Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (2 page)

Hannah removed three eggs from the refrigerator behind the counter and dropped them, shells and all, into the bowl with the coffee grounds. Then she broke them open with a heavy spoon and added a dash of salt. Once she’d mixed up the eggs and shells with the coffee grounds, Hannah scraped the contents of the bowl into the basket and flipped on the switch to start the coffee.

A few minutes later, the coffee began to perk and Hannah sniffed the air appreciatively. Nothing smelled better than freshly brewed coffee, and everyone in Lake Eden said that her coffee was the best. Hannah tied on the pretty chintz apron she wore for serving her customers and ducked back through the swinging door to give Lisa her instructions.

“Bake the Chocolate Chip Crunches first, Lisa.” Hannah gave Lisa a welcoming smile.

“They’re already in the ovens, Hannah.” Lisa looked up from the stainless-steel work surface, where she was scooping out dough with a melon-baller and placing the perfectly round spheres into a small bowl filled with sugar. She was only nineteen, ten years younger than Hannah was, and her petite form was completely swaddled in the huge white baker’s apron she wore. “I’m working on the Molasses Crackles for the Boy Scout Awards Banquet now.”

Hannah had originally hired Lisa as a waitress, but it hadn’t taken her long to see that Lisa was capable of much more than pouring coffee and serving cookies. At the end of the first week, Hannah had increased Lisa’s hours from part-time to full-time and taught her to bake. Now they handled the business together, as a team.

“How’s your father today?” Hannah’s voice held a sympathetic note.

“Today’s a good day.” Lisa placed the unbaked tray of Molasses Crackles on the baker’s rack. “Mr. Drevlow is taking him to the Seniors’ Group at Holy Redeemer Lutheran.”

“But I thought your family was Catholic.”

“We are, but Dad doesn’t remember that. Besides, I don’t see how having lunch with the Lutherans could possibly hurt.”

“Neither do I. And it’s good for him to get out and socialize with his friends.”

“That’s exactly what I told Father Coultas. If God gave Dad Alzheimer’s, He’s got to understand when Dad forgets what church he belongs to.” Lisa walked to the oven, switched off the timer, and pulled out a tray of Chocolate Chip Crunches. “I’ll bring these in as soon as they’re cool.”

“Thanks.” Hannah went back through the swinging door again and unlocked the street door to the coffee shop. She flipped the “Closed” sign in the window to “Open,” and checked the cash register to make sure there was plenty of change. She’d just finished setting out small baskets of sugar packets and artificial sweeteners when a late-model dark green Volvo pulled up in the spot by the front door.

Hannah frowned as the driver’s door opened and her middle sister, Andrea, slid out of the driver’s seat. Andrea looked perfectly gorgeous in a green tweed jacket with politically correct fake fur around the collar. Her blond hair was swept up in a shining knot on the top of her head and she could have stepped from the pages of a glamour magazine. Even though Hannah’s friends insisted that she was pretty enough, just being in the same town with Andrea always made Hannah feel hopelessly frumpy and unsophisticated.

Andrea had married Bill Todd, a Winnetka County deputy sheriff, right after she’d graduated from high school. They had one daughter, Tracey, who had turned four last month. Bill was a good father on his hours away from the sheriff’s station, but Andrea had never been cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. When Tracey was only six months old, Andrea had decided that they’d needed two incomes and she’d gone to work as an agent at Lake Eden Realty.

The bell on the door tinkled and Andrea blew in with a chill blast of autumn wind, hauling Tracey behind her by the hand. “Thank God you’re here, Hannah! I’ve got a property to show and I’m late for my appointment at the Cut ’n Curl.”

“It’s only eight, Andrea.” Hannah boosted Tracey up onto a stool at the counter and went to the refrigerator to get her a glass of milk. “Bertie doesn’t open until nine.”

“I know, but she said she’d come in early for me. I’m showing the old Peterson farm this morning. If I sell it, I can order new carpeting for the master bedroom.”

