Fudge Cupcake Murder (23 page)

Hannah had just finished decorating her first pans of Corn Cookies when there was a knock at the back door. She slid the pans on shelves in the bakers' rack and hurried to the door.

"Sorry to bother you, Hannah." Barbara Donnelly stood there, shivering in the bitter wind that blew down the alley, "but I just thought of something you should know."

Hannah glanced up at the iron-gray sky. The KCOW weatherman hadn't predicted snow, but he could be wrong… again. "Come in and warm up, Barbara."

"Do you think it's going to snow?" Barbara asked, stepping into the warm kitchen and sniffing appreciatively.

"Maybe. Sit down at the workstation and I'll get you a cup of coffee. You can be my taste tester for the test batch of Corn Cookies I just baked."

"That's a job I can sink my teeth into," Barbara quipped, accepting the cookies that Hannah brought her. "These must be for Halloween. They're cute, Hannah. I like the candy corn on top."

Hannah waited until Barbara took a bite, then asked the important question. "Are they good?"

"Very good. They'll be perfect for the party." Barbara took another bite. "I think he had it with him, Hannah."

"Who had what where?" Hannah asked, missing only the when and the why. According to her college journalism professor, the five w's were the basis of all good reporting.

"Sheriff Grant. I've been thinking about that missing report and I'm almost positive that he took it. There were only two keys to the file cabinet. I had one and Sheriff Grant had the other."

"But wouldn't you have noticed it was missing?" Hannah asked, fetching her steno pad and flipping it open to take notes.

"Not unless I'd had a reason to look for it. I didn't go through the files every day."

"So you have no idea when Sheriff Grant took it?"

"None at all," Barbara shook her head, "but I might know where it is."

Hannah's head snapped back from her notes as if a puppeteer standing above her had pulled a string. "Where do you think it is?"

"In his briefcase. He always put the important papers in there."

"But… wouldn't Mike have found it?"

Barbara shook her head again. "Not unless he knew how to open the secret compartment. And I'm almost positive that Sheriff Grant didn't tell anyone about that."

"What secret compartment?"

"The one in the James Bond briefcase I gave him for Christmas last year. I always bought him James Bond things for gifts. I ordered it from a catalogue."

"And it had a secret compartment." Hannah jotted down a note. "What did it look like, Barbara?"

"The secret compartment?"

"No, the briefcase."

"It was just an ordinary brown leather briefcase. That's what was so great about it. You could never tell it had a secret compartment just by looking at it."

"So Mike could have found it, searched it, and not realized that something was hidden inside?"

"That's certainly possible. The secret compartment is tricky to open and you'd never see the catches if you didn't know they were there. You have to release them in a certain order."

"Do you know how to do it?"

"Of course I do. I had to help Sheriff Grant figure it out. You just…"

"I don't have to know, Barbara," Hannah said, interrupting her description of the procedure. "If I come across the briefcase, I'll bring it to you to open. Any ideas on where I might find it?"

Barbara thought about that for a moment. "If it's not in his squad car, it has to be in his home office."

"Couldn't it be in his office at the sheriff's station?"

"No. I already called there to check." Barbara held up a hand to cut off Hannah's question. "Don't worry. Shawna Lee doesn't know why I wanted to know. I just told her that she might find some extra keys in Sheriff Grant's briefcase and she ought to take them out and give them to Mike."

Hannah thought about what Barbara had told her. "If the briefcase was in the squad car, Mike must have it. But if it's in Sheriff Grant's home office, he probably doesn't. I'd better go over to Nettie's and check."

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Sheriff Grant's home office is still taped off. Nettie told me that before she left town."

"Nettie's gone?"

"She left yesterday morning for Wisconsin. Jim's youngest sister took it really hard and Nettie went to help her with the kids. She told me she'd be gone at least a week, maybe two."

After Barbara left, Hannah baked the rest of the cookies. And while she baked, she thought about how she could get into Nettie's house to search Sheriff Grant's home office. By the time she was finished with the baking, she hadn't come up with a single possibility, and she sighed as she picked up the platter of cookies to carry them out for Lisa and their customers to taste.

