Strawberry Shortcake Murder (29 page)

The outgoing message played, and she heard her mother’s voice. “Hannah? Pick up if you’re still there. I’ve got something important to tell you about The Gulls.”

Hannah raced for the phone. The Gulls were Jordan High’s basketball team, and there was a chance that Delores might have heard something about the player who used steroids.

“I’m here, Mother.” Hannah shrugged out of her parka and tossed it over the back of a chair. Delores didn’t know to have a short conversation. If she wore her coat for the entire call, she’d drop from heat exhaustion. “What about The Gulls?”

“It’s what Mason Kimball did. Isn’t he a wonderful man?”

“I guess so.” Hannah collected her coffee cup from the sink and filled it with the last from the carafe. It would take a while to get any pertinent facts from her mother. “What did Mason do?”

“I know you don’t have much time, so I’ll make it fast,” Delores promised.

“Thanks, Mother,” Hannah said, instead of Oh, sure. Fat chance.

“Carrie and I drove out to the inn for the party last night, and while we were there, we ran into Mason. Sally certainly does a nice buffet, doesn’t she?”

“Yes. What about Mason?”

“He was talking about The Gulls and how upset the boys were, now they’d lost their coach. Gil Surma is filling in temporarily, but he admits he doesn’t know that much about basketball. You know Gil, don’t you, dear?”

Hannah took a big gulp of her coffee. “Yes, I know him. What else did Mason say?”

“He told us that he arranged for a professional basketball coach to take over until the school could hire someone new.”

“Really?” Hannah was surprised. “I didn’t know the school had a budget for things like that.”

“They don’t. That’s why I said that Mason was such a nice man. He’s paying for the coach out of his own pocket.”

“That’s very generous.” Hannah thought about it for a moment, then she began to frown. “Why would Mason do something like that?”

“Because he has a real interest in Jordan High’s basketball program. His son plays for The Gulls. You know Craig Kimball, don’t you, dear?”

It took Hannah a moment, but then she placed him. Craig had come into The Cookie Jar a couple of times to pick up cookies for the team. “Sure, I know him. He seems like a good kid.”

“He is. Mason said Craig took Coach Watson’s death hard. And he’s very concerned about the college recruiters that are coming to watch the game with the Little Falls Flyers next weekend. Craig was afraid that Gil might make strategic mistakes, and that’s why Mason hired a professional coach to take over the team.”

Hannah started to smile. She finally had most of the picture. “Craig’s up for an athletic scholarship, and Mason wants him to look good on the court?”

“That’s what I said, dear.”

Hannah started to grin. Delores hadn’t said that, but she might have if Hannah had given her another twenty minutes or so. “Is Craig a good player?”

“He is now. Craig sat on the bench for most of last year, but he’s improved a lot since then. This year he’s The Gull’s star player.”

Hannah’s senses went on full alert. Steroids enhanced a player’s performance. “Why do you think Craig improved so much?”

“Mason sent him to basketball camp over the summer. They have professional coaches and trainers, and the enrollment is limited to twenty boys. Each boy has his own personal mentor, and most of them go on to make names for themselves in college basketball.”

Hannah’s suspicions died a quick death. Summer basketball camp could easily account for Craig’s improvement. “A camp like that sounds expensive.”

“It was. Mason didn’t tell me how much, but he said it was worth every penny. Craig already had most of the skills, but the camp really built up his self-confidence. Just a couple of weeks ago, he broke the school record for scoring the most points in a game. The other boys elected him team captain this year and Mason says they’re always asking him for advice.”

“Thanks for telling me, Mother.” Hannah jotted Craig Kimball’s name on her notepad. Perhaps she should talk to him. If he knew which of his teammates was using steroids, he might tell her, especially if she convinced him that they were dangerous and the player who used them would need medical help to wean him off the drug. “I’ve got to run, Mother. I’m already late.”

“Just one more thing. I ran into Rod Metcalf at the party last night, and he told me that Lucy Richards wants to do an article on my antique jewelry collection. He’s going to send her over at eleven to take pictures and I need your advice on which pieces to display. I thought I’d put them out on a piece of blue velvet and…”

“Don’t bother,” Hannah interrupted her. “Lucy’s not coming.”

“How do you that?”