“The Peterson farm?” Hannah turned to stare at her sister in shock. “Who’d want to buy that old wreck?”

“It’s not a wreck, Hannah. It’s a fixer-upper. And my buyer, Mr. Harris, has the funds to make it into a real showplace.”

“But why?” Hannah was honestly puzzled. The Peterson place had been vacant for twenty years. She’d ridden her bicycle out there as a child and it was just an old two-story farmhouse on several acres of overgrown farmland that adjoined the Cozy Cow Dairy. “Your buyer must be crazy if he wants it. The land’s practically worthless. Old man Peterson tried to farm it for years and the only things he could grow were rocks.”

Andrea straightened the collar of her jacket. “The client knows that, Hannah, and he doesn’t care. He’s only interested in the farmhouse. It’s still structurally sound and it has a nice view of the lake.”

“It’s sitting smack-dab in the middle of a hollow, Andrea. You can only see the lake from the top of the roof. What does your buyer plan to do, climb up on a ladder every time he wants to enjoy the view?”

“Not exactly, but it amounts to the same thing. He told me that he’s going to put on a third story and convert the property to a hobby farm.”

“A hobby farm?”

“That’s a second home in the country for city people who want to be farmers without doing any of the work. He’ll hire a local farmer to take care of his animals and keep up the land.”

“I see,” Hannah said, holding back a grin. By her own definition, Andrea was a hobby wife and a hobby mother. Her sister hired a local woman to come in to clean and cook the meals, and she paid baby-sitters and day-care workers to take care of Tracey.

“You’ll watch Tracey for me, won’t you, Hannah?” Andrea looked anxious. “I know she’s a bother, but it’s only for an hour. Kiddie Korner opens at nine.”

Hannah thought about giving her sister a piece of her mind. She was running a business and her shop wasn’t a day-care center. But one glance at Tracey’s hopeful face changed her mind. “Go ahead, Andrea. Tracey can work for me until it’s time for her to go to preschool.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Andrea turned and started toward the door. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Can I really work, Aunt Hannah?” Tracey asked in her soft little voice, and Hannah gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yes, you can. I need someone to be my official taster. Lisa just baked a batch of Chocolate Chip Crunches and I need to know if they’re good enough to serve to my customers.”

“Did you say
chocolate
?” Andrea turned back at the door to frown at Hannah. “Tracey can’t have chocolate. It makes her hyperactive.”

Hannah nodded, but she gave Tracey a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll remember that, Andrea.”

“I’ll see you later, Tracey,” Andrea said and blew her daughter a kiss. “Don’t be any trouble for your aunt Hannah, okay?”

Tracey waited until the door had closed behind her mother and then she turned to Hannah. “What’s hyperactive, Aunt Hannah?”

“It’s another word for what kids do when they’re having fun.” Hannah came out from behind the counter and lifted Tracey off the stool. “Come on, honey. Let’s go in the back and see if those Chocolate Chip Crunches are cool enough for you to sample.”

Lisa was just slipping another tray of cookies into the oven when Hannah and Tracey came in. She gave Tracey a hug, handed her a cookie from the tray that was cooling on the rack, and turned to Hannah with a frown. “Ron hasn’t come in yet. Do you suppose he’s out sick?”

“Not unless it came on suddenly.” Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight-fifteen and Ron was almost forty-five minutes late. “I saw him two hours ago when I drove past the dairy, and he looked just fine to me.”

“I saw him, too, Aunt Hannah.” Tracey tugged on Hannah’s arm.

“You did? When was that, Tracey?”

“The cow truck went by when I was waiting outside the realty office. Mr. LaSalle waved at me and he gave me a funny smile. And then Andrea came out with her papers and we came to see you.”

“Andrea?” Hannah looked down at her niece in surprise.

“She doesn’t like me to call her Mommy anymore because it’s a label and she hates labels,” Tracey did her best to explain. “I’m supposed to call her Andrea, just like everybody else.”