The phone rang just as Hannah was heading for the swinging door and she put the platter down on the counter again to answer it. "The Cookie Jar. This is Hannah speaking."

"Oh, I'm so glad I caught you, dear!"

Hannah came close to groaning. It was Delores and she wasn't really in the mood to talk to her mother. Still, Delores was her mother and that entitled her to preferential treatment. "Hi, Mother. What can I do for you?"

"That's a presumptuous question, Hannah. You're assuming that I want something from you. What if I don't want anything at all?"

"Then I apologize," Hannah said quickly.

"That's better," Delores said, and her voice sounded much friendlier. "But as it turns out, you were right. I did call to ask you a favor."

"Then what can I do for you, Mother?"

Hannah burst out laughing and so did Delores. It was a rare moment when mother and daughter were on the same wavelength, appreciating each other's sense of humor.

"I was wondering if you'd have time to pick up Tracey from Kiddie Korner at five and take her out to The Pumpkin Patch to pick up her costume. I promised Andrea I'd do it, but something came up."

"I can do it," Hannah said, jotting a note so she wouldn't forget. "Which costume is she getting?"

"The pirate. Andrea called and put it on reserve for her. And while you're there, you might want to pick up a costume for yourself, since you're taking Tracey around on Halloween."

"I might just do that," Hannah said, knowing that saying this would please her mother. She had no intention of renting a costume, not when she had a perfect good sheet with holes cut out for ghostly eyes.

"Thank you, Hannah. I really appreciate you doing this for me. It would have been a terrible time crunch if I'd tried to get out there and back before six. And I never would have had time to dress!"

"Dress for what?" Hannah was curious. As far as she knew, her mother didn't have any club meetings on Wednesday nights.

"Ballroom dancing with Winthrop."

"Winthrop?" Hannah's voice was not entirely steady as she echoed the name. "Who's Winthrop?"

"Oh, the most marvelous, sophisticated man! He reminds me of Kenneth Branagh. And he's such a talented dancer."

"Winthrop?"

"Yes, dear. I've never danced with Kenneth Branagh."

"But you've danced with Winthop?"

"Of course. We waltzed last Wednesday night."

"Where?" Hannah asked.

"At the Red Owl."

That stopped Hannah in her tracks for a moment, then she drew a deep breath. "Let me get this straight, Mother. You went dancing at the Red Owl?"

"That's right, dear. Winthrop is simply a master at the waltz. I don't know when I've had so much fun!"

"Okay…" Hannah paused, trying to think of a reasonable response. When one didn't occur to her, she decided to wing it and tell her mother exactly what she was thinking. "I know they play music for shoppers over the loudspeakers, but I really can't believe you actually waltzed up and down the aisles with another customer. I'm surprised you didn't knock down that pyramid of soup cans they put up as a display in the middle of the store!"

There was silence for a moment. Then Delores started to laugh. She laughed so hard she didn't seem to notice that Hannah wasn't joining in.

"I didn't dance in the grocery store, Hannah," Delores said, when she had calmed down a bit. "I danced above the grocery store in Danielle's studio. That's just so funny, dear. I can hardly wait to tell Winthrop."

Hannah felt like a first-class fool. She'd completely forgotten that Danielle had named her studio the Red Owl Dance Studio. No doubt Delores would have a laugh fest with Winthrop about Hannah's misconception, but her embarrassment wasn't the issue here. "You still haven't told me who Winthrop is, Mother."

"He's another student, dear. Carrie and I signed up for Danielle's ballroom dancing class and our first lesson was last Wednesday. Poor Carrie got stuck with Earl Flensburg, but I got Winthrop for a partner. Isn't that just wonderfully lucky for me?"

"Lucky," Hannah repeated, suspecting that luck hadn't had anything to do with it; some kind of dirty dealing had to have gone on. If Winthrop really was as handsome and fleet of foot as her mother had described, Delores would have pulled out all the stops to have him as her partner. Hannah wanted to ask how she finagled that feat, but Delores wouldn't tell her anyway, so she sighed and settled for saying, "Okay, Mother. You go have fun dancing the waltz with Winthrop tonight."

