Fudge Cupcake Murder (21 page)

It was quiet in the huge room, even though the members of her class were chattering among themselves. Hannah was puzzled for a moment and then she realized that she was comparing the noise level this week with the noise level last week. Mike was no longer teaching the class next door and there were no more yells and whistles. Rick Murphy had taken over as the self-defense instructor and he'd told Hannah,, before his class had started, that he planned to take his students outside during the second half of the period so that they could practice approaching a parked car and walking in a dark parking lot.

Once Hannah's class received their homework and divided up the goodies from the night's baking, everyone except Hannah headed for home. When the last of her students had left, Hannah checked the workstations to make sure everything was shipshape. That done, the only chore that remained was taking out the garbage.

Hannah picked up the garbage bag and headed for the outside door. She opened it, took one step toward the Dumpster, and stopped in her tracks. She knew she was being silly, but it seemed like tempting fate to approach the same Dumpster where she'd found Sheriff Grant.

"Hannah?"

A voice called out behind her and Hannah almost spilled the garbage. She whirled, then gave a sigh of relief as she saw Rick Murphy. "You scared me, Rick!"

"Sorry. I meant to get here earlier, but one of my students wanted some advice on home security. Just hand me that bag and I'll carry the garbage out for you."

"You will?" Hannah was puzzled. "But I can do it, Rick. It's not like my arm's broken or anything."

"I know, but Mike asked me to stop by after class and do it. And then I'm supposed to walk you out to your car. Mike said that since he couldn't be here, he wanted me to make sure you weren't alone."

Five minutes later, Hannah was in her cookie truck, driving home, and there was smile on her face that had enough wattage to light up Eden Lake's official Christmas Tree. Mike had been concerned and he'd asked Rick to look out for her. That was really very sweet of him, almost sweet enough to make Hannah forget all about Shawna Lee's perfect figure and her fantastic brownies… almost, but not quite.

Hannah stood at the sink at The Cookie Jar, pulling on gloves to protect the deep scratch Moishe had given her this morning when she'd held him down and tried to give him his vitamins. Lisa poked her head in from the coffee shop. "Telephone for you. It's Kurt Howe."

"Okay, tell him I'll be right with him," Hannah said with a sigh, heading for the phone. If the morning was any indication, Tuesday was not going to be a good day. It had started with a bang at five in the morning when Moishe decided to go fishing in the toilet. He'd only done that once before and it was shortly after she'd taken him in. Moishe was a bright cat. The moment he'd realized that his actions hadn't pleased her, he'd left all standing water, with the exception of his water bowl, untouched. As Hannah climbed out of bed to wipe up the surprisingly large amount of water that he'd splashed out on the bathroom floor, the thought crossed her mind that Moishe might have done it on purpose to get even for the vitamins she'd attempted to squirt down his throat. After several cups of life-giving coffee, she dismissed that notion as paranoid and gave the vitamins another try, which resulted in the deep scratch she was currently protecting.

"Hello, Kurt." Hannah greeted him, wincing a bit as the scratch began to throb under the tight latex glove. Kurt worked for the company that was going to publish the Lake Eden cookbook.

"Hi, Hannah. I called to see how the cookbook's coming along."

"Just fine. I'm teaching a night class at the school and we're testing all the recipes. Then we're going to have a big potluck dinner for the whole town and let everyone vote on which recipes should be included."

"When's the potluck?"

That question surprised Hannah. Kurt hadn't been that interested in their schedule before. Perhaps he wanted to come to Lake Eden to taste the recipes and vote? "We haven't set a firm date yet, but I want to do it right after Thanksgiving. We'd love to have you come, if you can."

"I'll try to make it. Just call and give my secretary the date. I've got some really big news, Hannah. I convinced my publisher to release your cookbook early. We thought it would be a perfect gift for the holiday season."

"You mean Christmas?"

"Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, whatever. It's going to be mostly buffet recipes, right?"

"Well… I guess you could call them buffet recipes. In Lake Eden we just say potluck."

"I like that better, personally. Potluck is much more ethnic. But my publisher wants to use the words holiday and buffet in the title. Do you think you could live with that?"

"Well…"

"He's sure it would sell better in upscale places like New York and Los Angeles."

