Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (30 page)

C
andice Roberts arranged her sleeping bag under the lights by the front window of The Cookie Jar. The heater in the coffee shop blew out warm air that smelled like cookies, and Candy’s stomach growled even though there was no way that she could be hungry. She’d eaten the ham and cheese sandwich that the red-haired owner had left for her, along with the bag of potato chips and the sour dill pickle that had reminded her of the kind Granny Roberts used to make. And then, for dessert, she’d polished off six of a dozen cookies that had been left on a plate for her, and she’d washed them down with a full glass of milk from the walk-in refrigerator.

Once the sleeping bag was arranged to her satisfaction, Candy snuggled in and thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t outside in the bitter cold. Her sleeping bag was rated for twenty below, but a glance at the thermometer in the kitchen window had told her that it was twenty-three below zero tonight, and it would probably get even colder before the sun came up in the morning.

A tear rolled down Candy’s cheek and dripped onto the fabric of her sleeping bag. It had been her dad’s last Christmas present to her, along with the down-filled, quilted field jacket that was getting just a bit too tight across the shoulders, and the buckskin mittens he’d called “choppers” that were lined with real fur. Dad had grown up in Minnesota, and they’d planned to go winter camping at the campground he remembered on the shores of Eden Lake.

Another tear joined the first, and then another. Now she’d never go camping with her dad again. A year ago, Dad had gone down to the clinic for an emergency. On his way home, a drunk driver had hit him and he’d died on the way to the hospital.

For a long while, Candy hadn’t thought she’d ever be happy again. She missed him so much. But she’d talked a lot with Mom, and that had helped. She was just starting to feel as if things might actually be okay when disaster struck again.

Just thinking about it caused another tear to fall, and then the dam broke. Candy cried until there were no more tears left, and then she closed her swollen eyes. She missed her dad, but missing him couldn’t bring him back again. And she missed her mom, but she wouldn’t see her again for a long, long time.

“You really wouldn’t mind driving past my shop?” Hannah asked, turning to Norman to make sure he was serious. They’d just finished dinner at the Lake Eden Inn where they’d had several new appetizers that Sally Laughlin, the co-owner and chef, would be featuring at her huge Christmas party next Friday night. It was a straight shot from the Lake Eden Inn to Hannah’s condo, but driving into town, where Hannah’s cookie shop was located, amounted to a twenty-six-mile detour.

“Why would I mind?” Norman answered her question with a question, something that Hannah’s mother frequently accused her of doing. “It gives me more time with you.”

The smile Norman gave her looked perfectly genuine in the dim light coming from his dashboard. Hannah smiled back and they were off, heading to Lake Eden on a wintry night that suddenly seemed much warmer to Hannah. “Would you like to hear about the night visitor I had this morning?” she asked.

“A night visitor in the
morning
?” Norman turned on the windshield wipers to handle the light sprinkling of snow that was falling. “Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

“No. Do you want to hear about it?”

“Yes, I want to hear about it.”

“All right then. The lights in the window were on when I drove past the front of the shop this morning. And then, when I unlocked the back door, I noticed that there was ice on the knob, as if a warm hand had gripped it just moments before.”

“You thought someone might be inside your shop and you went in anyway?” Norman glanced at her sharply.

“Of course I did. This is Lake Eden. We don’t have any crime to speak of.”

Norman didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He just ran his finger across his throat in a slashing motion.

“Okay, okay. I get your point. Maybe we do have a
little
crime. But it was only one double-homicide, and I don’t think we’ve ever had one before. Lake Eden’s a really safe place to live in the winter, at least as far as break-ins go.”

“It’s too cold for crime?” Norman guessed.

“That’s part of it. Everybody’s so busy concentrating on keeping warm, they don’t have time to commit petty theft. I never double-lock the back door to The Cookie Jar in the winter. What if some homeless person is freezing outside and needs to get in out of the cold?”

Norman turned to give her a smile. “You’re a kind woman, Hannah. Foolish, but kind.”

“Well, I’ve never had any trouble, and I didn’t have any trouble this morning. As a matter of fact, whoever slept at The Cookie Jar last night got up early, did all the dishes, and mopped the floor.”

