Carrot Cake Murder (8 page)

She fought the urge to dig in, to start picking up paper napkins, cups, glasses, and bottles, and stuffing them into the appropriate trash barrels. She reminded herself that Lisa and Herb had organized a crew of relatives to clean the pavilion this afternoon, and nobody expected her to do it. Her number one priority was to find Gus so that they could take the family picture.

A light breeze swept across the shaft of sunlight that streamed through the open window, setting dust motes twirling. As Hannah watched, several more flies buzzed by the beam of sunlight on their way to the mahogany bar against the far wall. The top of the bar was empty except for a brown grocery sack and a white, disposable cooler. It was obvious that Gus had been here. Perhaps he’d been so tired, he’d forgotten his groceries and his cooler.

Fat chance! Hannah’s rational mind chided her. He wanted those groceries. He asked Ava to open the store after hours for him. There’s no way he would have forgotten them when he left.

Another group of flies with the same destination in mind flew in and headed straight for the bar. If this kept up, Lisa and Herb would never get the insects out in time for the slideshow they’d scheduled for tonight. Hannah hurried to the kitchen, soaked a rag with water, and grabbed a bottle of cleanser. They’d set out the dessert buffet on the bar last night, and it was apparent that whoever had wiped it down hadn’t done a good job. She’d clean it thoroughly right now so that no more flies would come in.

Hannah had almost reached her goal when she noticed something. She stopped abruptly and peered down at the floor. The flies weren’t the only insect group attracted to this particular locale. There was a line of black carpenter ants streaming toward the bar and disappearing behind it. They must be looping around because there was a returning line of ants and they were carrying morsels of something. Carpenter ants seldom foraged for food during the daylight hours, but their scouts must have discovered something tasty enough to call out the troops.

Hannah moved closer and let out a groan when she saw what had attracted the ants. They were retrieving sweet crumbs from a piece of her carrot cake. It had been dropped, frosting-side down, and mashed to a pulp by someone’s heel!

For a brief moment, Hannah was livid. Gus had dropped a piece of her Special Carrot Cake and stepped on it. What a waste! But then she spotted something sticking out from behind the bar, something that looked like a shoe, on a foot, attached to a leg that was presumably connected to a person who was on the floor behind the bar. Hannah set the bottle of cleanser on the barstool as the ominous organ music that had been playing in her mind increased in volume, until the crashing chords almost deafened her.

“Oh, murder!” she breathed, hoping that her words weren’t prophetic. But she recognized the shoe, the rich buttery leather that shouted designer footwear with an exorbitant price tag. And the trousers. They were part of an expensive suit that had probably cost more than she made all week in The Cookie Jar. She’d seen the outfit last night at the dance, and she knew precisely who had been wearing it.

Hannah took a bracing breath and made her feet move forward. Gus had come back to the pavilion to eat his cake, but he’d only enjoyed a bite or two before disaster had struck. And now, as Hannah stood there staring, he was lying face up on the floor with a bloodstain resembling a peony in full bloom on the front of his shirt.

Stabbed, or shot, Hannah’s rational mind told her, but she ignored it. It didn’t really matter what the murder weapon was. Gus was dead…or at least she thought he was dead.

Hannah tore her eyes away from the sight and focused on the area around Gus Klein’s body. Pieces of her carrot cake were scattered on the floor, and the ants didn’t seem to mind that there was a dead body in the middle of their picnic. Except for the cake and the ants, the floor was perfectly clear. Whoever had killed Gus had left nothing resembling a clue behind.

She shut her eyes, praying that she’d experienced a slight delusional episode, perhaps from lack of sleep. Then she opened them again to find that nothing had changed. Gus was still on the floor exactly where he’d been before, and there was no doubt in Hannah’s mind that he was dead. His chest was perfectly motionless, and any fool could see that he wasn’t breathing.

You should check anyway, the rational voice in her mind prodded her. Think about how guilty you’d feel if he were still alive and you didn’t call for help.

“Right,” Hannah said, swallowing hard. The last thing she wanted to do was touch another dead body, but the voice was right, she’d never forgive herself if Gus were still alive and there was something she could do for him.

