Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen Mysteries) (5 page)

“That was real good.” Jed patted Freddy on the back and then he turned to Hannah. “If it’s okay, we’ll take our lunch now. We’ll be back here at one to work on those shelves.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“What do you say, Freddy?” Jed clamped an arm around Freddy’s shoulders and walked him toward the door. “You want to have lunch at the café?”

“I like the café. Can I have chili?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“And a chocolate shake?”

“Sure, Freddy. Knock yourself out.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Knock myself out.”

Jed laughed and glanced back at Hannah. “It’s just an expression, Freddy. I didn’t really mean that you should hit yourself.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“I meant that you should order whatever you want and I’ll pay for it.”

“Okay. I’ll have chili, and onion rings with ketchup, and a chocolate shake, and pickles. And maybe I’ll have coconut cake, too.”

Hannah was grinning as the door closed behind them. Freddy didn’t get the chance to eat at the café very often and it sounded like he was ready to take full advantage of the unexpected treat. If Jed didn’t keep an eye out, Freddy would eat up their whole day’s salary and then some.

H
er weekend had been boring beyond belief and Hannah was not in the best of moods on Monday morning as she began to bake the cookies they’d need for the day. With Mike in Iowa and Norman busily calling contractors and getting estimates on the work to be done, Hannah had decided she’d finally do the spring housecleaning she’d put off for three months.

When The Cookie Jar had closed at five on Saturday, Hannah had driven straight home to feed Moishe and fix her evening meal. She’d done her utmost to pretend that her green dinner salad was a piece of buttery garlic bread, her boneless skinless chicken breast was a thick slab of country ham, and each floret of steamed broccoli was a crispy French fry, but her powers of self-deception had failed her before she’d even raised the fork to her mouth. She’d eaten most of it anyway and shared a few bites of her chicken with Moishe, who’d seemed delighted that she was dining on one of his favorite meats. Once her dishes were stashed in the dishwasher, she’d grabbed one of her ever-present steno pads to make a list of the tasks she needed to tackle and before she’d crawled under the covers at eleven, her kitchen floor had been spotless, all the burned-out lightbulbs in her condo had been replaced, every inch of her carpet had been sucked free of dirt and unidentified fibers, and all the clothes she’d sprinkled and stuck in the freezer to avoid mildew attacks before she got around to ironing them had been neatly pressed and were hanging in her closet.

Sunday had been more of the same. Hannah had risen early, eaten one piece of dry toast and a half grapefruit for breakfast, and salivated for a full two minutes when she’d smelled bacon frying in a neighbor’s apartment. She’d read the Sunday paper and then she’d tackled the rest of her to-do list. She’d carried the contents of Moishe’s litter box down to the Dumpster in the garage, scrubbed the fixtures in her bathroom until they were sparkling, and straightened the linen cabinet. After a big bowl of mixed vegetables for lunch, she’d rearranged her spice drawer, washed all the windows, dusted the bookshelves, and emptied the trash. She’d even cleaned out the kitchen cupboards, although it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to toss out the half-eaten canister of caramel corn that Bertie Straub had given her for Christmas.

Dinner had been a nice piece of fish with a small baked potato sans sour cream and butter, and another mixed salad with low-cal dressing. Since Hannah had never been fond of fish, Moishe had gotten the lion’s share of that. She’d alleviated her urge to snack by munching celery sticks as she’d watched several insipid movies, and she’d crawled under the covers at ten, hoping that sleep would silence the rumbling of her stomach.

“Hi, Hannah,” Lisa greeted her as she walked in at seven-thirty. “Something smells good.”

“That would be cookies. I’m just glad my nose is stuffed up!”

“The diet’s getting to you?” Lisa gave her a sympathetic look.

“Yes. ‘Diet’ has a lot in common with some other four-letter words.”

“I understand. Why don’t you go in the shop and put on the coffee? I’ll finish up in here.”

“Thanks, Lisa.” Hannah turned and walked toward the swinging door that led to the coffee shop. “I had the most awful urge to spoon down all that cookie dough. Raw.”

