Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (14 page)

There were only four units in her building. Phil and Sue Plotnik lived below her and there was no earthly reason why anyone would sit in a parked car to watch their place. Phil was home tonight. She’d seen his car in the garage when she’d driven in and she’d heard their new baby fussing softly as she’d climbed the stairs to her unit. Hannah’s other neighbors were equally unremarkable. Mrs. Canfield, an elderly widow, had the bottom unit next to the Plotniks. She lived on her husband’s retirement money and gave piano lessons during the week. Above her were Marguerite and Clara Hollenbeck, two middle-aged unmarried sisters who were very active at Redeemer Lutheran Church. As far as Hannah knew, there wasn’t a breath of gossip about them, except for the time they’d washed the altar cloths with a red blouse of Clara’s and they’d come out pink.

Hannah felt a chill as she stared at the car and its motionless driver. There was only one unit the man could be watching and it was hers.

Ron’s killer! The thought struck Hannah like a lightning bolt of dread. Bill had told her to be careful about asking questions and she thought she had. But what if the killer had the misguided notion that she was hot on his trail? Bill’s words came back to haunt her:
If he killed once, he won’t hesitate to kill again.

The security light had been on this morning. Hannah shivered as she remembered. She’d assumed that a bird had set it off, but perhaps she’d been wrong. Had Ron’s killer attempted to get into her condo?

Hannah swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat, took a deep breath, and forced herself to think rationally. She really hated to call Bill and roust him out of his comfortable bed. Bill would race right over here to question the guy, but she’d feel like a fool if the driver had some perfectly good reason for being there. But what reason could there be for sitting in a car in the dead of night, alone in the snow?

She thought about it for several minutes and she came up with only one possible scenario. The driver was locked out of his condo. But why would he park in the visitors’ lot if he lived here? It was a lot warmer in the garage.

Hannah didn’t think she was in any actual danger. Bill had installed a police-recommended deadbolt on her door when she’d first moved in and he’d put extra locks on all the windows. She even had an alarm system, installed by the previous owner, that boasted a siren, clanking bells, and two keypads, one by the front door and another in her bedroom. Hannah had never bothered to turn it on before, but tonight she would. She hadn’t been born with nine lives like her feline roommate.

She was about to go to the keypad to activate the system when she had a brilliant idea. The moment she thought of it, she jumped up and rummaged through the closet for her camera. She’d take a picture of the car. It was sitting right under the streetlight and the license plate would show. And she’d turn the film over to Bill in the morning.

Her camera was out of film and it took a frantic search to find a roll. Hannah turned off the flash, knowing it would just glare off her windowpane, and used the zoom lens to snap several shots of the car. Then she activated the security system and sat down in her chair. She’d done all she could, with the exception of alerting Bill, but she’d never be able to sleep peacefully. She might as well resign herself to an all-night stint of surveillance.

Several minutes later, armed with a freshly made cup of coffee and a box of white cheddar cheese crackers, Hannah sat down in her chair again. As she alternately crunched and sipped, Moishe opened his good eye to give her a curious stare and promptly went back to sleep again.

“Some attack cat you are!” Hannah complained. And then she heard the sound of another car approaching the visitors’ parking lot. As it drove past one of the old-fashioned streetlights, Hannah recognized Bernice Maciej’s yellow Cadillac.

Bernice, who lived in the building directly across from Hannah, turned in to park next to the snow-covered car. She got out, the man got out, and they embraced in the parking lot. Hannah punched in the code to turn off the security system and opened the window to listen in on their conversation. She heard Bernice say: “Sorry, honey. I didn’t think I’d be out this late.” And the man replied, “That’s okay, Mom. The traffic was light and I got here sooner than I thought I would.”

Feeling more than a bit foolish, Hannah closed the window, set her alarm clock, and climbed under the covers. She rousted Moishe from the nest he’d made on her pillow and plunked him down on his.

“I must be getting paranoid,” Hannah murmured as she reached out to pet Moishe’s soft fur. “I should have taken my cue from you and just curled up and gone to sleep.”

W
hen Hannah woke up the next morning, she was in a foul mood. She was used to getting along without the recommended eight hours of sleep, but she’d spent a very restless night and some of her dreams had been disturbing. Ron’s killer had chased her in a yellow Cadillac bearing a striking resemblance to the one Bernice drove. Her final nightmare hadn’t been so bad. She’d dreamed that she was being held down and tickled by a furry monster. By now, Hannah knew what that dream meant. Moishe had crawled onto her pillow. She’d managed to rouse herself enough to shove him over, and the rest of the night had been relatively peaceful.