"Oh, it's the tango tonight, dear. That's why I need time to get dressed. I bought a darling outfit with slits on both sides of the skirt. I'm going to be the envy of every woman there."

"Mmm," Hannah murmured, settling for the most impartial comment she could make. But after she said goodbye and hung up the phone, she realized that she had the answer to Andrea's question. Their mother was involved with a man, at least in dancing class. As Hannah pushed open the door to the coffee shop and headed in to rejoin Lisa, she couldn't quite shake the vision of her mother dancing a sultry tango with a rose held between her teeth.

CORN COOKIES

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position

2 cups white sugar

1 cup butter (2 sticks, 1/2 pound)

1 egg

1 15-ounce (by weight) can mashed pumpkin (I used Libby's)

1 cup chopped walnuts

1 cup golden raisins

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon cardamom

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons vanilla

2 teaspoons baking soda

2 teaspoons baking powder

4 cups flour (no need to sift)

package of candy corn

Melt the butter. Add the sugar and mix. Let the mixture cool to room temperature and then stir in the egg. Add all of the rest of the ingredients except the flour, mixing after each addition. Add the flour, one cup at a time, and mix it thoroughly. Let the cookie dough sit for 5 minutes to "rest."

Drop by spoonful on a greased cookie sheet, 12 cookies per standard-size sheet. (If the dough is too sticky, refrigerate it for a few minutes to firm it up.) Flatten the cookies with a greased spatula. Bake at 375 degrees F. for 8 to 10 minutes.

When the cookies come out of the oven, leave them on the cookie sheets and immediately press pieces of candy corn on top as a design. Do this right away, so that the candy will stick after the cookies have cooled.*

Let the cookies cool on the sheets for 2 minutes and then transfer them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: 6 to 7 dozen, depending on cookie size.

*
If you fail to put on the candy corn when the cookies are still hot from the oven, all is not lost. You can put it on later using a little dab of powdered sugar frosting (powdered sugar with a tiny bit of milk) as "glue."

Tracey’s friends really loved these cookies and they all offered to help me decorate them next year.

"She didn't!" Andrea was still sputtering when Hannah came back to the room after hanging Tracey's costume in the closet.

"She did. As I recall her description was, the most marvelous, sophisticated man. She even compared him to an older version of Kenneth Branagh. I could be wrong, but she sounded pretty smitten to me."

"Smitten? You mean, like… in love?"

"I'm not sure about love, but she was a lot more than just politely interested."

Andrea gave an exasperated sigh. "Just what I need! Honestly, Hannah, I've never felt so helpless in my life. Here I am swelling up like a toad and I'm confined to this you-know-what couch while Mother's running around town with a gigolo!"

"What's a gigolo, Mommy?" Tracey asked, coming into the living room in time to hear Andrea's last comment.

"Tracey! I didn't know you were there. Um…" Andrea turned to Hannah with a desperate look in her eyes. "Aunt Hannah will tell you what it is."

"It's an Italian word for a man who is skilled at socializing with other people, especially women."

"Oh," Tracey said and she looked wise beyond her years. "You must be talking about Winthrop."

"You know Winthrop?" Both Andrea and Hannah asked the question, almost in tandem.

"No, but he called the last time I was at Grandma's. He said something funny because Grandma's face turned all red and she giggled."

"Mother giggled," Hannah repeated, giving Andrea a look before she turned back to Tracey. "Do you happen to know Winthrop's last name?"

"Harrington. I can spell it."

"That would be good, honey," Andrea said, glancing at Hannah who was already digging in her shoulder bag purse for her notebook.

Hannah wrote down the name, and then she asked the obvious question. "How did you know how to spell it?"

"It was on the flowers."

"What flowers?" Andrea and Hannah asked simultaneously.

"The ones Grandma got. Are you mad? I know I'm not supposed to snoop."

Hannah glanced at Andrea, who was fighting valiantly to keep a straight face. "Your mother's not mad this time, but you really aren't supposed to read things like that. When a man sends a woman flowers, the card is meant to be private."

"I know," Tracey said with a sigh, "but I had to know if Winthrop was after Grandma's money."

Andrea looked shocked. "What made you think that Winthrop might be after her money?"