Candy Cane Murder (11 page)

 

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes or until golden brown around the edges.
(Mine took exactly 12 minutes.)

 

Let cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then transfer to a wire rack to complete cooling.

 

Yield: 9 to 11 dozen yummy shortbread-type cookies

H
annah removed another leftover quiche from Andrea's seldom-used oven and set it out to cool on a rack. Their dinner plans had gone awry. Michelle had begged off. She was having dinner with Delores and Carrie, and then the three of them were going to call everybody who'd been at Sally's Christmas party. Even though the deputies had already interviewed everyone who'd been there, Delores had decided it was worth a try. They'd already divided the guest list into three parts. There were the people Carrie knew best, the people Delores knew best, and the younger crowd that Michelle knew best. When Hannah had talked to her sister earlier, Michelle had been certain that the three of them could get more candid information from a friendly phone call than the sheriff's deputies had gotten at the party last night.

Another few minutes and the quiche would be cool enough to cut and then it would be time for the second shift to eat. She'd fed Tracey and Grandma McCann while Andrea had spoon-fed baby Bethany, who had recently graduated from purees to small chunks. Then the kids and “Grandma” had gone off to the den to watch a new Christmas movie with animated penguins who'd lost their Christmas presents and had to find them before Christmas Eve. Andrea had gone upstairs to change. They were going to go out to the inn to talk to Wayne's ex-wife right after they'd eaten their dinner.

“Is it cool enough to eat?” Andrea asked when she came into the kitchen again.

“I hope so. I'm hungry.” Hannah sliced the quiche while Andrea dished up salads. They sat down across from each other, picked up their forks, and for long moments there was silence broken only by the sounds of chewing.

“This quiche is absolutely delicious,” Andrea finally said, finishing the last of her slice and looking longingly at the three slices still left on the serving plate.

Hannah smiled her thanks. “I'm glad you liked it. Have another piece.”

“I'm thinking about it. It's made with cream, right?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-oh. And there's butter in the crust?” Andrea waited until Hannah nodded and then she asked her next question. “How about cheese?”

“There are a couple of kinds of cheese.”

“A couple? Uh-oh. How much cheese?”

Hannah thought about dissembling, but it wasn't nice to mess with somebody else's diet. “Quite a bit of cheese,” she admitted, “probably the equivalent of two ounces per slice.”

Andrea gave a little whimper. “I don't suppose you used low-fat cheese.”

“Nope.”

“Uh-oh. Tell me about the bacon pieces.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “They're well drained,” she said.

“Oh good!” Andrea gave a relieved smile. “Then I guess I'll have another piece!”

 

The parking lot at the Lake Eden Inn was full, but Hannah “found” a space by parking at an angle with the rear end of her cookie truck partially elevated on the rim of hard-packed ice that had been left by the snowplow around the perimeter.

“Okay,” she said, opening her door. “You're wearing boots, aren't you?”

“Of course. They're the ugly silver moon boots Bill gave me when I got pregnant with Tracey and he was afraid I'd slip on the ice.”

“I thought you hated those.”

“I do, but they keep me from slipping on the ice. And besides, nobody's going to see me until I get inside and then I'll change to my shoes.”

Hannah glanced down at her old moose-hide boots. She'd left her shoes at The Cookie Jar. Unless she wanted to leave her boots in the cloakroom and pad up to see Jenny in her stocking feet, she'd better look for the pair of ballet-type pull-on slippers she usually carried in the back of her truck.

“You
do
have shoes, don't you?” Andrea asked, glancing down at Hannah's boots.

“I do.” Hannah did her best to exude confidence as she opened the back of her truck and rummaged around for her slippers. Luck was with her and she found them. “Here they are,” she announced, holding them up for Andrea to see.

“Great. Let's go then. It's freezing out here.”

The air was crisp, the night inky black with the moon shining blue and cold against the snow. When Hannah looked up at the night sky, the stars appeared jagged, as if they were made of shattered ice crystals. There was a beauty in the frosty night that made her wonder what it would have been like to live in an ice cave. If anyone
could
live in an ice cave. She really wasn't sure.

“Brrrr! It's must be close to zero!” Andrea moved a little closer to Hannah. “I'm worried about the crab apple tree Bill and Tracey planted in the backyard. I hear it's supposed to drop down to minus fifteen tonight.”

Her sister's comment brought Hannah back from thoughts of wooly mammoths and glaciers. “Where did you hear that?”

“I saw the weather report on KCOW,” Andrea named the local television station.

“Then don't worry. They're always wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Remember last August when they said we were going to have a whole week of rain? They called it the storm of the century and said it would bring us at least six inches before it cleared up. And then it was sunny and warm every day?”

“I remember. I stood in line to buy a new umbrella and I never used it.”

“Hold on,” Hannah said, grabbing Andrea's arm. “Stand right here and look over at the inn.”

“But why should…” Andrea swallowed the rest of her own question as realization dawned. “Never mind. I get it. This is where you left the path last night. And you found Wayne's body just a few feet from here.”

“Exactly. That's why I want you to look at the inn. How many windows can you see from here.”

There was a moment of silence while Andrea peered into the night. “I can't see the first floor at all,” she said. “The trees are too tall. But I can see the last four rooms on the second floor. And if I can see them, they can see us.”

“Exactly. The moon was bright last night and if someone in one of those rooms happened to be looking out toward the parking lot…”

“They could have seen Wayne's killer!” Andrea interrupted her. “Do you want to check with Sally to see who had those rooms last night?”

