Blackberry Pie Murder (23 page)

188

Joanne Fluke

“Yes, but that shouldn’t make any difference. Did you preheat the oven to four hundred degrees?”

“
Four
hundred?!” Michelle looked surprised. “But I saw you turn your oven to three seventy-five!”

“That’s because my oven runs hot. You’ve got to know your oven, honey. If yours doesn’t run hot, you should set it for four hundred degrees. You won’t get the toast crisp enough if you don’t.”

“Got it,” Michelle said, looking pleased. “Thanks for clear-ing that up, Rose. When I get back to college, I’m going to try to make them again.”

“Good.” Rose smiled at her. “Do you still want one today?”

“Yes, I do. I just love them for breakfast.”

Rose turned to Hannah. “How about you?”

“I’ll have one, too. And then we’re going to have dessert.”

It was Rose’s turn to look surprised. “Dessert for breakfast?”

“Why not? There’s no rule that says you can’t have dessert for breakfast. And that reminds me . . . I have a question for you, Rose.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you have blackberry pie for sale last Thursday or Friday?”

“No.”

The answer had come so quickly, it made Hannah wonder if Rose had taken time to think about it. “But you have lots of different kinds of pies. It’s important. Are you sure you didn’t have blackberry pie?”

“I’m positive. And that’s because I never serve it. Some of the people who come here for pie are slobs. And if they drop a forkful of blackberry pie and I don’t notice it right away, it’ll stain my white countertop. It’s just like beets. I don’t serve beets, either.”

“Okay. Thanks, Rose.” Hannah mentally crossed Rose off her to-do list.

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“So what do you want for dessert?” Rose asked. “Pie?”

“I want a chocolate doughnut,” Michelle said, making up her mind immediately. “Why don’t you have one too, Hannah? Unless you don’t want chocolate, of course.”

“Bite your tongue!” Hannah said with a laugh. “I always want chocolate.”

Rose nodded. “Almost everybody who comes in here needs a little chocolate. It seems to just set people up for the day. I know that because I always have to order four times more chocolate doughnuts than I do of any other kind.”

It was eleven in the morning and Hannah stood in the kitchen at The Cookie Jar, mixing up yet another batch of cookies. It seemed everyone in Lake Eden wanted to listen to Lisa’s story of how they had driven through the terrible summer storm, and Hannah had hit and killed the stranger no one in town or the surrounding towns seemed to know.

Today something new had been added to Lisa’s story and everyone had turned out to hear what it was. Hannah had listened to Lisa talk about the injuries Doc Knight had described from the fight the man had been in with an unknown assailant, and how the assailant’s ring had slipped off and could be the very same high school or college ring the stranger had been wearing.

Lisa was just coming to the part about the blackberry stain on the stranger’s white shirt when Hannah popped more pans of cookies in the oven. She set the timer, poured herself another cup of coffee, and tried not to listen. Unfortunately, trying not to listen was a bit like trying not to jiggle a sore tooth. The more the tooth loosened, the more you jiggled.

Hannah found herself listening with rapt attention as Lisa described the blackberry stain on the man’s expensive white shirt.

“Blackberries?” Hannah heard a shocked voice say. “Are you sure it was a blackberry stain?”

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“Yes, we’re sure,” Lisa said. “Doc Knight tested the stain in the hospital lab.”

“Well, Winnie Henderson’s the only one who raises blackberries around here,” someone said. “Maybe he raided her blackberry patch, or ate a piece of her blackberry pie. I know she made some for her grandson’s birthday party. I took my boy there and I had a piece myself.”

Hannah thunked the side of her head with her hand. Of course! Winnie had told her on Friday morning that she had to bake another blackberry pie because one of hers had been stolen.

The stove timer dinged and Hannah went to take the cookies out of the oven. She’d just placed the last sheet of cookies on the baker’s rack when there was a knock at the back door.

Hannah hurried to open the door. Perhaps it was Norman, on break from the dental clinic. But when she pulled open the door, she saw her mother standing there.

“Hello, Mother,” Hannah said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Hello, dear. I just popped in for coffee.”

