"Of course not. Remember that car he gave her for her birthday? Well, it's broken down three times. Bridget told Cyril that if he didn't fix it right this time, she'd paint a giant lemon on it and tow it down Main Street at the tag end of the parade."

142.

It was four o'clock when Hannah let herself in through the back door of The Cookie Jar. Her two catering jobs had gone well, and Andrea's new maternity outfit had totally tamed her mother-in-law. Their only private conversation had been about which color quilt Andrea would prefer for the nursery.

"Hi, Lisa." Hannah stepped into the coffee shop, joining Lisa behind the counter. "Do you need a break?"

"No, I'm fine. We had a big rush around three, but it's slowing down now. Mike was in earlier, looking for you."

Hannah sighed. "I was afraid I'd miss him."

"He said not to worry, that he was pretty tied up, but he'd call you before you left for the day. Did you see Jed when you came througii the kitchen?"

Hannah shook her head. "No. I just set down my purse and came straight in here."

"Well, he wants to talk to you. He sent Freddy in about twenty minutes ago to say they were almost through in the pantry. I think he was looking to get paid for the day."

"Okay. I'll pay them and then I'll start mixing up the dough for tomorrow."

Hannah greeted a few regular customers before going back to the kitchen. The new pantry shelves were all up. Jed was just tightening the last screw. "Hi, guys. That looks nice."

"Thanks. Come in for a second, Hannah. I want to show you an improvement we made." Jed waited until Hannah had stepped inside the pantry, then pointed to the small, rectangular s.p.a.ce between the inside of the door and the wall. "This spot isn't big enough for shelves, so we made you a pocket rack as a thank-you for giving us the work."

Hannah eyed the structure Jed had called a pocket rack with interest. It consisted of a long narrow board painted the same color as the wall with see-through pockets made out of wire mesh.

"It's for small things that might get pushed behind bigger LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 143.

things on the shelves. They won't drop out because of the mesh, but you can see at a glance what's in there."

Hannah was pleased. She was always looking for the leftover nuts she'd chopped, or almost-empty bags of chocolate chips and marshmallows. "That's very clever. Where did you get the idea?"

"From the last industrial kitchen I worked in. If there was a s.p.a.ce that was too small for a shelf, it had a pocket rack."

"It'll come in really handy. Thanks for thinking of it, Jed." Hannah led the way out of the pantry and retrieved her purse to pay them. She was just counting out the money when she realized what Jed had said. "You said you worked in a kitchen. Were you a cook?"

"No, I was on the maintenance crew and I learned all about kitchen appliances. If something in your kitchen breaks down, I can probably fix it."

"I'll keep that in mind." Hannah slipped their pay into envelopes and handed one to Freddy and the other to Jed. "Thank you for my new pocket rack. Both of you did a wonderful job."

Freddy took his envelope and gave Hannah a big smile. "Thanks, Hannah. Betcha didn't know that Jed used to work in the joint."

"The joint?" Hannah frowned slightly as she turned to Jed. "Was that the name of the restaurant?"

"No, it really was the joint. That's what Freddy calls prison."

Freddy looked embarra.s.sed. "I'm sorry, Jed. I forgot I wasn't supposed to tell."

"It's okay to tell Hannah, but some people might get the wrong idea." Jed turned back to Hannah to explain. "I was a civilian worker, not a prisoner."

Hannah nodded, but she wondered if Jed was telling the truth. Most people who'd been in prison would go to any length to hide it. "Did you work there long?"

"Just for a couple of months until I saved enough money 144.

to move on. There was one good thing about the job, though. They gave the maintenance crew some kind of retroactive raise and I got a big check in the mail today. Right after we're through here, we're going down to Cyril Murphy's car lot with that old car that belonged to Freddy's mother to trade it in on a pickup truck."

"But doesn't that car belong to Freddy now?"

"Sure, but he can't drive anyway, and it was a wreck before I got it running again. It's still no great shakes. I have to park it on top of a hill."

"A hill?"

"I replaced the starter, but it still doesn't work right. Half the time, we have to roll it down the hill in first gear to start it. Besides, Freddy wants to ride in a truck."

"You betcha!" Freddy gave Hannah a big smile. "I'd really like for us to have a truck. Jed says the girls really like guys who have trucks."

Hannah was thoughtful as Freddy and Jed gathered up their things and left. She didn't really believe Jed's story about being a civilian worker at the prison and she intended to check on it. She also didn't like the new att.i.tude she saw in Freddy. As far as she knew, he'd never been interested in girls before. Jed might have good intentions, but he was teaching Freddy some things that could lead to trouble down the road.

Hannah glanced at the clock as she hung her ap.r.o.n on a hook. "That's it, Lisa. Take the rest of those Oatmeal Raisin Crisps for your dad and go home. It's past six-thirty."