There was a list on the pad of notepaper she kept on her night table and Hannah switched on the light to read it. The words
Fluffy Dreams
were written at the top and they were in her handwriting. She must have been dreaming about cookies again.

Oh, yes. Hannah began to smile. She remembered the dream now. She’d been catering a reception at the White House and the president, a young Abe Lincoln, had raved about her cookies. His wife, Barbara Bush, had asked for the recipe and she’d written it out right there in the Oval Office.

Hannah laughed out loud. Abe Lincoln and Barbara Bush. She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. It had been a dream, after all. But she
had
written down the recipe. Perhaps her unconscious had come up with something delicious.

The words were written in an untidy scrawl. Obviously, she hadn’t bothered to turn on the light. Hannah made out the word
butter
and a bit farther down
sugar.
Between the two words was a scrawl that looked like
pooches
. It must be
peaches,
and peach cookies were an intriguing concept. She also made out
marshes
for marshmallows, and
cuckoo,
which could be either cocoa or coconut. Perhaps she’d experiment a bit with the ingredients and see what she could make.

Hannah carried the notebook out to the kitchen and poured herself a fragrant cup of coffee. After several bracing sips, she noticed that there was another line scrawled at the bottom of the recipe. It said:
D—ask not with.

There was a plaintive yowl from the direction of the food bowl, and Hannah got up to dump in the kitty crunchies. As she filled Moishe’s water bowl with filtered water, she thought about that last cryptic note. The
“D”
was Danielle. Hannah was almost certain of that. But what was “ask not with?”

It came to her in a flash of brilliant insight. Her mind had been working overtime last night. She’d wanted to remind herself to ask Danielle if there had been any time, during their night and early morning together, that Ron had gone somewhere without Danielle.

Hannah set Moishe’s water bowl down on his Garfield rubber mat and went back to the table to finish her coffee. If yesterday and the day before were any indication, today would be hectic. She reached for the notepad, turned to a fresh page, and wrote down a list of things to do.

The first item Hannah wrote was
Sparklettes.
She had to call to find out what time Danielle’s water had been delivered on Wednesday morning. If what Danielle had told her was true, Danielle was in the clear.

Hannah made another note:
Herb—Lisa.
She wanted to corner Herb Beeseman on her way to work and convince him to call Lisa to invite her to the Woodleys’ party. It was late notice, but Hannah was almost sure that Lisa would accept. When she’d asked last night, Lisa had told her that she’d received an invitation to the Woodleys’ party, but that she wasn’t planning to go. It wasn’t because of her father—one of the neighbors had volunteered to sit with him—but Lisa really didn’t want to attend the biggest party of the year by herself. She hadn’t wanted to tag along with Hannah and Norman, either, and that was when Hannah had decided to talk Herb into asking Lisa.

The third item on her list was
Lisa—dress.
Hannah planned to take Lisa to Beau Monde during their slow time between eleven and twelve. She’d put a sign on the door and if anyone was that desperate for a cookie, they could come next door to get her.

The next line on Hannah’s list said:
Clue Claire.
She’d dash over this morning, while Lisa was baking, to tell Claire that the dress Lisa chose should be “on sale” for sixty dollars. She’d make up the difference and they could settle up later, when Lisa wasn’t around.

Moishe gave another yowl and Hannah noticed that his food bowl was empty again. Her cat was a regular feline garbage disposal, but he didn’t seem to be gaining any weight. Perhaps he did kitty aerobics when she wasn’t home.

“That looks lovely on you,” Claire announced as Lisa walked out of the dressing room wearing a wine-red dress. “What do you think, Hannah?”

Hannah laughed. “You’re asking
me
? You should know better, Claire. How many times have you wanted to tell me that all my taste is in my mouth?”

“Too many times to count.” Claire laughed lightly and then she turned to Lisa. “What do you think, Lisa?”

“I’m not sure. I really like this one, but the emerald green is such a wonderful color.”

