Cinnamon Roll Murder

plain vinegar will also work.)

Take out a smaller bowl or a quart measuring cup to hold your Carrot Slaw dressing.

Combine the sugar, mayonnaise, and vinegar. Mix it with a rubber spatula or whisk it until it’s smooth.

Hannah’s 5th Note: That’s it! You just made the dressing. How simple is that?

Pour the dressing you just made over the salad in the large bowl. Toss it with your fingers, or stir it with a spoon or spatula until it’s coated with the dressing.

At last! The peas! Drain the peas in a strainer or colander and gently pat them dry with paper towels.

Add the peas to the top of your bowl. DON’T mix them in yet. Since the peas are the most fragile ingredient, you won’t mix them in until you’re ready to serve the Carrot Slaw.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate it until it’s time to serve your salad.

Hannah’s 6th Note: It’s just fine to make this in the morning and leave it in the refrigerator all day until dinnertime. You may have to use a slotted spoon to remove it to the salad bowl so that it isn’t too wet, but that’s simple to do.

When you’re ready to serve, give the Carrot Slaw a final toss to mix in those fragile peas. (They’re a little extra work, but they make the salad juicy and give a little burst of flavor when you bite them.)

Transfer the Carrot Slaw to a pretty salad bowl, and sprinkle the candied pecan pieces over the top.

Hannah’s 7th Note: If your family and guests like the candied pecan pieces on top, you may want to make double the amount next time you make them and keep half in a freezer bag so they’re all ready to go.

Yield: This salad will serve at least 4 people as a side dish unless Lonnie’s included in your dinner party. He just loves Michelle’s Carrot Slaw and I don’t think he’s just saying that because he loves Michelle.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The church was crowded with men in suits, ladies dressed in their very best, and children who had been warned not to wiggle, chew gum, or otherwise call attention to themselves. The scent of the perfumes that the ladies were wearing had merged into one cloud of sweetness that made her want to sneeze.

But she couldn’t sneeze. No one could know she was here in the choir loft, watching the spectacle that enfolded before her. No one could know that she just had to see him one last time before he was transformed into a married man with a family. Most of all, no one could know how desperately she wanted something to happen to stop the ceremony before he committed himself forever by saying I do.

There he was at the front of the church, looking unbelievably handsome in his groom’s tuxedo. And his best friend, the cop, was standing next to him, acting as his best man. The organ music swelled and then broke into the triumphant strains of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. The bride was entering the church, and soon she’d be walking down the white-covered aisle to meet him. She was carrying a huge bouquet of lilacs. She could smell their scent all the way up here in the choir loft. They were her favorite flower, and that was just plain wrong. The dark-haired woman she saw below her couldn’t be the bride. She was wearing a low-cut red sweater, a short black skirt, and boots with stiletto heels. This was wrong. She was the bride, not the woman who was walking up the aisle toward Norman. She had to do something to stop the wedding!

She screamed several times to get Norman’s attention, but he didn’t seem to hear her. In desperation, she began pounding her fists against the stained glass window that had suddenly appeared to separate the choir loft from the body of the church.

Row by row, the congregation turned to see her spreadeagled and pounding on the stained glass window. They looked horrified, but she couldn’t help that. She had to stop the wedding. The false bride was going to take him away from her.

And then the cop was running up the stairs to tackle her and snap on cuffs. And now he was leading her away, pulling her forward. But she held back to look down at the false bride and listen as she opened her mouth to speak the words that would seal his fate forever.

“Noooooo!” she shouted again. “Nooooo!”

“Hannah? Wake up, Hannah! You must be dreaming. Are you all right?”

It was Michelle, and Hannah sat bolt upright in bed. “Dreaming,” she repeated.

“Yes. I heard you thrashing around in here. And then you started moaning and crying. When I got to the doorway, you shouted, Noooo! like you were in terrible pain. That must have been a really awful nightmare!”

“Oh, it was,” Hannah said, remembering Norman’s wedding to Doctor Bev in full color, sound, and even smell.

Michelle walked over to sit on the side of the bed. “If you tell me about it, you probably won’t dream it again when you go back to sleep. How about it?”

Hannah didn’t say anything. She just shook her head. Perhaps Michelle was right, but she’d just have to take her chances. There was no way she was going to tell her baby sister that she’d been dreaming the final scene of The Graduate, and she’d botched the ending by going off to jail instead of running away with the man she loved and jumping on a bus in her bridal dress.

It was difficult to get out of bed the next morning and that wasn’t entirely the fault of the two cats who were sleeping on her chest. Hannah shooed them away, sat up in bed, and punched the alarm clock to shut it off. It was eight-thirty in the morning, but it was Sunday and she didn’t have to go to work.

It was odd to see lights on in the house when she emerged from her bedroom. It was also nice to see lights on in the house when she emerged from her bedroom. Michelle was up and Hannah could smell the welcome scent of Swedish Plasma in the air. There was another scent too, and it smelled like cinnamon and sugar.

“Coffee?” she asked, hoping it was ready as she shuffled through the kitchen doorway.

“Coming right up. Sit down and I’ll pour some for you.”

Hannah sat. Gratefully. And then she glanced over at Michelle. Her youngest sister’s cheeks were pink, her eyes were sparkling, and her hair was curling gently around her pretty face. Oh, to be young again! But Hannah knew she’d never looked as beautiful as Michelle did, even when she was young.

“You’re scowling.” Michelle set a mug of coffee directly in front of Hannah. “What’s the matter?”

“I was trying to figure out how you can look so good in the morning when I feel so dragged out.”

“Clean living. If you’d lay off the booze and drugs for a while, you’d probably start to look better.” Michelle burst into peals of laughter. “You should see your face. You look absolutely dumbfounded. I’m kidding, okay? It’s just a joke, Hannah.”

“Don’t joke with your elder in the morning or she may turn on you like a ravening beast.”

“Nicely put,” Michelle sat down and took a sip of her coffee, “but what’s a ravening beast anyway?”

“It’s too early for me to define a word. You’ll have to wait until I can remember my name.”

“Okay. Drink coffee. Get those brain cells dancing. I really want to know what it is.”

Hannah took a big swallow of coffee. It was hot, and it was good. There was nothing like coffee on a cold spring morning that still felt like winter.

“More,” Michelle said.

Hannah took another swallow. And then another. Caffeine was starting to work its magic on her tired brain.

“Name?” Michelle prodded her.

“Hannah.”