Fudge Cupcake Murder (28 page)

"As long as you know where to look."

"And you do?"

"I'm pretty good at it. I can access quite a few public records and that gives me a surprisingly large amount of information."

Hannah thought about it for a long moment. What she wanted to ask Norman to do was an invasion of her mother's privacy, and it would make her feel like a rat. But feeling like a rat might be better than feeling like a dope if her gut-level feelings were right and she failed to take steps to protect Delores from a Romeo swindler.

"What do you need, Hannah?" Norman prompted, when she'd been silent for several moments.

"Winthrop Harrington the Second."

"What?"

"That's his name. I need you to check him out for me."

"Okay. Who is he?"

"That's what I want to know," Hannah said, glancing over at Norman. She knew he could be trusted. If she told him this was a private matter, he'd die before he'd mention it. "I hope I'm wrong, Norman, but he could be a con artist. And the way things are going, he might just become my new stepfather."

Halloween morning came in with a yowl, at least ten minutes before Hannah's alarm clock was due to go off. Moishe was hungry and he wasn't the type to suffer his hunger pangs in silence. Hannah pulled on her slippers and shuffled to the kitchen while she was still half-awake. It was best not to be fully alert when one had to boil liver before daybreak.

Hannah stumbled to the stove and turned the burner on high. She'd set a pot of water at the ready before bed last night. Then she poured a cup of coffee, sipped it until the water boiled, and dropped in the pieces of liver she'd cut up the previous night. When they turned an unappetizing gray color, she scooped them out and put them in a frying pan with oil and the rest of the ingredients.

In less than five minutes, Moishe's omelet was ready and Hannah scraped it into his food bowl. She checked to make sure the stovetop exhaust fan was on its highest setting, poured herself a second cup of coffee, and sat down at her kitchen table, deliberately turning her back on the culinary creation she'd made for her feline. The scent of liver first thing in the morning made her stomach lurch and roil. If the twinges of nausea she felt were anything like the morning sickness Andrea had complained about, she should have been more sympathetic.

It didn't take Moishe long to eat his breakfast, about one-fourth the time it had taken her to prepare it. There was something wrong with this equation. Hannah rinsed out the pan she'd used to boil the liver, the frying pan that had held the omelet, and Moishe's bowl, and stuck them all in the dishwasher. It was already partially loaded with dishes from the previous night. There was the pot she'd used to cook the rice, the bowl and top of the food processor she'd used to whip up the egg and pulverize the shell, and the knife she'd wielded to cut up the liver. Once she'd gathered up the implements she'd used to cook Moishe's breakfast and the containers she'd used to store the egg and the rice in the refrigerator, the dishwasher was almost full. Hannah poured in the soap, set it on wash, and stood there shaking her head. This was crazy. She didn't eat breakfast unless she went out and the only dish she used in the morning was her coffee mug. Yet here she was at five in the morning, washing a full load of dishes she'd dirtied by cooking breakfast for her cat!

The phone rang and Hannah poured another cup of coffee before she walked over to answer it. There was only one person who called her this early. It had to be Delores calling in to give her report. When Hannah hadn't been able to find out where Lonnie was vacationing by asking his family or his friends, she'd tapped her best resource and recruited Delores and Carrie who had promised to research Lonnie's whereabouts on the Lake Eden gossip hotline.

"Hello Mother," Hannah answered. Answering the phone that way had become almost a tradition. Hannah knew her mother would miss these morning squabbles if she simply said hello.

"I wish you wouldn't answer the phone that way, Hannah. What if it wasn't me?"

"Then I'd say, Sorry, I thought you were my mother. And they'd say, That's all right. And then they'd try to sell me some stock over the phone."

Delores laughed. "Still… you shouldn't presume. Think how embarrassed you'd be if it was someone important and you called them Mother."

"You're not someone important?"

"Of course I am. It's just that… never mind," Delores said, giving it up with a sigh. "How are you this morning, dear?"

"Not so hot. Do you know the phrase, Wake up and smell the roses?"

"Yes, dear. I've heard it."

"Well, this morning it's, Wake up and smell the liver."

"The liver?"

