Fudge Cupcake Murder (25 page)

Mike shook his head. "Not a thing."

"Then you don't know if Sheriff Grant was working on a case when he was killed?"

"No. There's a rumor that he was, but no one at the station seems to know anything about it." Mike's eyes narrowed slightly. "You haven't heard anything, have you?"

"Nothing substantial. The only thing I know is that he always worked on a big case right before an election. Then, when he cracked it, he got enough good publicity to get re-elected. I figure that he was working on a case this time, too."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"From one of Mother's friends," Hannah said, and this time she didn't bother to cross her fingers. Barbara Donnelly was a member of the Lake Eden Historical Society and so was Delores. No one would call them bosom buddies, but they were friends. "I thought he might have left some notes in his desk, or a briefcase, or something."

Mike shook his head. "There was nothing in his office at the station and nothing at the house except a couple of empty briefcases. If he was working on a case, he must have stashed his notes somewhere else."

"You're probably right," Hannah said. And then she opened her mouth and inserted her foot without even knowing she was going to do it. "I wish I could search his home office. Maybe you missed something."

Mike gave her a look that could curdle sweet milk. "I'm the professional here, not you. And I know how to conduct a search. I didn't miss anything."

"Uh-oh," Hannah muttered inaudibly. She'd really stepped in it this time. Now Mike was on his high horse and she had to jolly him down into a good mood. "Would you like the rest of my pie? It was such a big piece I can't finish it."

"Well… okay," Mike said, slightly mollified. But Hannah knew it would take more than a few bites of pie to fully placate him.

"How about watching a movie together? I rented the latest shoot-'em-up cop thriller."

Mike turned to give her the curdling look again, but this time it wasn't as acidic. "What makes you think I'd enjoy a movie like that?"

"I don't know." Hannah shrugged. "It just seemed like your thing, that's all."

"And what's my thing?"

"You know… the macho law man who can take on dozens of bad guys who are really bad shots with automatic weapons."

Mike threw back his head and laughed. "You've got those movies pegged. When the bad guys shoot, they never hit the hero. They just end up smashing everything that makes a lot of noise or looks really good on camera."

"I've noticed," Hannah said, also noticing that she'd managed to jolly Mike out of his bad mood. "That's the reason I like those movies. I watch to pick the plots apart and see how many mistakes I can find."

"Me, too. So which movie did you rent?"

Ten minutes later, Mike and Hannah sat on her couch, eating the microwave popcorn she'd made and laughing over the mistakes they caught in the movie. Hannah was cuddled up on one side of Mike, his arm around her shoulder, and Moishe was cuddled up on his other side, purring so loudly that they needed to turn up the volume. Hannah's attention was divided. Part of it was on Mike and how right it felt to be nestled close to his side in this cozy domestic situation. The other part was on the movie and the current scene, where the cop went into his dead daughter's room, unchanged since she'd died, and vowed to catch her killer.

"That's so strange," Hannah murmured, not realizing that she'd spoken aloud until Mike turned to her with a questioning look. "It's odd to keep someone's room just the way it was when they were alive. That's what Sheriff Grant did with Jamie's room."

Mike put the movie on pause and turned to her. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, Nettie mentioned it a while back," Hannah said, not saying that a while back had been as recent as a couple of days ago. "She said she wanted to clear out Jamie's room, but Sheriff Grant wouldn't let her give away any of his things."

"I noticed that when I searched the room. There was a three-year-old copy of the school paper sitting on the bed table and all Jamie's clothes were in the closet."

"So don't you think that's a little creepy? I mean, leaving everything just the way it was when his son was alive? If he wanted to use it for a home office, he should have cleared it out."

Mike shrugged. "People have their own time frame about things like that. It's a part of the grieving process. When my wife died, it was a full year before I gave away the clothes on her side of the closet and that was only because I got a bunch of new shirts and ran out of room. And I never did clear out her dresser. I still have it just the way it was."

"You mean here? In Lake Eden?"

"That's right. It looks nice in the guest room and I never have any company anyway. I keep it because I need to hold onto some tangible things from the past to remind me of how good life was back then."

