Carrot Cake Murder (29 page)

“Actually…they’re not in the motor home right now. Timmy and his family are at the pancake breakfast with Iris and Marge, and everybody else. Lisa’s probably back by now, too. Would you like me to walk you down there?”

“Good idea. I’ll join them for breakfast. I hope I didn’t eat too many of these cookies and spoil my appetite. What did you call them again?”

“Red Velvet Cookies.”

“That’s it. Just like the ones Emmy used to bake.”

Hannah got up and pushed in her chair. What she’d known all along was confirmed. The only way to clear Jack was to catch the real killer. She motioned for Jack to join her, and when he did, she took his arm.

“Say…” Jack said. “Did Emmy give you the recipe?”

Hannah smiled. “Emmy gave me the recipe,” she replied. And, in a manner of speaking, she had.

“Good pancakes!” Hannah declared, forking up another bite. “What’s the recipe, Patsy?”

“It’s just the basic recipe you can find in almost any cookbook. There’s nothing special about it.”

“But they taste a lot better than that.”

“It’s because we age the batter,” Marge explained. “We mix it up the day before and keep it in a covered bowl in the refrigerator overnight. Then all the flavors blend together, and all you have to do is give it a stir the next morning.”

“Look at the one I made, Aunt Hannah,” Tracey, Hannah’s five-year-old niece, pointed to the pancake sitting on a square of wax paper next to her breakfast plate. “Aunt Patsy helped me make it.”

Patsy turned to Andrea. “I told her it was all right to call me Aunt Patsy,” she explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. Tracey has lots of aunts and uncles that aren’t really family members.”

“They’re pretend aunts and uncles,” Tracey told Patsy. “Aunt Hannah is real, because Mom and Aunt Hannah are sisters. And Aunt Michelle’s real, too. I don’t have any real uncles, but I pretend with Uncle Norman and Uncle Mike and Uncle Herb.”

Since Patsy looked thoroughly confused, Hannah stepped in to change the subject. “That’s an interesting pancake, Tracey. Does it taste as good as it looks?”

“I think so. It’s from the same bowl as the one I’m eating, so it should be the same.”

“And the one you’re eating is good?” Andrea prompted her.

“Really, really good. It’s the best pancake I ever had. Maybe, if I’m not too full, I’ll have one more, but not this one.” Tracey pointed to the pancake she’d fried.

“You’re not going to eat your own pancake?” Michelle asked her.

Tracey shook her head so hard her blond ponytail bounced from side to side. “I have to save it, because it’s the first pancake I ever made.”

“But food spoils after a while,” Hannah reminded her. “You won’t be able to keep it forever.”

“Yes, I will. Aunt Lisa figured it out for me. She’s going to take my pancake home and dry it in her…” Tracey stopped and glanced across the table at Lisa. “Would you tell me the name of that machine again, Aunt Lisa?”

“It’s a dehydrator. It removes the moisture from fruit and vegetables so that you can store them longer.”

“You’re going to try to dry Tracey’s pancake?” Michelle looked amused.

“Why not?” Lisa gave a little laugh. “And once I dry it, I’m going to shellac it so it won’t fall apart.”

Herb looked dubious. “But is that going to work?”

“It worked with the cookie ornaments I made for our Christmas tree down at The Cookie Jar. Isn’t that right, Hannah?”

“Right. We used those ornaments last year, too, and they held up beautifully.” Hannah winked at Lisa. “Of course Norman had to work overtime fixing all the teeth our customers broke trying to get a free cookie from the Christmas tree.”

Tracey’s eyes widened. “Really?” she asked.

“No, I was just kidding. But it could have happened. Those are real cookies under that shellac.”

“And mine’s a real pancake,” Tracey said, turning to smile at Lisa. “Aunt Lisa’s never dried a pancake before. My pancake will be the very first one.”

“If anyone can do it, Lisa can,” Jack said, leaning over to give Tracey a hug. “What are you going to do with your fine-looking pancake when it’s dried?”

“I think I’ll hang it on the wall in my room, so I can remember how much fun I had today.”

“That’s a good idea, but I think you need a fallback position.”

“What’s a fallback position, Uncle Jack?” Tracey asked him.

“How about calling me Grandpa Jack? I’m a little too old to be your uncle.”

“Okay,” Tracey gave him a smile. “What’s a fallback position ‘Grandpa Jack’?”