Hannah sighed. Perhaps it was time to have a talk with her sister about the responsibilities of motherhood. “Are you sure you saw the Cozy Cow truck, Tracey?”

“Yes, Aunt Hannah.” Tracey’s blond head bobbed up and down confidently. “It turned at your corner and went into the alley. And then I heard it make a loud bang, just like Daddy’s car. I knew it came from the cow truck because there weren’t any other cars.”

Hannah knew exactly what Tracey meant. Bill’s old Ford was on its last legs and it backfired every time he eased up on the gas. “Ron’s probably out there tinkering with his truck. I’ll go and see.”

“Can I come with, Aunt Hannah?”

“Stay with me, Tracey,” Lisa spoke up before Hannah could answer. “You can help me listen for the bell and wait on any customers that come into the coffee shop.”

Tracey looked pleased. “Can I bring them their cookies, Lisa? Just like a real waitress?”

“Absolutely, but it’s got to be our secret. We wouldn’t want your dad to bust us for violating the child-labor laws.”

“What does ‘bust’ mean, Lisa? And why would my daddy do it?”

Hannah grinned as she slipped into her jacket and listened to Lisa’s explanation. Tracey questioned everything, and it drove Andrea to distraction. Hannah had attempted to tell her sister that an inquiring mind was a sign of intelligence, but Andrea just didn’t have the necessary patience to deal with her bright four-year-old.

As Hannah pulled open the door and stepped out, she was greeted by a strong gust of wind that nearly threw her off balance. She pushed the door shut behind her, shielded her eyes from the blowing wind, and walked forward to peer down the alley. Ron’s delivery truck was parked sideways near the mouth of the alley, blocking the access in both directions. The driver’s door was partially open and Ron’s legs were dangling out.

Hannah moved forward, assuming that Ron was stretched out on the seat to work on the wiring that ran under the dash. She didn’t want to startle him and cause him to bump his head, so she stopped several feet from the truck and called out. “Hi, Ron. Do you want me to phone for a tow truck?”

Ron didn’t answer. The wind was whistling down the alley, rattling the lids on the metal Dumpsters, and perhaps he hadn’t heard her. Hannah walked closer, called out again, and moved around the door to glance inside the truck.

The sight that greeted Hannah made her jump back and swallow hard. Ron LaSalle, Lake Eden’s local football hero, was lying faceup on the seat of his delivery truck. His white hat was on the floorboards, the orders on his clipboard were rattling in the wind, and one of Hannah’s cookie bags was open on the seat. Chocolate Chip Crunches were scattered everywhere, and Hannah’s eyes widened as she realized that he was still holding one of her cookies in his hand.

Then Hannah’s eyes moved up and she saw it: the ugly hole, ringed with powder burns in the very center of Ron’s Cozy Cow delivery shirt. Ron LaSalle had been shot dead.

I
t wasn’t the way that Hannah preferred to attract new clientele, but she had to admit that finding Ron’s body had been good for business. The Cookie Jar was jam-packed with customers. Some of them were even standing while they munched their cookies, and every one of them wanted her opinion on what had happened to Ron LaSalle.

Hannah looked up as the bell tinkled and Andrea came in. She looked mad enough to kill and Hannah sighed.

“We have to talk!” Andrea slipped around the counter and grabbed her arm. “Now, Hannah!”

“I can’t talk to you now, Andrea. I have customers.”

“‘Ghouls’ is more like it!” Andrea spoke in an undertone, surveying the crowd that was eyeing them curiously. She gave a tight little smile, a mere turning up of her lips that wouldn’t have fooled anyone with its sincerity, and her grip tightened on Hannah’s arm. “Call Lisa to handle the counter and take a break. It’s important, Hannah!”

Hannah nodded. Andrea looked terribly upset. “Okay. Go tell Lisa to come up here and I’ll join you back in the bakery.”

