Fudge Cupcake Murder (6 page)

"What kind of jelly is that?" Hannah asked, staring at the plate of sandwiches.

"Mint. I thought I had a full jar of grape in the pantry, but all I could find was the mint. Help yourself, Hannah. They're better when the toast is still hot."

Hannah sighed, hoping she sounded disappointed. "Thanks, Andrea. The sandwiches look delicious, but I'm going to have to pass."

"But why?"

"I did a stupid thing. I filled up on cookies while I was catering."

"Oh, Hannah!" Andrea's lips tightened. "I made these just for you."

"I'm sorry," Hannah said, and she was. But she was pretty sure she wasn't as sorry as she would be if she ate one of Andrea's peanut butter and mint jelly sandwiches.

"But you knew I was making lunch. I told you."

"I know you did. It's just that Mother came over to talk to me and…"

"Say no more," Andrea waved away any further explanations. "I always eat when Mother's around, too. It's comforting. I think it's a throwback to childhood when she was always criticizing us."

"Was?" Hannah's brows shot up at her sister's use of past tense.

"Yes, at least as far as I'm concerned. I did what she wanted. I got married, I gave her a granddaughter, and pretty soon she'll have a grandson to spoil. I don't get criticized anymore. Mother saves it all up for you."

"It's true," Hannah said with a sigh. "Mother doesn't seem to realize that what's right for you isn't necessarily what's right for me."

"Of course it's right for you. You just haven't found the right man yet. And it's certainly not the man we thought it might be! That rat! I still can't believe that he could…”

"Great sandwiches, honey!" Bill interrupted, heading Andrea off at the pass. "The mint jelly's really different. I like it."

"Really?" Andrea gave Bill a radiant smile.

"Absolutely." Bill turned to Hannah. "Since you're not eating, talk to me, Hannah. Do you have any great ideas for proving my innocence?"

"Maybe. At least I got some information. I know that Sheriff Grant was killed between eight and nine-thirty last night. And I know that you had a fight with Sheriff Grant before you left the station."

"We did exchange words," Bill admitted, "but that's all we exchanged. Sheriff Grant offered me a raise if I backed off on the campaign. I told him I wouldn't."

"And that's when he shouted that you'd only win over his dead body?"

"That's when. Of course he didn't mean it. He said that a lot. Ask anyone at the station."

"I believe you," Hannah said, meeting Bill's eyes. "How about calling in some markers at the station? I'm sure you have friends who could tell you what's going on in the investigation."

"I do. And they would. But I can't ask them, Hannah. A suspended detective can't interfere in any way with an ongoing investigation. It's in the rulebook."

"Forget the rulebook. If you don't interfere, you could get charged with a murder you didn't commit! You're not going to just sit here twiddling your thumbs and waiting for Mike to catch the killer, are you?"

"Of course not. I promised Mike I'd stay right here and keep a low profile, but there's nothing in the rulebook about a suspended detective's family interfering in the case."

Hannah started to grin. "You mean, like a certain sister-in-law?"

"You got it. I can't actively follow any leads, but I can advise you. All you have to do is come to me with any clues you find and we'll put our heads together."

"Deal! Now let's concentrate on finding you an alibi. Did you get any phone calls between eight and nine-thirty last night?"

"Only two and they won't do any good. They were both sales calls."

Hannah held up her hand. "Hold on a second. Those sales calls could do some good. I worked for a telemarketing firm for about a week while I was on summer break at college."

"About a week?" Andrea looked confused. "Did you get fired?"

"No, I quit. It scared me that I was beginning to get good at it. I really didn't want to sell carpet cleaning for the rest of my life. But I remember that all of our calls were logged in automatically. The supervisor could get a printout of what time we called a certain number and how long we talked."

Andrea gave Hannah a thumbs-up before she turned to Bill. "Do you remember what the telemarketers were selling, honey?"

"I remember the first one. It was a timesharing thing. You know the type. They start out by telling you you've won a free weekend at a resort and then, when you get there, they try to sell you a timeshare. It was something about vacations in the tropics. I didn't listen to the whole sales pitch. I just told the girl that we weren't interested and hung up."

