Key Lime Pie Murder (15 page)

“Oh, yes.”

“But how?

“It’s simple,” Mike said reaching into his pocket and holding up a key ring. “I’ve got the keys to your truck.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “You took my keys?”

“Not exactly. I asked you to hand over your purse so I could have your keys, and you did. Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Hannah said, admitting defeat. Not only had she handed over her purse without question, she hadn’t even noticed when he went through it and took out her keys. It was clear that her ladder wasn’t reaching all the way to the top, she wasn’t playing with a full deck, and she was several cookies short of a baker’s dozen. Mike was right, and she was wrong. She was too distracted to drive safely.

“So you’re okay with Norman driving you home?”

Hannah was about to nod when she thought of a rejoinder. “I am if you are.”

Mike laughed. “You’re at least halfway back,” he said, reaching out to give her a little hug. “For a couple of minutes there, I was worried. It takes some people hours to recover from the shock of finding a victim of a violent crime.”

Thanks for reminding me, Hannah said under her breath.

“What was that?”

Hannah thought fast and then she said, “It’s not like it hasn’t happened to me before. Do you want to take my statement now?”

“Later. I’ll be here for an hour or so, and then I’ll drive out to your condo. I’ll bring your truck. I can catch a ride back to the station with Norman.”

Hannah might have been in shock, but she caught the implication of Mike’s words. He didn’t want Norman to stay at her condo any longer than he did. One way to ensure that was to arrange it so that both of them left in the same car at the same time.

“Why are you smiling?” Mike asked her.

Hannah considered her words carefully. Everyone, including her mother, always accused her of having no tact. “Oh, I’m just glad you’re taking care of everything and all I have to do is ride home,” she said, wondering if that qualified her to join the ranks of the tactful.

“He’s got it in his mouth,” Norman commented, watching Moishe as he passed by the back of the couch in Hannah’s living room. “It’s just the meat. He left the bun in the kitchen. He’s going down the hall and…” Norman craned his neck to see. “I think he’s carrying it into your bedroom.”

Normally Hannah would have been up and running, chasing after her feline so that he couldn’t hide the burger under her bed. Tonight it was a different story, and she stayed put. Moishe was showing some interest in food for the first time in three days, and she wasn’t about to do anything that might distract him.

“Do you want me to stop him? Or watch to make sure he doesn’t drop it somewhere?” Michelle asked.

“Let him go. Maybe he’ll eat it if we don’t disturb him. It wouldn’t hurt to check under your pillow before you go to bed, though.”

“Would he put it there?” Norman asked.

Hannah shrugged. “I’ve found a couple of mouse parts under my pillow.”

“Mouse parts?” Norman repeated, chuckling. “I don’t think I want to know what that means.”

They were quiet for a moment. Good smells were coming from the oven. Hannah had decided to bake right after Norman had brought her home. It always relaxed her and made her think more clearly. She’d no sooner slipped the pan in the oven than Michelle had come in from her date with Lonnie. They’d taken seats in the living room and Hannah had told her the gruesome news.

“I still can’t believe she’s dead.” Michelle shivered slightly. “Who’d want to kill Miss Sunquist?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking myself ever since I found her. How about the girls in the beauty pageant?”

“But everybody adored Miss Sunquist. She was so helpful and nice. I don’t think there was a single contestant who didn’t like her.”

Hannah’s senses went on red alert as an interesting array of expressions crossed her youngest sister’s face. At first Michelle was perfectly sincere, believing utterly what she’d just said. But then her eyes narrowed slightly, and a frown line appeared between her eyebrows. Her next expression was disbelief as she considered the thought she’d just had. And then there was denial, with just a hint of suspicion that lingered long after the denial had gone.

“What just crossed your mind?” Hannah asked, leaning forward.

“It’s probably nothing. And I wouldn’t want to get anyone in trouble. It’s impossible, anyway. She really wasn’t that upset.”

“Who wasn’t that upset?” Norman asked her.

“One of the other contestants. But I really don’t think she’d actually do…” Michelle stopped speaking and looked terribly worried.

