Key Lime Pie Murder (3 page)

“We have those, too, but they’re a part of any beauty contest. Just like the rest, we have one night for evening gowns, one for swimsuits, one for the talent showcase, and one for the interviews with the announcer. The fifth night is just for fun, and the girls perform a couple of musical numbers for the audience. And then on Saturday night, we have the pageant parade, and the judges announce the winner and the runners-up, along with the special awards.”

“So what makes Miss Tri-County different?” Hannah wanted to know.

“We also assess a girl’s character. Just take a look at my grid,” she said, pulling a clipboard out of her backpack and handing it over so that Hannah and Pam could see. “The girls are expected to get here by noon and check in with me at the auditorium. They have to make themselves available at various venues, hold interviews with the press and the beauty contest judges in the afternoon, and take part in the formal pageant in front of the audience every night from seven to eight. That’s a lot more than just looking good in a bathing suit.”

“It’s an eight-hour day,” Hannah agreed.

“It’s meant to be. The pageant organizer retired to Arizona, but I talked to her by phone. She told me that the activities planned for the contestants are a test of their maturity and reliability. They’re judged on those categories, too, and that’s why I have the grid.”

Hannah glanced down at the grid again. “I see the names of the contestants. They’re written here in the left margin. But what are the numbers in the columns at the top?”

“Each number represents an attribute. They’re coded so if someone sneaks a look at my clipboard, it won’t show how any individual contestant is doing. They’ll see checkmarks, but they won’t know what they represent.”

“I know you can’t tell us the code,” Pam said, “but could you give us an idea of the categories?”

“Sure. One number stands for complaints. Every time a girl complains about going to a venue, or talking to the press, or how she’s sick to death of smiling and she wishes she hadn’t entered the contest in the first place, I put a checkmark in the complaint category.”

“That makes sense,” Hannah said. “Nobody likes a whiner. What are some of the other categories?”

“Another number stands for being tardy. If a girl is late to any scheduled activity, I put a checkmark in that column. There’s another code for breaking the rules.”

“For instance?” Pam asked.

“Like swearing. The girls aren’t allowed to swear while they’re wearing their contestant ID badges. That’s because younger girls look up to them and we don’t want our contestants to set a bad example. If they forget and get five checkmarks in the swearing category, I have to disqualify them.”

“So some checkmarks are weighted more than others?” Hannah asked.

“Definitely. If a girl does something illegal, she’s immediately disqualified. That one’s a no-brainer. But she gets more than one chance with things that aren’t so serious, like being late and not showing up for a planned event.”

“Sounds complicated,” Pam said.

“Not really. It’s just like life. The consequences for some things are worse than the consequences for others.”

“So you think it’s fairer than other beauty contests?” Hannah asked, reading between the lines.

“I think so. As a rule, I don’t like beauty contests, but this one’s the best I’ve seen. Each girl gets marked in exactly the same way. If her total adds up to the wrong number, she’s gone.”

“Do you have to tell a contestant when she’s disqualified?” Hannah asked.

“Yes.”

“That must be tough.”

“It must be, but I agreed to do it when I took the job. I’m hoping that I won’t have to disqualify anybody. I’m giving every girl a copy of the rules, so it’s not like they won’t know. And I’m planning to tell them that I’ll be keeping track of their behavior on my clipboard. I’m even going to warn them when they’re one checkmark away from disqualification. I don’t think it can be any fairer than that.”

“I have to stop by the Cookie Nook booth and see if they need more supplies,” Hannah said as they walked out of the Creative Arts Building.

“Is that Mayor Bascomb’s booth?” Willa asked.

“Technically it’s the Lake Eden Chamber of Commerce booth, but Mayor Bascomb’s the one who’s running it.”

“Must be an election year,” Pam said, grinning.

“It is,” Hannah confirmed, “but he’s running again, unopposed.”

“Do you think anyone will ever challenge him?” Willa asked.

Both Hannah and Pam shook their heads.

“Never?” Willa persisted.

