Cinnamon Roll Murder (14 page)

Read Cinnamon Roll Murder Online

Authors: Joanne Fluke

Tags: #Romance, #Mystery, #Thriller, #Adult, #Chick-Lit

BOOK: Cinnamon Roll Murder
11.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Chapter Fifteen
“
R
eady?”
When Michelle opened the door, Hannah braced herself for the orange and white, fur-covered bundle that would arrive in her arms with the same impact as a bowling ball. But nothing, absolutely nothing, happened.
“Where is he?” Hannah asked, racing inside to see why Moishe hadn’t greeted her in his usual way, and leaving Michelle to follow her.
“Moishe?” Hannah called out, but there was no answering meow. “Where are you?”
“Hiding,” Michelle said, coming into the living room from the kitchen where she’d been looking for Moishe.
“Hiding? Why?”
“You may not want to know. Let’s just say that you need a new flour canister and new flour to go in it.”
Hannah turned, intending to go into the kitchen to see for herself, but Michelle stopped her.
“Here,” Michelle said, holding out her cell phone. “A picture is worth a thousand words. You’ve had a rough day already, and I thought I’d better prepare you before you saw the actual disaster.”
Hannah stared at the small screen on Michelle’s phone and groaned loudly. It
was
a disaster, even in miniature, and Hannah groaned again. It was clear that a game of chase had included the kitchen as a venue. Her plastic flour canister was on the floor on its side. The top had popped off and flour was spread all over the floor. To add to the mess, one of the cats had tipped over the water dish, and there was a puddle of flour mixed with water in front of the sink. Moishe’s self-feeder was also on its side, and red and brown kitty crunchies had spilled out all over the mess on the floor.
“At least it’s colorful,” Michelle commented, taking her phone out of Hannah’s hands and turning it off.
“That’s true, but I really didn’t need floor art. Let’s go clean it up before it turns into a permanent sculpture.”
 
Thirty minutes later, Hannah’s kitchen floor was clean. With both of them working, it hadn’t been the impossible task it had appeared to be at first glance. The cats had emerged from hiding and Hannah thought Moishe looked guilty. That made her feel bad. He’d only been playing, after all, and she’d cuddled him and told him that she wasn’t
that
mad at him. She’d filled the self-feeder with fresh kitty crunchies and the water bowl with water. Everything was back to normal, except for the cracked canister and the lack of flour.
Hannah had picked up the pieces of the cracked flour canister and dumped them in the garbage. When she got a new one, it would be the unbreakable kind with a lid that screwed on tightly. She knew Moishe was having a good time with Cuddles here, but if they kept on going the way they were, the toll on her breakables could become simply astounding.
“Do you think Cuddles is a bad influence on Moishe?” Michelle asked, tying the top of the garbage bag closed.
“No. It’s just that Norman’s house is all set up for a young, active cat. It’s big, there’s thick carpeting, and not much furniture to get in the way when Cuddles is dashing around playing chase. Moishe and Cuddles never break anything in Norman’s house, because they have enough room to run. My condo is a lot smaller, and it’s packed with things.”
“Well, it’s really too bad that you lost all your flour. Do you have any more?”
“I don’t think so, at least not here. The last time I ran out of flour, I just took the empty canister to work with me and filled it up at The Cookie Jar. It’s silly to buy flour for home, when I’ve got fifty-pound sacks there.”
“Too bad you don’t have any here. I was going to bake cookies for Mike.”
“For Mike? Why were you going to do that?”
“Because he should be knocking on your door in about an hour.”
Hannah stared at her sister in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me Mike called?”
“Because he
didn’t
call.”
“Then why do you think he’s coming over?”
“Because there’s been a murder, and Mike always drops in at your place to see what we’ve found out.”
Hannah thought about that for a moment. “You’re right,” she said. “Now I wish I hadn’t thrown away that flour in the bottom of the cracked canister. We can’t bake cookies without flour. And we don’t have any flour, unless …”
Hannah stopped speaking, and Michelle waited for her to continue. “Unless what?” she finally prompted.
“Check my freezer. There may be some loose flour in a double freezer bag. I think I brought home too much when I was doing my Christmas baking. I seem to remember that rather than taking it back to The Cookie Jar, I froze the leftover flour.”