“You’re in luck then. I made a fresh pot no more than five minutes ago and I’ve got fresh cookies that just came out of the oven.”

“Perfect timing then,” Delores said, taking a seat at the stainless steel work counter. “I’m considering butterscotch tarts for dessert at the wedding reception, dear.”

“Butterscotch tarts?” There was a question in Hannah’s voice when she repeated her mother’s choice. “Do you think they’ll be festive enough for a fancy dinner?”

“I don’t know. That’s one of the reasons I came over here. I was thinking that perhaps we could decorate them in some way.”

“I’ll have to think about that. But I thought you wanted something chocolate.”

“I did. I still do, but it’s not just for me, dear. Doc is Scot-BLACKBERRY PIE MURDER

191

tish and I thought we should have something to reflect his heritage.”

“There’s your main course, Mother. You could have haggis.”

“What’s that, dear? I don’t think I’ve ever tasted it.”

“It’s the chopped organs of a sheep mixed with oatmeal and stuffed in a sheep’s stomach.”

“Ohhh!” Delores gave a delicate shiver. “That sounds simply dreadful!”

“I understand it is, but I’ve never eaten it either.”

“Forget Doc’s Scottish heritage for the moment. I’d much rather have a half Cornish game hen with apricot glaze.”

“But I thought you’d decided on individual Beef Wellington.”

“That did sound marvelous, but I’ve reconsidered. And I’ve decided on the colors for the bridesmaid dresses. I want something in lavender lace.”

It was Hannah’s turn to shudder. Lavender was a shade of purple and she’d never been able to wear any shade of purple. Of course, there was no sense in getting upset about it.

Her mother was bound to change her mind at least a dozen more times before the wedding.

“Would you like to have a cookie, Mother?” Hannah asked, hoping to change the subject. Wedding planning with Delores was always frustrating and the last thing she needed today was more frustration.

“Cookies would be lovely, dear. I’m not sure I’ll have time for lunch. I have to run out to the hospital this afternoon.

Doc has some filing for me to do.”

It was love, pure and simple Hannah decided on her way to the baker’s rack to get cookies for her mother. Delores hated filing. She hated office work of any type. She’d never done any office work at Hannah’s father’s hardware store.

But here she was manning Doc’s office in addition to heading the Rainbow Ladies, the hospital volunteer group. Yes, it had to be love. There was no other explanation for it.

Hannah thought about this while her mother munched a Molasses Crackle. Like her mother, Hannah wasn’t fond of 192

Joanne Fluke

office work. She knew how to file and write a business letter, but would she do it for either of the men she dated and loved? Norman didn’t need her to do his office work. He had a part-time helper from the Jordan High business class for that. And Mike didn’t need her either because he used the secretarial pool at the Winnetka County Sheriff’s station.

“Why so thoughtful, dear?” Delores asked, finishing the last of her coffee.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with spending three days and nights in jail.”

“Why would that make you thoughtful?”

“Because there was nothing else to do while I was there.

When the lights went off at ten o’clock, I couldn’t read any longer. And no visitors were allowed after ten at night, so the only things I had for entertainment were my own thoughts.”

Delores looked pensive. “That must have been boring, dear,” she said.

“Not at all. I carried on imaginary conversations with people, I speculated on quite a few what-ifs, and I tried to imagine what my life would be like ten years from now.”

“Ten years from now?” When Hannah nodded, Delores began to smile. “I would hope you’d be married with at least two children. And still in love with your husband.”

“I knew you’d say that, Mother,” Hannah said, her mind busily searching for a way to change the subject. There was no way she’d tell her mother about her daydream of being a contestant in a food channel contest, winning the competition, and becoming a famous dessert chef. She’d mentioned her flight of fancy to Michelle, but she certainly didn’t want to discuss it with her mother! “How about you, Mother?” she asked, turning the tables so quickly her mother actually looked a bit off balance.

“Me?” Delores stalled for time.

“Yes, you. Where do you think you’ll be in ten years?”

