Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (8 page)

“Okay, we’re all set.” Hannah clicked off the kitchen light and let Moishe precede her into the living room. He hopped up on the coffee table and waited for Hannah to set down the dessert dish. “You can start, Moishe. I’ll drink my wine while I talk to Bill.”

Hannah watched as Moishe began to lap up the yogurt. She didn’t know if it was usual feline behavior since she’d never shared her home with a cat before, but Moishe had perfected the act of eating and purring simultaneously.

Bill hadn’t arrived at the fundraiser by the time she’d packed up, and Hannah assumed that he was still at his desk, doing battle with the quadruplicate forms that were required by the latest paper-reduction act. She punched out the number of the sheriff’s station and was rewarded when Bill answered on the first ring.

“Bill?” Hannah frowned. Her favorite, and only, brother-in-law sounded tired and out of sorts. “It’s Hannah. I managed to identify the woman with the pink lipstick, but I can’t tell you who she is.”

Bill’s reaction was loud and predictable, and Hannah set the phone down on the table. She knew she should have been more careful about the way she’d phrased that particular bit of information, but she’d exceeded her tact quotient for one day.

When the volume of irate squawks had diminished somewhat, Hannah brought the phone back to her ear. “Listen up, Bill. This woman doesn’t have anything to do with the murder. I’d stake my life on it. And she split up with Ron right after they stocked the school cooler. The only way I could get her to tell me anything at all was to promise that I wouldn’t reveal her identity.”

The squawks were fewer this time around and Hannah settled for merely holding the receiver away from her ear. When they stopped, she continued. “I can’t break my promise to her, Bill. You know how the people in Lake Eden are. If the word gets out that I betrayed a confidence, nobody’ll trust me enough to give me the time of day.”

“I don’t like it, but I guess we’ll just have to play this your way.” Bill sounded mollified. “You can talk to this woman again if we need her, can’t you?”

“Of course I can. She was cooperative and she’s very grateful that I’m keeping her identity a secret.”

“You’ll probably get further with her if she thinks of you like a friend. Remember, Hannah, I don’t want you to tell anybody that you’re in on the investigation. You can talk to Andrea, but that’s it. I’m not writing your name on my reports. I’m just referring to you as my snitch.”

“Your
snitch
?” Hannah took a sip of her far-from-premium wine.

“A snitch is a person whose identity is protected by the investigating officer. You must have learned that from those detective shows you’re always watching.”

Hannah rolled her eyes at Moishe. “I know what a snitch is. Why can’t I be your undercover agent?”

“My undercover agent?” That made Bill laugh, but once he realized that Hannah wasn’t laughing with him, he backtracked fast. “All right. Consider yourself my undercover agent. What else have you got?”

“The woman with the pink lipstick told me that Ron got into a fight at Twin Pines last night. She thinks he cracked a tooth because his jaw swelled up. Remember when I told you I saw him cupping his jaw this morning?”

“Right. You said you thought he was thinking about something important. I’ve got it right here in your interview notes.”

“Well, I was wrong. His tooth hurt and that’s why he had his hand on the side of his face.”

There was a moment of silence and Hannah heard a pen scratch. Bill was taking notes. Finally he said, “That makes sense. Did this woman know who Ron fought with at the casino?”

“No, it happened before she got there. I’ll try to find out for you, Bill.”

“I know I asked you to nose around, but this isn’t a game, Hannah.” Bill sounded worried. “Ron was murdered in cold blood and the killer won’t hesitate to take you out if he thinks you’re on to something.”

Hannah swallowed hard, the image of Ron’s lifeless body flitting across the screen of her mind. “You’re scaring me, Bill. Do you really think it could be that dangerous?”

“Of course it could. Promise me that you’ll be careful, Hannah. And call me right away with anything you learn, even if it’s four in the morning.”

“I will. Good night, Bill.” Hannah shivered as she hung up the phone. She’d been thinking of Ron’s murder as a puzzle to be solved, but Bill had reminded her that it was dangerous to try to uncover a killer. As she finished her wine, Hannah decided that she’d be a lot more cautious in the future.

There was a plaintive yowl from the direction of the coffee table and Hannah saw that Moishe was doing one of his incredibly wide kitty yawns. It was definitely time for bed. She scooped him up, carried him into the bedroom, and set him down on the mattress.