Hannah fought back a quick stab of jealousy. Didn't Mike think that his life was good now? But it wasn't fair of her to be jealous, not when he'd been so completely honest with her. When they'd first started dating, Mike had told her that he was still grieving for his wife and that he wasn't ready for a commitment. And she had professed to understand.

"I can understand hanging onto keepsakes," Hannah said, "but I don't think Nettie grieved any less than Sheriff Grant when she wanted to give away Jamie's things and use his room for another purpose. Life goes on. People have to cope. It's an ongoing process."

"You're much more practical than I am. If I died tomorrow, you'd probably ditch the locket I gave you for Christmas, get rid of that picture we had taken at the county fair, and forget all about me."

"No way," Hannah said, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Even without any tangible reminders, I could never forget about you, Mike."

This led to a kiss, as Hannah had expected it might. And that kiss led to another kiss. Moishe yowled once in protest and then jumped off the couch in search of a more stable resting place. Hannah laughed and so did Mike. He'd just pulled her into his arms again when a series of rhythmic chimes caused him to groan and release her.

"Cell phone," Mike said, reaching for his jacket. "I told them to call if there was an emergency."

Hannah bit back her four-letter answer to Mike's explanation. He was a cop. Off-duty, or not. Involved in something else, or not. A cop had to answer when duty called.

"Hey, Shawna Lee," Mike said, and Hannah's ears perked up. A moment later, they went on full alert when he moved away from her toward the far end of the couch. "You're all finished then?"

Hannah glanced at the clock on top of the television set. It was past nine at night. Was Shawna Lee working this late at the sheriff's station?

"Don't worry about it. I told you to call when you were through. I'll be there in less than fifteen. Watch for me from the lobby."

Hannah didn't bother to smooth out her frown when Mike put the phone in his pocket and turned to her. A few moments ago, she'd been steaming with passion, but now she was just plain steaming.

"Shawna Lee said she'd stay at work until I got back from my date with you. Her car's not working right and I promised to give her a lift home."

"Hold on," Hannah said, trying not to grit her teeth. "You told Shawna Lee you'd take her home after your date with me?"

"Sure. I knew it wouldn't be a late night since I have to get to work early tomorrow and so do you. I just told her to call when she was through with her filing and I'd pick her up."

"You're obviously unclear on the concept of dating," Hannah muttered, glaring at Mike.

"What's wrong? I'm just giving her a ride home, that's all."

"Consider this," Hannah said, placing both hands on her hips and turning to confront him squarely. "Not all that long ago, we were in each other's arms right here on the couch. I thought it meant something."

Mike reached out for her hand. "It does mean something, Hannah."

"But you let Shawna Lee interrupt us."

Mike thought about that for a split second and then he gave her one of his killer smiles, the ones that made Hannah feel like she'd just stepped on a roller coaster. "Are you inviting me to stay with you?"

"Not on a bet!" Hannah retorted. "You made a promise to Shawna Lee and you'd better keep it!"

Mike was silent for a moment and then he gave a deep sigh. "What would have happened if I hadn't made that promise?"

"You'll never know." Hannah felt like screaming at him, or slapping him across his handsome face, or beaning him with the heaviest object that was handy, but she did none of those things. She just stood up with all the cool dignity that she could muster and handed him his jacket.

"At least I come first with you!" Hannah said, motioning for Moishe to follow her into the living room. She set one of the expensive cut glass dessert dishes Delores had given her for Christmas three years ago on the coffee table and filled it with a generous scoop of yogurt. "Yogurt's health food. It's bound to be good for you."

Once Moishe was lapping happily, Hannah went back to the kitchen to put the yogurt container back in the refrigerator and fetch a glass of white wine for herself. She needed to relax and let her anger at Mike and Shawna Lee fade into something less dangerous than thoughts of double-homicide. She took her customary place on the couch, curling up at the end with her favorite pillow under her arm, sipped her wine, and channel surfed for something to numb her senses.

