Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen Mysteries) (24 page)

“But…”

“I’ve got to run.” Mike set down his coffee cup and pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. “See you later, okay?”

After Mike left, Hannah stared at the swinging door until it stopped wiggling. Then she turned back to her work with a scowl on her face. Either Mike hadn’t noticed her lack of response when he’d hugged her, or he’d ignored her anger, intending to deal with it later. Neither possibility pleased her. There was still fire in her eyes ten minutes later when Lisa stuck her head into the kitchen again.

“Norman’s here,” Lisa announced before she noticed the expression on Hannah’s face. “Oh-oh. Did you have a fight with Mike?”

“I did. He didn’t. I don’t think he even knew I was mad at him.”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but she must have thought better of it because she just shrugged. “Do you want me to send Norman back here?”

“Yes. Thanks, Lisa. And if Mike comes back in, cut off his free coffee and cookies. He can pay just like everybody else.”

“How about Norman?” Lisa asked.

Hannah’s anger evaporated and she started to grin. “You can give him whatever he wants…at least for now.”

“S
ee anything new?” Norman asked after Hannah had rifled through the stacks of prints.

“Not a thing. How about you?”

“I don’t know if this is important, but the canning jars in the furnace room are a lot smaller than the canning jars in the rest of the basement.”

“That’s right. The ones in the furnace room are small-size mayonnaise jars and Mrs. Voelker used them to put up her jams and jellies.”

“Why not use regular canning jars?”

“Some people do, but canning jars are more expensive and you can put jam in any kind of glass container if you seal it with wax on the top.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. When my college roommate got married, I was a bridesmaid and by the time I’d paid for my dress, I didn’t have much money left for a gift. I bought a dozen wineglasses on sale, filled them with homemade grape jelly, and gave them as my wedding present.”

“That’s very you, Hannah.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s sweet, and practical, and…” Norman shrugged. “It’s just something you’d do, that’s all. You’d make a great wife for a man with no money.”

“Thanks…I think.” Hannah chuckled. It was a strange thing to say, but she was sure it was meant as a compliment.

“I’d better get going. I’ve got a case of gum disease in ten minutes.”

Hannah’s chuckle turned into a laugh and she was still laughing as Norman picked up his package of Orange Snaps and headed out the door.

Lisa looked at the last print and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I don’t see anything even approaching a clue.”

“Neither did we.” Hannah gathered up the prints and stuck them back into the envelope Norman had brought. “I still have the feeling I’m missing something, but I don’t know what it is.”

“You could always borrow Dad’s technique. He says if he thinks of something else, the thing he was trying to think of usually pops right into his head.”

“At this point, I’m willing to try anything. I’ll make the cookie deliveries. I always think best when I’m working.”

“Okay.” Lisa reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a list. “On your way back could you stop at the Red Owl? I thought of a dessert to make for tomorrow, but I need a few things.”

“No problem. What are you making?”

“Cupcakes decorated especially for the Fourth. They’re going to be really exciting, Hannah.”

“I’m sure they will be.” Hannah was smiling as she went back to the kitchen to pack up the cookies for delivery. She’d never thought of cupcakes as being particularly exciting before, but perhaps Lisa was on to something.

“Thanks for driving me, Andrea,” Hannah said, collapsing into the passenger’s seat and leaning her head back against the headrest. Andrea had arrived just as she was about to load her cookie deliveries and offered to drive Hannah in her car. “That’s the last of them. Just drop me at my truck and I’ll run to the Red Owl.”

“I can stop at the Red Owl. I have to pick up some things for tomorrow anyway.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Andrea said and turned to smile at Hannah. “Besides, I want to collect my share of thanks for renting the second floor to Danielle. If she hadn’t come along, it’d still be vacant.”

By the time Andrea pulled up outside the Red Owl in her Volvo, the shower that had been threatening all afternoon with dark skies and occasional flashes of lightning had turned into a full-scale downpour. Andrea took one look at the fat raindrops pelting down on the windshield and suggested they wait until the worst of the rain had subsided.

