Fudge Cupcake Murder (7 page)

"Even worse. I sneezed during dinner and he was sure I was getting the world's worst cold."

"Are you?"

"No. I just got a piece of dust up my nose, that's all."

"So, how was dinner?" Hannah reached the end of the driveway, backed out, and then drove forward down the street.

"Gruesome. The vegetables were still crunchy and Bill didn't bother to pare the carrots or peel the potatoes before he put them in. He's really an awful cook, Hannah."

Hannah bit her tongue and didn't say a word about the pot calling the kettle black.

"Your trick with the apron worked fine, though. And that reminds me… stop at the first dog you see."

"What?"

"Just stop when you see a dog. I've got all that deer meat in my coat pocket and I'll give it to him."

"Okay, but I thought you were going to throw it away."

"I was until I remembered that Bill takes out the garbage. If he saw it, it would hurt his feelings."

Hannah glanced at Andrea, but her sister wasn't being sarcastic. Andrea really did seem to be worried about hurting Bill's feelings. Maybe that's what marriage was, a lot of give and take. This time Andrea was on the giving side, but next time she could be the one who was taking. "I admire you, Andrea. If someone came into The Cookie Jar while I was gone and rearranged all the tables and chairs without asking me, I'd slap him silly."

"I'd never do that," Andrea said with a smile. "I just keep telling myself that the minute Bill goes back to work, I can break a couple legs off that hideous couch his parents gave us and say he must have cracked them when he moved it. And then I can go out furniture shopping and replace it with something I like."

Twenty minutes later, after stopping to make Gil and Bonnie Surma's German shepherd extremely happy, Hannah pulled up in front of Nettie's duplex and cut the lights. "Grab that bag of Cashew Crisps in back of your seat, will you?"

"Sure." Andrea reached back to get the cookies. "Are you taking them to Nettie?"

"I'd feel strange coming here without bringing something."

"I feel strange coming here period. I really shouldn't be paying a condolence call, not when Bill's a suspect in her husband's murder."

"Nonsense." Hannah grabbed Andrea's hand and pulled her forward. "Nettie knows that Bill's no killer. Besides, she's all alone and she could probably use some company."

"How do you know that?"

Hannah gestured behind her. "No cars on the street. They were probably double-parked here this afternoon."

"What if Nettie's tired and wants to rest?"

"Then we'll make our excuses and leave. But I'm willing to bet she'll be happy to see us, especially since you didn't eat much for dinner and neither did I."

Andrea turned to look at her sister in consternation. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You can bet every one of Nettie's friends has been here with food today. Her refrigerator is probably packed and she'll be glad to see two people with appetites."

"You could be right. People always bring their best dishes when there's a death in the family. They did when Dad died."

"I remember. The sheer number of casseroles, Jell-O molds, and cakes was staggering. It would have been just like a big potluck dinner if anyone had cracked a smile."

Cashew Crisps

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

1 l/2 cups melted butter (3 sticks)

2 cups white sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

1/8 cup molasses (2 Tablespoons)

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 l/2 cups finely ground salted cashews (grind them up in your food processor with the steel blade-measure AFTER grinding)

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

3 cups flour (no need to sift)

Microwave the butter in your mixing bowl to melt it. Add the sugar, the vanilla, and the molasses. Stir until blended, then add the baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Mix well.

Grind up the cashews in your food processor. Measure AFTER grinding. Add them to the bowl and mix. Pour in the beaten eggs and stir. Then add the flour and mix until all the ingredients are thoroughly blended.

Let the dough sit for a few minutes to firm up. Then form dough into small walnut-sized balls and arrange them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (These dough balls spread out so make them fairly small. If the dough is too sticky to form into balls, chill it for a few minutes and try again.)

Flatten the balls slightly with a spatula or the palm of your impeccably clean hand, just enough so they won't roll off when you put them in the oven.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the edges turn golden brown. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 10 dozen, depending on cookie size.

(Mother thinks I should put a small nugget of milk chocolate in the center of the balls, but she ALWAYS thinks I should add chocolate to my recipes.)