Once temptation was behind her, Hannah felt much better. As she measured out the coffee grounds, she reminded herself that the waistband on her jeans had been looser this morning and this was not the time to falter in her resolve. If she could keep it up, she’d be thin and beautiful. Well…maybe not beautiful, but certainly thinner. She’d feel better, she’d have more energy, and she might even have the nerve to buy a new bathing suit before the swimming season was over for the year.

Hannah had just plugged in the coffee when the phone rang. They weren’t open for business yet, but it could be someone calling with an advance order. She lifted the receiver and answered in her most professional voice. “This is The Cookie Jar. Hannah speaking.”

“I’m glad I caught you, dear.”

“Hello, Mother.” Hannah glanced up at the clock. It was ten to eight and that was much later than Delores usually called.

“I hate to disturb you at work, but I need to ask for your help.”

This was a new wrinkle! Delores never asked, she demanded. “What is it, Mother?”

“Norman told Carrie that we can take any furnishings we want from the Voelker place. The only catch is, he found someone to start demolishing it on Saturday and we have to get the things out before then.”

“And you want me to help you move them?” Hannah’s muscles began to cramp at the thought. The last time she’d helped her mother move antiques, she’d been stiff and sore for almost a week.

“No, Luanne’s taking care of all that. She’s rented a truck and hired a couple of high school boys to do the heavy lifting. She’s absolutely wonderful, Hannah. Her talents were simply wasted at the café.”

“I’m glad it’s working out so well,” Hannah said, smiling to herself. As far as she was concerned, Luanne Hanks was a story of success in the face of adversity. The Hanks family lived at the end of Old Bailey Road, right next to the town dump and a mile past Freddy Sawyer’s house. The youngest of six children, Luanne had dropped out of school in her senior year to have a baby, but she’d studied at home and passed her high school equivalency exam. Instead of taking the easier way out and giving her daughter up for adoption, Luanne had decided to raise Suzie as a single mom. For the first two years, she’d supported her widowed mother and her baby by working at Hal & Rose’s Café as a waitress and selling Pretty Girl Cosmetics door to door.

Delores had come into contact with Luanne when she’d done the makeup for the old-fashioned portraits Norman had taken at the Lake Eden Winter Carnival. Impressed with Luanne’s eagerness to learn about antiques, Delores and Carrie had hired her as their assistant when they’d opened Granny’s Attic in May.

“I’m going out to the Voelker place this afternoon to tag the things we want to take. I thought it would be fun if we went out there together.”

Hannah searched her mind for an ulterior motive. Her mother always had an ulterior motive. Hannah knew very little about antiques, and Delores was an expert. There was no way her mother needed her help with that. As far as she knew, her mother’s car was running just fine and she was perfectly capable of driving out there by herself. Perhaps Delores just wanted to spend a few hours with her eldest daughter? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Do you have time to go with me, Hannah? I’d really appreciate it.”

“I guess,” Hannah said, a bit reluctantly. There was something afoot, but she couldn’t think of what it could be. “I’m catering coffee and dessert at the St. Jude Society prayer meeting, but I should be back here by one.”

“That’s perfect, dear. Norman’s got an eleven-thirty appointment and he should be free by then.”

“Norman’s going?”

“Yes, dear. He wants to take another look at the place before they tear it down.”

“But if Norman’s driving out there anyway, why don’t you ride with him?”

“We’d rather ride with you, dear.” Delores sounded a bit uncomfortable and she cleared her throat. “You’ve got such a nice big truck and Norman says there’s quite a bit of artwork on the walls. I thought we could pack that up and bring it back with us.”

Hannah grinned in sudden understanding. Delores wanted her for the cargo space in her cookie truck. She thought about refusing. Her truck was not a moving van. But it was a small thing to ask and she did want to take a look at the property that Norman had bought.

“Okay. I’ll call you when I get back here and we’ll go pick up Norman. Tell him to expect us about one-fifteen.”

“I’ll do that, dear. I’m sure he’ll want to show you all around and discuss the new house while I’m tagging the antiques. Who knows? If the timing is right, something might just happen.”

Hannah was grinning as she hung up the phone. Not only had she identified her mother’s primary motive, she’d found a second. Delores hoped that if she threw Hannah together with Norman, he might propose. Hannah didn’t think that would happen, but it was a nice try on her mother’s part.

