Fudge Cupcake Murder (14 page)

"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.)

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."

"How do you know that?"

"The last time I was out at the station, when I was still speaking to him, Mike introduced me to her."

"Oh. Well, what is she doing with Mike?"

Hannah sighed. "Probably everything."

"What?"

"Never mind. Maybe Mike promised her dinner if she stayed late. He's the acting sheriff and he could do that."

"She's certainly attractive," Andrea commented, watching as Shawna Lee slipped out of the jacket, "and she knows how to dress. That's a really expensive sweater."

Yeah, too bad they didn't have it in her size! Hannah bit back the old taunt from high school.

"Oh, good. Here comes our pizza." Andrea was all smiles as the waitress approached their table. "Half for you and half for me?"

"Right," Hannah said, even though any appetite she'd managed to drum up had disappeared right along with the jacket that Shawna Lee had removed to show off her incredible figure. Hannah remembered thinking that the secretary was pretty when Mike had introduced them, but she hadn't been jealous. Of course that had been a work situation and she hadn't seen Shawna Lee in action. Tonight was different. Tonight she acted as if she were out on a date with Mike, looking up at him under her lashes and reaching out to touch his arm. Maybe she was on a date with Mike. It certainly wasn't impossible. After all, Hannah had made it clear that she didn't want anything to do with him.

"Have some pizza, Hannah." Andrea looked concerned as she noticed the direction of Hannah's gaze. "You don't want him. He's a jerk and he wasn't fair to Bill."

"Right."

"Not only that, they deserve each other. I saw her batting her eyes at the man in the next booth while Mike was reading the menu. She's probably about as loyal as Mike is."

"Right."

"So have some pizza and forget about Mike. You're better off without him. You wouldn't want to be seen with the kind of man who…" Andrea stopped speaking as her phone rang. She dived into her purse with her hand to retrieve it. "Hello?"