"That's right. Doctor Bob put Moishe on a new diet. I just cooked breakfast for him and it smells awful."

"Well, open the windows, dear. And use some of that air freshener I gave you. It's scented like an English garden."

"Right," Hannah said, wrinkling up her nose. She'd used the air freshener, and if the manufacturer's claim was accurate, she'd be sure to give English gardens a wide berth.

"I always used it when your father made corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's Day," Delores said. "He insisted on making it every year and none of us liked it."

Hannah laughed. It was true. More of the corned beef and cabbage had gone down the garbage disposal than into their mouths. But even though Hannah didn't care for the meal, the custom pleased her. It was exactly as her dad used to say; everyone was Irish on St. Patrick's Day.

"Did you find out anything about Lonnie, Mother?"

"Not much." Delores sighed so deeply it came out as a whoosh over the line. "Bridget doesn't even know where he's gone. She told me to check with Rick."

"Did you?"

"Of course I did. Rick doesn't know either, but he thinks Lonnie must be with a girl."

"Did Lonnie tell Rick that?"

"Not exactly, but he refused to say where he was going. And since Lonnie usually tells Rick everything, Rick thinks he was going to meet a girl."

"That makes some kind of sense." Hannah leaned back and took a sip of her coffee. "Any candidates?"

"Only one and that's impossible."

"Which one?"

"Your sister. Rick thought that Lonnie might have gone to the Cities to see Michelle."

"Did he?" Hannah asked, hoping that he hadn't. Delores liked Lonnie well enough, but she wouldn't be pleased if she found out that he was serious enough to visit Michelle at college.

"Of course he didn't. I called Michelle last night and she said she hadn't seen him."

"Did you ask her if she knew where he was?"

"Do I look like a fool, Hannah? Of course I did. Michelle said that she didn't have the slightest idea where Lonnie was, that they were just friends, and Lonnie certainly didn't call to tell her every time he went off on vacation somewhere."

"So she was a little testy because you asked?"

"She was very testy. I don't know why. It was just a simple question and I certainly wasn't accusing her of anything."

"Maybe she'd had a rough day at school," Hannah said, voicing the first excuse that came to mind. "Don't worry about it, Mother. I'm sure Michelle feels bad that she was short with you."

"Well, I hope so. There's such a thing as respect for your parents, you know."

"Of course there is and Michelle knows that. She'll probably call you today and apologize."

"No, she won't. She'll just send a card. That's what she always does. If she mails a card, she doesn't have to come out and say that she was wrong."

"Oh, well. A card lasts longer than a phone call." Hannah changed the subject and chatted on for a few more moments. Then she signed off and hung up the phone.

"Methinks the sister doth protest too much," she said to Moishe, who was lapping at his water bowl. "I'm going to call her and see what she says to me."

Hannah poured another cup of coffee, opened her crime notebook to the right page, grabbed the phone, and dialed her sister's number. Delores might be satisfied by Michelle's denial, but Hannah had the sneaking suspicion that Lonnie had been no further away than the length of the phone cord when her baby sister had claimed she hadn't seen him.

Hannah slipped four more pans of cookies into the oven and picked up the phone again. No one was answering at Michelle's rented house and the answering machine wasn't on. She listened to the empty ringing for several more moments and hung up when the back door opened and Lisa came in. "Hi, Lisa. I'm almost through with the Corn Cookies."

"They look great," Lisa said, hanging her parka jacket on a hook and heading for the sink to wash her hands. "Do you want me to start on the regular cookies? Or should I mix up the batch of cupcakes for the sheriff's station? They asked for chocolate with chocolate icing and some kind of design in orange."

"You do them while I bake the cookies." Hannah glanced down at the Fudge Cupcake recipe on the counter. "Why don't you bake some of Alma's cupcakes for the sheriff's station? You can use applesauce as the secret ingredient. I've got some in the cooler. Just set one cupcake aside for Beatrice to taste and decorate the rest."

"Good idea," Lisa said, taking the recipe Hannah handed her and heading for the cooler to get the applesauce.