“As a thank-you for the warm place to sleep?”

“I think so. She also made us a batch of really great candy and left us the recipe. That’s what gave us the idea to offer candy over the holidays. Homemade candy is so much better than anything you can buy in the stores. And a lot of people don’t have time to make their own.”

“Good idea. If you can make English Toffee, I’ll get some for my mother for Christmas. It’s her favorite, and she’s always complaining that the kind you buy isn’t as good as the kind her mother used to make.”

“Ibby used to make English Toffee. It was really good, and she gave me a copy of her recipe.”

“Who’s Ibby?”

“A teaching assistant in the English Department. I met her when I took a graduate seminar in college. Ibby was an expert on Seventeenth-Century English Metaphysical Poets.”

“Like Donne?”

Hannah gave him a thumbs-up. “That’s right.”

“And…Traherne?”

“Right again.” Hannah was impressed. Most people had no idea who the metaphysical poets were and certainly wouldn’t be able to name two of them. “How did you know that?”

“Mother.”

“Your mother liked the metaphysical poets?”

“No, she liked ‘A Visit from Saint Nicholas.’”

“So does Mother. But what does that have to do with Donne and Traherne?”

“We had a big family Christmas every year with all the uncles, aunts, and cousins. I made the mistake of memorizing it when I was four, and every year from then on, my mother asked me to recite it.”

“That can be embarrassing, especially if you don’t want to do it,” Hannah sympathized.

“Not to mention ‘dangerous.’”

“Dangerous?”

“That’s right. My cousins didn’t like it when I was in the spotlight, and they used to give me a hard time after we were excused from dinner. I told my mother and she said to ignore them, that they were just jealous.”

“So what did you do?”

“A week before the next Christmas, I memorized four pieces from the metaphysical poets, the longest ones I could find.”

“And it worked?”

“Like a charm. My mother never asked me to recite again.”

“How about your cousins?”

“The oldest one caught on to what I was doing and told the others. We were pretty good friends after that.” Norman began to frown. “I can’t imagine anyone choosing to become an expert on the metaphysical poets.”

“I couldn’t imagine it either. But I asked Ibby and she said she chose them because there were only seven. She figured she could handle that.”

“But John Donne was prolific.”

“That’s true. And he’s not what anyone would call a ‘fun read.’ A lot of his poetry is about depressing subjects.”

“Really?” Norman gave a little grin. “You don’t think that ‘So doth each tear, Which thee doth wear, A globe, yea world, by that impression grow, Till thy tears mix’d with mine do overflow. This world, by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolved so,’ is cheerful?”

“The imagery’s nice, but it’s about crying and that’s not a very cheerful subject.”

“You’ve got a point. So how does Ibby’s English Toffee fit into metaphysical poetry? Or does it?”

“Ibby used to bring her toffee to our study groups to make sure we all showed up. And the department loved her because nobody ever missed her sessions.”

“They should have done that in dental school. I had to force myself to go to my class in Billing and Business Management Models.” Norman pulled up in back of The Cookie Jar and took Hannah’s parking spot. “If you can find that toffee recipe, I’ll take thirty half-pound boxes.”

“For your
mother?
”

“Just one box for my mother. I’ll give the other twenty-nine to my patients for the holidays.”

“That’s nice of you, but…” Hannah stopped and began to frown.

“But what?”

“I don’t want to talk myself out of a big sale here, but isn’t that sending the wrong message?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re giving them candy. And candy is practically solid sugar. I thought dentists wanted their patients to avoid a lot of sugar.”

“Not necessarily. We encourage our patients to brush and floss after eating sweets, but we don’t tell them not to eat candy. If everyone ate correctly and practiced impeccable dental hygiene, there wouldn’t be any need for dentists. And then I’d be out of a job!”

Hannah turned to stare at him. She thought he was joking, but she wasn’t completely sure. Then she saw the corner on his mouth twitch slightly and she knew he was pulling her leg. “I’ve never thought of it from that perspective before. And it seems we’re in the same boat.”

“We are?”

“If everyone ate exactly what they should and never treated themselves to sinful desserts, I’d be out of business, too!”

