Mike flipped open his notebook and jotted that down. "Do you know who got them?"

"Almost everyone in town. People still had iceboxes in those days, and they chipped ice off the block for cold drinks."

"But everybody's got refrigerators now. Why would they still have ice picks when they're not needed anymore?"

"Ice picks come in handy for all sorts of things. I've got one in my kitchen drawer at home, and I just used it to poke another hole in a leather belt."

"Yeah, that would work. I bought a leather punch when I went down a size last year. I didn't want to replace all my belts, so I poked another hole and made them smaller."

Hannah nodded, hoping he wouldn't guess that the hole she'd punched with her grandfather's ice pick was to make her belt larger.

"So what you're telling me is that there are a lot of similar ice picks floating around, and anyone in town could have one."

"Yes, but I don't know how many are left now. That was a long time ago, and they had wooden handles. My grandfather had them painted red and green for Christmas, and the name of his hardware store was stamped on in gold. If the handles broke or splintered, people probably threw them away. But if they were still in good shape, a couple of them could have wound up out at the lake cottages."

"Okay," Mike said, snapping his notebook shut again. "There's not much help there."

"Probably not. Did you find Gus's wallet?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because if you didn't, the motive could be robbery. Gus was flashing money around all night."

"Someone else mentioned that," Mike said, not saying where he'd gotten his information. "We recovered the victim's wallet. It was still in his pocket. And it contained a little over two hundred dollars."

"Good!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he owed Ava for the groceries he bought last night, and now she'll get her money. It's interesting that robbery wasn't the motive, though."

"We can't rule it out. It's possible that the thief didn't intend to kill him, and fled when he realized what he'd done."

"Or he was after something other than money. Gus was wearing a Rolex and a diamond pinkie ring last night. When I found him, I didn't notice if he still had them."

"We recovered both of them, and Bill had the guys in robbery take a look. The pinkie ring's a fake. Everybody agrees it's paste. They're still not sure about the watch, so we're having a jeweler take a look at it."

"Why would Gus wear a fake ring?" Hannah asked him.

"Lots of rich people do. They keep the real jewelry locked in a safe and wear paste rings and fake watches."

"Why bother to buy the real stuff when you're never going to wear it?"

"Search me. Some people buy expensive jewelry as an investment. It's probably more interesting than buying a lot of stocks or bonds."

Hannah shrugged. "Maybe. So you think that Gus has a safe at home filled with real jewelry?"

"That's my guess. We'll have someone check it out when we get a minute. In the meantime, we're treating this like a routine homicide."

Was homicide ever routine? Hannah doubted it. But she chose not to argue the point with Mike. "Any suspects?" she asked instead.

"Everybody's a suspect until we start weeding them out. It all depends on where they were at two this morning."

"That's the estimated time of death?"

"Doc Knight puts it between one and three. And since Ava says he left her place after one-thirty, and he had time to eat a piece of your carrot cake and drink some milk before he died, we're asking everyone where they were between two and three in the morning."

"I was home at two-thirty," Hannah said, before he could ask, "and I can prove it."

Mike gave a little laugh. "Moishe's testimony doesn't count, Hannah. We don't speak cat down at the sheriff's station."

"Actually...it does count." Hannah was a bit disappointed that Mike hadn't drawn another conclusion about her middle-of-the-night companion. Or maybe she was pleased that he trusted her. She couldn't quite decide which. "Moishe was chasing around inside my bathtub, and Sue Plotnik called to ask me if everything was all right."

"I guess that clears you. There's no way you could have stabbed the victim, and driven home in time to take the phone call."

"Well that's a relief!" Hannah said, but Mike didn't react to her sarcasm. He just stared at her with a frown that knit his reddish-blond eyebrows.

"Why was The Big Guy chasing around inside your bathtub? Do you have mice?"

"No. And that could be part of the problem, right along with the fact that I can't find the Animal Channel on my new cable lineup."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been gone a lot lately, and Norman thinks Moishe's bored. When I came home from church yesterday, he'd ripped open one of my couch pillows and scattered the stuffing all over the rug."

"Maybe he needs a playmate. Why don't you ask Norman to bring Cuddles over to visit?"

"That would probably help, but Cuddles is up in Duluth this week, vacationing with Marguerite and her friend."

"Oh. Well...maybe I should drop by for a little cop-to-cat talk. I could tell him about bathtub noise abatement and willful destruction of couch pillows."

"Anytime," Hannah said, smiling at Mike's description.

"Anything else you want to know about the murder?"

Hannah blinked several times. Was she hallucinating, or was Mike actually offering to give her information?

"Hannah?"

"Actually...yes. It's been bothering me, and of course I didn't look. What was in that disposable cooler on the bar?"

"A bread wrapper with six ham and cheese sandwiches inside."

Hannah was puzzled. "You mean...already made?"

"Right. He must have put them together right there at the bar and stashed them in the cooler. I can't figure out why he'd do that, though."

"He told Ava that the refrigerator in his cabin wasn't working right," Hannah offered. "But I opened it when I went to the cottage to look for him, and it felt cool to me."

"You're sure?"

"Pretty sure. The ice tray was still frozen solid."

"Maybe it was cutting on and off. The old ones do that sometimes. The water in the ice cube tray would freeze right back up again, but he might not have wanted to take the chance with a ham and cheese sandwich, especially with mayo."