Hannah glanced around. There was no pay phone in the pavilion. She patted her pocket. No cell phone, either. She’d left it at home again. That meant she couldn’t call for help, so there was no need to…

So you can’t call. So what? Ava’s got a phone, and your legs aren’t broken. If he’s still alive, you can hustle yourself right over to the store and call from there.

“Okay, okay,” Hannah answered the inner voice that sounded a whole lot like her mother’s. “I’ll check.”

She swallowed again, took a deep breath for courage, and knelt beside Gus. She reached out with one hand to feel the pulse point at the side of his neck.

Nothing. Hannah pressed a bit harder. Still nothing. He was dead, all right, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. She wanted to find something to cover him so the flies that were buzzing around couldn’t gather. But that would be the wrong thing to do since she wasn’t supposed to touch anything. Gus Klein hadn’t stabbed himself in the chest so hard that he’d fallen backwards. This was a murder scene, and she had to call…

“Hannah?”

The voice startled her, and she shot to her feet. Herb was standing at the open window.

“You can stop looking, Hannah. We took the picture without Uncle Gus. Norman’s going to stick around, so if he shows up later, we’ll take another one.”

“He won’t show up.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears, and Hannah cleared her throat.

“What do you mean, He won’t show up?”

Hannah cleared her throat again. “He’s…he…call Mike and Bill on your cell phone, will you? It’s important.”

“Okay, but why?”

“They need to come out here. Uncle Gus is…gone,” she forced out the words, knowing full well that the woman who hated euphemisms had just used one.

“You mean he left the family reunion without even saying goodbye?”

“Not exactly,” Hannah said, sighing as she avoided yet another a direct answer. “Just tell them to hurry. And don’t let anyone in until they get here.”

Hannah gazed out across the blue-green expanse of the lake. The sun was shining brightly, the water sparkled as she skimmed it with the tips of her fingers, and a light breeze lifted her hair from the nape of her neck. The warmth of the sun and the serene beauty of the lake was almost enough to erase the memory of Gus…almost, but not quite.

Norman rowed smoothly across the water. He’d been waiting for her when she left the pavilion, and he’d led her down to the water and launched the boat.

“Where are we going?” Hannah asked him. They were in the middle of Eden Lake, and she was glad to get away from the continual questions about what had happened, the speculation about who could have done such a terrible thing to Gus, and why.

“We’re here.” Norman dropped the anchor next to a huge bed of pink and white water lilies.

“Where’s here?”

“Eden Lake’s water lily garden. Marge told me her father added plants to it every summer.”

“It’s gorgeous. And all this time, I never knew it was here.”

“Are you okay, Hannah?”

“I’m a whole lot better now,” she said, admiring the water lilies. “All I need is a white dress and a straw bonnet with a ribbon around it and I could pose for Monet’s The Boat at Giverny.”

“Or the girl who’s not paddling in Renoir’s The Skiff. But I don’t think she has a hat on.”

“It’s hard to tell with the impressionists. Of course I could always jump in and be a floating face in the middle of any of Monet’s water lily paintings. It would be like Where’s Waldo? and nobody would even spot me.”

“Don’t do that. Or at least don’t do it before you have some lunch.” Norman opened the hamper Hannah hadn’t noticed before and took out two stemmed glasses. “Let’s start with the drinks. Champagne? Or lemonade?”

“I think it’d better be lemonade. Mike hasn’t interviewed me yet.”

“Smart choice.” Norman filled her glass with lemonade from the thermos he’d brought and handed her a sandwich. “Here. You need this.”

Hannah accepted the sandwich and bit into it. “Egg salad. My favorite! And this is really good egg salad. Who made it?”

“I did.”

Hannah looked at him in surprise. “I thought you didn’t cook.”

“I don’t. But anybody can hard boil an egg, and the rest is just chopping it up, mixing it with other stuff, and spreading it on bread.”

“Okay…” Hannah stopped and took another bite to be sure. “But this is gourmet egg salad. It even has bits of bacon in it. How did you make it?”

“I’m not sure. I just kept adding things until it tasted right.”

“Well, please write it down the next time you make it. I want the recipe.”

“Really?” Norman looked surprised.

“Yes, really. Egg salad is one of my favorite comfort foods. If I eat it, I feel better. It’s like macaroni and cheese, or chicken soup. It makes me feel warm and loved.”