Hannah sighed. She really didn’t want to go down that particular road, but she couldn’t let her mother get out every piece in her jewelry collection for pictures that no one would take. “Lucy’s not coming because she’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, Mother. Lucy was murdered.”

“But it hasn’t been on the radio yet! I’ve been listening. There’s no way you could know, unless…” Delores stopped speaking, and Hannah knew that her mother was gathering herself to ask the obvious question. “Hannah? Tell me you didn’t…” Delores paused to clear her throat, and when she spoke again, she sounded very tentative. “Did you?”

“I’m afraid I did, Mother. I found Lucy last night.’

“Hannah! You’ve simply got to stop doing things like this!”

“It’s not like a scavenger hunt, Mother. I don’t go around looking for murder victims on purpose.” Hannah realized she sounded defensive and she tried to moderate her tone. “It just happened. And I had to report it.”

“I suppose you’re right. But I do wish you’d be a little more careful, Hannah.”

Hannah laughed. She couldn’t help it. What did being careful have to do with finding bodies?

“It’s no laughing matter,” Delores chided her.

“I know.” Hannah bit back another chuckle. “You’re right, Mother. I promise I’ll do my best no to find any more bodies.”

“Good. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t have time, Mother. Listen to the radio if you want the details. The news should break any minute now. I’ve got to get to work.”

Before her mother could object, Hannah hung up and drew a deep breath. She glanced down at Moishe, realized that he was staring up at her expectantly, and got out the kitty crunchies to refill his food bowl. Then she slipped into her parka for the second time, picked up the garbage for the second time, and felt to make sure her car keys were still in her pocket. “See you tonight, Moishe,” she said. Then she hurried out the door before the phone could ring again.

A blast of frigid air greeting Hannah as she rushed down the outside stairs to the garage. The stairs were snow-free, thanks to the Minnesota construction firm who’d designed them. They were open stairs made of textured cement slats with a sloping roof above them. The roof kept off the rain in the summer, and the snow and ice in the winter.

Once Hannah had dropped her garbage bag into the Dumpster that sat in what looked like a little concrete bunker in the garage, she unplugged her truck, wound the cord around her bumper and climbed in under the wheel. She fired up the engine, flicked on her headlights, drove up the ramp and exited her condo complex on automatic pilot. As she turned onto Old Lake Road and drove toward town, she thought about Craig Kimball again. She’d approach him as a friend who could help him. If Craig knew who was using steroids and he was wrestling with the problem alone, he might welcome an adult’s help.

What would she do about Mike? Hannah started to frown. If Mike knew that she intended to talk to Craig Kimball about steroid use, he’d want to come along. Mike was a good guy, but he’d end up tying her hands. Not only was he a relative newcomer to Lake Eden, Mike was a cop. Craig wouldn’t say boo about steroids in front of a cop. She had to talk to Craig alone and leave Mike out of it until she needed him.

Hannah hit the brakes and swore as a car passed her on the left and pulled back into her lane much too fast. The car was sporting Florida plates and was obviously owned by a person who knew nothing about winter driving conditions. Hannah felt like pulling up beside him and giving him a piece of her mind, but that would take time, and time was one thing she didn’t have.

A cookie would help to improve her mood. Hannah reached in the back before she remembered that Andrea had eaten them all. This was starting off to be a very bad day. She’d only had a couple of hours of sleep, she was late to work, Delores had called, she’d almost had an accident on the road, the heater on her truck was putting out even less hot air than usual, and there were no breakfast cookies. If she hadn’t had a tendency to sunburn in thirty seconds flat, she’d seriously consider hopping the first plane to Hawaii and chucking it all for a weekend on the beach.

“Hi, Hannah.” Lisa greeted her with a sunny smile as she blew in through the back door, and Hannah immediately felt better. “Take off your coat, and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

“Cookies?” Hannah asked, hanging her coat on the rack.

“The Chocolate Chip Crunchies are still warm. Do you want a couple?”

“More than a couple,” Hannah answered, pulling a stool up to the work island. “Bring me four to start.”

Lisa was efficient at baking as well as serving, and a few moments later Hannah was smiling as she sipped hot coffee and munched cookies. If chocolate were a mandatory part of breakfast, people wouldn’t be so grouchy in the morning.