“It’s what you do when the first thing you try doesn’t work. Do you see that dentist with the camera around here anywhere?”

“He’s not here,” Hannah spoke up. “Norman had to go out of town, and he won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

“Too bad. He could have helped us out. Does anybody else have a camera?”

Lisa gestured toward her husband. “Herb has a digital, Dad. Do you want him to take a picture for you?”

“Not for me, for…” Jack reached out and patted Tracey’s shoulder. “…for my dear, here.”

“Tracey,” Tracey provided her name before anyone else could do it. “But you can call me my dear. I like it, and nobody else calls me that.”

“I’m glad you like it, because I’ll probably forget your name again.” Jack laughed at himself, and everyone else joined in. It was a good moment, and Hannah hoped that he’d forgotten the conversation they’d had and the painful incident he’d remembered.

“So Herb…” Jack looked over at him. “Will you take a picture of the…the…”

Tracey leaned close and whispered something in Jack’s ear.

“Right. Will you take a picture of the pancake?” Jack finished his question. “That way Tracey can have the picture framed if the pancake doesn’t turn out right.”

“I’ll do that,” Herb promised. “Good idea, Jack.”

“Are you through with your breakfast, Grandpa Jack?” Tracey asked him.

“I’m through. How about you?”

“I’m through, too. I wanted another pancake, but I’m too full. Do you want to go to the store for dessert?”

“Did you say dessert?” Jack asked, laughing when Tracey nodded. “People don’t usually have dessert after breakfast.”

“But there’s no rule that says you can’t,” Tracey said, and then she looked a little uncertain. “Is there?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so. What did you have in mind?”

“We could get a double Popsicle and ask Mrs. Schultz to split it for us. She’s really good at it, and she never breaks them the wrong way.”

“Sounds good to me as long as it’s not a root beer Popsicle. I don’t like root beer Popsicles.”

“Me, either. Maybe she’ll have lime. That’s really good. Or cherry. That’s even better.” Tracey turned to Andrea. “Is it okay if I go with Grandpa Jack, Mom?”

Andrea smiled. “It’s fine with me.”

“How about you, Marge?” Jack turned to her. “Is it okay if I go to the store with Tracey?”

Marge laughed. “It’s fine with me. I have to start in on the cleanup anyway.”

“We’ll be right back, so don’t worry about us.” Tracey stood up and took Jack’s hand. And then they walked off together down the road to the store.

“Popsicles for breakfast!” Patsy gave a little laugh as she stood up. “I’d better get started. I have to be down at the lake at eleven to judge the swimming races. I just hope I don’t topple off the judge’s raft and fall in the lake!”

Andrea laughed. “Falling in the lake with all your clothes on isn’t what I’d call fun. That’s a nice outfit, and you might ruin it.”

“Thanks,” Patsy said, glancing down at her light green pantsuit. “It’s not just the clothes I’m worried about, though.”

“Patsy can’t swim,” Marge explained.

Hannah was absolutely amazed. The Lake Eden school district had a mandatory water safety program for all of its students. They’d built one of the very first indoor pools, and swimming instruction started in grade school and continued right up until senior lifesaving. “You went to school in Lake Eden and you can’t swim?”

“That’s right, and it’s not for lack of trying.” Patsy smiled ruefully. “Tell them Marge.”

“She can’t float,” Marge said. “And since she can’t float, she can’t swim. Patsy can paddle and kick like crazy, but she can’t keep her head above water for long.”

“They taught me all the strokes and the kicks in the shallow end of the pool. I was really good at those. I know how to swim, but I just can’t do it. After three or four strokes, I go straight down to the bottom of the pool.”

“The swimming teacher came to the house to explain it to our parents,” Marge told them. “We were supposed to be playing outside, but we came in and listened. It has something to do with bone density, or specific gravity, or natural buoyancy, or maybe all of those things.”

“All I know is, everybody in the whole school tried to teach me to swim, and nothing worked,” Patsy said.

“We dressed alike in grade school,” Marge went on. “We looked exactly alike, and we had matching pink swimsuits. The swimming teacher couldn’t tell us apart.”

Patsy gave a little laugh. “Until she told us to get in the pool and float. Marge floated. I sank like a stone. I think that’s the reason I don’t really want to get out on that raft and judge the swimming races. I get really nervous around deep water. I tried to get Mac to take over for me. He was on the swim team at Jordan High, and he won all sorts of awards. But he’s coaching the red softball team, and they’ve got practice.”