Hannah had just settled on watching a program about sea otters when there was a knock on the door. If it was Mike, he was playing musical apartments and she wouldn't let him in. There was no way she'd allow him to take her home, take Shawna Lee home, and then come back to her.

"Who's there?" Hannah called out, her hand on the deadbolt.

"It’s me. I'm back. Open the door, Hannah."

The voice sounded a lot like Norman's and Hannah put her eye to the peephole before she remembered that it wouldn't do any good. Since the light on the staircase was directly across from the peephole, all she could see was a bulky silhouette.

"Norman?" Hannah asked, throwing open the door. And there stood Norman in all his dependable, huggable glory. Norman was as far from Mike as a woman could get and Hannah was glad. One palm-sweating, breath-catching, heart-thudding encounter was enough for one evening.

"Hi, Hannah," Norman said with a grin and Hannah's heart gave a joyful bound. Norman was just the person she wanted to see.

"Come in, Norman." Hannah held the door open wide.

Norman blocked Moishe with a quick step to the side and stepped into Hannah's living room. Then he scooped up her resident feline, turning him tummy up like a baby in his arms, and tickled him under the chin. "I missed you, big guy."

"How about me?" Hannah couldn't resist saying. "Did you miss me, too?"

"That goes without saying. It's not too late for you, is it?"

"It's never too late," Hannah said, wondering if she should adopt that as her personal motto as she took Norman's jacket and hung it over the back of the chair by the door. "Can I get you something to drink? I've got coffee, wine, soft drinks, whatever."

"A diet anything will be fine. I drank enough coffee on the plane."

Hannah rushed to the kitchen to get Norman's drink and when she came back, he was sitting on the couch with Moishe cuddled in his lap. Her cat definitely had his priorities straight this time around. She set Norman's soft drink on the coffee table and took her usual seat at the opposite end of the couch. "So what are you doing back in Lake Eden so early?"

"Andrea paged me at the convention to tell me about Sheriff Grant's murder. When she mentioned that Doc Knight had confined her to the house, I decided to come back right away in case you needed me."

"I'm glad you did. I do need you," Hannah said, smiling widely.

"Great." Norman looked pleased to hear that. "What do you want me to do?"

Hannah took a deep breath and blurted out what she'd been thinking ever since Mike had told her about the empty briefcases in Sheriff Grant's home office. "You know Nettie Grant, don't you?"

"Yes. She had some trouble with an impacted molar last year."

"Well, she went to visit relatives in Wisconsin and I need to break into her duplex to search Sheriff Grant's home office for clues. You'll help me, won't you?"

"That's illegal, isn't it?"

"Yes, but we can't let a little technicality like that stop us, not when we've got a murderer to catch. So, will you help me?"

Norman took a deep breath and let it out again. "I'll have to. There's no way I'm going to let you do it alone. When do you want to break in?"

"The sooner, the better. I'd say tonight, but I think we'd better do it in the daylight. That way we won't have to use flashlights and take the chance that a neighbor might spot us. How about tomorrow morning?"

Norman looked reluctant, but he agreed. "Okay."

"Good. You're just wonderful to come back early, Norman. I hope you didn't miss much of the convention."

"That's okay. It was boring anyway."

"Oh," Hannah said, wondering if that description included Norman's ex-fiancйe, the dentist. "How about something to eat? I know plane food's not much to write home about."

"Now that you mention it, I am a little hungry. Do you want to go out for a hamburger?"

Hannah shook her head. "No, thanks. I've already eaten, but I'll make you something here. How about a Hole in One?"

"What's that?"

"Something simple I used to fix for my college roommate when we'd stay up late studying. Basically, it's a fried egg and pan toast."

"That sounds good. Do you need any help?"

"No, it's a one-person job. Find something you want to watch on television and I'll be back with your food in a jiffy."

Hannah was smiling as she went off to the kitchen. It was great to have Norman back again. Suddenly everything seemed easier and the heavy weight she'd been carrying around on her shoulders felt lighter by half. That must be the way wives felt when they shared problems with their husbands. Did that mean she should forget Mike and marry Norman?