"Okay. You won't get any argument from me." Lisa finished stashing the last bowl of dough in their walk-in cooler, and hung up her ap.r.o.n next to Hannah's. "Are you going to stick around for Mike's call?"

"For a while. Then I'll go home. He knows the number."

"See you tomorrow then," Lisa said, picking up the half-dozen leftover cookies and heading for the door.

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 145.

After Lisa left, Hannah did a check of their stock in the pantry, made out the order that had to be placed the next day, and got ready to leave. It was almost seven-thirty. It was unlikely that Mike would call this late. She had just picked up her purse and was heading out the door when the phone rang. Hannah stopped in her tracks and stared at the phone, wishing that it could tell her who was on the other end of its line.

Should she? Or shouldn't she? Rather than debate that question any further, Hannah rushed across the kitchen to answer. If it was Delores, she could always think of an excuse to cut the call short. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Hi, Hannah." There was an apologetic tone in Mike's voice. "I'm sorry I didn't get back to you, but I've been tied up. Do you have plans for dinner?"

"Tonight?"

"Yes. I thought we could go out to a nice dinner and talk about Rhonda. I'll even let you pick the place."

"It's a deal," Hannah said, realizing that she could kill three birds with one stone. "Could we go to Alfredo's Ristorante? And could you take me to the Quick Stop after dinner so that I can meet Mich.e.l.le's bus? And then could you drive her out to Mother's lake cottage?"

"No problem. I'll make the reservations if you tell me what time."

Hannah glanced up at the clock and figured out the logistics. It was seventy-thirty on the nose, so traffic would be light. It would take her fifteen minutes to get home and two minutes to pour some kitty crunchies into Moishe's bowl. That was a total of seventeen minutes. She didn't need time to dress because the outfit she was wearing was perfect for dinner out. She'd need another three minutes to wash her face, brush her teeth, and comb her hair, and she'd tack on an extra ten minutes just to be on the safe side. "Make our reservations for eight-thirty and pick me up at my condo at eight."

"You can drive home and get ready to go out in half an hour?"

146.

Hannah started to grin. Mike had sounded shocked. "Of course I can."

"But most women take longer than that to get ready for a date."

'Tm not most women. I'll be ready when you get there. Just buzz me and I'll walk out to the road to meet you."

Chapter Thirteen.

Hannah glanced at the clock as she refilled Moishe's food bowl. It was ten minutes to eight. Her face was washed, her teeth were brushed, and her hair was secured in the clasp that Mich.e.l.le had sent her last year from the Macalester College Arts Fair. She'd even taken time to spritz on a little perfume from the bottle her college roommate had given her. She was ready and she had ten minutes to kill before Mike buzzed her from the gate.

There was a yowl from the direction of the food bowl and Hannah turned toward her resident feline. "Don't worry. Mike's just taking me out to dinner, and then we're going to pick up Mich.e.l.le at the bus stop."

That seemed to satisfy Moishe because he lowered his head to his food bowl again and didn't look up as Hannah sat down at the kitchen table with her steno pad.

Five minutes pa.s.sed in relative silence, if one didn't count Hannah's sighs as she went over her notes on Rhonda's murder and the sound of Moishe's dinnertime crunching. She really hadn't learned much so far. She knew that Claire had given Rhonda the lemon pie. At least that mystery was solved. And she'd find out tonight if the takeout os...o...b..co had come from Alfredo's Ristorante. If luck was with her, 148 Rhonda's boyfriend had picked up the takeout and someone would remember him. If not, she'd just have to dig deeper to uncover his ident.i.ty.

Learning that Rhonda really had a boyfriend had given Hannah several new motives to explore. If the man was married, as Carrie and Delores suspected, his wife could have murdered Rhonda in a fit of jealousy. She'd have to be a strong woman. Digging a grave for the "other woman" in the earthen floor of the bas.e.m.e.nt furnace room would have taken some muscle.

One by one, other motives and possibilities occurred to Hannah and she jotted them down. If Rhonda's affair had led to the breakup of a marriage, anyone involved, even a teenager, could have retaliated by killing the woman who'd led his or her dad astray. It was a little far-fetched, but not impossible that several siblings had banded together to get rid of their mother's rival.

There was also Rhonda's big mouth to consider, especially if her gossiping had really hurt someone. Carrie and Delores could check out that possibility for her.

Then there was Rhonda's job at the drugstore. If Rhonda had been instrumental in getting a coworker fired, that person could have taken revenge. She'd run down to Lake Eden Neighborhood Drugs tomorrow to check with Jon Walker, the pharmacist and owner.

The buzzer by the phone sounded and Hannah pressed the switch that opened the wooden arm at the gate. She said good-bye to Moishe, topped off his food bowl for the final time, grabbed her notebook, and went out the door. It was a beautiful evening if you ignored the muggy air and the mosquitoes that descended like miniature Draculas on any carelessly exposed patch of skin.