“Makes sense,” Michelle said, opening Hannah’s freezer. “That’s what I do at our house to keep the weevil eggs from hatching. It’s really gross if you think about it.”
“Not necessarily. You’re getting extra protein.”
“Eeuw!” Michelle made a face.
“If it really bothers you, sift your bag of flour into a bowl before you put it into your canister.”
“And that’ll get rid of the weevil eggs?”
“Some of them.”
“Why would I go to all that trouble to get only
some
of the weevil eggs out?”
“Because you’re compulsive and it might make you feel better.”
“I’m not
that
compulsive!” Michelle declared, starting to look for the frozen flour, removing items from Hannah’s freezer and then putting them back again. “Here it is,” she said, holding the bag up triumphantly. “It was in the last place I looked.”
“It always is. That’s an unwritten law. How much flour is there?”
Michelle held the bag aloft so that Hannah could see. “Four or five cups. Maybe a little more. It’s hard to tell without measuring.”
“If you think we’ve got one and a half cups, we’ll make Eleanor Olson’s Oatmeal Cookies. They’re some of Mike’s favorites, especially when I add raisins.”
“I think there’s that much. How about oatmeal? Do you have that?”
“I’ve got it. And I know I’ve got sugar and eggs. Let me get out the recipe and we’ll start mixing up the dough.”
Hannah took her three-ring binder from the spot next to the stand mixer and paged through it. “Here it is. I had one of these cookies almost every Thursday when Mrs. Olson was the head cook at Jordan High. The grade school got the cafeteria from eleven to twelve, and the high school came in from noon to one. I can’t think of anybody who didn’t like her oatmeal cookies.”
“Mrs. Olson wasn’t there when I started school,” Michelle said with a frown. “Then the head cook was Edna Ferguson, and we never got cookies every Thursday like you did.”
Michelle sounded a bit jealous and Hannah couldn’t blame her. It was great to have a school cook who made special treats. “What I liked best about those cookies was that every once in awhile, Mrs. Olson put a surprise inside her cookies.”
“Like what?”
“There would be small bites of sweet things like a square of Hershey’s chocolate, or a little piece of pineapple or apple. One week it was even M&M’s. We really liked those!”
Michelle didn’t say a word. She just walked over to her purse and opened it. And then, as Hannah watched, she drew out several small packages of M&M’s.
“Where did you get those?” Hannah asked.
“From the hospital vending machine last night. I brought back candy for everybody, and these were left over. Do you want to use them in the cookies?”
“Three guesses, and the first two don’t count,” Hannah said, grabbing the bags out of Michelle’s hand.
ELEANOR OLSON’S OATMEAL COOKIES
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
1 cup
(2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½ pound)
salted butter, softened
1 cup brown sugar
(pack it down in the cup when
you measure it)
1 cup white
(granulated)
sugar
2 eggs, beaten
(just whip them up in a glass with a
fork)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 and ½ cups flour
(pack it down in the cup when
you measure it)
3 cups quick-cooking oatmeal
(I used Quaker Quick
1-Minute)
½ cup chopped nuts
(optional) (Eleanor used wal-
nuts)
½ cup raisins or another small, fairly soft sweet treat
(optional)
Hannah’s 1st Note: The optional fruit or sweet treats are raisins, any dried fruit chopped into pieces, small bites of fruit like pineapple or apple, or small soft candies like M&M’s, Milk Duds, chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, or any other flavored chips. Lisa and I even used Sugar Babies once—they’re chocolate-covered caramel nuggets—and everyone was crazy about them. You can also use
larger candies if you push one in the center of each cookie. Here, as in so many recipes, you are only limited by the selection your store has to offer and your own imagination.
Hannah’s 2nd Note: These cookies are very quick and easy to make with an electric mixer. Of course you can also mix them by hand.
Mix the softened butter, brown sugar, and white sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer. Beat on HIGH speed until they’re light and fluffy.
Add the beaten eggs and mix them in on MEDIUM speed.
Turn the mixer down to LOW speed and add the vanilla extract, the salt, and the baking soda. Mix well.
Add the flour in half-cup increments, beating on MEDIUM speed after each addition.