When the door opened in response to Hannah's knock, she almost stepped back in shock. Nettie was dressed in jeans and a bright pink sweatshirt. To Hannah's knowledge, Nettie had never worn casual clothes before. She'd always dressed in designer clothing. But there was an even bigger change and Hannah just stood there and blinked. Nettie's brown hair, which had always been impeccably curled and coiffed, was now in a casual and slightly untidy ponytail.

"Nettie?" Andrea asked, and Hannah could tell her sister was also wondering if the grieving widow had a relative who resembled her in every aspect but dress and grooming.

"It's me." Nettie gave a little smile and gestured for them to come in. "You both look shocked. I guess I must look different."

"You do," Hannah said, recovering first. "Do you want us to come back another time?"

"Come in and visit for a while. Everyone else left an hour ago and you caught me indulging a whim."

"The jeans?" Hannah guessed, following Nettie into the living room.

"That's right. Jim hated it when I wore them. He said it wasn't the right image for a sheriff's wife. The last time I put them on has got to be at least twenty years ago. I was afraid they wouldn't fit, but they do. Of course I was never really slim like you, Andrea. Not even when Jim and I met."

"I'm not slim now. Doc Knight weighed me yesterday and I've gained twenty pounds in the past two months." Andrea walked over and took a seat on the sofa.

"You'll lose that in a hurry when you have the baby." Nettie turned to Hannah. "Would you girls like something to eat? The ladies left me enough food for months."

"Well, maybe just a bite… or a dozen bites," Hannah said.

"Just help yourself," Nettie said with a smile. "The baked goods are on the counter in the kitchen and they put the Jell-O and meats in the refrigerator. Did your mother tell you she dropped by this afternoon?"

Both Andrea and Hannah shook their heads.

"The whole Regency Romance Club was here. Your mother pointed out that in Regency England widows had to stay in full mourning for at least a year and then they could be in half-mourning. That meant they were allowed to dress in gray or lavender."

"How long did half-mourning last?" Andrea leaned forward as she asked the question. She appeared intrigued and that didn't really surprise Hannah. Her sister was always interested in fashion.

"According to your mother, half-mourning usually lasted a year or two, but there were quite a few women who never wore bright colors again. And then there were others, like Queen Victoria, who remained in full mourning for the rest of her life." Nettie glanced down at her bright pink sweatshirt and shrugged. "Thank goodness the customs are a lot different now! Of course, I'm not out in public, either."

Hannah stood up, preparing to head to the kitchen. "I'm going to see what the ladies left in the way of food. How about you, Nettie? Can I bring you something?"

"A ham sandwich would be nice. I was just so happy to see that ham when Carrie Rhodes carried it in. It's that spiral-cut kind from CostMart and it's absolutely delicious. I adore ham, but Jim didn't care for it. We never had it in the house unless he was gone overnight."

"How about you, Andrea?" Hannah turned to her sister.

Andrea looked uncomfortable and Hannah could tell that she was nervous about being alone with Nettie. "A ham sandwich sounds wonderful, but I'll go with you. Then I can help carry things."

"Hannah can manage for a minute alone." Nettie reached out and put her hand on Andrea's arm. "I need to talk to you, Andrea."

Nettie's dining room area was part of the living room and the kitchen was at one end. Since the rooms flowed together without walls and the shutters that could be used to cordon off the kitchen were open, Hannah could keep an eye on Andrea and Nettie while she made the sandwiches.

"Look, Andrea," Hannah heard Nettie say. "I know all about Bill."

"You do?" Hannah could see Andrea's panicked expression from where she stood at the kitchen counter.

"I just wanted you to know I think it's pure hogwash."

"Then you don't think that Bill…"

"Of course not!" Nettie interrupted, reaching out to pat Andrea's hand. "And that's exactly what I told Mike when he was here."

Hannah watched as her sister visibly relaxed. Andrea even ventured a small smile. "I really felt strange about coming over here, Nettie. I wanted to offer my condolences, but I just wasn't sure how you felt. I mean… it could have been awkward."