H
annah stood staring at the back door of her building for a moment and then she sighed. “I wonder what she’ll do when we come in.”

“She’ll run.”

“You think?”

“I’m positive. From what you said, she sounds like an intelligent girl. She knows it’s illegal to break into a locked store.”

“But she only broke in because it was cold outside.”

“I know.”

“And she tried to pay me for staying overnight by making candy and cleaning my kitchen.”

“That’s true, but she still broke in twice that you know of.”

“Once,” Hannah corrected him.

“But the lights in the window are on. Doesn’t that mean she’s here tonight?”

“Oh, she’s here. But I gave her tacit permission to stay.”

“You left her a note?”

“No, I left her a sandwich and a plate of cookies. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t want her in my shop.”

“All right. Let’s say she figured out that the sandwich and the cookies were for her and she ate them. And she’s all bedded down inside for the night. I still think she’ll run when you come in.”

Hannah thought about that. Norman could be right. Someone desperate enough to break into a shop and sleep on the floor might think the sandwich and cookies were a trap to catch her. “So do you think that I ought to just leave her alone?”

“Absolutely not. For all you know she’s underage and her family is worried sick about her. What we should do is talk to her, find out her story and see if we can do something to help.”

“You said
we
,” Hannah pointed out. “Does that mean you want to get involved?”

“I’m already involved. I got involved when I agreed to drive you to the shop. There may be something I can do to help her. For instance…what if she has a crippling overbite?”

Hannah burst out laughing and immediately clamped a gloved hand over her mouth. They had to be quiet, and that was difficult when Norman was so funny. She wanted to reach out and give him a hug, but she resisted the impulse. Although she didn’t think he’d misinterpret it, she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. “I know we should talk to her,” she told him, “but what if you’re right and the minute she sees us, she bolts?”

“That’s where I come in. You go in the back door and I’ll walk around to the front. If she takes one look at you and tries to run out the front, I’ll nab her and bring her back.”

“Okay,” Hannah agreed, giving in to her impulse and hugging Norman anyway. He really was a nice guy. “I’m ready if you are.”

All was quiet as they climbed out of Norman’s sedan. They closed the doors silently and then they headed for the back door of The Cookie Jar.

“Wait for a minute before you go in,” Norman whispered. “I’ll give a low whistle when I get to the front of the building.”

“How about a bird song? That’s what the Indians used to do, at least in the movies.”

“The only bird call I know is the Minnesota state bird.”

“The loon?” Hannah was so surprised, she almost forgot to whisper. “Why did you learn that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Why?”

Norman looked a little embarrassed. “So I could do it at parties when I was in dental school, but there’s no way I’m going to do it now. It sounds like an insane woman laughing, and I’d probably scare both of you to death. Just listen for my whistle, okay?”

“Okay.” Hannah took up her position at the back door and waited. It seemed to take forever for Norman to get around to the front of the building, but at last she heard his signal. She unlocked the back door, stepped in quietly, and threw the deadbolt from the inside. It would take her nocturnal visitor precious seconds to figure out the old-fashioned lock and that would give Hannah time to catch her if she tried to leave the back way.

Hannah tiptoed through her silent kitchen, checking every nook and cranny. No one was hiding in any of the corners, or in the pantry. The bathroom was deserted, but someone had used the shower within the last few hours. There were still a few beads of water on the walls of the enclosure, and the towels were damp to the touch. She came out the door and headed for the front. There was only one place left to check, and that was the coffee shop.

Careful not to make a sound, Hannah pushed open the swinging door to the coffee shop. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the front window and the lights that were on for the second night in a row. Her elfin visitor was here. Now all she had to do was find her.

Hannah moved closer as she noticed a bulky pile of bedding that hadn’t been there when she’d closed up her shop. It was a sleeping bag stretched out under the lights in the window. Hannah was reminded of all those times as a child when she’d fallen asleep under the tree, half-listening to the adults talking, comforted by the twinkling lights and familiar ornaments, and knowing that Christmas was only a week or two away.

