The fact that her door was unlocked didn't set off warning bells in Hannah's mind. Everyone in Lake Eden knew that she emptied the cash register before she went home, and there wasn't much else to steal. If some homeless person had jimmied the back door to secure a warm place to sleep, Hannah couldn't really blame him. It had been a bitterly cold night. She'd just give the unfortunate soul a hot cup of coffee and a bag of cookies and send him on his way.
Hannah parked in her usual spot, plugged her extension cord into the strip of outlets on the white stucco wall, and walked closer to examine her door from the outside. The lock was intact and the door showed no sign of pry marks. Janie had simply forgotten to lock it when she left with Connie Mac. Thanking her lucky stars that the gusty winds hadn't tom her door off its hinges and caused a massive jump in her heating bill, Hannah pushed it open and flicked on the lights. At first glance, her startled mind refused to believe what was right in front of her eyes. Then her mouth opened in a soundless gasp of shock. A bag of cake flour was on the floor, its contents scattered over the tiles like super-fine snow. Stainless steel mixing bowls filled with dried cake batter covered every inch of the work island, and sticky spoons and spatulas stood up inside them like miniature flagpoles. Several cartons of eggshells and dirty utensils were piled on the counter near the sink, and next to them was Hannah's industrial mixer with cake batter glued to its beaters.
Hannah fumed as she surveyed her usually immaculate kitchen. Janie never would have left this incredible mess. She must have gone back to the inn early, and Connie Mac just hadn't bothered to clean up before she left. Uttering a string of expletives that would have made her mother run for the soap, Hannah stepped inside. It would take her at least an hour to clean her kitchen, and she didn't have any time to waste. She had just started to wipe off the counters when she realized that there was a sickeningly sweet, charcoal-laden smell in the air. Something was burning!
Hannah raced to her oven, opened the door, and jumped back as a cloud of black smoke rolled out. Through the smoke, she could see several charred, smoldering lumps that had once been layers for the official Winter Carnival cake.
With lightning speed Hannah turned off the gas and hurried to her second oven. Smoke was beginning to leak out the door, and she didn't have to look to know that there were similar lumps inside. She turned it off, ran to the windows to yank them open, and flicked the exhaust fan on high. Coughing slightly from the smoke and the exertion, she ran out the back door and propped it wide open behind her.
Hannah was livid as she paced back and forth in the parking lot, kicking up snow with the toes of her boots and waiting for the smoke to clear. Connie Mac had waltzed out of The Cookie Jar with cakes in the ovens, and if Hannah hadn't come to work early, The Cookie Jar might have burned to the ground!
After ten minutes of pacing and fuming, Hannah approached the doorway and took a tentative sniff. There was still a trace of smoke in the air, but it no longer made her eyes water. She stomped into her kitchen with a scowl on her face and headed straight for the sink. There was no time to waste. She had to clean up the mess and begin mixing her cookie dough for the day.
Hannah swept the egg cartons and shells into the nearly overflowing trash can and turned on the hot water to fill the sink with soapy water. Once she'd set the dirty dishes to soak, she carried out the trash and lined the can with a new plastic bag. She was gathering up her cake-batter-encrusted mixing bowls from the work island, preparing to move them to the counter by the sink, when she noticed something that made her stop cold.
Connie Mac's leather handbag was sitting on top of a stool. She must have forgotten it, unless. . . Hannah swiveled around with a frown on her face. Connie Mac's sable coat was still hanging on a hook by the back door. It had dropped down below zero last might. Connie Mac must have been in a real rush to leave if she hadn't taken the time to grab her coat.
Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place, and Hannah glanced around her uneasily. Janie had left early. That much was obvious. Her car was gone, and so were her coat and something had frightened her away.
A glimmer of light caught Hannah's eye. The pantry door was open a few inches and someone had turned on the light. Hannah grabbed the first weapon she could find, the heavy pot she used to make boiled frostings. If the person who'd frightened Connie Mac away was hiding in her pantry, she'd get in a few good licks before she turned him over to the sheriff!
Once she had moved silently into position, Hannah inched the door open with her foot. She glanced inside, and what see saw caused the pot to slip from her nerveless fingers. Her earlier assumption was wrong. Connie mace hadn't left last night.
The Cooking Sweetheart was facedown on the pantry floor, her arms and legs sprawled out like a kid who'd hit the surface of Eden Lake in an ungainly belly dive. She had been struck down by a massive blow to the head in the act of sampling one of Hannah's Blue Blueberry Muffins.
Shock rendered Hannah immobile for a moment, but then she knelt down to feel for a pulse. The biggest celebrity ever to set foot in Lake Eden would never star in another episode of her television show or pose for pictures in her magazine. Connie Mac was dead.
-7-
Hannah was pacing the parking lot, trying to banish the gruesome sight from her mind, when she spotted the headlights of an approaching car. As it passed under the streetlight in the middle of the alley, she realized that it was Norman's car and that they had an early-morning coffee date.
Norman stepped on the gas when he spotted the sheriff's department cruiser. One glimpse of his concerned face as he jumped out of his car was all it took for Hannah to forgive him for not being jealous of her dinner with Mike.
'Are you all right, Hannah?' Norman asked, pulling her into his arms before she even had time to answer.
Hannah nodded, almost hating to admit it because it was so good to be hugged. Norman was solid and dependable, and it felt a lot better than she'd remembered to be in his arms. Actually, it was quite habit-forming. Once there, she didn't want to leave.
'What happened?' Norman asked her.
'Connie Mac's dead and I found her in my pantry this morning and someone bashed in her head when she was eating one of my muffins and I called the sheriff's department and that's why they're here.' Hannah's words came out in a rush, with no pause for punctuation. She reminded herself to slow down so that Norman could understand her, and went on. 'Someone killed Connie Mac last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake.'
'That's horrible. Do they know what time it happened?'
Hannah shook her head. 'Not yet. Doc Knight's examining her now.'
'Well, it must have been after nine.'
'How do you know that?'
'I grabbed a quick sandwich and then I came back to test my fill lights. I saw Connie Mac and Janie through your window when I left to go home.'
'You'd better tell Mike and Bill.'
'I will. I'm sorry you were the one to find her, Hannah. It must have been awful.'
'It was.' Hannah nodded. Then she took a deep breath and managed a shaky laugh. 'After all the others, you'd think I'd be used to it by now.'
'I don't think you ever get used to something like that.'
'Maybe not, but if I keep on finding dead bodies, I'd better put the sheriff's number on speed-dial.'
Norman chuckled. 'Your sense of humor is coming back. You're gong to be fine, Hannah.'
'Of course I am.'
The back door of The Cookie Jar opened and Mike stepped out. He frowned when he spotted Norman, but then he put on a polite smile as he strode forward across the snow. 'Hi, Norman. It's a good thing you're here. Hannah shouldn't be alone at a time like this. I would have stayed with her myself, but I've got a job to do inside.'
'Go ahead,' Norman responded. 'I'll stay with Hannah.'
That comment earned another frown from Mike, and Hannah's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Norman and Mike were facing off like two banty roosters, and she was no spring chicken.
'I've got some bad news for you, Hannah.' Mike didn't look happy as he turned to her. 'Your shop is a crime