“Absolutely. Chances are, all Sally's guests were at the party and those rooms were empty at the time Wayne was murdered. But it can't hurt to ask.”

The rest of the walk was accomplished in silence. Both sisters were chilled from the winter cold and didn't feel like speaking until they were sitting on a bench in the cloakroom changing from boots to shoes.

“Do you want to see Jenny first?” Andrea asked.

“No. We'll get the names from Sally and then we'll go up to visit Jenny.”

“Fine with me. Just let me comb my hair and fix my makeup.”

Hannah thumped the side of her head with her hand. “Makeup. I knew I was forgetting something. If a woman cries all night and all morning, is there anything she can do with cosmetics in thirty minutes or so to make herself look as if she hasn't been crying?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not in thirty minutes or so. Cosmetics are really good, but they can't perform miracles.”

“So if somebody cried that long, it would show?” Andrea nodded and Hannah asked her next question. “
How
would it show?”

“Well…there's the obvious. Her eyes would be swollen and the skin on her face would be puffy. It would be blotchy too, but she might be able to cover that up with makeup. Are we talking about Melinda Bergstrom here?”

“Yes. Norman and I saw her this afternoon and she looked just as beautiful as she did when she was modeling.”

“Then she was lying if she said she'd been crying all night and most of the morning.”

“She didn't say it. Her brother Cory did.”

“Then Cory was lying. There are things you can do to reduce the swelling, but they all take time. Melinda wouldn't have looked beautiful unless…what was the lighting like?”

“It was daylight. We met her in a solarium filled with plants and it had a glass ceiling. The sun was shining.”

“That cinches it!”

“What?”

“Sunlight. Even if she used the best makeup and applied it like an artist, there's no way she could hide it in strong sunlight.”

“That's what I thought, but I wanted to check to make sure.”

Andrea slipped on a pair of forest green shoes that went perfectly with her stylish pantsuit. “It's pretty clear Melinda didn't love Wayne since she didn't shed any tears for him. Do you think the maid was right and Wayne was planning to divorce her?”

“I don't know.”

“Maybe Wayne told her he wanted a divorce and she killed him.”

“Impossible.”

“Why not? It happens all the time on television. The rich older husband says he wants a divorce, the gorgeous trophy wife sees all that money flying out the window, and she kills him before he can file the papers.”

“That makes perfect sense except for one thing.”

“What thing is that?”

“Melinda's got an air-tight alibi. Pierre from
Le Petit Salon
was with her from seven-thirty on. I stopped there to check before Norman and I left the mall. He did Melinda's hair at the penthouse and they were having a glass of wine in the solarium when Mike and Bill knocked on the door to notify her that Wayne was dead.”

“Drats!”

“I know. It would have tied everything up in a neat little bow.”

 

Getting the list from Sally was easy. Resisting the dessert buffet they were serving in the dining room was difficult. Hannah was still thinking sinful thoughts about Sally's newest chocolate creation as they walked down the hallway and pushed the button for the elevator. “Mike told me about his interview with Jenny. He said she seemed to be grieving for Wayne a lot more than Melinda was.”

“Really?”

“That's what he thought. It's up to us to see if we agree with him. When we get up to Jenny's room, make sure you sit right next to her so you can check her makeup. I want to know if she's been crying.”

Andrea looked a bit shocked. “But we know Jenny! She's a friend of Mother's!”

“I know that, but this is a murder case. Everyone's a suspect until they're eliminated.”

The elevator doors slid shut and it shuddered slightly. Then there was a series of whooshes and faint faraway machinery sounds that boomed and banged as they were lifted to the second floor. The doors slid open to reveal a coral pink wall with a gilt-edged mirror hanging over a granite-topped table that Hannah was willing to bet had come from the quarries at Cold Spring, Minnesota. There was a bouquet of fresh flowers on the top of the table, but it was clear that the bouquet had other origins. Since it was winter in the Midwest, Hannah was willing to bet that the flowers came from warmer and sunnier places.

“Sorry,” Andrea said as they stepped out of the elevator and started down the thickly carpeted hallway. “It's just that I remember Jenny, and I let my emotions get in the way. I'll check her makeup for you.”

“Thanks. I remember her too, and I liked her. Mike said she was in her room alone at the time of Wayne's murder, and that means she doesn't have an alibi. Let's just hope that she'll tell us something that'll clear her.”

 

The room Jenny occupied was at the end of the corridor and it had a perfect view of the path leading to the parking lot. It was a beautifully decorated mini-suite with a sitting room containing a couch by the window, a television set, and two chairs on either side of a coffee table. The sleeping area was hidden behind two decorative folding doors that could be closed or left open. Jenny had them open and Hannah could see a queen-size bed with a flowered coverlet, a tall dresser with ample drawers for any guest, a walk-in closet with mirrored doors, and an archway that Hannah assumed would lead to the bathroom.

Jenny was just as Hannah had remembered her, a pleasant-looking woman in her late forties with brown hair, stylishly cut, that was streaked with gray. She was dressed in black slacks and a black sweater that was embroidered with Hannah's favorite flower, lilacs.

“Hello, Jenny.” Hannah stepped in first and handed her the cookies. “These are called Angel Pillows.”

“Some of your famous cookies. Thank you, Hannah.”

“We wanted to bring you something, because we're so sorry for your loss.”

The moment that the words were out of her mouth, Hannah wished that she could call them back. They were exactly the same words that Norman had spoken to Melinda. But in this case, they seemed more appropriate. One look at Jenny's swollen face, and Hannah was willing to bet that Mike was right and she'd been crying all night and all day over her ex-husband's death.