“I doubt it,” Hannah answered. “Everybody agrees that he’s doing a fine job running Lake Eden.”

“And nobody else seems to want the job,” Pam pointed out.

“I can understand that!” Hannah gave a little laugh. “If something goes wrong, the first person people call is Mayor Bascomb.”

“You’re right,” Willa said. “Remember when the power went out in our classroom and I went to report it to Mr. Purvis? The first thing he did was to ask Charlotte to call Mayor…”

Willa stopped in her tracks. She gave a strangled gasp and her face turned so pale, Hannah reached out to grab her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I…”

“Are you in pain?” Pam asked, grabbing Willa’s other arm.

“No! I just…have to sit down.”

“Help her around the corner to the food court,” Hannah said, taking charge. “I’ll get her some water.”

Hannah rushed up to the nearest booth and got a cup of water. On her way back, she looked to see if she could spot anything that might have startled Willa. The only thing happening was a roping demonstration on one of the outdoor stages. Several cowboys from the rodeo were doing rope tricks and teaching them to the 4-H kids.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Willa said when Hannah got to the table and handed her the cup of water. “I’m not sure what happened. I just felt a little faint there for a second.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Pam asked.

“No, but I had lots of Hannah’s cookies and I’m not a bit hungry. I think it was the sun. It was beating down on the top of my head, and I started feeling a little woozy.”

“That could do it,” Pam said, nodding quickly. “We’ll just sit here for another couple of minutes, and then I’m taking you to the booth that sells hats.”

“But really, Pam. I don’t need…”

“Yes, you do,” Pam interrupted her. “And I’m going to buy it for you. No way do I want one of my judges quitting because of sunstroke!”

“So we all got hats,” Hannah wound up her story and handed Lisa a bag. “I got one for you, too. They’re cute and they were really cheap and they had a two-fer going. The second one was only a dollar.”

“Thanks, Hannah,” Lisa said, and she looked absolutely delighted as she opened the bag and pulled out the white straw hat with red flowers around the brim. “It’s just great.”

Hannah smiled. Once she’d left the hat booth, she’d checked in with Mayor Bascomb and agreed to deliver ten dozen more Pineapple Delights. Then she’d driven straight back to The Cookie Jar to help Lisa handle the afternoon rush.

“So where is everybody?” Lisa asked, lifting her coffee mug to take another sip of the strong coffee their customers called Swedish Plasma. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Me neither,” Hannah said, lapsing into a colloquialism she seldom used. They were sitting at their favorite table in the back of the coffee shop, enjoying the fact everyone in town seemed to think that it was too early for a lunch cookie and too late for a breakfast cookie.

“So do you want to stay out here to wait for customers while I mix up more Pineapple Delights? Or would you rather do it yourself and make me sit on the edge of my chair out here?”

“Huh?” Hannah blinked hard as she stared at her petite partner. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Lisa was wearing one of their serving aprons with their logo printed on the bib, the ties wrapped twice around her waist. Hannah blinked again. The cookie in their logo, the one with the bite missing, was shimmering like a mirage.

“You’d better stay here, Hannah. Put your head down on the table and take a snooze. Everybody’s out at the fair anyway, and if friends come in, they’ll help themselves to coffee and leave the money on the counter.”

Hannah knew that Lisa was right. She hadn’t slept well last night because she was worried about Moishe. Her feline roommate usually came to bed with her, snuggled for a second or two, and then moved down to his favorite place at the foot of the bed. But last night Moishe hadn’t come to bed. He’d stayed out in the living room all night, and Hannah had gotten up several times to check on him. Since she’d found him staring out the window and he hadn’t seemed to be in any distress, she’d gone back to bed and slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

“Deal,” Hannah said, giving her partner a grateful smile. “Have I told you lately that you’re a gem?”

“Only last week, and I hope I’m a sapphire.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s my gemstone. I just love the blue ones. They’re so pretty.”