“I’ll take your place,” Michelle offered. “I love to swim, and it won’t bother me a bit. You said it starts at eleven?”

“That’s right.”

“And ends when?”

“It’s for all ages, and over a hundred kids are entered. You should be through in two hours.”

Michelle gave a little groan. “Uh-oh. I have a conflict. I’m supposed to help with the tricycle parade from noon to two. Unless you want to take my place helping kids decorate their tricycles?”

“I can do that. It’s perfect for me. I love kids, and Mac and I never had any of our own. He never really cared one way or the other, but I always wanted to be a mother.”

“You would have been a good one,” Marge told her. “You sure were good with mine. How about you two?” She smiled at Andrea and Hannah. “What are your plans for the day?”

“We’re going out for pizza,” Hannah said, motioning to Andrea.

“You’re hungry? You can’t be hungry! You just had a big pancake breakfast!”

“We’re not going for the food,” Andrea said, catching on to her sister’s agenda. “We’re going fishing.”

“For information?” Michelle asked.

“Exactly right,” Hannah said. “It’s about Mary Jo Kuehn and the night she died in that car crash. There are still some people around town who think that it was Gus’s fault.”

Marge looked sick. “We heard that back then. And he said he wasn’t driving, but…”

“Looking back on it, we think he could have been.” Patsy gave a little sigh. “Do you think that Bert could have killed Gus because he believed that Gus was driving that night?”

“It’s a possibility,” Andrea said.

“And we won’t know until we check out his alibi,” Hannah added. “We need to ask Bert where he was between one and three on Monday morning.”

“I’ll watch Tracey,” Michelle promised. “And if you’re not back by eleven, I’ll take her out to the raft to judge the swimming races with me.”

Patsy looked horrified. “Oh, don’t do that! What if she falls in the water?”

“It’s okay. Tracey can swim,” Andrea reassured her. “As a matter of fact, she’s entered in the kindergarten races.”

“She learned to swim this early?” Marge asked.

“Oh, yes. When Tracey was in preschool, Janice Cox taught the whole class to swim. And this year Tracey’s in kindergarten, so she gets to use the school pool.”

“I’ll make sure I go to the races to cheer her on,” Marge promised.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Patsy asked, stacking up the plates on the table.

“An hour at the most,” Hannah told her.

“You should be fine then,” Patsy said with a nod. “I looked at the schedule when I thought I’d have to be a judge, and the kindergarten race is the last one.”

When Hannah and Andrea pulled up in Bertanelli’s parking lot, it was far from packed. It was clear that pizza was not the breakfast of choice in Lake Eden. Hannah parked her cookie truck near the door, and they hopped out.

“How are we going to do this?” Andrea asked her.

“We’ll just wing it. Do you think you can eat a pizza?”

Andrea thought about it as they went through the door and headed to the main room to find a booth. “I think so,” she said. “But only if it’s sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese.”

“No anchovies?” Hannah teased her.

“Not before noon. There’s something about anchovies in the morning that’s just not right, you know?”

Hannah knew. It was a lot like orange juice on corn flakes, a combination she’d once seen a friend attempt to eat when she was out of milk. It wasn’t that it was so awful. It was just that it wasn’t right.

“Hi, ladies,” a waitress came over to greet them a moment after they’d taken a booth near the back of the room. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Coffee would be good,” Hannah told her.

And almost simultaneously, Andrea said, “I’ll have coffee, please.”

“Two coffees coming right up.”

Andrea waited until they were alone again, and then she leaned closer to Hannah. “You mentioned that Norman was out of town. Did he go where I think he went?”

“That depends on where you think he went.”

“Atlantic City?”

“That’s right.”

“To check out Mood Indigo?”

“Right, again. He said he’d call me on my cell phone just as soon as he found out anything at all.”

“And you’ve got your cell phone with you?”

“I do,” Hannah said, patting her oversize purse.

“And you remembered to plug it into the charger last night?”

“I did.”

“And you’ve got it turned on?”

“I do.”

The waitress came back to their booth with two mugs of coffee. “Here you go,” she said, setting a mug in front of each of them.

“Thanks.” Hannah decided that there was no time like the present to find out about Bert. “Is Bert in?”