“I should hope I’d be right here in Lake Eden, happily married to Doc and doing almost the same things I’m doing BLACKBERRY PIE MURDER

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right now.” There was a slight narrowing of Delores’s brown eyes. “And I would hope that
all
my grandchildren would be right here around me, and Doc and I would all be enjoying time with them.”

“That’s assuming you’ll be marrying Doc.”

“Of course it is! I’m certainly not going to be marrying anyone else,
except
Doc!”

“But you might not be marrying him.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Hannah took a deep breath and repeated her great-grandmother’s saying in her mind.
In for a penny, in for a
pound.
She’d opened the subject and now it was time to tell her mother that her continual wavering about the wedding plans had gone on long enough. It wouldn’t be nice, and it wouldn’t be pretty, but Hannah was about to put an end to it.

“You’ve changed your mind about everything else that concerns the wedding. For all we know, you might change your mind about marrying Doc, too.”

“I’d never do that!”

“Okay. That’s written in stone then. But think about this, Mother. You might not be marrying at all since you can’t make up your mind about your dress, the bridesmaid dresses, the flowers, and the menu and decorations for the reception.

I don’t even think you’ve chosen a wedding invitation yet . . .

have you?”

“Well . . . no. No, I haven’t. But I’ve narrowed it down to four and there’s still time as long as I don’t have the invitations hand-addressed by a calligrapher.”

“Yes, you probably missed the ticket on that one.” Hannah prodded a little harder. “I hope you get them in the mail in time for the postal service to deliver them. You know, Mother . . . I’m really beginning to wonder if you want to get married at all. You’re certainly dragging your feet when it comes to making wedding decisions.”

“But . . . but . . .” Delores sputtered, and then she took a deep shaking breath. “Just because I’ve changed my mind a 194

Joanne Fluke

few times doesn’t mean I don’t want to marry Doc. I just want everything perfect, that’s all. It’s very important to me.”

“It’s important to us, too. You raised three daughters and you put us in charge of the wedding,” Hannah reminded her.

“And you know, full well, that perfection isn’t our long suit.

We’re trying, but you’re knocking down every one of our ideas. And when, and it’s a
big
when, you finally agree on something, you change your mind again within a week. You said you didn’t care, that we should do it and you’d go along with anything we planned.”

“Well! I didn’t mean I’d go along with absolutely
anything
you planned.”

“Okay, let’s keep this simple. Are you going to let us do it?

Or are you going to fight us every step of the way?”

Delores sighed and put her head in her hands. She stayed that way for a long moment and then she took her hands away. “All right, Hannah,” she said. “You’re right. I’ve been vacillating too long and I haven’t been fair to you girls. Give me three choices on everything and I’ll decide.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, dear. I promise. We’ll have another planning meeting tomorrow morning. I’ll listen to all your suggestions and then I’ll make a choice.”

“For the flowers, the dresses, the music, the decorations,
and
the menu?”

“Yes. I’ll choose everything tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Hannah said. And then, because she thought she might have been too harsh, she got up and came around the work island to give her mother a big hug.

“We love you, Mother.”

“I know you do. And I admit I’m being difficult. It’s not for me, Hannah. Doc’s never had a wedding before. I just want this wedding to be one that Doc can remember with pride.”

“It will be, Mother,” Hannah said, walking her mother to BLACKBERRY PIE MURDER

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the door. “I promise you that Doc will love it and remember it with pride for the rest of his life.”

When Delores went out and she had closed the door behind her, Hannah walked back to the workstation and sat down again. She’d said what she needed to say, and Delores had agreed. On the surface, everything was fine, but Hannah had the awful premonition that nothing she’d said would do any good when morning rolled around and their next planning meeting convened.

! % { # 9 *

BACON, EGG, AND CHEDDAR

CHEESE TOAST CUPS

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

6 slices bacon
(regular sliced, not thick sliced)

4 Tablespoons
(2 ounces, 1⁄2 stick)
salted butter, softened

6 slices soft white bread

1⁄2 cup grated cheddar cheese

6 large eggs

Salt and pepper to taste