Joanne Fluke - Sugar Cookie Murder

SUGAR COOKIE M URDER

Joanne Fluke

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It was a meatball, a really big meatball, and it was rolling out of her closet. It stopped a few feet from the end of the bed, and that was when she noticed its eyes and its face. The eyes stared at her in abject disappointment, and two tears of gravy rolled down its fat bumpy cheeks. It looked so miserable Hannah wanted to reach out and give it a hug.

You forgot me, the meatball said, and Im an entre. And from what I hear, your entres arent that good.

Yes, they are. Weve got...

Im doing my best not to take this as a personal insult, the meatball interrupted her, but you know Im a lot more delicious than your mothers Hawaiian Pot Roast. What really makes me mad is that you left me out, but you put in four of your sister Andreas Jell-O molds. Well, it doesnt take a rocket scientist to dump a can of fruit in some Jell-O. If you want her name in the cookbook, you ought to teach her to cook.

What was the meatball talking about? No ordinary mortal could teach Andrea to cook! Her sister was firmly entrenched among the ranks of the culinary-impaired. Hannah sat bolt upright in bed, prepared to give the Swedish treat a piece of her mind. But there was no longer a round, brown entre with the delectable scent of mushrooms and beef positioned in from of her closet or at the foot of her bed. With the exception of Moishe, who was curled up at her feet sleeping peacefully, she was alone.

Hannah blinked several times, and then the truth of the situation dawned. Shed been dreaming. The talking meatball had retreated into whatever corner of her mind had created it, but the message it had delivered remained. Hannah had goofed big time. Shed forgotten to include Edna Fergusons recipe for Not So Swedish Meatballs in the packet to be tested at tonights potluck dinner.

Uh-oh, Hannah groaned, feeling around under the bed for her slippers. When shed wiggled her feet inside the fake fur lining, she patted the mattress to wake the orange and white tomcat whod been her roommate for the past year and a half. Come on, Moishe. Time to wake up and smell the kitty crunchies.

Moishe opened one yellow eye and regarded her balefully. Then the phrase kitty crunchies must have registered in his feline brain, because he jumped off the bed and with an athletic grace that Hannah could only envy, and padded down the hallway at her side as she headed for the kitchen.

Once Moishe had been fed and watered and shed poured herself a cup of strong coffee, Hannah sat down at the kitchen table that was on the cusp of becoming an antique and considered the problem of Edna Fergusons meatballs. Since the whole thing was her fault for forgetting to include them, shed have to find time to test them herself. One thing for sure... Edna wouldnt be the soul of understanding if she couldnt find her favorite recipe in the cookbook.

Hannah glanced down at her coffee mug. Empty. And she didnt even remember drinking it. If she showered and dressed right now, before she was fully awake, the lure of a second mug of coffee would make her hurry.

Before the second hand on her apple-shaped wall clock had made twelve complete revolutions, Hannah was back in the kitchen. Instead of her robe, she was wearing jeans and a dark green pullover sweater. Her feet were encased in fur-lined, moosehide boots to stave off the chill of the first cold week in December, and her towel-dried hair was already springing up into a riot of red curls.

Coffee, Hannah breath, pouring a mug, inhaling the fragrance and taking the first steaming sip, is almost as good as... but before she could decide exactly what it was almost as good as, the phone rang.

Mother! Hannah muttered in the same tone she used when she stubbed her toe, but she reached for the phone. To let the answer machine get it would only delay the inevitable. Delores Swensen was relentless. If she wanted to talk to her eldest daughter, shed keep on calling until she was successful.

Good morning, Mother, Hannah forced a cheery note into her voice and sank down in a chair. Conversations with Delores had been known to last as long as an hour.

Good morning, dear. You sound like you got up on the right side of the bed, Delores replied, matching Hannahs cheery tone and raising her a clich. I know this Christmas potluck has been a lot of work for you and I called to see if there was anything I could do to help.

Warning bells went off in Hannahs head. When Delores tried to be this helpful, she had an ulterior motive. Thats nice of you, Mother, but I think Ive got everything covered.

I thought so. Youre so organized, dear. Did I tell you that Luanne found an antique silver cake knife with a provenance that dates back to the Regency period?

No, you didnt, Hannah said, getting up to pour more coffee and stretching out the hone cord to within an inch of its life. Luanne Hanks was Delores and Carries assistant at Grannys Attic, the antique store theyd opened right next to Hannahs bakery, and she was a genius at finding valuable antiques at estate auctions.

I thought you might want to use it tonight. It was a lovely old-fashioned Christmas tree on the handle.

Didnt you say it was Regency?

Thats right, dear.

But I didnt think they had Christmas trees in Regency England.

They didnt. But dont forget that the Regents family was German. And since this particular knife was used at court, its decorated with a German Christmas tree.

Id love to use it, Hannah said. Itll fit in perfectly.

Thats what I thought. When I showed it to Winthrop last night, he thought it would be appropriate to cut a cake from the period.

Hannah frowned at the mention of her mothers significant other. She had no basis in fact, but she had the inkling that Winnie, as her niece Tracey called him, wasnt precisely on the level. Shed asked Norman Rhodes, Carries son and the man she occasionally dated, to check Winthrop out on the Internet. Norman had done it, but he hadnt found anything shady about the British lord who was visiting Lake Eden for a lark.

Hannah pulled herself back to the problem at hand. I think using the cake knife is a great idea, but as far as I know, no one is bringing a cake made from a Regency recipe.

Yes, they are, dear. Youre forgetting about Lady Hermoines Chocolate Sunshine Cake.

Lady Hermoine? Hannahs voice reached a high note that would have shocked the Jordan High choir director whod assigned her to the second alto section. Whos Lady Hermoine? You know thats my original recipe!

Of course I do, but theres a slight problem, dear. You see, the knife is very valuable. I didnt want to let just anyone use it, so I fibbed a bit.

What a bit?

I said that Lady Hermoines Chocolate Sunshine Cake originated a lot earlier. If itll make him happy, is there any harm in letting Winthrop think the recipes been in our family for hundreds of years?

Hannah sighed. She didnt like lying even when it was for a good cause, and Winthrops happiness wasnt high on her list of good causes. Your fib wont work Mother. My cake uses frozen orange juice concentrate and that certainly wasnt around back then!

Thats all right. Winthrop wont notice. And on the off chance he does, Ill say the original recipe called for orange marmalade. Delores gave a sigh and when she spoke again, her voice held a quaver. Thats all right, isnt it?

Hannah thought about it for a second or two and then she caved. That little quaver in her mothers voice always got to her. All right, Mother. I wont lie if Winthrop asks me straight out, but as long as he doesnt, Ill play along.

Thank you, dear! And now Id better rush, Carries picking me up in ten minutes and I still have to do my makeup.

Hannah said her goodbyes and hung up, but the moment she placed the phone back in the cradle it rang again. Mother, she muttered, grabbing for the phone. Delores often called back immediately if shed forgotten to say something she felt was important.