Mike's car was just rounding the bend and Hannah took the shortcut through the planter. Even though the condo a.s.sociation had forbidden the practice, almost all of the residents took the shortcut instead walking down the much longer winding sidewalk to the street. Use of the shortcut had be- come so widespread that the a.s.sociation had been forced to cave in and instruct the gardeners to place stepping stones over the path the residents' shoes had worn.

Mike gave a little toot on his horn as Hannah approached and Hannah raised her hand to wave. That was when she realized that she still held her steno pad in her hand. She shoved it down into the bottom of her shoulder bag. Mike had seemed much more tolerant of her investigation this time around, but flaunting the tangible proof of her detective work would still be a little like waving a red flag.

Hannah smiled happily as she looked around her. Alfredo's Ristorante was impressive and so was their cuisine. Mike had reserved a table by the window overlooking Eden Lake and while she'd ordered polio piccata, a boneless chicken breast sauteed with lemon and capers, she'd talked Mike into the os...o...b..co. Just as she'd expected, it had come with a garnish of sliced ripe olives.

"Don't you want your pasta?" Mike asked, eying the side dish the waitress had placed by Hannah's entree.

"Of course I want it, but I can't have pasta on my diet."

"Do you mind if I eat it then?"

Hannah shook her head, even though she minded a lot. According to the menu, the pasta was homemade fresh riga-toni tossed with first-press, extra-virgin olive oil and b.u.t.ter, and liberally sprinkled with parmigiano reggiano, the best Parmesan cheese money could buy. She couldn't have it, but she really didn't want Mike to eat it. It was the spurned lover's reaction, If I can't have you, n.o.body can. And that was a possibility she hadn't thought of before. If Rhonda had been involved with two men and she'd made noises about leaving one for the other, the loser could have killed Rhonda rather than let her go. It was one of the reasons why so many love triangles ended in tragedy.

"What are you thinking about?" Mike asked, swallowing the last of her pasta. "You look really intense."

150.

"Dessert, and how I can't have any."

"That's not it." Mike shook his head. "You'd look sad if you were thinking about missing dessert. What was it?"

Hannah thought about dissembling, but she couldn't come up with a likely subject. Perhaps the truth was her best bet. "Actually, I was thinking about Rhonda and how jealousy could make someone mad enough to kill. I figured that Rhonda might have been part of a love triangle."

"Rhonda was involved with a married man and his wife killed her?"

"Maybe, but I was thinking of another way. If Rhonda was involved with two men, one of them could have killed her rather than let the other one have her."

Mike thought about that for a moment. "That makes more sense. Doc Knight said a woman could have stabbed Rhonda. It doesn't take that much force to kill someone with a knife if the blade hits a vital spot. But we've got to a.s.sume that the person who killed her is the one who dug that grave and that dirt is as hard as concrete. Bill and I tried to dig a hole in the corner and it was tough going."

"Then how did the killer manage to do it?"

"He used a pickax and then he shoveled it out. We found the tools in the corner of the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Were there any prints?"

Mike shook his head. "Not even a partial. The fingerprint guys are sure he wore gloves."

"How about the murder weapon? Did you recover it?"

"No. We think it was a hunting knife with a long blade, the kind you can buy almost anywhere for field-dressing big game. The killer probably took it with him and ditched it later. Unless we get lucky, we probably won't find it."

There was a note of frustration in Mike's voice and Hannah could understand that. Every hunter in Minnesota had a hunting knife. "How about Rhonda's apartment? Did you search it?"

"Of course we did, but we didn't find anything that related to her murder."

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 151.

"Was there anything unusual about the autopsy?"

"Not really. Rhonda ate dinner that night and her stomach contents helped Doc narrow down the tune of death. Her blood alcohol level showed that she drank almost a whole bottle of red wine with her dinner."

"Then she was pretty tipsy when she went down the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs?"

"She must have been. Good thing she wasn't driving. Since her car is still parked at her apartment building, we figure someone must have dropped her off at the Voelker place."

"Do you know who?"

Mike shook his head. "We spent hours trying to track that down, but we got nowhere. How about you?"

"I got the same place you did." Hannah felt cheered. Mike wasn't asking her to back off and he hadn't even mentioned locking her up to keep her from interfering. "So you're okay with me doing my own investigation?"

"I'm not happy, but I'm okay with it. Maybe reconciled would be a better word. Just keep out of trouble and tell me if you discover anything you think I should know."

"Haven't I always?" Hannah sidestepped any promises. "How about the crime scene? I didn't really look around that closely. Did you find any clues?"

"Just one. We thought we had a suspect, but it turned out to be nothing."

Hannah leaned forward. This was the first she'd heard about a suspect. "Who was it?"