It was ten o’clock and Hannah was manning the cash register when she spotted Mike’s Jeep pulling up in front of her shop. Her heart began to hammer and her insides turned to mush as he got out and strode toward the front door. With a start, she realized that the mug of coffee she was holding was sloshing and she set it down quickly before any of her customers could notice. Mike always had this effect on her. It was as if she’d received a jolt of electricity that made her tingle all over.

The door to The Cookie Jar opened and Mike walked in. He looked determined, like a man on a mission, and Hannah watched his eyes rove over the customers that lined the tables in her small shop. When he spotted her behind the counter, he strode up to her quickly. “We need to talk.”

“Okay. What is it?”

Mike shook his head. “Not here. Let’s go in the back and send Lisa up here.”

The switch was accomplished with a minimum of fuss and Hannah motioned to a stool at the workstation. “Sit down, Mike. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“No. Am I too late, Hannah?”

Hannah glanced at the clock. “Actually, you’re early. Andrea said you’d be in about noon.”

“Not
that!
Am I too late?”

“Too late for what?” Hannah asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Don’t play games with me, Hannah. Bill told me all about Norman’s new house.”

“Oh,
that!”
Hannah did her best not to smile as she met Mike’s eyes. He was jealous, pure and simple. The green-eyed monster had sunk its claws into the most handsome man in Lake Eden. Of course Mike didn’t have any reason to be jealous, but he didn’t know that, and Hannah was enjoying his discomfort too much to tell him quite yet. “Is there some reason why Norman can’t build on that property?”

“Not that I know of.”

“But you seem upset.”

“Of course I’m upset! I was only gone for three days and when I come back, I find out that Norman’s building your dream house!”

“It’s
our
dream house,” Hannah corrected him. “Norman and I designed it together.”

“Then you’re going to marry him?” Mike asked, clenching his fists.

“No,” Hannah said, knowing that she’d milked Mike’s jealousy for all it was worth and any more would be cruel. “Norman’s just building the house, that’s all. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Mike exhaled with an audible whoosh and Hannah could see that he was relieved. “But that house is too big for Norman, isn’t it?”

“Four bedrooms, three baths.”

“That’s what I mean. What’s he going to do with all that room?” Mike began to frown. “Do you think he’s going to ask you to marry him when it’s finished?”

Hannah laughed. “If I knew that, I’d set up a hotline and rake in the cash as a telephone psychic.”

“What if he does? Will you say yes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you can’t!”

Hannah’s heart jumped up into her throat. Was Mike about to propose? And how would she feel about it if he did? “Why can’t I?”

“Because you’d never be happy with Norman. Promise me you’ll tell me right away if he asks you.”

“What good will
that
do?”

“I don’t want to get blindsided. Promise me, Hannah.”

“I promise,” Hannah said. What else could she say? She didn’t like to see Mike looking this miserable.

“Then everything’s still status quo with us?”

“Status quo,” Hannah repeated, beginning to smile as she wondered what that was, exactly.

Mike got up from his stool and pulled Hannah to her feet to give her a hug. “I don’t want to change anything. Everything’s great just the way it is.”

And then Mike kissed her. It was a long, sweet kiss that was just beginning to kindle into a blaze when Hannah heard someone open the back door.

“Hannah? I just wanted to ask you about…” It was Andrea and she stopped abruptly as she saw what she’d interrupted. “Sorry. I’ll come back later.”

Mike motioned Andrea in. “That’s okay. I was just leaving. If you see Bill before I do, tell him I’m going home to take a quick shower and put on a fresh uniform. I’ll catch up with him at the station after lunch.”

“What was all that about?” Andrea asked after Mike had left.

“Nothing much.” Hannah shrugged, leaving it at that. “What did you want to ask me?”

“It’s about Tracey’s costume.” Andrea eyed the cookies that were cooling on the baker’s rack. “Are those Almond Kisses?”

“They’re for my catering job, but I baked extras.”

“Then I can have a couple?”

“Of course.” Hannah watched as Andrea grabbed three cookies. “What were you saying about Tracey’s costume?”

“I need to know what kind of shoes the Statue of Liberty wears.”

“Really big ones,” Hannah quipped, but Andrea didn’t look amused. “I think it’s sandals, but I’m not positive.”