"Mustard, Nettie?" Hannah called out from her spot at the kitchen counter.

"Yes, thank you."

"Andrea?"

"Yes. Doc Knight told me I should watch it with the spices, but I've been really good today."

Hannah added the mustard, put a piece of lettuce on top of the ham, slapped on the top slices of bread, and cut each sandwich into fourths on the cutting board. Then, since the sandwiches were all the same, she arranged them on a platter around a small dish of pickles she'd found in the refrigerator.

"Soup's on," Hannah called out, carrying the platter into the living room. "Can I get anyone something to drink? There's a whole cooler of soft drinks on the counter."

"I'll take a Diet Coke, if it's there," Andrea made her choice. "And if it's not, I'll have a diet anything."

"The same for me," Nettie said, smiling at Hannah. "Unless you'd rather have wine. Your mother brought me a nice bottle of Bordeaux."

Hannah shook her head. "Thanks anyway, but I'm driving and Andrea can't drink."

"Just because we can't doesn't mean you can't," Andrea jumped in quickly, turning to give Hannah a wink. "I think you should have some, Nettie. It's been a rough day and you need to relax. Hannah? Why don't you pour a glass of wine for Nettie?"

For a brief moment, Hannah was confused by the wink, but then she caught on. Andrea believed that Nettie would be more forthcoming if she drank some wine. Hannah spotted it on the bar at the end of the living room, went over to open it and pour a glass, and carried it back to their hostess.

"Thank you, Hannah." Nettie put down her sandwich and took a sip of wine. "There's dessert if you want some later. I stuck four cakes in the freezer, but there's at least five still out on the counter."

Hannah remembered the dessert she'd brought and she reached for the bag and handed it to Nettie. "I almost forgot… these cookies are for you. I guess it's a little like bringing coals to Newcastle."

"No, it's not." Nettie shook her head. "No one else brought cookies, and I like cookies better than cakes, anyway. What kind are they?"

"Cashew Crisps. I hope you like them."

"I adore these cookies." Nettie drew one out of the bag and bit into it. "Mmm. These are absolutely scrumptious. I tasted one when you first started baking them and I told Jim they were the best cookies I'd ever had."

"I'm surprised he never brought any home for you. He used to come in a couple times a week to pick up orders."

"Oh, he took most of those to the office. And he wouldn't have bought cashew cookies home, anyway. Jim didn't like cashews."

Andrea exchanged a glance with Hannah. "But you do?"

"Cashews are my favorite nut. That's why I love these cookies so much."

Hannah took another bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. It seemed that Nettie's likes and dislikes hadn't mattered much to her husband. Sheriff Grant didn't liked ham, so he'd refused to have it in the house. And even though Hannah had been baking Nettie's favorite cookies for over a year now, Sheriff Grant never bothered to take them home to her.

"I know what you're thinking," Nettie said, staring hard at Hannah.

"You do?"

"I believe so. You're thinking that my husband was a selfish man. And you're right. Jim thought he was the center of the universe and other people just floated in orbits around him. Sometimes they were useful and he liked them. Other times they weren't, and he didn't."

A tear rolled down Nettie's cheek and Hannah leaned forward. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. It's just that you can't be married to a man for twenty-six years without feeling abandoned when he's gone." Nettie took a deep breath and faced both Hannah and Andrea squarely. "Can I be frank?"

"Of course," Hannah said.

"You've probably guessed that life with Jim wasn't any picnic. There were big problems in our marriage that we just couldn't resolve. You probably know that I almost had a breakdown when Jamie died."

"It must have been awful."

"It was. It took a whole year of counseling before I learned to cope. But I did learn to cope. Jim never did. That's one of the reasons I spoke with Howie Levine on the Saturday before Jim died. I went in to ask his advice about a divorce."

Andrea's mouth dropped open and Hannah had to work to keep hers closed. She hadn't heard a word about the Grants breaking up.

"No one knows except you two. My meeting with Howie was confidential, but someone will find out about it, sooner or later. And since I don't have an alibi, that'll make me the number one suspect in my husband's murder."