldn’t want to wake her.”

Very good!
the logical part of her mind said.
And what will you do then?

“I’ll drive home and call her in the morning. I can wait a few hours to find out what Nancy knows about the assistant professorship at the college English department.”

The logic problem had occupied her through most of the trip. Hannah turned the corner and drove down her mother’s street. It was deserted. Doc Knight’s vehicle wasn’t there, but the lights were on.

Check the garage,
Hannah’s logical mind insisted
. It’s possible she left the lights on and they went somewhere else together after they left the school.

“I understand. But since Doc’s car isn’t there, I can just ring the doorbell,” Hannah argued. “If nobody’s home, nobody will answer.”

True, but you’re going to be really embarrassed if Doc Knight didn’t use his car at all. Say your mother picked him up at the hospital and she hasn’t taken him back yet. They could be in there engaging in activities that you don’t really want to …

“I don’t want to hear it!” Hannah yelled, getting out of the truck and into the muggy heat of the summer night. The mosquitoes found her almost immediately, descending like a hungry cloud on her bare arm. Why hadn’t she worn mosquito repellent?

Several slaps and two brushes with the palm of her hand, and she arrived at the door. Her finger was poised to ring the bell, when her logical mind spoke again.

You’re not thinking this through, Hannah. Doc could be there with your mother. What if they’re on the couch, and …

“Shut up!” Hannah yelled. But before she could press the doorbell, the porch light went on, and the door opened.

“Hannah?’ Delores stared at her daughter in complete confusion. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one, Mother.”

“But I heard you tell someone to be quiet.”

Hannah smiled. Delores wouldn’t use the phrase
shut up
even to repeat what her daughter had actually said. There was no way she wanted to tell her mother that she’d been having an argument with herself, so she settled for the first excuse that popped into her mind. “I was just talking on my cell phone.”

“And you told the person on the other end of the line to … to be quiet?”

“Yes. It was a telemarketer. Is it okay if I come in for a couple of minutes?”

“Of course.” Delores stepped back so Hannah could enter, and then she led her into the living room. “Would you like coffee?” she asked.

“Only if it’s made.”

“It is. Doc just left a few minutes ago and I still have half a pot. Just sit for a minute and I’ll get it.”

Hannah sat. And then she had a completely silent, no-holds-barred conversation with her logical mind. By the time Delores came in with a tray from the kitchen, Hannah had thoroughly cowed the logical part of her brain and elicited a promise never to interfere in her life again … unless she called on it, of course.

“Have a cookie, dear,” Delores said, serving Hannah’s coffee and cookie. “Florence is carrying a new brand at the Red Owl and I think they’re better than the cookies I used to buy.”

“They look good,” Hannah said, looking down at the perfectly round, perfectly baked cookie. “Oatmeal-cranberry?”

“Yes, but with coconut. They’re nice and moist, and chewy. You don’t make anything like that, do you, dear?”

“No.” Hannah took a sip of her coffee. It was time to address the reason she’d come to her mother’s house. “Did Nancy call you?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid it’s bad news for poor Mr. Pearson.”

“He didn’t get the job?”

“No, dear. Nancy talked to John Sidwell. He’s the head of the English department. He was quite forthcoming when she asked him about the meeting of the selection committee.”

Hannah took another sip of her coffee. It wasn’t very good and she made a mental note to get her mother some
from the Cookie Jar. “What did Professor Sidwell tell Nancy about it?”

“He said he was upset at the way things had gone, because the other four members of the committee were swayed by Professor Ramsey’s recommendation.”

“But I thought he was recommending Tim Pearson.”

“That’s what John thought, but Professor Ramsey changed his mind at the last minute. He told the committee that he’d found a much better candidate and that he thought they should hire his other research assistant, Tiffany Barkley.”

Let me guess
, Hannah thought.
Tiffany Barkley is young, gorgeous, and willing to get personal with her boss.
“So they hired Tiffany instead of Tim?” Hannah asked.

“That’s right. Professor Sidwell was the only one to vote for Mr. Pearson. Nancy said he was really upset. He told her that he thought the committee had been swayed entirely by Professor Ramsey’s recommendation, and he didn’t think that recommendation was based entirely on academic qualifications.”

“I understand,” Hannah said. It was clear to her that Professor Sidwell had known Bradford quite well.

“Try the cookie, dear. Tell me what you think.”

Hannah took another swallow of coffee and bit into the cookie. It wasn’t wonderful, but she did admire the texture. The oatmeal cranberry cookies they baked at The Cookie Jar were crisp and they didn’t have coconut. This cookie was soft. Perhaps their customers would like a cookie with a texture like this.