The switch was accomplished quickly, and once she’d slipped back to the bakery, Hannah found her sister perched on a stool at the work island in the center of the room. Andrea was staring at the ovens as if she’d just encountered a hibernating grizzly, and Hannah was alarmed. “Is there something wrong with the ovens?”

“Not exactly. Lisa said that the timer’s about to go off and the cookies have to come out. You know I don’t bake, Hannah.”

“I’ll do it.” Hannah grinned as she handed her sister an individual carton of orange juice. Her sister would be more at home in a foreign country than she was in a kitchen. Andrea’s culinary efforts were always disasters. Until she’d gone back to work and hired someone to come in to cook the meals, the Todd family had eaten nothing but microwave dinners.

Hannah grabbed a pair of oven mitts and removed the trays from the ovens. She replaced them with the unbaked Oatmeal Raisin Crisps that Lisa had prepared and then she pulled up a second stool and joined her sister at the work island. “What’s wrong, Andrea?”

“It’s Tracey. Janice Cox just paged me from Kiddie Korner. She said Tracey’s telling all of her classmates that she saw Ron’s body.”

“That’s true—she did.”

“How could you, Hannah?” Andrea looked positively betrayed. “Tracey’s impressionable, just like me. It’s liable to scar her psyche for life!”

Hannah reached out and opened the carton of orange juice, slipping the little plastic straw inside. “Take a sip, Andrea. You look faint. And try to relax.”

“How can I relax when you exposed my daughter to a murder victim?”

“I didn’t expose her. Bill did. And all Tracey saw was the body bag. They were loading it into the coroner’s van when he took her over to the preschool.”

“Then she didn’t actually
see
Ron.”

“Not unless she has X-ray vision. You can ask Bill about it. He’s still out in the alley securing the crime scene.”

“I’ll talk to him later.” Andrea took a sip of her orange juice and a little color came back into her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I should have known that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Tracey. Sometimes I think that you’re a better mother to her than I am.”

Hannah bit her tongue. This wasn’t the time to give Andrea a lecture about how to raise her daughter. “Tracey loves you, Andrea.”

“I know, but motherhood doesn’t come naturally to me. That’s why I hired the best baby-sitters I could find and went to work. I thought that if I had a real career, it would make Bill and Tracey proud of me, but it’s just not working out the way I hoped it would.”

Hannah nodded, recognizing the real reason behind her sister’s unusual candor. “Your sale fell through?”

“Yes. He decided the property wasn’t right for him. And when I offered to show him some of my other listings, he wouldn’t even look. I really wanted that carpet, Hannah. It was gorgeous and it would have given my bedroom a whole new look.”

“Next time, Andrea.” Hannah gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re a good salesman.”

“Not good enough to convince Mr. Harris. I can usually spot a Looky-Lou a mile off, but I’m beginning to think that he was never serious about buying the old Peterson place.”

Hannah got up to hand her a Chocolate Chip Crunch that was still slightly warm from the oven. Andrea had always loved Chocolate Chip Crunches and Hannah made a mental note to remind Bill not to mention that Ron had been eating them right before he died. “Eat this, Andrea. You’ll feel better with a little chocolate in your system.”

“Maybe.” Andrea took a bite of the cookie and gave a small smile. “I just love these cookies, Hannah. Do you remember the first time you made them for me?”

“I remember,” Hannah answered with a smile. It had been a rainy day in September and Andrea had stayed after school for cheerleading tryouts. Since there’d never been a freshman cheerleader on the varsity squad, Hannah hadn’t held out much hope that Andrea would make it. So Hannah had rushed home from school to make chocolate chip oatmeal cookies for her sister, hoping to take the sting out of Andrea’s disappointment, but she hadn’t checked to make sure she had all the ingredients before she’d started to mix up the dough. The oatmeal canister had been empty and Hannah had crushed up some Corn Flakes as a substitute. The resulting cookies had been wonderful, Andrea had made the cheerleading squad, and she’d raved about Hannah’s Chocolate Chip Crunches ever since.