An hour and a half later, Hannah and Lisa were through with the baking for the day. Everything had gone smoothly. The kitchen at The Cookie Jar wasn't very large, but Hannah and Lisa had been working together for over a year and each anticipated the other's movements. As Hannah carried a mug of coffee over to their favorite booth in the back of the coffee shop, she wondered how she'd ever gotten along without Lisa.

"So what's happening with the murder?" Lisa asked, sitting down across the table from Hannah.

"Not much. I've really hit a snag, Lisa. I think the report we found in Sheriff Grant's briefcase is important, but Lonnie's on vacation and I can't find him to ask him about it."

"Did you check with your sister? Michelle was pretty thick with him the last time she was in town."

"That's who I was trying to call when you came in this morning."

"Well, don't give up. You're bound to catch her sooner or later." Lisa glanced down at her watch. "It's time for me to change into my cat costume. What are you going to wear?"

"My sheet. I'll be a ghost when I'm out here. But most of the time I'll be in the kitchen so I won't have to wear anything at all."

Lisa burst out laughing and Hannah was puzzled until she'd backed up her mental tape and replayed the last sentence she'd uttered. Then she smiled and said, "Don't be so quick to laugh. We'd save a fortune on aprons."

"Your place looks nice, Hannah," Beatrice Koester said, coming in the front door in answer to Hannah's telephone summons. "I just love the way those orange and black streamers blow in the breeze from the fans. And the pumpkins in the window are just great."

"Lisa did all the decorating."

"She's really good at it. Where's your ghost costume?"

"I spilled melted chocolate on it."

"But how about the kids?" Beatrice glanced around at several pre-school children who were sitting at tables with their mothers.

"I've got another costume right here." Hannah grabbed the box of cornflakes she'd set behind the counter and stabbed it with a plastic knife. "See?"

"See what?"

"I'm a cereal killer."

Beatrice groaned and sat down on a stool at the counter. "That's awful, Hannah. Actually it's awful and it's very clever, but nobody in Lake Eden's going to catch on. I bet you had to explain it to everybody."

"You're right. I've been trying to get people to guess for over an hour now and nobody's figured it out. I thought Mayor Bascomb would. You know how he loves puns. But he didn't get it, either."

"This could be a good test."

"A test of what?"

"Compatibility. I've been listening to Doctor Love on the radio and she says spouses should share a similar sense of humor."

Hannah's eyebrows shot up. Was Beatrice listening to the woman who gave romantic advice on KCOW radio because she was having trouble in her own marriage?

"Ted and I don't have the same sense of humor," Beatrice admitted with a frown. "He likes the new sitcoms and I like the old ones like Three's Company and The Golden Girls.

Hannah wasn't sure how to respond so she kept her lips pressed tightly together.

"The thing is, the couple that laughs together stays together. At least that's what Doctor Love says. So I think that if you find a man who catches on to your cereal killer costume and thinks it's funny, you should marry him."

"Thanks for the advice," Hannah said, reaching under the counter to bring out the cupcake that Lisa had saved for Beatrice. "Sit down and try this. It's the latest attempt."

Beatrice took a bite and smiled in appreciation. "Delicious! Is that applesauce I taste?"

"Yes. Is it Alma's secret ingredient?"

"No, but it's close. Alma's cupcakes were sweeter, but they had a fruity taste under the chocolate. I told you that before, didn't I?"

"Yes. You also said that you couldn't tell which fruit Alma used."

"That's right. The flavor just blended in. It was there, but I couldn't tell what it was. It made the chocolate taste… I don't know how to describe it."

"Darker? Richer?"

"That's it. The chocolate tasted darker and richer. And there's one more thing I remember. When raspberries were in season, Alma used to put a nice plump one on top of each cupcake."

"Do you think the fruit Alma used was mashed raspberries?" Hannah asked the logical question.

"I know it wasn't either raspberries or strawberries. Those kinds of seeds always stick between my teeth and that never happened when I ate Alma's cupcakes."

When Beatrice left, taking the rest of the cupcake with her, Hannah refilled her customers' coffee cups. Then she sat down on the stool behind the counter to think. Mashed raspberries would have seeds. There was no way around it. Alma could have juiced them, but that couldn't be right. Edna Ferguson was certain that the secret ingredient was thicker than juice and Hannah had come to the same conclusion.