With the mixer on LOW speed, add the oatmeal. Then add the optional nuts, and/or the optional fruit or sweet treat.
Scrape down the sides of the bowl, take the bowl out of the mixer, and give the cookie dough a final stir by hand. Let it sit, uncovered, on the counter while you prepare your cookie sheets.
Spray your cookie sheets with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Alternatively, you can line them with parchment paper and spray that lightly with cooking spray.
Get out a tablespoon from your silverware drawer. Wet it under the faucet so that the dough won’t stick to it, and scoop up a rounded Tablespoon of dough. Drop it in mounds on the cookie sheet, 12 mounds to a standard-size sheet.
Bake Eleanor Olson’s Oatmeal Cookies at 350 degrees F. for 9 to 11 minutes, or until they’re nice and golden on top.
(Mine took 10 minutes.)
Yield: Approximately 3 dozen chewy, satisfying oatmeal cookies.
Chapter Sixteen
“
T
hese are really good cookies!” Michelle exclaimed, biting into a warm oatmeal cookie. “I’m glad you said that about the M&M’s. Chocolate candy is perfect in oatmeal cookies. What else did Mrs. Olson use? Can you remember?”
“Once she put a slice of banana inside each cookie and sprinkled the top with cinnamon and sugar. Another time it was chopped dates. I think she did chopped dried apricots, too. That’s the beauty of this cookie. It’s one of those good, basic recipes that you can embellish almost any way you want.”
“Well, this embellishment certainly worked!” Michelle finished her cookie and stood up. “I suppose we’d better pack up the dishwasher, and …” she stopped, as the phone rang. “Do you want me to get that?”
“Go ahead. I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Hannah’s place. Michelle speaking.” She listened for a minute and then she gasped loudly. “Are you
sure
?”
Hannah turned around to glance at Michelle. Her sister looked positively shocked. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s Mother. Pick up in the living room, Hannah. Mother’s with Doc Knight and he says Buddy Neiman wasn’t who he said he was!”
Hannah flicked the switch to turn on the coffee pot, and rushed to the living room to pick up the remote phone. “Hello, Mother. What’s all this?”
“It’s exactly as I told Michelle.” Delores sounded a bit breathless. “I’m out here at the hospital doing some paperwork in Doc’s office, and he just popped in to tell me that Buddy Neiman couldn’t have been that keyboard player’s real name.”
“How does Doc know that?” Hannah asked.
“When Doc took a blood sample during the autopsy, it turned out to be B negative. And that didn’t match the blood type on Buddy’s hospital records. At first Doc thought Vonnie had made a mistake with the form, but he found a blood donor card in Buddy’s wallet that said he had A positive blood.”
“What was the name on the card?” Michelle asked.
“Bernard Alan Neiman. Everything in his wallet said Bernard Alan Neiman, including his Minnesota driver’s license. And the blood type on his blood donor card was A positive.”
“That’s strange,” Michelle said, clearly puzzled.
“Who tested the blood sample Doc took during the autopsy?” Hannah asked.
“Marlene. She carried it to the lab right after the autopsy. Doc did the second test himself. Both samples came up B negative.”
“So Buddy was using fake identification,” Hannah said, drawing the obvious conclusion. “Does Doc have any idea who Buddy really was?”
“Not yet. The only facts he has so far are medical. I wrote them down so I could tell you.”
“Hold on while I get a pen.” Hannah reached in her purse and pulled out her shorthand notebook. She grabbed a loose Rhodes Dental Clinic pen that was near the phone, and flipped to a fresh page. “I’m ready, Mother.”
“Buddy’s tonsils were removed, and he had an appendectomy scar. And he broke his left leg in three places when he was quite young. He had a birthmark on his left calf, and a mole on his neck. Norman noticed that Buddy still had all four of his wisdom teeth, which was unusual for his age, and he had a crown that was made of an experimental amalgamate that never made it to the commercial dentistry supply market.”
“How would a dentist get it if it wasn’t sold commercially?” Michelle asked.
“Norman told Doc that free dental clinics and dental schools sometimes hold clinical trials of experimental dental supplies. He’s going to call around to see which company made it and which schools and clinics ran trials for them.”
“Norman could tell all that by just looking?” Michelle asked, sounding impressed.