“Good idea,” Hannah said, wondering what they’d find to talk about. The Cookie Jar float was a taboo subject, but the murder case wasn’t. “I’d like to show you some crime-scene photos.”

“No way,” Andrea said, shivering slightly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like gore in any way, shape, or form. I don’t even let Bill show me crime-scene photos.”

“These aren’t gory. It’s just Mrs. Voelker’s basement and the furnace room, that’s all.”

“Then there’s no body?”

Hannah shook her head. “No body.”

“That might be okay. But if there’s nothing there, why do you want me to see them?”

“Just look and tell me if you see anything that looks out of place.”

“What’s wrong with this picture?” Andrea asked, smiling at her sister. They’d both had Miss Gladke in second grade and that had been one of her favorite techniques to get the class involved in a discussion.

“Right.” Hannah reached in her purse and drew out the envelope of prints that Norman had developed.

Andrea took her time paging through the prints. By the time she’d finished examining each one, the inside of her windshield was steaming up. “What happened to the rain gutters?”

“Where?” Hannah asked, glancing down at the top photo on Andrea’s stack.

“On cars. Heaven knows my Volvo was expensive enough and it’s got everything else. Remember the little ledge Dad used to have above the windows in the Chrysler? He could roll down the windows and the rain wouldn’t come in.”

Hannah knew Andrea was off on a tangent, but she understood her sister’s reasoning. It was getting pretty steamy in her closed car. “So did you notice anything in the pictures?”

“Nothing really jumped out at me except those mayo jars.” Andrea flipped to the picture of the shelves behind the furnace.

“But they’re not unusual. Lots of people save mayo jars for jams and jellies. Don’t you remember how Grandma Ingrid used to bring us mayo jars full of rhubarb jam?”

“Of course I remember. I loved Grandma Ingrid’s rhubarb jam, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Andrea pointed to the photo. “I just thought it was odd that these three jars in the middle of the top shelf are red.”

Hannah took a quick look. “They’re just a different kind of jam, that’s all.”

“I know that, but Mrs. Voelker was so organized. Each section holds a different type of jam. The top shelf looks like peach, the middle shelf looks like blueberry, and the bottom shelf looks like strawberry.”

“So?”

“So why did she move three jars of strawberry jam up to the peach shelf? You can tell she did. There are three empty places on the strawberry shelf, way over here at the end.”

Hannah looked again. Andrea was right. Somebody had moved three jars of strawberry jam up to the top shelf. “You’re a genius, Andrea! That’s what I’ve been missing and you spotted it.”

“I’m glad, but I don’t know what you’re so excited about. Mrs. Voelker probably ate the peach jam and her companion moved the strawberry up where it would be easier to reach.”

“I don’t think so. Look at that strawberry shelf again. It’s all dusty between the jars, but there are three perfectly clean spots where the strawberry jam used to sit.”

Andrea studied the photo again. “You’re right, Hannah. Mrs. Voelker died over six months ago. If her companion had moved that jam, those spots would be covered over with dust by now. Do you think Rhonda’s killer moved them?”

“That’s my guess.”

Andrea shivered slightly. “Maybe we should tell Bill and Mike. They might be able to lift some fingerprints.”

“I don’t think so. Mike told me that the killer wore gloves.”

“That’s right. Bill mentioned it. But why would the killer bother to move them in the first place?”

“I don’t know, but there’s got to be an answer. All I have to do is find out what it is.” Hannah wiped a spot clean on the steamed-up window and glanced out. “Come on, Andrea. The rain’s let up and it’s a sauna in here. And I still have to do Lisa’s shopping.”

Once they entered the store, the two sisters went their separate ways. Hannah headed straight for the produce to get some things for her nightly salad, and Andrea veered off toward the frozen dinners. It didn’t take long for Hannah to pick up the items on Lisa’s list and when she arrived at the checkout counter, she found Andrea waiting for her.

“What’s all that?” Andrea stared at the contents of Hannah’s cart.

“I’ll be darned if I know.” Hannah was just as puzzled as her sister. She’d picked up some fresh vegetables for her dinner salad and a bag of kitty treats for Moishe, but the large bottles of red and blue food coloring and the boxes of flat-bottomed ice cream cones were for Lisa. “Lisa’s making special cupcakes for the picnic.”

