Lemon Meringue Pie Murder Part 11

"I thought you were off at college, Carly."

"I am," Carly said. "I just came home for summer break and Sally hired me to fill in while her regular girl's on vacation."

"Do you know that Mich.e.l.le's coming back to town tomorrow night?"

"I know. She called Tricia and we're all getting together for lunch on Wednesday. You're out here for dinner, right?"

"Right. Mother's supposed to join me."

"Oh, Sally just seated your mother's party. Just follow me and I'll take you to their table."

Her mother's party? Hannah sighed as she followed Carly through the crowded dining room and into the bar. Her mother had told her to wear something appropriate and that should have rung alarm bells in Hannah's mind. She hoped this wasn't another attempt to fix her up with an eligible male.

As Carly walked toward the rear of the bar, Hannah found herself lagging behind. Sally had designated that section for private dining. There were four tables on a raised platform, separated from each other by carved wooden part.i.tions that contained frosted gla.s.s. The s.p.a.ce that faced the rest of the bar was hung with gauzy curtains that the occupants could draw, or leave open. The fact that her mother had requested one of the private tables and closed the curtains could mean only one thing. Delores had set her up again. The only question in Hannah's mind was the ident.i.ty of the man her mother was attempting to trap for her.

"Here's Hannah, Mrs. Swensen," Carly announced, pulling aside the corner of the curtain. "Since your party's all here, shall I send the waitress to take your orders?"

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"Not quite yet, dear,*' Delores responded. "Give us five minutes and then we'll be ready."

Hannah wished she could turn on her heel and go back home, but her mother would never forgive her. She took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and stepped inside the curtain. When she saw Norman, her smile turned genuine. "Hi, Norman. Hi, Carrie."

"Come in and sit down, dear." Delores motioned toward the spot they'd saved for her.

Hannah sat down and turned to Norman. "This is a nice surprise. Mother didn't tell me you'd be here."

"Just a minute, dear," Delores hushed her, reaching out to arrange the curtains to hide them from general view. "I really don't think we need everyone in town to see us discussing Rhonda's murder."

"Seeing us doesn't matter, as long as they don't hear us. And they'll be less inclined to eavesdrop if they can see us."

"You've got a point," Delores conceded, opening the curtains again. "I'd never invade someone's privacy like that, but I'm sure some people would."

Hannah just barely managed to squelch a chuckle. She'd seen Delores take the long way around to the ladies room several times in the past, and once she'd even dropped her purse by the row of private booths so she'd have more time to listen.

"I have a question for you, Hannah." Delores stared hard at her. "Norman says he asked you to investigate and you promised to think about it and let him know in the morning. Is that right?"

Hannah hesitated. She'd never been any good at walking on eggsh.e.l.ls and this situation had the earmarks of a giant omelet in the making. What if Delores really wanted the job as chief investigator and she'd resent it if Hannah took over? Was there any explanation Hannah could give for her change of heart that wouldn't lead to infanticide? Or was infanticide called something else when a mother killed her grown daughter?

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"Well?" Delores glared at her. "I'm waiting for an explanation, Hannah Louise."

Her mother only called her Hannah Louise when she was in big trouble and Hannah thought fast. "Norman told me that Mike and Bill roped off the entire Voelker house as a crime scene and he can't tear it down before they solve Rhonda's murder. That means he might have to delay building our dream house until spring, and ..."

"That's enough, dear," Delores interrupted her. "I understand perfectly and I think you made the right decision. It was a matter of priorities."

Hannah felt a bit guilty as she basked in her mother's approval. Delores thought their dream house had made all the difference. If Hannah weren't careful, her mother would be sending out invitations to a bridal shower that would never happen.

Norman looked eager as he turned to Hannah. "Does that mean that you're going to do it?"

"Of course it does," Delores answered for her. "And I'm glad we got all this settled. We'll all do everything we can to help you, Hannah. I made some calls this afternoon and I'm almost positive that Rhonda led a double life."

"Really?" Norman looked interested. "What kind of a double life?"

Delores leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "I think she had a boyfriend, perhaps even more than one. But let's not go into all that now. Why don't we order? Once we've eaten, we can discuss Rhonda's murder in detail over dessert.**

Hannah's dietary resolve wavered dangerously when their waitress wheeled up the dessert cart. Sally's delicious flour-less chocolate cake was sitting in the center of the display. Hannah started to salivate the moment she spotted it.

"I'll have the chocolate cake," Delores declared. "I ordered it the last time I was here and it was simply scrumptious."

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"The same for me," Carrie echoed.

"Nothing for me." Norman glanced at Hannah. "How about you?"

"Just coffee." Hannah forced the words past her lips. She'd followed her diet to the letter so far, eating only her salad and her serving of coq au vin. She'd even ordered steamed broccoli in place of potatoes.

Once their coffee had been replenished and the cake had been served, Delores turned to Hannah. "Well? What do you want us to do first, dear?"

Eat your cake fast, before I cave, Hannah thought, her eyes glued to the rich confection on her mother's dessert plate, but of course she didn't say that. If Delores found out that she was on a diet, she'd have to listen to hours of unsolicited and unhelpful advice. "Just keep your ears open for any facts about Rhonda's private life that might have led to a motive for her murder."

"I think I can find out who her boyfriend was," Carrie volunteered. "When I get home tonight, I'll make some calls."

"How about the UPS man?" Delores asked.

"Sam?" Carrie sounded shocked. "Oh, he was Rhonda's cousin on her father's side. That's why he used to drop by to have lunch with her."