Hannah exchanged glances with Andrea. "What time did the call come in?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't look at the clock. But I don't think it was very long after Andrea left."

"Okay. How about the second call?"

"It was from a roofing company, but I don't remember the name. They said they were working in the area. Of course they always say that."

"Maybe they were telling the truth this time," Hannah pointed out. "At least it's worth a shot. Just keep your eyes open for anyone who's getting a new roof."

"I can do that," Andrea said. "After I pick up Tracey at school, we'll drive around a little and see if we can spot someone getting a new roof. But how do we track down the timeshare?"

"Gus York," Hannah said.

"Gus York bought a timeshare?"

"Not that I know of, but Irma came to my class last night and she mentioned that Gus was staying home to take sales calls. She said he got a real kick out of bugging the telemarketers by listening to their whole sales pitch, asking a whole bunch of questions, and then saying he guessed he wasn't interested after all."

"Sounds like Gus has way too much time on his hands," Bill commented.

"You're right, but he might remember the name of the vacation timeshare company." Andrea reached for a notepad that said Groceries in big green letters at the top and jotted a note. Then she jotted a second note, and as Hannah watched, she jotted a third, a fourth, and a fifth.

"You filled up half a page reminding yourself to call Gus York?"

Andrea shook her head. "Don't be silly."

"Then what else did you write?"

"My grocery list. I just remembered that we needed grape jelly, peanut butter, apple juice, instant coffee, and bread."

Cherry Winks

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position

1 cup melted butter (2 sticks)

1 cup white sugar

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

1 teaspoon vanilla

3 Tablespoons maraschino cherry juice

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups chopped pecans

2 cups flour (not sifted)

approximately 2 cups corn flakes, crushed (measure before crushing)

1 small jar of maraschino cherries for garnish

Melt the butter and add the white sugar. Then add the eggs. Stir it all up with the vanilla, cherry juice, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the chopped pecans and the flour, and mix well.

Crush the corn flakes and put them in a small bowl.

(I put them in a plastic bag, seal it, and then crush them with my fingers.)

Roll dough balls with your hands about the size of unshelled walnuts. (If the dough is too sticky, chill it for a half hour or so and then try it again.) Roll the dough balls in the crushed corn flakes and place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Smush them down a bit so they won't roll off.

Cut the cherries into quarters and place one on the top of each cookie. Press the cherry down with the tip of your finger.

Bake at 375 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes, or until nicely browned. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then transfer to wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: 6 to 7 dozen, depending on cookie size.

These are very pretty cookies. They're really popular at The Cookie Jar on Valentine's Day. I also make them at Christmas using red cherries to decorate some and green cherries to decorate the others.

"I'm home, Moishe," Hannah called out, opening the door to the condo and holding out her arms. True to form, her orange and white, furry medicine ball made a running jump into her arms, purring madly. Who needed a husband? Moishe's greetings were quite enthusiastic enough.

"Are you hungry? Or did you miss me?" Hannah asked, knowing that both answers were yes. She kicked the door shut behind her, placed Moishe on top of the back of the couch, and shed her coat on the seat of the chair by the front door.

Moishe yowled and bounded for the kitchen. Hannah followed, knowing exactly what he wanted. She gave him fresh water and then she opened the broom closet to get his regular crunchies. As she set the bowls down on the mat, she said, "I didn't have time to stop by Doctor Bob's office and pick up another tip sheet. That means you get a reprieve tonight, but…"

Hannah stopped speaking abruptly as the phone rang. She toyed with the idea of letting her answering machine get it, but she was in the mood to do battle with a salesman.

"Oh, Hannah! I'm so glad you're home!"

"Andrea?" Hannah flopped down in one of the aluminum tube chairs that had come with her second-hand kitchen table. "You don't sound good. What's the matter?"

"You've got to help me, Hannah!"

"Is the baby com…”

"No!" Andrea interrupted. "This doesn't have anything to do with the baby."