The girl was turned toward the lights, rosy in sleep and glowing from the red bulb that was directly above her face. With her long eyelashes and slightly parted lips, she looked like a porcelain doll with rouge-painted cheeks. In the silence of the shop, with only the hum of the cooler behind the counter, Hannah could hear her breathing softly in slumber.

Hannah admired the picture she made for a moment, and then she put her investigational skills to work. The girl’s fingernails were clean and so were her clothes and her sleeping bag. That meant she hadn’t been on the streets for long. She wasn’t starving, either. Her left arm, the one that wasn’t covered by the sleeping bag, was nicely rounded. On the whole she looked healthy and younger than Hannah had expected.

People usually looked younger while they slept. The cares and worries of the day were erased by peaceful oblivion, and a stress-free persona emerged. Perhaps this girl wasn’t as young as she looked, but Hannah had her doubts. She seemed innocent, almost untried, on the brink of discovery but not yet comfortable with her newly adult form.

Hannah began to frown. She really hated to wake her uninvited boarder just to tell her that she could sleep in the coffee shop. It was almost the same as a nurse waking a patient in the hospital because it was time for a sleeping pill. If the girl was a runaway, there was little joy in her life. And right now she appeared to be dreaming about something pleasant, judging by the half-smile on her face. It seemed a shame to shatter her happiness, but it had to be done and the sooner the better. There was no way Hannah was going to let someone who appeared to be far younger than her youngest sister go back on the streets again! Besides, Norman was standing outside the front door shivering, and it was time to let him in.

“Wake up,” Hannah said softly, hoping she wouldn’t cause the girl to panic. “I need to talk to you.”

The girl groaned an inarticulate protest and made a little moue of distaste. “Not yet. Go ’way, Mom.”

She had a mother. Hannah added that to the mental list of facts and suppositions she’d gathered. “Come on, now. Wake up. You can go back to sleep right after you talk to me.”

The girl looked as though she was going to roll over and ignore the intrusion, but then some internal sense of preservation must have kicked in. She sat up with a jolt, her eyes flew open, and she stared hard at Hannah. “Who are you?”

“Hannah Swensen. This is my coffee shop. Who are
you
?”

“I’m Candy.”

“Candy who?”

“Candy R…never mind. You don’t need to know my name.” The girl wiggled from her sleeping bag and got to her feet. “Please don’t call the cops. I’m leaving right now.”

And before Hannah could open her mouth to say that there was no need to run, the girl grabbed her sleeping bag and raced for the front door, unlocking it in a flash and dashing out.

“Good grief!” Hannah gasped, hardly believing her eyes. She’d never seen anyone move that fast. It was obvious that the girl had been prepared for rude awakenings. She’d slept in her clothes and she must have hidden her other belongings in the bottom of her sleeping bag. All that was left to prove she’d been there in the first place was a bare spot on the floor where she’d moved a table and two chairs so she could stretch out.

“Let me go! Come on, Mister! Please? I wasn’t hurting anything, really I wasn’t!”

Hannah hurried to the door to help Norman, who’d caught the fleeing runaway as she’d rushed out into the night. “It’s okay, Candy. We didn’t call the police and we’re not going to. You’ve got my permission to stay here for the night.”

“I do?” Candy still looked frightened, but her struggles diminished noticeably. She gave another twist to try to get away from Norman’s grasp, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it.

“How about some hot chocolate?” Hannah suggested, motioning for Norman to escort her to the kitchen. “You don’t want to catch a cold, dashing outside like that without your coat.”

Candy gave a little nod. “That would be great, but being outside in the cold doesn’t give you a cold. My dad said that when people tell you that, it’s just an old wives’ tale.”

“But I’m not married and I’m not that old,” Hannah shot back, and she was gratified when Candy laughed. For someone who’d been jolted out of sleep by a stranger and had fled into the bitterly cold night with all her belongings, she had managed to maintain her sense of humor. “Is your dad a doctor?”

“My dad was a vet. He’s dead now. You’re sure you didn’t call the cops on me?”

“Of course I didn’t. This is a small town. If I’d called them, they’d be here by now.”

Candy turned to Norman. “How about you? Did you call them?”

