Chapter Five
Hannah had just served the last of her early-morning customers when Lisa stuck her head around the swinging door that led to the bakery. “Hannah? I need you back here for a minute.”
“I’ll be right back,” Hannah excused herself to Bertie Straub, the owner-operator of the Cut ‘n Curl Beauty Parlor, and headed for the back room. As she pushed through the door, she was surprised to see Delores sitting at the stainless-steel work counter, clutching her purse in her lap. She was dressed in a cranberry red wool skirt and sweater set that would have looked far too young on most of the matrons in Lake Eden, but it suited Delores perfectly. Her glossy dark hair was styled in a flattering layer cut, and her makeup was flawless. Hannah didn’t delude herself by thinking that Delores had dressed up to visit her at work. She knew that her mother had never set foot outside her door without being perfectly groomed and coifed. Delores Swensen always endeavored to be a perfect photo op, just waiting for the cameras to roll.
“Mother?” Hannah was puzzled. On the rare occasions that Delores had visited The Cookie Jar, she’d always come in through the front door. “Is something wrong?”
“No, dear. It’s just something I forgot to tell you on the phone this morning.” Delores turned to Lisa. “You can take over for Hannah in the shop for a minute, can’t you, Lisa?”
Lisa smiled, catching the none-too-subtle hint that their conversation would be private. “Of course, Mrs. Swensen. Would you like a cookie? These Molasses Crackles just came out of the oven.”
“No thank you, dear. They smell delicious, but I’m watching my calories. Christmas is coming, you know.”
Hannah’s lips twitched. Delores had been a perfect size five when she’d married Hannah’s father and she was still a perfect size five. Most Lake Eden women who were past the half-century mark had relaxed a bit about their appearance, but Delores was determined to look as attractive as diet, professional hairstyling, specially formulated makeup, and cosmetic surgery could make her.
The moment that Lisa had disappeared through the swinging door, Delores turned back to Hannah. “I was so rattled this morning when I heard about Boyd, I completely forgot the reason I called you.”
“Oh?” Hannah picked up a warm cookie and tasted it, knowing full well that they were her mother’s favorites. “Are you sure you won’t have just one cookie, Mother?”
Delores wavered. “Well… just one. But don’t tempt me with more. I have a lovely new dress for Christmas Eve, and it’s not going to fit if I gain weight.”
“Here Mother.” Hannah handed her a cookie. “What did you want to tell me?”
“I don’t think you should put all you eggs in one basket.”
“What?”
“I just want you to be careful, dear. I know you’re attracted to Mike, but it would be real shame to let a good prospect like Norman get away. Lucy Richards is after him, you know. Carrie told me last night.”
“Lucy Richards? And Norman?” Hannah had trouble believing her ears. Sweet, funny Norman and the reporter who thought of herself as a female Bob Woodward were as unlikely a mix as oil and water. “Are they dating?”
“Not yet, but Carrie said she dropped in at the clinic last week, and Norman was in his office with Lucy and the door was closed. After Lucy left, Carrie asked him about her, and Norman acted very secretive.”
“Secretive?”
“Carrie asked him why he was in his office with Lucy, and he refused to tell her. There’s something going on, Hannah, and Carrie doesn’t like it one bit. I think you’d better start paying more attention to Norman before Lucy snatches him up on the rebound.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. What rebound? She’d gone out with Norman three times, and there was nothing romantic about it. But saying that would only lead to a longer discussion, and she needed to get back to work. “Consider me warned. I’ll talk to Norman today, I promise.”
“Make sure you do.” That seemed to satisfy Delores because she stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “I’ve got to run, dear. I told Carrie I’d pick her up in ten minutes.”
“Christmas shopping at the mall?” Hannah guessed.
“Of course not.” Delores looked slightly affronted. “I do my shopping the day after Christmas. The bargains are simply amazing. I’ve had all my presents wrapped and stored for almost a year.”