Hannah's eyebrows headed for the ceiling. When Kurt first mentioned the cookbook, she'd envisioned something that would be sold locally, or perhaps statewide. She'd never even considered the possibility that it would be sold all over the country.

"Hannah? I know people voted and you decided on Green Jell-O, A Lake Eden Potluck Cookbook as a title, but my publisher doesn't think that'll do well nationally. He'd rather have Holiday Buffet. If you absolutely hate it, I can go back to him with alternatives."

"No," Hannah managed to croak out. "No, he probably knows best. After all, buffet is just a fancier name for potluck. But these are pretty simple recipes. Is that all right?"

"Give me an example."

"Well… there's Edna's Make Ahead Mashed Potatoes. She brings them to every potlu… uh… buffet we have. And then there's my mother's Hawaiian Pot Roast, and a couple of variations of Minnesota Hotdish."

"That all sounds great. You're making me hungry, Hannah."

"I know what you mean," Hannah said, feeling a bit hungry herself. "But since your publisher wants a fancier title, doesn't he want fancier names for the recipes?"

"Like what?"

"Like… Minnesota Hotdish could be Minnesota Cassoulet."

"No, hotdish is good. It'll make people think about sitting around the dinner table with family and friends. Just leave the recipe names the way they are, Hannah. If we have problems with any of them, we'll get together and change them."

"And our deadline is still the same?"

Kurt gave a little laugh. "I'm afraid not. That's the reason I called. Hold onto your hat, Hannah."

"Why?" Hannah sucked in her breath and held it. She had the feeling she wasn't going to like Kurt's answer.

"We're going to need everything in three weeks."

"Three weeks?!" Hannah was so shocked she almost dropped the phone. "But it wasn't supposed to be for three months!"

"I know. This is a fabulous opportunity, Hannah. My publisher's going to pull out all the stops to make your cookbook a success. I know the deadline is tight and it'll be a lot of work, but think about how proud everyone will be to see their favorite recipes in print."

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," Hannah said. And she was. Perhaps she could do it if she had help.

"So shall I tell my publisher it's a go?"

Hannah took a deep breath and let it out again. And then she said the words that would add several big helpings to her already overflowing plate. "Yes, Kurt. Tell him it's a go."

An hour later, Hannah walked up to the counter at Lake Eden Neighborhood Pharmacy. Lisa had insisted that she talk to Jon Walker to get some kind of antibiotic cream for her hand. The cat scratch Moishe had given her this morning was puffing up and it was painful to touch.

"Hello, Hannah. What's wrong with your hand?" Jon greeted her.

"Cat scratch." Hannah held it out so that he could see. "Lisa sent me down for some antibiotic cream."

"Good for her. Cat scratches can be dangerous. Haven't you ever heard of cat scratch fever?"

"Only on an old rock and roll record my father used to play in the garage. There was one about poison ivy, too."

"A full-blown case of cat scratch fever and you'd wind up in the hospital. But don't worry, Hannah. We caught this in plenty of time. You should take some oral antibiotics to clear up the infection, and I'll get you some over the counter cream. Filling your prescription might take a while. I'll drop it off on my afternoon break if you'll treat me to a cookie."

"You're welcome to a cookie, but I don't have a prescription."

"You will just as soon as I put in a call to Doc Knight. Here's your cream. Use it morning, noon, and night and keep water away from that scratch."

Five minutes later, when Hannah walked in the front door of The Cookie Jar, Lisa was on the phone. She motioned to Hannah and Hannah slipped behind the counter to join her.

"It's Andrea," Lisa said, "and you should take it in the kitchen. She says she's got news for you about you-know-what. I'll stay on until you pick up."

Hannah took enough time to slather on some of the antibiotic cream and then she picked up the phone. "I'm on now, Lisa."

"And I'm off," Lisa replied, hanging up with a click.

"Hi, Hannah," Andrea greeted her. "I called to tell you that Sean and Don have an airtight alibi for last Monday night. A bus came in a little before eight and it had a flat tire. Sean and the driver changed it while Don waited on all the passengers."

"Okay. I'll put it in the book."

"And I contacted all the names on Nettie's list. Every single one has an alibi."

Hannah was so astounded she gulped. "Every name? But there were so many!"

"No, there weren't, not when I weeded out all the sheriff's department personnel that Bill and Mike are checking."