“Too bad they’re not twofers.” Hannah winked at Claire, hoping that she’d take the hint. It was unlikely. Beau Monde was a boutique, and Claire thought of herself as a fashion consultant, several cuts above an owner or a saleslady. Hannah doubted that her high-fashion neighbor had ever considered having a two-for-one sale.

“It’s strange that you should mention it, Hannah.” Claire surprised Hannah by taking the hint immediately. “As it happens, I just marked these two particular dresses down. The wine satin sheath has a slight imperfection in the bodice and the button on the back of the green silk doesn’t quite match the color of the dress.”

Lisa’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t even notice!”

“Perhaps not, but I did. And I refuse to let my customers pay full price for something that isn’t absolutely perfect.”

“How much are they now?” Lisa asked.

Hannah held her breath. If Claire mentioned a price that was too low, Lisa would suspect that they were in cahoots.

“They’re both on sale for sixty. That’s two-thirds off the regular price. Believe me, Lisa, you’ll be doing me a favor if you take them off my hands. Returning things to my supplier is a nightmare.”

“Then I’ll take them both.” Lisa was so excited her voice squeaked.

“There’s only one condition.” Claire looked very serious. “You have to promise that you won’t tell anyone else how much they cost. If the other women find out that you paid only sixty dollars for a Beau Monde dress, they’ll all ask for special prices.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Even if I did, they’d never believe me. Thank you, Claire. This is really my lucky day!”

While Lisa changed back into her working clothes, Hannah dashed back to The Cookie Jar. She’d been gone less than fifteen minutes, but there were several people waiting to get in. One of them was Bill, and Hannah pulled him aside, once she’d waited on her customers. “Why didn’t you come next door to get me? I was just helping Lisa buy a dress.”

“That’s okay. You didn’t find out anything new, did you?”

“Not since I talked to you last night.” Hannah shook her head. She’d called the Sparklettes office and confirmed Danielle’s alibi, but there was no reason to tell Bill about that. “Did you check on the bouncer?”

“The maternity ward nurse said that he was at the hospital until nine on Wednesday morning. I just dropped by to remind you that the sheriff’s department’s open house is tomorrow. You’re going to bake cookies for us, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. It’s on my calendar.” Hannah led the way into the back room and pointed to the huge calendar that hung on her wall.

“What kind are you making?”

“Black and Whites. I might as well start mixing them up right now.”

“Black and Whites?”

“They’re fudge cookies with powdered sugar on top,” Hannah explained. “I developed the recipe last week and I’m naming them after your new squad cars.”

“The guys will like that. Are you going to bake them now?”

“No, not until tomorrow morning. The dough has to chill overnight. I’ll have them out at the station before noon.”

“That’s another reason I came in. Sheriff Grant’s driving the new guy around and he said they’d come in to pick them up.”

“New guy?”

“He’s coming in tomorrow morning. Sheriff Grant hired a really good detective away from the MPD.”

“Why would a Minneapolis detective want to come here?” Hannah was flabbergasted. “It’s got to mean a big salary cut.”

“I know. We only make half as much as the MPD guys do, but I heard that he wanted to move here for personal reasons.”

“Personal reasons?”

“Yeah, he wanted to get out of Minneapolis. I know his wife died. I figure he probably wants to make a fresh start where things don’t remind him of her.”

That made sense, but Hannah was still worried. Winnetka County was big, but did the sheriff’s department really need
two
new detectives?

“There’s a lot I can learn from his guy, Hannah. I got a chance to peek at his personnel jacket and he’s solved a ton of tough cases.”

Hannah nodded and got out her mixing bowls, arranging them in a row. What Bill had just told her disturbed her deeply. If this new man had been hired as a detective, it didn’t bode well for Bill’s promotion. “Do you have time to watch the shop for me while I mix up this dough? Lisa should be back any minute and I’ll pay you in cookies.”

“Sure.” Bill gave her a big grin. “I’m on my lunch break.”

Once Bill had left, Hannah gathered the ingredients for the cookies she’d named Black and Whites. While she worked, she thought about the new detective. Bill had said that his wife had died, and Delores was bound to zero in on any new unattached man in town.

Hannah did her best to practice positive thinking as she mixed up the dough. She’d won a jackpot last night, and if her luck held, Bill’s new colleague wouldn’t be the type of man that her mother would consider as a prospective son-in-law. Unfortunately, as far as Delores was concerned, any ambulatory male without a felony conviction was a viable candidate.