Hannah did her best to remain calm. Her sister sounded on the edge of a nervous breakdown. "Just tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it."

"You have to do something to clear Bill right away!" Andrea gasped, breathing hard.

"I'm trying, Andrea. What's got you so upset? You were fine when I was there."

"Deer stew."

"Excuse me?"

"Deer stew! While I was driving around with Tracey, looking for roofers, Bill's father came in from the farm. He brought some packages of meat from their freezer and a whole bunch of vegetables. Bill thawed some meat and he's making deer stew!"

"That's nice."

"No, it's not! Don't you understand, Hannah?"

Hannah took a deep breath and shrugged, even though she knew her sister couldn't see it. "No, I don't. What's wrong with deer… uh… venison stew?"

"It's a matter of principle. That's important, Hannah. There's just no way I'm going to eat Bambi!"

"You won't be eating Bambi. Bambi survived, right along with Thumper and Flower. It was Bambi's mother that got turned into stew."

"That's even worse! I'm just glad Tracey's not home."

Hannah breathed a sigh of relief as a new subject was introduced. "Where's Tracey?"

"It's Karen Dunwright's birthday and they're having a sleepover at the farm. She invited all the girls in her class. Now about this stew, Hannah… what am I going to do?"

"Eat the vegetables and leave the meat. It's too bad you don't have a dog. Then you could…”

"I get it," Andrea interrupted her, "but we don't have a dog."

"Okay. All you have to do is wear an apron and line the inside of the pocket with plastic wrap. Drop the meat in the pocket when Bill's not looking and get rid of it when you clear the table."

"That should work," Andrea said, sounding very relieved. "I still need to get out of here, though. I don't dare stick around after dinner."

"Why not?"

"Since Bill's home all day now, he's decided to help me with the housework."

"That's nice," Hannah said, wishing that she had a man to help her with her housework.

"No, it's not. Bill cleaned the kitchen."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Tracey's science project was sitting in a dish on the windowsill. She was supposed to let a potato sprout and then plant it."

"Uh-oh," Hannah said with a groan, guessing the rest. "Bill threw it out?"

"That's right. I dug it out of the garbage, but the sprout broke off and now Tracey has to start all over again. She's not going to be happy when she comes home tomorrow."

"No, I guess she won't be. But it was a mistake that anyone could have made. I throw out potatoes with sprouts all the time."

"Even if they're on the windowsill in a little dish?"

"No."

"That's what I thought. Can you think of some reason to come and get me right after dinner? I'm ready to kill him."

"I understand," Hannah interrupted. "Maybe there's someone we can interview tonight. Just give me a second to check my notes and I'll see."

Hannah grabbed her notebook and flipped through the pages. She hadn't interviewed the family of the victim yet and she had no idea if Nettie had an alibi for the time of her husband's death. Tonight could be the perfect time to find out.

"Here's something," Hannah said, earning a relieved sigh from Andrea, "and there's no way Bill can object. Tell him I'm picking you up right after dinner and we're going to pay a condolence call on Nettie Grant."

"Are we going to console? Or sleuth?"

"A little of both."

"Good! I'll be ready, Hannah. Just pull in the driveway and honk the horn. I'll come right out."

The curtains were open and Hannah glanced in at Andrea's living room as she pulled into the driveway. Things weren't all coming up roses at the Todd household. The couch Bill's parents had given them for a wedding present was no longer up against the far wall and the big-screen television had been moved. It seemed that in addition to arming himself with mop and vacuum, Bill had repositioned the living room furniture. Hannah still remembered the diagrams Andrea had shown her of the living room and how she'd agonized over exactly where to place each piece of carefully chosen furniture. No wonder her sister had exhibited such an urgent desire to leave home!

Hannah gave a polite beep on the horn and Andrea came rushing out. She pulled open the door, jumped in the truck, and banged it shut again. "Let's go. Quick. Before Bill tries to give me a warmer coat or tells me I forgot my gloves or something."

"That bad?" Hannah put the truck into gear and backed toward the street.