“Not exactly. He said he knew it was experimental because it had yellowed, and approved amalgamates don’t change color. So Doc gave him permission to remove the crown and take it to a dental lab for analysis.”
“Was Norman there when Doc did the autopsy?”
“No. Doc called Norman in later to see if he could spot anything distinctive about Buddy’s teeth.”
“Doctor Bev wasn’t there?” Hannah asked, surprised that Norman’s fiancée had let him out of her sight.
“Doc said he invited her to tag along, but she said she’d wait for Norman in the lobby.”
That must be because there’s no real competition for her in a morgue
, Hannah thought. “Has Doc called Mike to tell him yet?”
“Not yet, dear. I’m passing it on to you first.”
“Thanks, Mother. When is Doc calling Mike?”
“Right after I hang up, but he’ll probably get Mike’s voice mail. If you see Mike before he gets the message, will you tell him to call Doc at the hospital?”
“Sure, but what makes you think I might see Mike before he gets his messages?”
“Whenever Mike has a murder case, he always drops by your place to see what you’ve learned. Not only that, he’s probably been working all day and he knows you’ll feed him. He really shouldn’t expect you to stay up and cook for him.”
“That’s no problem. Michelle always helps and she’s great at thinking up quick meals. If I sound tired, it’s probably because of all the cleaning we had to do when we got back here.”
“What do you mean? Did the cats make a mess while you were gone?”
“And how!” Michelle said, laughing.
“What happened?”
“They were playing chase, and they knocked my flour canister on the floor,” Hannah explained. “And then they knocked over their water dish, and we had kitty play dough to clean up.”
“Oh, my! Well … that just goes to show we were right, dear. Cuddles needs to go home to Norman. She’s got more room to run there. And the only way Cuddles can go home is for you to send Doctor Bev back where she belongs!”
 
“Food,” Hannah said to Michelle after she’d hung up the phone and gone back to the kitchen.
“You’re hungry?”
“Not me. Mike. We’ve got cookies, but what can we fix for a main course? Since we didn’t stop at the Red Owl today, the food situation is the same as it was last night.”
“Minus the hamburger,” Michelle pointed out. “But I think you’ve got some elderly bacon in the refrigerator.”
Hannah laughed. “Elderly bacon? I like that! How elderly is it?”
“I’ll see.” Michelle rummaged in the refrigerator for the package of bacon she’d spotted. “You’re in luck. The sell-by date is today. But there’s only half a package left. That’s not going to be enough for Mike, is it?”
“Not
just
the bacon, no. But I’ve got something in mind that ought to work. How many eggs are left?”
Michelle opened the egg carton. “Four.”
“That’s perfect. And how much flour is left in the bag that was frozen?”
“A little more than a cup. I measured it before I dumped it back in.”
“Do I have milk?”
Michelle shook her head. “All you have is whipping cream. Will that work?”
“I don’t see why not.” Hannah took out a frying pan and plunked it on the stovetop. “If you’ll hand me that bacon, I’ll start frying it.”
“I can do that. What else do you need to make whatever you’re making?”
“Salt and vanilla. That’s it. Although …”
“What?”
“Was there any cheese left in that package of shredded cheese we used last night?”
“No. We used it up, but I saw a package of cream cheese in the back behind the whipping cream.”
“That’ll do. Mike likes cream cheese.”
“Flour, whipping cream, eggs, bacon, salt, vanilla, and cream cheese …” Michelle stopped and shook her head. “What
are
you making?”
“What Grandma Elsa used to call German pancakes.”
“But Grandma Elsa wasn’t German.”
“Neither were the pancakes. At least I don’t
think
they’re German. I just thought it would be easy to make them because they’re baked in the oven. I can remember her beating them with an egg beater, but I’m going to use the mixer. It’ll go a lot faster that way. Everything except the bacon and cream cheese goes into the mixer.”
“What do you want me to do with the bacon.”
“Fry it hard, and then cool it off and crumble it. It’ll take me a while to beat the batter. I need a lot of air in it.”