“With cucumbers, cat treats, and ice cream cones?”

“No, the cucumbers and cat treats are mine.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” Andrea said, looking greatly relieved. “They don’t carry blue Jell-O.”

“I never thought that they did.” Hannah pushed her cart into the shortest line and Andrea followed her. “Why did you want blue Jell-O?”

“For the town picnic. I thought I’d make a Jell-O mold in layers for Independence Day. Blue Jell-O in the bottom, red on top of that, and then white whipped cream. It would have been perfect.”

Hannah did her best to look sympathetic, but it was a struggle. Her sister’s idea of gourmet cooking was to dump a can of fruit cocktail into some Jell-O and squirt it with a can of whipped cream. “So what are you going to bring?”

“Chips and dip. I got a package of blue corn chips, and a package of white. I’m going to mix them in a bowl and put out some salsa. That’s red.”

“That should do it,” Hannah said, sending a silent thank-you to the Red Owl for not carrying blue Jell-O.

When Hannah got back to The Cookie Jar, she manned the counter while Lisa went back to the kitchen to bake. Thirty minutes from the time Lisa had gone through the swinging door to the kitchen, a delicious aroma began to drift out to titillate Hannah’s nostrils. She resisted for as long as she could, but finally she excused herself to the customers sitting at the counter and stuck her head into the kitchen to see how Lisa was coming along. “It really smells good in here. Chocolate?”

“Chocolate fudge cupcakes. They’re my mom’s recipe. The kids just love them and so do the grown-ups.”

“Great,” Hannah said, just as the timer Lisa wore around her neck started to clang. “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll take care of our customers and you take care of the cupcakes.”

The next half-hour was busy. It was always busy in the summer when the tourists came to town. Hannah often wondered why they came to the lake when they spent most of their time shopping in the Lake Eden stores, cooking in the kitchens of their rented cottages, watching the television sets they’d brought with them, and doing almost exactly what they’d be doing at home in the big cities. She figured they must come for the genuine small-town atmosphere, the friendly, open feeling they got in Lake Eden. In the big Minnesota cities, people locked and bolted their doors and they didn’t speak to strangers on the streets. Here things were different. A stranger was a friend unless he or she proved otherwise.

By and large, the tourists who rented the lake cabins were nice folks. They were certainly getting behind the town’s Fourth of July celebration. Tickets for the potluck picnic and barbeque at Eden Lake were selling like hotcakes. Mayor Bascomb had predicted that there would be more than five hundred out-of-town guests watching the parade, taking part in the activities on the shores of Eden Lake, eating the food the residents provided, and enjoying the fireworks in the evening.

Business was brisk and Hannah’s old-fashioned cash register dinged almost continually. The locals dropped in, as they always did, and mingled with the lake cottage tourists. Friendships were formed, romances with some of the local girls and boys appeared to be blooming, and no one was thinking about Labor Day, when the tourist season would end. Hannah had explained why the town was called Lake Eden and the lake that was within the city limits was called Eden Lake at least a dozen times by the time most of the customers had cleared out. She was just transferring some of the money from the till to the bank deposit bag when the bell over the door tinkled and Jed Sawyer walked in.

Jed gave her a friendly smile. “Hi, Hannah.”

“Don’t
Hi, Hannah
me!” Hannah said right back, glaring at him. “I heard what you did last night.”

“What did you hear?”

“You got Freddy drunk and let him pick up a girl in a bar. I thought you honestly cared about Freddy, but it looks like I was wrong!”

“Hold on.” Jed held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know where you got all that from, but it’s not what happened.”

“Oh, no?”

“Look, Hannah…I’m sorry Freddy got drunk, but it didn’t start out that way. I let him have one bottle of beer and it hit him like a ton of bricks.”

“You should have known better.”

“I know. I found out later that he’d never even tasted alcohol before, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

Hannah put her hands on her hips. There was no way she was letting Jed off the hook this easily. “You should have guessed it. Mrs. Sawyer was a complete teetotaler. She didn’t allow alcohol in her house.”