“You asked me to think about what we should bake tonight,” Lisa reminded her. “How about cookies? You haven’t done them yet, and you’re famous for your cookies.”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re right! Which ones should we bake?”

“Molasses Crackles. Everybody loves them, and they look gorgeous when they come out of the oven.”

“Perfect. Will you have time to mix up the dough? I’ve got something I have to do this morning, and it has to chill before we bake.”

Lisa gave a smug grin. “I’m way ahead of you. I mixed it up last night, and it’s in the cooler. I even baked a test sheet this morning, to make sure they were perfect.”

“Were you so confident that I’d take your suggestion?”

“Not really. I figured that if you wanted to make something else, I’d bake the cookies and freeze them for the children’s Christmas party. They look really nice if you pipe green frosting around the edge and put on a red frosting bow, like a wreath.”

Hannah winced. She’d promised to bring ten dozen cookies to the Lake Eden Community Center for the party and forgotten all about it. But Lisa hadn’t forgotten. She was already planning out what to bake. Lisa was a lot more than an assistant, and it made Hannah even more convinced to offer her some kid of a partnership.

“I’ll prepare your box of ingredients for tonight. I’ve got plenty of time to do it before we open. Do you want more coffee? I’ll get it.”

“That’s okay. My legs aren’t broken,” Hannah said with a grin. She got up and walked through the swinging door to the cookie shop and blinked in astonishment. Not only had Lisa finished the baking, set up the tables, filled the large glass cookie jars behind the counter, and written the day’s cookies on the menu board, she’d also found time to decorate the shop for Christmas.

Definitely a partnership, Hannah thought, as she took in the clever pinecone-and-candy-cane centerpieces on each table, the miniature Christmas lights that framed the plate-glass window, the Christmas stockings that were tacked to the top of the wainscoting that ran around the walls, the wreath on the front door, and the Christmas tree that Lisa had set up in the corner, if I paid Lisa what she’s really worth, I’d be broke in no time flat.

Hannah walked over to the tree for a closer look and just shook her head. Lisa had outdone herself. The Christmas tree was perfect. It was decorated with miniature lights, a glittering tinsel garland, and ornaments that looked like real cookies.

“I wanted to surprise you.” Lisa stood in the doorway, a happy smile on her face. “I know I should have asked you first, but you’ve been so busy, I didn’t want to bother you. Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding? Everything’s gorgeous, especially the tree. Are those cookie ornaments real?”

Lisa nodded. “I shellacked them. I followed the instructions in a craft book, and it said they should last for years.”

“I believe it.” Hannah chuckled as she touched one of the cookies. “They’re as hard as rocks.”

“Then you’re not upset that I just did it without asking?”

“I’m not upset, I’m impressed. The Cookie Jar’s never looked so good. Last year I just hung a string of lights, and that was it.” As Hannah gazed around her, she thought about Lisa’s abilities. Not only was she reliable and loyal, she baked like a dream, she was good with the customers, she could decorate cookies even better than Hannah could, and she’d decked out the shop for Christmas like a pro. It was time to make a move before someone else in Lake Eden discovered just how talented Lisa was. Hannah turned, walked over to Lisa and shook her hand. “Good work, partner.”

Lisa’s face was a study in contrasts. It was clear she hoped she’d heard Hannah right, but she was almost afraid to ask. Finally, she gulped and asked, “Partner?”

“Partner,” Hannah repeated it and smiled. “It’s the least I can do when you’re doing most of the work. I’ll work out the details with Howie Levine and have him draw up the papers before Christmas. There’s no way I’m going to chance losing you, Lisa.”

Lisa shook her head. “You won’t lose me. I love working here. You don’t have to make me a partner to keep me.”

“Bad move, Lisa.” Hannah couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “When someone offers you a partnership, you’re not supposed to try to talk them out of it. Just say ‘no thanks,’ or ‘I accept,’ and that’s all there is to it.”

Lisa nodded, and Hannah noticed that her eyes were shining. “You’re right, Hannah. I accept.”

After a quick phone call to Charlotte Roscoe, Jordan High’s secretary, Hannah headed for the school. She’d learned two things. Mike had called Charlotte and she’d faxed him a complete roster of The Gulls basketball team, and Craig Kimball was spending his first period, from eight-forty-five to nine-forty, in the library, where he would be studying for his midterm in English literature.