“I like the texture a lot,” she said. “I think I’ll try to make something that’s as soft and chewy as this.”

“Wonderful! I’ll be happy to taste test them for you. Will you try to bake them tonight?”

“Perhaps,” Hannah said. She’d gotten very little sleep, but she wasn’t all that tired.

“Nancy told me that the results of the selection committee were made public late Wednesday afternoon,” De-lores said, answering the question Hannah had been about to ask. “Professor Sidwell told Nancy that he called Mr. Pearson personally to give him the news and tell him that he didn’t agree with the decision of the committee.”

“Did he tell Tim that Professor Ramsey had changed his mind and recommended Tiffany Barkley for the job?”

“Yes. Nancy mentioned that specifically.” Delores took a sip of coffee and looked at Hannah over the rim of the cup. “Does this help, dear?”

“Very much, Mother.”

“Does this mean that Mr. Pearson is a suspect in Professor Ramsey’s murder?”

“Oh, yes.” Hannah took her steno pad out of her purse and retrieved a pen from the outside pocket. She made a note, and then she looked up at her mother. “Is it all right if I call Nancy to see if she has any other information?”

“Of course, dear. I suggested that myself. Nancy’s perfectly willing to speak to you about anything at all.”

“I have only one other question, Mother. It’s important.”

“Ask away, dear.”

“Did you see Stephanie Bascomb during the intermission of the talent show?”

Delores looked a bit startled at the question. “Why yes, I did. She came over to talk to us for a minute or two. She was very interested in the grave art that Bud just installed on the outside of the Henderson tomb. As a matter of fact, she asked him if he could make a metal sculpture of an open book for her.”

“You mean for her family’s mausoleum?”

“No, for the community library. She thought it would make a nice decoration.”

“Did you happen to notice if she stayed in the lobby for the entire intermission?”

“Yes, I did. Her outfit was so striking, I couldn’t help but glance at her every few minutes. It was a white lace suit and she looked marvelous. I asked her about it, and she said it was entirely handmade. I’m sure it must have cost a fortune!”

“Thank you, Mother,” Hannah said, now convinced that Stephanie had told them the truth. There was no way a clotheshorse like Stephanie Bascomb would stab Bradford while she was wearing an expensive white lace suit!

“Why did you want to know about Stephanie, dear?”

“I just needed to check her alibi.”

“Her … alibi? Then you must think she had some reason to kill Professor Ramsey! And the only reason I can think of that would make her do something like this is …” Delores gave a little chuckle. “Never mind, dear. I get the picture. Ricky-Ticky’s had his share of flirtations and I can’t say I blame Stephanie one bit.”

It was almost eleven by the time Hannah unlocked the door to her condo. Even though it was late, Moishe hurtled into her arms and she nuzzled him as she carried him in to the couch and gave him a salmon-shaped treat.

“Oh, good. You’re home,” Michelle said, coming out of the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Not really. I just had some at Mother’s.”

“That can turn you off coffee for life!” Michelle laughed, and then she must have realized what Hannah said because she asked, “What were you doing at Mother’s?”

“Finding out about your friend Tim Pearson. He didn’t get the job.”

“Oh, no! Does he know?”

“Professor Sidwell from the English department called to tell him on Wednesday afternoon. Bradford didn’t keep his promise about the recommendation.”

“That’s just awful, Hannah! Tim really wanted that job. He was going to get married this fall and Judy was already looking for a job here. I just don’t understand why Bradford didn’t recommend Tim when he said he would.”

“Professor Sidwell said he changed his mind and recommended Tiffany Barkley instead.”

Michelle looked dazed. “That’s ridiculous! Tiffany doesn’t have even half the qualifications that Tim does. I’ll bet Tim was steaming when he heard that, especially after he did all that work. He probably wanted to strangle Bradford.”

Hannah watched as Michelle’s mind replayed her own words, and their effect was reflected on her face. “No! I refuse to believe it!” she said. “He might have wanted to and I can’t blame him, but there’s no way Tim would actually kill Bradford!”

Hannah just sat there, waiting for Michelle to calm down. It took a minute or two before her breathing returned to normal and she leaned back in her chair again.

“You need to know where he was on Wednesday night … right?” Michelle asked.

“That would be helpful.”

“Okay, I’ll find out. But I’m almost certain that Tim didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Hannah took the steno pad that she used as a murder book out of her purse and flipped to the suspect page. “I’ll write your initials next to Tim’s name,” she said. “That means you’re going to investigate his alibi if he has one.”

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