“I guess there was no real way of knowing that he was just window-shopping.” Andrea took another bite of her cookie and sighed. “He
seemed
like a real buyer. Even Al Percy thought so. I mean, we didn’t even have to solicit him. He came to us!”

Hannah realized that it might be good for Andrea to talk about her disappointment. “How long ago was that?”

“Three weeks ago on Tuesday. He said he really liked the house, that it had a sense of history about it. I took him inside and he was even more impressed.”

“But you couldn’t get him to make an offer?”

“No, he said he needed to work out some details first. I figured that it was just an excuse and I wrote him off. Sometimes people don’t like to say no and they give you some sort of lame excuse. I really didn’t think I’d hear from him again, but he called me last week and said he was still interested.”

Hannah decided that some sisterly comfort was in order. “Maybe he really wanted to buy, but he couldn’t afford it.”

“I don’t think so. He told me that money wasn’t the problem, that he’d just decided it wouldn’t suit him. And then he got into his rental car and drove away.”

“He was driving a rental?”

“Yes, he said he didn’t want to damage his Jaguar by driving it over gravel roads. For all I know, he doesn’t even have a Jaguar. If I ever see a man in a rug again, I’m not going to believe a single word he says! A man who lies about having hair will lie about anything.”

Hannah laughed and went to take the Oatmeal Raisin Chews out of the ovens. When she turned, her sister was standing up to go.

“I’ve got to run,” Andrea announced. “Mother told me that Mrs. Robbins is thinking about moving to the Lakeview Senior Apartments. I thought I’d drop in for a visit and see if I can convince her to list her house with me.”

Hannah immediately felt better. Andrea seemed to have recovered her self-confidence.

“I’ll just say hello to Bill and see if he can pick Tracey up after preschool. And I suppose I’d better find something to take to Mrs. Robbins. It’s not very neighborly to arrive empty-handed.”

“Take these. They’re her favorites.” Hannah filled one of her special cookie bags with a half-dozen Molasses Crackles. The bags looked like miniature shopping bags and they had red handles with “The Cookie Jar” stamped in gold lettering on the front.

“This is really sweet of you.” Andrea sounded grateful. “I don’t say it enough, but you’re a wonderful sister. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come back when Dad died. Mother was a basket case and Michelle didn’t know what to do with her. I tried to run back and forth, but Tracey was just a baby and I just couldn’t keep it up. All I could think of was calling you and begging you to come home to bail us all out.”

Hannah gave Andrea a quick hug. “You did the right thing. I’m the big sister and you were practically a newlywed. It was my responsibility to help.”

“But sometimes I feel really guilty about calling you. You had your own life and you gave it all up for us.”

Hannah turned away to hide the sudden moisture that sprang to her eyes. Perhaps losing a sale was good for Andrea. She’d never been this appreciative before. “You don’t have to feel guilty, Andrea. Coming home wasn’t a sacrifice on my part. I was having doubts about teaching and I really wanted to do something different.”

“But you were so close to getting your doctorate. You could have been a professor by now at a really good university.”

“Maybe.” Hannah shrugged, conceding the point. “But baking cookies is a lot more fun than giving a lecture on iambic pentameter or being stuck in a deadly dull faculty meeting. And you know how much I love The Cookie Jar.”

“Then you’re happy here in Lake Eden?”

“My business is great, I’ve got my own place, and I don’t have to live with Mother. What could be better?”

Andrea started to smile. “There’s something to that, especially the part about not living with Mother. But what about romance?”

“Don’t push it, Andrea.” Hannah gave her a warning look. “If the right man comes along, that’s great. And if he doesn’t, that’s fine too. I’m perfectly content to live by myself.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Andrea looked very relieved as she headed for the door.

“I’m sure. Good luck with Mrs. Robbins.”