“She’d actually do what?” Hannah jumped in. “This is a murder investigation, Michelle. Somebody killed Willa in cold blood. She didn’t pick up that mallet and bash in her own head.”

Michelle looked sick. “I know that. But…”

“You liked Miss Sunquist, didn’t you?” Norman interrupted what was clearly going to be more hedging from Michelle.

“Of course I did!”

Hannah seized the opportunity Norman had presented and took over the argument. “Then you owe it to Willa to tell us anything you think might be relevant to her death. That’s anything, Michelle. Even if it’s just a suspicion.”

Michelle thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. I don’t owe Tasha anything.”

“The blonde who wore the emerald green evening gown?” Hannah asked, remembering Michelle’s fellow contestant from the first night of competition.

“That’s right. She almost got me in trouble by asking me to cover for her. But I couldn’t lie to Miss Sunquist, and I told Tasha that.”

The oven timer sounded, and Hannah stood up. “Hold that thought. I’m going to get our popovers, and I want you to tell me everything when I get back.”

It only took Hannah a moment or two to tip the popovers out of the muffin tins and into a wicker basket that she’d lined with a napkin. She picked up the tray she’d already assembled with fancy butters and jams. She set the basket in the center of the tray and carried everything out to the coffee table in front of the living room couch.

“Those smell really good!” Norman said, smiling at Hannah.

“They are good. Andrea got the recipe from Bill’s cousin, Bernadette.”

“Andrea makes these?” Michelle looked utterly astounded as she stared down at the golden popovers.

“Of course not.” Hannah gave a little laugh. All three of them knew that the only cooking Andrea ever did was to microwave frozen dinners. “Andrea gave the recipe to me, and I make them for her whenever she wants them. We have to let them cool for a minute or two, and then we can dig in. And after that, Michelle can tell us everything she knows about Tasha.”

BERNADETTE’S POPOVERS

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

Spray a 12-cup muffin pan with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray. You can also grease them with clarified butter, or lard if you prefer.

Hannah’s 1st Note: Before I got this recipe, my popovers always looked as if they’d been run over by Earl Flensburg’s tow truck. Now they’re high, light, golden brown, and gorgeous.

4 eggs*

2 cups milk

2 cups flour (not sifted)

1 teaspoon salt

*
If you think your eggs might be too small or too large, you can easily check them by mixing them up in a measuring cup. Four eggs should measure approximately one cup. If yours don’t, adjust by adding more egg or pouring some out.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: You should mix this recipe by hand with a whisk. If you use an electric mixer, it will add too much air to the eggs.

Whisk the eggs until they’re a light, uniform color, but not yet fluffy. It should take no more than a minute or so.

Add the milk and whisk it in until it’s incorporated.

Measure out the flour and dump it in the bowl all at once. Dump in the salt on top of it. Then stir for a moment or two with a wooden spoon until all the flour has been moistened and incorporated. You will still have lumps (like brownie batter) but that’s fine. In this recipe, you actually want lumps!

Transfer the batter to a container with a spout (I used a measuring cup.) Pour the batter into the muffin cups, filling them almost to the top.

Bake at 450 degrees F. for exactly 30 minutes. (Don’t peek while they’re baking or they’ll fall!)

When 30 minutes have passed, remove the pan to a cold burner or a wire rack and pierce the top of each popover with a sharp knife to release the steam.

Let the popovers stand in the pan for a minute or two, and then tip them out into a napkin-lined basket.

Serve with sweet butter, salted butter, fruit butters, jams, jellies, or cream cheese.

Yield: 12 large popovers that everyone will love.

Hannah’s 3rd Note: These popovers are also good at room temperature. I haven’t done this yet, but I’m going to try filling them with egg salad, tuna salad, or salmon salad. If it works, it’ll be a great dish for a brunch.

“Willa didn’t say anything about disqualifying any-one,” Hannah said, breaking open a popover and buttering one side with cashew butter and the other with honey butter.

“That’s because she called us all together before the competition started tonight, and we agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone the details. All we were supposed to say was that Tasha was no longer in the competition.” Michelle looked a bit guilty. “I guess I’m breaking my promise.”

“You made that promise when Willa was still alive. Circumstances have changed,” Norman pointed out.