When she was ready for bed, Hannah climbed under the covers and pulled her roommate over for a cuddle. But Moishe had been a loner too long. Sweet words, ear scratches, and tabby treats would never turn him into a tame and obliging house cat. He permitted a few pets, but then he moved over to claim Hannah’s other pillow and ignored her completely by going to sleep.

H
annah woke up with a start. She’d been having a nightmare and Norman Rhodes, an insane dentist with a drill that sounded like a dump truck backing up, had been grinding her teeth. Since she’d refused to unclench her jaw, he’d been doing his evil dentistry right through her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she was relieved to find that it was only Moishe, licking her face with his sandpaper tongue to wake her.

The alarm clock was serenading her with its irritating electronic beep, and Hannah moved Moishe over so that she could reach out and shut it off. It was still dark outside, but the security light on the side of the building had come on. Since it detected any type of motion, Hannah figured that it had been set off by a winter bird that had swooped down to peck at the birdseed bell she’d hung outside her window.

“Okay, I’m getting up. I know it’s feed-the-kitty time.” Hannah levered her head from the warm comfort of her pillow and sat up in bed. She dangled her feet over the side of the mattress and searched with her toes for the pair of slippers she kept there. She nabbed one, then the other, and wiggled her feet into the gray scuffs that had once been powder blue.

When she got to the kitchen, the coffee was ready, and Hannah gave thanks for the timer she’d rigged to the kitchen outlet. Some of the older women in Lake Eden called strong black coffee “Swedish plasma” and Hannah agreed with that definition. She couldn’t even think, much less function, until she’d downed at least a cup. She poured herself a mug of the steaming, caffeine-laden brew, threw some kitty crunchies into Moishe’s bowl, and sat down at the table.

There was something very important on the docket for today. Hannah took a big gulp of her coffee, hoping to dispel the morning cobwebs that had gathered in her head during the night. It wasn’t a new catering job. She had her schedule set for this week.

The sound of loud chewing roused Hannah from her zombielike state and she turned to look at Moishe. His kitty crunchies were living up to their name. He was chomping so hard, he sounded as if he might break a tooth and…“Ron’s tooth! That’s it!”

Moishe gave her a startled look and then he buried his head in his food bowl again. Hannah grinned. He probably thought she was crazy for hollering out loud, but she’d just remembered what Tracey had told her, right before she’d discovered Ron’s body. Tracey had said she’d waved at Ron and he’d given her a “funny” smile. People who’d just come from the dentist had “funny” smiles, especially if the dentist had given them a shot of novocaine. And Danielle had said that she’d urged Ron to go to the dentist.

Hannah reached out for the yellow pad she kept on the kitchen table and jotted down a note to herself.
Call every dentist in town. Did they see Ron yesterday morning?
Then she grinned at what she’d written. Every dentist? There were only two dentists in Lake Eden: Doc Bennett and Norman Rhodes. Doc Bennett was retired, but he still kept a few of his former patients in enamel, and Hannah hoped that Ron had been one of them. She certainly wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of calling Norman. He might think that she was following up on her mother’s attempt at matchmaking and nothing could be further from the truth.

It took a second mug of coffee, but at last Hannah felt she was ready to face the morning. She added a second note to her first—
Drive to Twin Pines to check out the bouncer—
and then she pushed back her chair. It was time to get ready for work.

Since she never ate breakfast, Hannah was usually ready to go in record time. She made quick work of her shower, dressed in faded jeans and a flowered sweatshirt, and hurried back to the kitchen to fast-forward through the messages on her answering machine. They were all from her mother. Delores sounded like a talking chipmunk at the increased-speed playback and Hannah was amused. She knew she’d have to return her mother’s calls eventually, but that could wait until she got to The Cookie Jar.

“See you tonight, Moishe.” Hannah grabbed her keys from the corkboard next to the phone and glanced at the African violet as she passed by the table. Its leaves were turning yellow and it looked in imminent danger of becoming mulch. She shrugged into her bomber jacket and snatched up the plant, carrying it with her out the door. Lisa was a wizard with plants. She might be able to resuscitate it.

It wasn’t until Hannah was approaching the dairy that it hit her, and she winced as she drove past the white cinderblock building with the huge Cozy Cow sign on the roof. Ron was gone. She’d never see him loading his truck again.