Norman smiled. “You are loved, Hannah.”

Hannah wasn’t sure what to say. She knew Norman loved her, and she loved him, too. She wanted to tell him she’d marry him and be with him always, but she couldn’t. As long as she also had feelings for Mike, it wouldn’t be fair to marry Norman.

Norman reached out to put an arm around her. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’m glad you did,” Hannah said, reaching out to give him a little hug. And then she changed the subject. “Moishe was really crazy last night. I was so tired, I slept through the noise, but my downstairs neighbor called me at two-thirty in the morning.”

“What was Moishe doing?”

“Racing around the tub in my master bathroom. He was making a terrible racket.”

Norman began to frown. “Sounds like the Big Guy isn’t happy. Is it because you’ve been gone so much lately?”

“Maybe. He also shredded my couch pillow and left little bits of stuffing all over the floor.”

“Definitely not happy. I’d invite him out to play with Cuddles, but she’s gone on vacation.”

Hannah realized she hadn’t really talked to Norman for at least a week. They’d both been so busy they hadn’t had time to go out to dinner, or just sit over coffee and converse. “What’s all this about sending your cat on a vacation?” she asked.

“Oh, I didn’t send her. Marguerite dropped by and asked if she could take Cuddles to her friend’s house for the week. Since she had Cuddles before I adopted her, I thought it was only fair. Her friend has an older male Persian, and everything’s set up for cats. Marguerite thought Cuddles would be in her element.”

“But what if she’s not?” Hannah was a bit worried. Cats could be finicky about the company they kept.

“She’s fine. Marguerite called me this morning to report.”

“And if she hadn’t been fine, you would have jumped in your car and driven up to get her?”

“Of course. I miss her a lot, but it’s good for Marguerite to have this time with her. And after all, I promised we’d have split custody.”

Hannah took another bite of her sandwich and gave a little sigh of pleasure. Norman just had to write down the ingredients! She’d never tasted an egg salad she liked better. “How about Clara?” she asked, knowing that Marguerite’s sister was allergic to cats, dogs, birds, and a whole long list of other things. “Did Doc Knight find a better allergy medicine for her?”

“No, but Clara and Marguerite are taking separate vacations this year. Clara’s going to a church retreat, and Marguerite’s visiting her friend in Duluth.”

“They’ve never done that before, have they?”

“No. Marguerite says they’ve always gone everywhere together, but it was Clara’s idea to split up this year. Clara’s crazy about Cuddles, you know. It’s just that she can’t be around her without having a reaction. She told Marguerite to bring Cuddles to the condo while she was gone, but Marguerite thought it would be easier to go to her friend’s house.”

“Kitty dander. It would take a professional cleaning crew to get all the allergens out of the condo for Clara if Marguerite brought Cuddles there.”

“Exactly. So tell me more about Moishe. I know you’ve been gone a lot, but has anything else changed in your routine?”

“Not really, unless you count the cable.”

“There’s something wrong with your cable?”

“It still works, but our lineup’s changed and they haven’t sent a new cable guide. We’ve got over two hundred channels now, and I haven’t been able to find Moishe’s favorite.”

“The Animal Channel?”

“Yes. Do you get it?”

“I get it, but I have a dish. How about Andrea?”

“They’ve got a dish, too. And Mother never watches it, so she’s no help.”

“You could always call the cable company and ask.” Norman suggested.

“I will, if I ever get a couple of hours to spend on hold. I tried yesterday afternoon, but their business office isn’t open on Sunday.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand something here,” Norman looked thoughtful. “Moishe’s lonely because you’ve been gone so much, and he doesn’t have his favorite television channel to watch. Is there anything else he doesn’t have?”

“Mice. There’s plenty to eat outside right now and the field mice won’t come in until the first cold snap. And the maintenance guys replaced the weather stripping on all the doors and windows, so I don’t have as many bugs.”

“No Animal Channel, no mice, no bugs,” Norman reiterated. “Maybe he’s bored.”

Hannah thought about that for a minute. “You could be right. But what can I do about it? I can’t take him to work with me.”

“I’ll call around. Somebody’s bound to know the new cable lineup. I’ll get the number of the Animal Channel and tell you.”