Hannah took a bite of her popover, gave a little sigh of contentment, and took a sip of coffee. “Okay. Tell us everything you know, Michelle.”

“Tasha was thirty minutes late for the miniature garden show at the Ag-Hort Building on the first afternoon. She told Miss Sunquist that her car broke down, but she told me that she was talking to her boyfriend in the parking lot and she lost track of time.”

Hannah thought back to what Willa had told them about the grounds for disqualification. “Just being late once wouldn’t be enough to do it, would it?”

“No. There were other things, too. We weren’t supposed to use bad language while we were wearing our badges. Miss Sunquist explained why. But Tasha swore a couple of times backstage at the evening gown competition, and I know she got marked off for it.”

“That’s all?” Norman asked.

“I haven’t gotten to the final thing yet,” Michelle said, giving a little sigh. “I feel like a snitch, but that’s not important, is it?”

“Not really.” Hannah was glad her sister had her priorities straight. “Your feelings aren’t the issue here. Willa’s death is.”

“Tasha was a no-show at the quilting demonstration this afternoon. She would have gotten another chance if she’d just been late, but she missed the whole event and she didn’t call in to explain or anything. Miss Sunquist was really worried about her.”

“When did she show up?” Hannah asked the pertinent question.

“At six. Her boyfriend dropped her off for the swimsuit competition. And when Miss Sunquist asked Tasha why she wasn’t at the quilting demonstration, she said she just didn’t feel like sitting there for an hour and watching someone sew. Tasha didn’t give Miss Sunquist a choice. She had to disqualify her.”

“And Tasha was upset about being disqualified?” Norman guessed.

“Not really. I think she didn’t show up on purpose so she’d get kicked out. I helped her pack up her things, and she told me she didn’t want to be in the competition anyway.”

“Do you think that was just sour grapes?” Norman asked.

“And you don’t think that was bravado on her part?” Hannah added.

“No to both of you. She said she’d rather spend the time with her boyfriend, and I believe her. She never acted thrilled with the contest, not even when she took second in the evening gown competition.”

“Then why did she enter in the first place?” Hannah wanted to know.

“She didn’t. She told me her father filled out the entry form and sent it in. Tasha’s only seventeen, so a parent can do that.”

“I hear that happens a lot,” Norman commented, knowing full well that Delores had signed the entry form for Michelle.

“I guess it does.” Michelle gave a little laugh. “But I really don’t mind being in the contest. It’s kind of fun, in a way. And Lonnie wants me to be in the contest. He’s the one who suggested it to Mother. Tasha’s boyfriend thinks it’s a waste of time.”

“Even with that cash prize?”

“Tasha said he doesn’t care about that. He wouldn’t get any of the money anyway. Neither would she. Since she’s underage, it would go to her father.”

Hannah exchanged glances with Norman. Her glance meant, Sounds like a motive for murder to me. And his glance replied, Sure does.

“What’s Tasha’s last name?” Hannah asked.

Michelle was silent for a long moment, and then she gave a little shrug. “I don’t think I ever heard it. Miss Sunquist called us by our first names, and that’s all we had on our ID badges. Hers said Princess Tasha. I can probably find out for you, though. One of the other girls said she went to school with Tasha.”

“Great. Ask around tomorrow and let me know right away.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to tell Mike about Tasha?”

Hannah thought about that for a split second, and then she shook her head. “All we have is her first name. There’s no sense bothering Mike until we have more information to give him.”

“And besides, you want to check out Tasha and her father by yourself,” Michelle said.

“And present it to him as a fait accompli,” Norman added.

“So you can prove you’re a better detective than he is.” Michelle gave her oldest sister a knowing smile.

Hannah laughed. They knew her too well to swallow the altruistic spin she’d attempted to put on it, and she’d better admit that it was true. “You’re right. Now mum’s the word. Mike ought to be here any minute. You both need to remember that for tonight, Tasha and her father belong to me.”

“Here you go, Mike.” Hannah carried out a piping hot basket of popovers and a refreshed tray of jams and fancy butters. “Just give them two minutes or so to cool and help yourself.”