And with that, Lisa headed off to the kitchen, leaving Hannah to gratefully comply with the urge to rest her head on her folded arms. It was exactly what she’d done in her eight o’clock geography class during her first semester at college. The professor had used slides of maps to illustrate his lectures. He’d dimmed the lights and Hannah had immediately nodded off. She’d slept through every lecture, and it was only by the kind intervention and last minute cramming from a classmate who liked the cookies she brought for their study sessions, that she’d managed to pass the course.

PINEAPPLE DELIGHTS

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

2 cups butter (4 sticks, one pound—melted)

2 cups brown sugar

2 cups white (granulated) sugar

4 eggs—beaten (just beat them up in a glass with a fork)

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons pineapple extract (if you can’t find it, you can use vanilla)

4 cups flour

21/2 cups chopped sweetened dried pineapple (measure AFTER chopping—if you can’t find pineapple, you can substitute any dried fruit chopped in chocolate chip sized pieces.)

1/2 cup chopped coconut flakes (measure AFTER chopping)

3 cups rolled oats (uncooked oatmeal—I used Quaker Oats Quick 1-Minute in the round paper can that you save, but you don’t know why)

Melt the butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. (About 3 minutes on HIGH.) Add the sugars and let it cool a bit. Then add the beaten eggs, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and pineapple extract. Mix in the flour. Then add the chopped pineapple, chopped coconut, and rolled oats, mixing them in thoroughly. The dough will be quite stiff.

Drop by teaspoon onto a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a sheet. (I roll mine in a ball so the cookies turn out nice and round.)

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

These freeze really well if you roll them in foil and put them in a freezer bag.

Uh-oh! There was Mike Kingston and there was Norman Rhodes, and they were both waiting for her at the altar! There was going to be a fight right here in church, and it was all her fault. She must have done something incredibly stupid and accepted both of their proposals!

They didn’t sound angry. She could hear them talking, and they seemed perfectly friendly. Mike said something and Norman laughed. They were getting along like best buddies, and that was fine with her. At least she wouldn’t have to choose between them. The laws must have changed so that she could have two husbands instead of just one.

Norman said something about coffee, and he walked over to the counter that had replaced the front pew. It was where Priscilla Knudson, the reverend’s grandmother, usually sat, and Hannah hoped that she was all right. Even a summer cold could be dangerous for a lady in her eighties.

There was a coffee pot behind the counter, and Hannah wondered how the church elders felt about that. Coffee in the basement or at the very back of the church might be welcome, but this was up at the front and it was sure to disrupt Reverend Knudson’s sermons. Of course it could have been installed specifically for her wedding. Everyone knew how much she loved coffee, and Holy Redeemer Lutheran had made exceptions for brides before. Just last month Reverend Knudson had given Annice Borge permission to hold her little teacup poodle when she took her vows.

The coffee smelled wonderful. Hannah felt her nose twitch, and her mouth began to water in anticipation. Coffee was one of her favorite things, and she could really use a cup about now. Would it be a terrible breach of etiquette for the bride to make an early appearance, just so she could get a cup of coffee? Or should she ask Mike and Norman? Except they didn’t sound like Mike and Norman anymore. One of them sounded like a woman, and the other one sounded like a man. They must be joking around about something.

“Hannah? I brought you some coffee.”

Norman’s voice was still high-pitched, but she didn’t care about that. He’d actually read her mind! Somehow she’d managed to communicate with him without words. She had coffee, and now the only other thing that she craved was chocolate. If she could have chocolate, she’d be perfectly content.

“And I brought you a couple of Black and Whites. I figured you could use the chocolate.”

Mike sounded different than he usually did, but that didn’t concern her. This was a miracle. She’d obviously communicated with him, too. No wonder both of them had been waiting for her at the altar! It was only right that she marry them both, since both of them could read her mind.

“I do,” she said, opening her eyes wide to smile at them. And that was when she noticed that she wasn’t in a church at all. She was sitting at a back table in her own coffee shop. Lisa was sitting across from her, right next to her husband, Herb. There hadn’t been any wedding. She’d caught forty winks while Lisa had been mixing up the cookie dough, and she’d dreamed the whole thing.