That was a sobering thought and Hannah almost blew off the stop sign at the corner of Main and Third. She managed to brake just in time and she smiled guiltily at Herb Beeseman, who was lurking in the alley by the Cut ’n Curl. Herb just shook his finger in a good-natured “no-no” gesture, and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. Herb was being very nice this morning. He could have given her a ticket for reckless driving, but he seemed more amused than angry. The Molasses Crackles she’d given him yesterday afternoon had been a very good investment.

As she turned the corner and drove into the alley behind her shop, Hannah wondered who’d hauled away Ron’s truck. Max Turner would be livid if it had been impounded and he was one truck short for his delivery routes. She steered a wide berth around the place where Ron had been shot and gave a fleeting thought to the difference between the fronts of the shops and the backs. There were no decorative planters in the alley for shrubbery or flowers, no plate-glass windows for displays and signs. The backs of the shops were institutional-looking, just parking places, Dumpsters, and blank walls with small doors set in at regular intervals. It wasn’t a nice place to die, but that raised another question. Was there a nice place to die? And did it really matter to the deceased?

Morbid thinking was getting her nowhere, and Hannah drove on down the alley. If Ron had been killed on the street, there might have been witnesses, but the alley was usually deserted and she hadn’t seen any activity when she’d driven in yesterday morning. Even though she hadn’t been paying much attention, Hannah was sure she would have noticed if there had been anyone prowling around the Dumpsters or standing near any of the doorways. The only other person she’d seen yesterday morning had been Claire Rodgers.

As Hannah unlocked her back door, she decided she’d have a chat with Claire. Bill or one of the other deputies must have already interviewed her, but it couldn’t hurt to ask a few more questions. Hannah had the perfect excuse to talk to Claire. Just as soon as she mixed up her cookie dough, she’d dash next door and take a look at the cocktail dress that Claire had seemed so eager to sell to her.

She switched on the lights, fired up the ovens, and headed for the sink. After she’d slipped on her paper cap and given her hands a thorough scrub, Hannah reached for the book of laminated recipes that hung on a hook by the sink. She was catering the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club meeting at four this afternoon and she needed to make a batch of Regency Ginger Crisps.

Hannah read through the recipe before she began to work. She also used an erasable felt-tipped marker to check off the ingredients as she added them to the bowl. It was possible to leave out a critical ingredient when she was distracted, and Hannah was definitely distracted. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ron’s murder and the clues she’d gathered in the past twenty-four hours. The way she saw it, they had two suspects: Coach Watson and the unidentified bouncer at Twin Pines. Both of them had possible motives to kill Ron.

Coach Watson might have believed that Danielle was having an affair with Ron, and jealousy was a powerful motive for murder. And if Ron had landed the “few good punches” that Danielle had told her about, the bouncer could have decided to follow Ron and take his revenge.

As Hannah melted, measured and mixed, she thought about the first of their suspects. She had to check out Coach Watson’s alibi, and the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club was a good place to start. Coach Watson’s sister, Maryann, would be at the meeting, and Hannah could pump her for information.

Identifying their second suspect would take a little work. Hannah planned to drive out to Twin Pines tonight and nose around. She’d find out which bouncer had fought with Ron and whether he had an alibi for the time of Ron’s murder.

It was seven twenty-five by the time Hannah had finished her early-morning work. In addition to Regency Ginger Crisps, she’d also mixed up two batches of Chocolate Chip Crunches, three batches of Pecan Chews, and one batch of a recipe that Lisa had developed called White Chocolate Supremes.

“Hi, Hannah,” Lisa called out cheerfully as she breezed through the back door at precisely seven-thirty. She hung up her parka, tucked her hair inside a paper cap, and headed for the sink to wash her hands. “What do you want me to do first?”

Hannah stashed the last bowl of dough in the walk-in cooler and joined Lisa at the sink. “Would you mind putting on the coffee, Lisa? I’ve got a few phone calls to make. I mixed up a batch of your White Chocolate Supremes and you can bake them first. We’ll try them out on the regulars today. And see what your green thumb can do with that African violet on the counter. I don’t want to do jail time for houseplant abuse.”

“No problem. I’ll set up the tables and bring you a mug of coffee when it’s ready.”

When Lisa had left, Hannah picked up the phone and punched out Doc Bennett’s number, listening to it ring.