“I’ll need it.” Andrea turned back with a grin. “If she starts bragging about her son, the doctor, I’ll probably throw up.”

Hannah knew exactly what her sister meant. Mrs. Robbins had come into her cookie shop last week, full of praise about her son, the doctor. According to his mother, Dr. Jerry Robbins was about to discover the cure for multiple sclerosis, cancer, and the common cold all in one fell swoop.

“I need to ask you some questions, Hannah.” Bill stuck his head into the coffee shop and motioned to her.

“Sure, Bill.” Hannah handed her apron to Lisa, grabbed two mugs of strong black coffee, and followed him into the back room. On the way, she admired the way his tan uniform shirt fit smoothly over his broad shoulders. Bill had been a football player in high school, never as famous as Ron LaSalle, but he’d helped to win his share of games. Now his waist was thicker, the result of too many chocolate-covered doughnuts from the Quick Stop on his commute to the sheriff’s station, but he was still a handsome man.

“Thanks for the coffee, Hannah.” Bill plunked down on a stool and cupped both hands around his mug of coffee. “It’s getting cold out there.”

“I can tell. You look positively blue around the gills. Did you find out anything?”

“Not much. The driver’s window was open. Ron must have stopped his truck and rolled down the window to talk to his killer.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “He wouldn’t have rolled down his window if he thought that he was in any danger.”

“Probably not,” Bill agreed. “Whoever it was took him completely by surprise.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“Not yet. And unless we can find a witness, the only clue we’ll have is the bullet. It’ll go to ballistics right after the autopsy.”

Hannah winced at the mention of the autopsy. To take her mind off the fact that Doc Knight would have to cut Ron open, she asked another question. “You don’t have to tell anyone that he was eating one of my cookies when he died, do you? It might put people off, if you know what I mean.”

“No problem.” Bill looked amused for the first time that morning. “Your cookies had nothing to do with it. Ron was shot.”

“I wish I’d found him sooner, Bill. I could have called for an ambulance.”

“That wouldn’t have done any good. It looked like the bullet hit his heart. I won’t know for sure until the doc gets through with him, but I think he died instantly.”

“That’s good.” Hannah nodded, and then she realized what she’d said. “I mean, that’s
not
good, but I’m glad it was over quickly.”

Bill opened his notebook. “I want you to tell me everything that happened this morning, Hannah, even if you don’t think it’s important.”

“You got it.” Hannah waited until Bill had picked up his pen and then she told him everything, from the time she’d first seen Ron at the dairy to the moment she’d discovered his body. She gave Bill the exact time that she had gone out through the rear door of the bakery, and the time that she’d come back in to call the sheriff’s office.

“You make a good witness,” Bill complimented her. “Is that all?”

“I think Tracey may have been the last person to see Ron alive. She said she was waiting for Andrea to pick up some papers at the realty office when Ron drove by in his truck. She waved at him, he waved back, and then she watched him turn at my corner. That must have been close to eight because Andrea and Tracey came into the coffee shop right after I opened and…” Hannah stopped speaking and began to frown.

“What is it, Hannah?” Bill picked up his pen again. “You just thought of something, didn’t you?”

“Yes. If Tracey saw Ron at eight, he was already twenty-five minutes behind schedule.”

“How do you know that?”

“Ron was supposed to be here at seven thirty-five. He delivers to the school and then he comes straight here. I’ve been on his route since I opened this place and he’s never been more than a minute late.”

“And that’s why you went out in the alley to look for his truck?”

“Not exactly. We thought he’d broken down. Tracey said she heard his truck backfire right after he turned into the…” Hannah stopped in midsentence, her eyes widening in shock. “Tracey heard it, Bill. She thought it was a backfire, but she must have heard the shot that killed Ron!”

Bill’s lips tightened and Hannah knew what he was thinking. It was terrifying to think that Tracey had come so close to the scene of a murder. “I’d better get out to the dairy and tell Max Turner what’s happened,” he said.