At first Hannah couldn't see what was wrong with the dried flowers in ceramic baskets, but as she looked closely she realized that every basket had 'Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique' written on the side.
'They're just advertising for her new store,' Edna sniffed, 'and you can't clean those dried flowers when they get dusty. If she'd really wanted to give the community center a gift, she should have picked something we could really use.' I Hannah knew. Edna had a point. The things that Connie Mac had chosen were impractical for a community kitchen.
'I was boiling mad when I unpacked those boxes,' Edna declared, 'especially since she built it all up as something wonderful. All I could think about was finding her and wringing her neck!'
Hannah's mind went into overdrive. Edna had a temper, and she'd been sorely tested by Connie Mac. First there was the generous gift that Connie Mac had promised that turned out to be more trouble than it was worth, and then there were the changes she'd made to Edna's menu. Was it possible that c Edna's temper had gotten the best of her?
'Uh.. . Edna?' Hannah knew she was treading on eggshells, but she had to ask. 'What time did you leave here last night?'
Edna gave a short laugh. 'Before you start getting all suspicious, I've got an alibi. Right after she ordered me to bake all those rolls, I called my sister at the farm. Hattie drove in to help me and she stayed over at my place last night.'
'I'm sorry, Edna.' Hannah backed off. 'I didn't mean to imply that I thought you killed her.'
'That's okay. I might have, if she'd come waltzing in here while I was punching down that dough last night!'
Hannah glanced at her watch. 'I've got a spare hour. Is there anything I can do to help you?'
'Nope. Everything's all done. The minute I heard that she was dead, I decided not to make that fancy molded appetizer she wanted to have. Not many people around here like liver anyway. I'm serving cheese and crackers, just like it says on my original menu.'
'Hannah?' Marge Beeseman yoo-hooed her from the door of the library as she passed by. 'Come in for a minute. You have to see what this wonderful young man brought me!'
Hannah stepped into the library and smiled at the young man who was standing next to Marge. He was blond, handsome, and about ten years too young for her.
'This is Kurt Howe,' Marge said. 'And Kurt? This is Hannah Swensen. She owns The Cookie Jar and she bakes the best cookies in the world.'
'Glad to meet you.' Hannah shook his hand when he extended it. She knew that Kurt Howe was the publisher's representative who'd had the fight with Connie Mac. 'You must have done something special. Marge doesn't call just anyone wonderful.'
Kurt shook his head. 'All I did was bring her some signed copies of Sweets For Your Sweetie.'
'Two hundred of them,' Marge pointed at the cartons of books that were stacked near the door. 'We're doing an exchange. I'm going to sell the ones that Connie Mac presigned.'
Hannah turned to Kurt. 'That was very nice of you.'
'It was more than nice,' Marge corrected her. 'Now that Connie Mac is, uh . . . no longer with us, they'll be instant collector's items. I'm going to sit at that table in the lobby and sell them to the people who come in for the banquet. As a matter of fact, I've got to get started setting up. You'll excuse me, won't you?'
Hannah found herself on the horns of a moral dilemma once Marge had left. She was dying to ask Kurt about the fight, but she'd promised Mike not to question any of the Connie Mac people at the inn. Of course, she wasn't at the inn; she was in the library, and this opportunity was too good to pass up.
'I'm sorry about Connie Mac,' Hannah said, easing her way into the subject. 'I guess Sweets For Your Sweetie will be the last of her cookbooks.'
Kurt shook his head. 'Actually, no. Savory Press has at least three more in the works.'
'You mean they're all written and ready to go?'
'Not exactly. It's like this, Miss Swensen . . . All the recipes in Mrs. MacIntyre's cookbooks come directly from her television shows. We just transcribe them from the tapes and put in some of the personal comments she makes.'
'But her show is over now, isn't it?'
'Yes, but there's a large backlog of segments that haven't aired yet. And then there'll be reruns. There's plenty of material for at least three more cookbooks, maybe four.'
'I see,' Hannah said, filing that information away for future reference. Right now she had more important fish to fry. 'Would you mind telling me where you were last night?'
Kurt's smile disappeared and his expression grew guarded. 'I was in my room. Why do you want to know? Are you from the police?'
'No.' Hannah decided she'd already jumped in with both feet and she might as well get thoroughly wet. 'I'm asking for a friend who might be charged with Connie Mac's murder. I think she's your friend, too. Janie Burkholtz?'
'The police think Janie murdered Mrs. MacIntyre?' Kurt looked shocked.
'Yes, and unless Janie can clear herself, she's in big trouble. I just thought you might have seen her last night when she came back to the inn. I'm trying to establish an alibi for her.'
Kurt's guarded expression disappeared. 'I'd like to help Janie, but the last time I saw her was in the late afternoon. Our rooms are right next to each other, and I saw her leaving. Janie told me that Mrs. MacIntyre was having her portrait taken and she had to follow the limo to town.'
'Your room is right next to Janie's?'
'That's right.'
'And you were in your room last night?'
'That's what I said.'
'Didn't you hear Janie when she came back to pack up her things?'
'No.'
Hannah was puzzled. 'But you must have heard something. Dresser drawers slamming, hangers rattling, suitcases bumping on the floor. . .'
'Uh . . .' Kurt began to look nervous. 'Look, Miss Swensen. I was in my room last night, but I left around nine. I drove to Minneapolis to meet a friend, and I stayed overnight.'
'Can your friend vouch for you?'
'Yes, but I don't want to bring my friend into it. If my boss finds out where I was last night, he'll fire me.'
Hannah took one look at the stubborn set of Kurt's chin and decided it was time to play hardball. 'The way I see it, you're in a lose-lose situation here. I know about the fight you had with Connie Mac and how she threatened to call your boss in the morning to have you fired. If I tell the police about that and I also tell them that you weren't in your room past nine last night, you'll be a murder suspect. How long do you think your job will last when you're suspected of killing Savory's biggest celebrity author?'
'I. . . I didn't think about that.' Kurt's face turned pale.
'It doesn't have to be as bad as it sounds,' Hannah told him. 'I'm the only one who knows you weren't in your room last night, and I won't tell as long as you get your alibi to vouch for you. My lips are sealed if your story checks out.'
'Okay.' Kurt gave a resigned sigh. 'I spent the night with Marcia, and her father owns Savory Press. She works there part-time, and he's death on intraoffice romance. He told Marcia that if she dated anyone on his staff, he'd fire the guy and send her off to finish college in Alaska.'
Hannah whistled softly. 'You do have a problem. Just get Marcia on the phone and let me talk to her. If she says that you were with her all night, I'll forget everything you told me.'
Five minutes later, Hannah had all the information she needed. After assuring Marcia that she wouldn't blow the whistle on them, she hung up Kurt's cell phone and handed it back to him. 'You're in the clear. But just to satisfy my curiosity, why was Connie Mac so mad at you?'
'I guess it can't hurt to tell you.' Kurt hesitated and Hannah noticed that he looked highly embarrassed. 'I refused to sleep with her.'
Hannah could feel her mouth drop open, and she closed it before she looked like the village idiot.