“Doc Bennett.”

Doc sounded curt and Hannah glanced at the clock. Perhaps seven forty-five was a bit early to call a semiretired dentist. “Hi, Doc. This is Hannah Swensen over at The Cookie Jar.”

“Hello, Hannah. Still brushing the way I taught you?”

“You bet!” Hannah was relieved. Doc sounded a lot friendlier now.

“Do you have a dental emergency, Hannah?”

“No, everything’s fine.” Hannah hadn’t been able to come up with a roundabout way to ask her question, so she just blurted it out. “I was wondering whether you saw Ron LaSalle yesterday morning as a patient.”

“My office wasn’t open, Hannah. I took the day off and drove up to Little Falls to see my sister. You’d better check with Norman Rhodes. I hear he’s been coming in at the crack of dawn most mornings and taking walk-ins without appointments.”

“Thanks, Doc. I’ll do that. And drop in for a cookie one of these days.”

Hannah hung up the phone and sighed. Things never worked out the way she wanted. Now she’d have to call Norman.

The smell of coffee from the shop was enticing, and Hannah walked in to fill a mug. It hadn’t finished perking, but it was hot and she sipped it gratefully. She shouldn’t have to call the man her mother had picked out for her without a full load of caffeine to sustain her.

“The coffee’s not ready yet, Hannah.” Lisa turned to give her a curious glance.

“That’s okay.” Hannah took another sip of the coffee-flavored water. Then she thought about Twin Pines and how seldom Lisa got out of the house. “Can you get someone to sit with your father tonight? I’m driving out to Twin Pines and I’ll treat you to supper if you want to come along.”

“I’d love to. The neighbors like to sit with Dad, now that we bought that big-screen TV. Why are you going out to the Indian casino?”

Hannah remembered Bill’s caution about not telling anyone that she was doing legwork for him. “I’ve never been there and I’ve always wanted to see the place.”

“Me too. Herb Beeseman says they have great ribs.”

“Then we’ll have the ribs. And we’ll take all the quarters in the cash register and feed the slots.”

So Lisa had been talking to Herb. Hannah stored that away for future reference and walked back to the bakery feeling much better. Lisa was good company, and as far as anyone else was concerned, they were just going out to the casino to eat ribs and gamble.

It was time to call Norman. Hannah reached for the phone and punched out his office number. If Norman misinterpreted the reason for her call, Bill would owe her. She twisted the cord around her fingers as it rang several times and then Norman picked up.

“Rhodes Dental Clinic. Norman Rhodes speaking.”

“Hi, Norman. It’s Hannah Swensen.”

“Hello, Hannah.” Norman sounded pleased to hear from her. “Did you call your mother yet?”

“My mother?”

“She called me this morning to ask if I’d seen you. She said she’d left a bunch of messages on your answering machine, but you hadn’t called her back.”

“Guilty,” Hannah admitted. “I didn’t check my machine until this morning and then I was in a rush. I don’t suppose you happen to know what she wanted?”

“Not really. But she did ask what my intentions were toward you.”

“What?”

“Relax, Hannah. My mother’s the same way. It must be in the genes. They never stop trying to control your life.”

Hannah wasn’t about to ask Norman what he’d said. She really didn’t want to know. “I’ve got a question for you, Norman. Did Ron LaSalle come in to see you yesterday morning?”

There was a long pause and then Norman sighed. “I’m sorry, Hannah, but I can’t tell you that. All information regarding a patient’s visit is confidential.”

“Then Ron
was
your patient?”

Hannah heard a distinct gulp on the other end of the line. “I didn’t say that!”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Then why did you assume that he was?”

Hannah smiled, very pleased with herself. Perhaps she’d actually learned something in that required logic course she’d taken. “If Ron wasn’t your patient, you could tell me he wasn’t. There’s no breach of ethics in that. But you said that you couldn’t tell me and that means he was.”

There was another beat of silence and then Norman chuckled. “You’re quick, Hannah. And you’re right. I guess it can’t do any harm to tell you now. Ron was my first appointment of the morning. He came in presenting considerable pain from a fissured molar.”

“A cracked tooth?”

“Yes, in layman’s terms. I’m sorry, Hannah. I’ve got a patient in the chair and I can’t talk now. Just hang on and let me check my schedule.”