Hannah saw her mother off and went back into the front of her shop. Delores had always been incredibly organized. Hannah admired that quality in her mother, but she knew it wouldn’t work for her. If she bought next year’s presents the day after Christmas, she’d forget where she’d stored them and have to run out at the last minute to buy them all over again.
* * *
During the next two hours, Hannah served coffee and cookies nonstop. On her forays to the tables, carrying cookies and coffee refills, she heard at least a dozen different theories about Boyd Watson’s murder. Kathy Purvis, the principal’s wife, thought that Boyd had interrupted a burglary in progress. Lydia Gradin, a teller at First National, was sure that a carload of gang members from Minneapolis was to blame. Mrs. Robbins and her friends from the Lakewood Senior Apartments thought that the killer must have escaped from the state reformatory for men in St. Cloud, while Mr. Drevlow, Lisa’s neighbor, insisted that he must have been a homicidal lunatic from the state hospital in Wilmar who’d been released owing to budget cuts. Only one person mentioned the Hartland Flour Dessert Bake-Off, and that was in passing. “Digger” Gibson, the local mortician, speculated that an old enemy of Boyd’s had recognized him on television while he was judging the bake-off and driven to Lake Eden to kill him. Hannah hadn’t heard anyone mention Danielle’s name without following it with the phrase, “the poor dear,” and she assumed that, so far, Boyd’s shameful secret was safe. She also knew that the sympathetic thoughts that were wafting Danielle’s way could change to suspicion in an instant. If the residents of Lake Eden found out that Boyd had battered Danielle, they’d be convinced that she’d killed him either in self-defense or as retaliation.
By the time eleven-fifteen rolled around, there was only one customer left. It was too late for a breakfast cookie, everyone’s midmorning coffee break was over, and the cookie-after-lunch crowd wouldn’t appear until noon or later. Hannah had just finished putting on a fresh pot of coffee to prepare for the noon rush when Andrea came in the door.
“Hi, Hannah.” Andrea hung her coat on the almost-empty rack and slid onto a stool at the counter. She glanced over at old Mr. Lempke, whose daughter had left him in Hannah’s care while she’d run down to the drugstore, and frowned slightly. “Does he have his hearing aid turned on?”
Hannah shook her head. “Roma took his batteries to the drugstore to get replacements.”
“Good. I need to talk to you about Danielle. Bill told me all about it, and I want to do something to show my support. I don’t believe for a second that she killed him, but if she did, he deserved it!”
“I know,” Hannah poured a mug of coffee from the carafe she’d filled before she’d emptied the urn and shoved it over to her sister. Andrea’s color was high, almost matching the coral pink of her expensive cashmere sweater, and her blue eyes were snapping. “You’re really upset, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am! Bill says Sheriff Grant is sure that Danielle is guilty, and you know what that means.”
“I’m afraid I do,” Hannah started to frown. “They’re just going to go through the motions?”
“That’s right. Bill says he doesn’t dare go out on a limb about it. He’s been a detective for less than two months and they won’t listen to him anyway. And he doesn’t think that Mike will buck Sheriff Grant, either.”
“Because he just transferred here?”
“That, and because he’s not sure Danielle didn’t do it.”
Hannah was so shocked she couldn’t speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was hard. “What is he, stupid? I told him that Danielle wasn’t capable of killing Boyd!”
“You can’t blame him, Hannah. He doesn’t know Danielle like we do, and he’s still got that big-city-cop mentality. I’ll bet that in Minneapolis, lots of abused wives kill their husbands.”
“But this is Lake Eden,” Hannah reminded her. “It’s different here.”
“I know.” Andrea blew on the surface of her cup and too a tentative sip. “How does your carafe keep things so hot? We’ve got the same kind, and our coffee’s always lukewarm.”
“Do you fill it with boiling water and let it sit for a couple of minutes before you pour in the coffee?”
“No, but I’ll try that tomorrow morning. So what are we going to do first, Hannah?”
“About what?”