In a minute or two the kitchen was redolent with the smell of bacon frying. It smelled wonderful, and Hannah realized that the bacon was the new applewood smoked bacon that Florence at the Red Owl had begun to carry right after Christmas. Surprisingly, the sweet smokiness of the bacon and the scent of vanilla combined to create a breakfast perfume that made Hannah’s mouth water even though she wasn’t at all hungry.
“It sure smells good in here,” Michelle said, mirroring Hannah’s thoughts exactly.
“I know. How’s that bacon coming?”
“Almost done. I’m going to stick it in your freezer on a paper plate to cool it down fast. Do you want me to get out a pan?”
“Yes. I need an eight-inch square metal pan. I would have doubled the recipe and made it in a nine-inch by thirteen-inch if we’d had more ingredients, but we didn’t.”
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry. It just smells good, that’s all.”
Ten minutes later, Mike’s breakfast was assembled and Hannah slipped the pan in the oven. “Done,” she said. “Now we can have a cup of …” She stopped and gave the phone an unhappy glance as it rang. “If that’s Mike and he says he’s not coming, we’ve just made something for nothing.”
Michelle plucked the phone from its wall cradle and answered it. “Hannah’s place. Michelle speaking.” She listened for a minute and then she laughed. “I don’t believe it! You never get up that early, especially two days in a row! Hold on for a second and I’ll get her for you.”
Michelle didn’t have to tell Hannah who it was. Only one person they both knew deserved the comment Michelle had made about never getting up early two days in a row. She took the phone from Michelle and said, “Hi, Andrea. What’s up?”
“Me, but I’m going to bed right after this phone call. I’m picking you up tomorrow morning at six. We’re driving to the Cities.”
“Why?”
“Because Bill says we’re going to run into traffic from all the weekday commuters and we have to leave that early if we want to get there by nine.”
“Okay. I’ll buy that. Why do we have to get there by nine?”
“Because I have a meeting with Swartznagel Realty.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to show my client a house they just listed in White Bear Lake.”
“Why do I need to go with you?”
“Because you’re the client, but don’t tell Bill. He thinks you’re just going with me to keep me company.”
“Why
am
I going with you? And why am I pretending to be your client? I’m not in the market for a house.”
“Because I can’t tell Bill the
real
reason we’re going to see the Swartznagel house.”
“Cut to the chase, Andrea. We’re going in circles. What’s the real reason you’re taking me to see this house?”
“Because it’s right next door to Doctor Bev’s mother’s house, and we need to see Diana. Then we’ll go to breakfast, and then we’ll drop in at Club Nineteen at noon.”
“Are they open that early?”
“They are tomorrow. I just called and they’re holding auditions for new jazz bands starting at noon. They do it one Saturday a month, and this is the Saturday for April. The waitress I talked to said everybody’s welcome and the audience fills out comment cards on the band. I made a reservation for us. I’m pretty sure that between the sets, we can find a way to talk to the management and ask some questions.”
“Okay. That’s worth doing, but I have to be back right after that. Lisa’s still telling her stories tomorrow, and the second day is just as popular as the first. She’s going to need lots of cookies.”
“That’s not a problem. I called Lisa, and she said that Marge, Patsy, and Jack are coming down to help her. Pasty and Marge will take turns baking, and you know what great bakers they are. Michelle will be there, too, so Lisa says you don’t have to come in at all tomorrow.”
“That’s fine, I guess, but I’m still a little confused about something. I can understand talking to the people at Club Nineteen. They might know more about the woman with the brown hair that Lynette saw with Buddy backstage. We should ask them about Buddy’s background, too. Maybe he mentioned where he came from, or anything that might help us find out …” Hannah stopped short. Perhaps Andrea wasn’t up to speed yet. “You
do
know that Buddy wasn’t Buddy, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Mother called me right after she called you.”
“Good. What I don’t understand is why we need to see Diana. I don’t think it’ll do us any good.”
“It’ll do a lot of good! We can’t very well get a DNA sample if we don’t see her … now can we?”

Other books

The Hollywood Mission by Deborah Abela
The Earl's Secret by Kathryn Jensen
Going Home by Wanda E. Brunstetter
Deja Vu by Michal Hartstein
The Postmortal by Drew Magary
Commencement by Sullivan, J. Courtney
Blood Mate by Kitty Thomas
Then and Now by W Somerset Maugham