“Not me. My cell phone’s still in the car.” Norman glanced down at Candy’s feet. “Isn’t it hard to climb into a sleeping bag when you’re wearing tennis shoes?”

“Not if you unzip it all the way. Getting out is the hard part. The soles stick to the lining of the bag and you have to keep tugging it down.”

“Maybe you should think about wearing two pairs of socks. Then your feet would be warm and you wouldn’t have to bother with shoes.”

Candy shook her head. “I don’t do it to keep my feet warm. I have to be prepared in case I need to run.”

Hannah stood at the stovetop, stirring the hot chocolate and listening to Norman and Candy. He’d only been talking to her for a few moments, but already she seemed comfortable with him.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Norman told her. “Hannah’s going to let you stay.”

“Why would she do that?”

Hannah jumped in, right on cue. Norman had given her the perfect opening for the plan she’d been hatching. “Because I could use some help around here. Have you ever worked as a waitress?”

“Sure,” Candy replied quickly, and then she gave a little sigh, “but not the way you mean. I could do it, though. I know I could. I mean, I know how to set a table, and pour coffee for people, and dish up food and stuff like that. And I can make candy for your shop. I’ve been making candy for a couple of years now, ever since I turned thir…”—Candy stopped abruptly and swallowed hard—“…ever since I was really young.”

Hannah smiled. Getting information from a chilled, tired teenager wasn’t at all difficult. She’d already learned that Candy’s last name started with
R
, she had a mother and a deceased father who’d been a veterinarian, and a couple of years had passed since she’d been thirteen. If this kept up, they’d have the story of Candy’s life before they’d finished their hot chocolate.

“Here you go,” Hannah said, carrying Candy’s mug to the workstation and setting it down in front of her. She poured a mug for Norman, filled one for herself, and delivered those, too. “I don’t know if you’re still hungry, but would you like a cookie?”

Candy looked delighted. “You bet! I mean…yes, please. You make really good cookies.”

“Thanks.” Hannah hid a grin as she carried a plate of her newest creation to the table. Obviously, Candy had been taught to be polite and that was another fact to add to the mix. “You two can be my taste testers,” she told them. “I’m trying out a new cookie and I’m not sure what I’m going to call it. Maybe you can help me come up with a name.”

“They’re good,” Norman said, after the first bite. “That’s raspberry I taste, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I made them with seedless raspberry jam.”

Candy finished her first cookie and started to reach for a second. Then she drew her hand back and looked at Hannah. “Could I please have another?”

“Of course. Help yourself.”

“I like the way the outside crunches and the inside is chewy.” Candy took another bite and then she looked over at Hannah again. “Could you make them with other jams, like blackberry? Or strawberry, or mixed berry?”

“I don’t see why not. They might not be as attractive if you used blueberry, but any other berry should be fine.”

“That’s perfect, then. How about if you call them Merry Berry Cookies? It rhymes and everything, and that means it’ll be easy to remember. And eating them makes you happy so that’s where the ‘merry’ part comes in.”

“What a great idea!” Norman praised her. “‘Merry Berry Cookies’ sounds perfect to me. Are you sure you don’t have an advanced degree in marketing?”

Candy giggled and Hannah felt like beaming. Norman was helping to relax her, and perhaps she’d tell them more about her background and what she was doing here in Lake Eden.

“I don’t have an advanced degree in anything. I haven’t even finished…” Candy halted and cleared her throat. “I haven’t even declared my major yet.”

Hannah glanced quickly at Norman. They both knew what Candy had been about to say.
I haven’t even finished high school,
would be a fairly safe guess.

“How old are you, Candy?” Norman asked the question that was on the tip of Hannah’s tongue. It would be interesting to see how many fictional years Candy would add to her young life.

“Twenty,” Candy said, without batting an eyelash, and Hannah got the impression she’d told that particular lie before. “I’ll be twenty-one next month.”

Hannah and Norman locked eyes. Even though they didn’t say a word, Hannah got the feeling that Norman could read her mind and he agreed with what she was thinking. More questions would serve no purpose other than to elicit more lies from Candy. It was time to call it a night and let her think they’d believed her.