"You're right," Hannah said, giving her sister a thumbs-up she couldn't see over the phone. "There's no sense in duplicating our efforts. So you wrote down the alibis and now you want me to verify them?"

"No, I already did that."

"You did? But how did you find the time?"

"It's a trade secret I learned in real estate school. Do you remember that old perfume ad, Promise her anything, but give her Arpege?"

"Not really."

"Well, you would if you ever wore perfume. It's a little like that… only different."

"Okay," Hannah said, dropping the discussion, since Andrea's explanation had raised more questions than it had answered.

"So what's next? I'm chained to this couch, I've already done everything I can think of, and I'm going to go crazy just sitting here."

"I don't really have any…" Hannah stopped in mid-sentence as the perfection solution to her sister's boredom occurred to her. Andrea could type a lot faster than Hannah could. And ever since Hannah had agreed to meet Kurt Howe's new, shortened deadline, she'd been wondering how she'd ever find the extra hours to get all those recipes typed up.

"What?" Andrea asked. "You thought of something I could do, didn't you?"

"Yes. Is your laptop handy?"

"I've got it right here. What do you need?"

"How about doing some typing for me? It's really important."

"What kind of typing?"

"Recipes for the Lake Eden Cookbook, except it's not called the Lake Eden cookbook anymore. Now it's called something with Holiday and Buffet in the title, but we don't have to change the names of any recipes."

There was a long silence and when Andrea spoke again, she sounded worried. "I think you'd better start from the beginning, Hannah. For a logical person, you're not making much sense."

It took a few minutes, but at last Andrea had the full story of Kurt Howe's call and how the deadline had been moved up. "And it's actually going to be published in time for the holidays?" she asked.

"That's what Kurt said."

"Then of course I'll type your recipes. Bring them over and I'll get started."

Hannah glanced at the clock. "I'll leave here at eleven and I'll bring you lunch. What do you want?"

"Pizza, but I can't have it. Too much salt."

"What can you have?"

"I've got a list right here." Hannah heard paper crinkling and then Andrea came back on the line. "I'm looking at my diet sheet now. It looks like I can eat almost anything that doesn't taste good."

Hannah laughed. She couldn't help it. Sometimes Andrea was funny without even realizing it. "How about a chef's salad with dressing on the side. I can stop by the cafй."

"That sounds good, but how about dessert? Will you bring me some cookies?"

"Sure. What kind do you want?"

"Something with chocolate and pecans. I'm dying for some chocolate and pecans are my favorite nuts. But you don't have time to make cookies just for me, do you?"

"I've got time," Hannah said, already planning out which ingredients to use to make some special cookies for her sister.

Andrea's Pecan Divines

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

2 cups melted butter (4 sticks, one pound)

3 cups white sugar

1 l/2 cups brown sugar

4 teaspoons vanilla

4 teaspoons baking soda

2 teaspoons salt

4 beaten eggs

5 cups flour (no need to sift)

3 cups chocolate chips

4 cups chopped pecans

Melt the butter. (Nuke it for 3 minutes on high in a microwave-safe container, or melt it in a pan on the stove.) Mix in the white sugar and the brown sugar. Add the vanilla and the baking soda and mix. Add the eggs and stir it all up. Add half the flour, the chocolate chips, and the chopped pecans. Stir well to incorporate. Add the rest of the flour and mix thoroughly.

Drop by teaspoons onto greased cookie sheets, 12 cookies to a standard-size sheet. If the dough is too sticky to handle, chill it slightly and try again. Bake at 350 degrees R for 10 to 12 minutes or until nicely browned.

Let cool two minutes, then remove cookies from the baking sheet and transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 10 dozen.

Andrea says these are the best cookies she's ever tasted and I saved her life by baking them.

Hannah felt good as she sat on the high stool behind the cash register at The Cookie Jar and surveyed her world. Every table was filled and all of her customers had been coffeed, teaed, and cookied. Now they were busy talking to each other as they munched and sipped, enjoying themselves. The glass serving jars had been replenished, the counter couldn't have been wiped down any better, and all the sugar, creamer, and artificial sweetener containers had been filled to the brim. She'd already delivered the recipes to Andrea, along with one of Rose's best chef salads, and there was nothing else she needed to do until Lisa came back from lunch.