"There was mayonnaise?"

"Mayo and mustard."

The light dawned, and Hannah nodded. "I get it," she said, shaking her head.

"Get what?"

"That's one of the reasons he came back here, to use the mayo and mustard in the kitchen refrigerator."

"You know there was some in there?"

"Yes. We ran out of cream for the coffee, and I went to the refrigerator to get another carton."

"And you're sure he didn't buy the mustard and mayo at the store?"

"I'm almost certain. Ava's the type to keep a running tab in her mind, and she named everything he bought last night. She didn't say a word about mayonnaise and mustard."

Mike laughed. "So he took those from the pavilion refrigerator. That's pretty cheap for a man who flashes money around and wears a Rolex and a diamond pinkie ring."

"A Rolex that could be a fake and a diamond made out of paste," Hannah reminded him.

"That's true, but I already explained that. And that suit he was wearing didn't come cheap. Maybe he just forgot the mayo and the mustard. And then, when he started making his sandwiches, he looked around for some."

"Maybe," Hannah said, giving in because fighting about it would be useless. Perhaps that was what had happened. She had no reason to think otherwise.

"Okay." Mike gave her a warm smile. "Since you found the body, you don't need copies of the crime scene photos, do you?"

Hannah's mouth dropped open. What was Mike talking about?

"I can call you with the highlights from the autopsy report when it comes in."

"That would be nice," Hannah said carefully, still not sure why Mike was being so cooperative. She had a sneaking suspicion she'd be better off not asking, but she couldn't resist. "Why are you volunteering all this information?"

"Because you're going to get it anyway, one way or the other. There's no sense in trying to keep you from sticking your nose in my case, is there?"

Hannah thought about that for a moment, and then she shook her head. "No. Lisa already asked me to help catch the killer so all the relatives can relax and enjoy the reunion again."

"Okay, then. I've been thinking about it, and I'd rather have you share any information you learn with me. That way we won't be working at cross-purposes. And the only way you'll share with me is if I share with you. Isn't that right?"

"That's right," Hannah said, surprised that she could even find her voice to speak. Mike was actually sanctioning her sleuthing! Or was he? This could be some sort of a trick. She'd have to ask Andrea and Mich.e.l.le what they thought of his proposal.

"Check it out with your sisters and see what they think," Mike continued, practically reading Hannah's mind. "Call me on my cell when you decide."

"Okay," Hannah said, pushing back her chair.

"One more thing...I'll give that cake to my team when they report back, but in the meantime, will you cover it for me? It's just too temping. I can smell it all the way over here and it's screaming, Eat me! Eat me!"

"I know exactly what you mean." Hannah clamped the cover on the cake pan and gave a little wave as she headed for the door. Was Mike serious about sharing his information? Or would he withhold crucial clues so that he could solve the case first? As she went out the screen door and started down the road to join the women who were counting on her to help them fix dinner for the reunion crowd, she had the uncomfortable feeling that Mike was playing some sort of game with her and he hadn't bothered to tell her the rules.

Chapter Nine.

They were in the kitchen of Libby Thompson's cottage. Libby was Lisa's great aunt and her cottage was theirs to use for the reunion. It was a huge lime green monstrosity that had grown with the years until it took up three lots to accommodate the Thompsons, their children, the grandkids, and the great grandkids. Because the extended family was so huge and they all lived in the area, the cottage kitchen had been enlarged to hold two sets of double ovens, two stovetops, and two industrial dishwashers. With the exception of Sally's kitchen at the Lake Eden Inn, it was the largest kitchen at the lake and the perfect place for multiple cooks to prepare dishes for the potluck dinner.

"Oh, dear!" Marge said, looking worried.

"What's the matter?" Hannah asked her.

"It's this recipe. I'm just not sure it's appropriate."

Hannah glanced over at the recipe. It appeared to be similar to other hamburger-tomato-macaroni ca.s.serole recipes, and Hannah didn't see how it could be unsuitable. "It looks just fine to me. What's inappropriate about it?"

"The name. I mean...in light of what happened last night, I thought..."

"She's talking about Gus," Patsy spoke up.

Hannah moved over for a second look. She hadn't bothered to read the name before, and it was written in big block letters at the top of the recipe card. FUNERAL HOTDISH, it said.

"It's a really good hotdish," Marge went on. "I got the recipe from Joyce Fuechte. She's on the Funeral Committee at St. Peter's Lutheran in Swanville, and they served it at my cousin Ted's funeral when everybody came back from the cemetery. What do you think, Hannah? Should we use it?"

"I don't see why not. Just don't tell anyone what it's called."

"But what if they ask?" Patsy wanted to know.

"Make up something. I'm sure Joyce and the committee won't mind. You could call it Anniversary Hotdish. They probably serve it for anniversaries, too."

"That's a good idea," Marge complimented her. "An anniversary's a happy occasion."

"Not necessarily."

Marge turned to give her sister a sharp look. "You still haven't worked things out with Mac?"

"The only thing we agree on is not to agree. Would you believe Mac wanted me to ask Gus for the five hundred dollars I lent him right before he left Lake Eden? With thirty years of interest, no less! He even offered to do it for me. Can you believe it?"

"I believe it," Marge said, shaking her head. "Mac's never been shy about money."