"Is Sam still in the area?" Hannah asked, wondering about Rhonda's family history. If Rhonda's cousin was jealous over the fact Rhonda had inherited the Voelker place, he might have had a motive for murder.

"No, he went back to Utah a few months ago. Rhonda said his uncle was wealthy and they owned some high-tech corporation. Sam took over as president when the uncle retired."

Hannah sighed, mentally scratching Sam from her list of suspects. Not only was he several hundred miles away, he was now running a successful business. Sam wasn't likely to care that his cousin had inherited an old wreck of a house in Lake Eden, Minnesota.

"Would it help to talk to Rhonda's cleaning woman?" Norman asked.

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"Absolutely." Hannah beamed at him. Cleaning women often knew a lot more than they let on. "Do you know who she was?"

"Luanne's mother, Marjorie Hanks. She called and left a message on my answering machine at the clinic to see if I wanted her to keep on cleaning the house. I told her I didn't, but I hired her to clean the dental clinic."

Hannah took out her notebook and jotted down the information. Marjorie Hanks was no fool. She might have noticed something at the Voelker house that could provide them with a clue.

Delores pushed her partially eaten cake across the table toward Hannah. "Would you like to finish it, dear? My eyes were bigger than my stomach and I know it's one of your favorites."

Despite her best intentions, Hannah glanced down at the cake. It looked moist and delicious, and the scent of chocolate wafted dark and heady in the air. Hannah had the insane notion to utter the words, Vade retro, Satana, undoubtedly prompted by the fact that she'd watched a rerun of The Exorcist over the weekend. She reminded herself that it hadn't helped Max Von Sydow and it probably wouldn't help her, either. Her only solution was to move herself out of harm's way.

"Thanks, but I'll pa.s.s," Hannah said, rising to her feet before she could grab the remaining cake and stuff it into her mouth. "Excuse me. I need to find Sally to tell her how much I enjoyed the dinner."

After a fruitless search of the dining room, Hannah found Sally in the kitchen. She was sitting at the small desk in the comer, writing out the lunch specials for the next day.

"Hi, Hannah," Sally greeted her. "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"It was delicious. Do you have any idea how many calories there are in .. .never mind. I don't want to know. I was just wondering if you'd served os...o...b..co lately, like over the weekend?"

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Sally shook her head. "I haven't been able to get a good cut of veal in a month. Why? Did you want some?"

"I always want some, but that's not why I'm asking."

Sally looked slightly confused for a moment, and then she recovered. "I guess it must have something to do with Rhonda's murder. You're investigating, aren't you?"

"Yes, but keep it under your toque."

"It won't do any good. He's bound to find out."

"He who?" Hannah asked, feeling a bit like a Swiss yo-deler.

"Mike. He always finds out. He's mad at you for a day or so, and then he gets over it. Why don't you just tell him now and get it over with? That way he can't say you weren't up-front with him."

Hannah stared at Sally for a long moment. It was a good suggestion. "You're a wise woman, Sally."

"The jury's still out on that one. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help you."

"Thanks." Hannah turned and started for the door, but she reversed direction as she thought of something. "Do you know if Rhonda ever came in for dinner with a man?"

"Not offhand. I'm only in the dining room part of the time. The rest of the dinner hour, I'm here. Do you want me to ask my waitresses?"

"Yes, and call me if anything turns up."

"I will. Are you working on the jealous boyfriend angle?"

"It might be a bit premature. I don't even know if Rhonda had a boyfriend."

"You'll find out. You're good at this. If I wasn't so crazy about your cookies, I'd urge you to switch jobs."

As Hannah returned to the crowded dining room, she thought about Rhonda and she had to work to keep the smile on her face. She hadn't been very curious about Rhonda in the past, but now that she was dead, her life had taken on a new importance. It seemed that people could walk through life without causing a ripple, leading ordinary and unevent- LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 103.

ful lives. It was only after they'd been murdered that people took notice of them. And that thought was depressing.

Hannah sighed as she approached the private booth where her mother, Carrie, and Norman waited. There was only one cure for depression and that was chocolate. If her mother's cake wasn't gone by now, it would be shortly.

Chapter Nine.

TT Then Hannah reached her turnoff, she pressed the but-VV tons to close the windows in her truck, leaving only the driver's window open. She'd lowered them all to enjoy the night air while she drove home, but she had to stop to use her gate card to get into her condo complex, and a stationary vehicle was a prime target for the voracious blood-sucking insects that outnumbered the human population of the state of Minnesota by millions. Some people claimed that the mosquito was the state bird, but Hannah always denied it to the tourists who came into her cookie shop. She conceded that the mosquito might be the state insect, but that would be a close call with the compet.i.tion from the moths that fluttered around every yard and porch light, the June bugs that flung themselves at the screens, and the deerflies that dive-bombed careless hikers who were foolish enough to wear shorts in the woods. Insects loved Minnesota with its ten thousand lakes. The climate was moist, the air was muggy, and they multiplied with wild abandon.

Once Hannahhad driven through the complex and parked hi her spot in the underground garage, she climbed up to street level and headed for the covered staircase that led to her upstairs unit. When she reached her door, she slipped her LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 105.

key in the lock, set down her purse, stood firmly on both feet, and opened the door. Just as she'd antic.i.p.ated, a flying ball of orange and white fur hurtled itself through the air.

"Hi, Moishe." Hannah caught her cat expertly, using both arms. After almost a year of this enthusiastic method of greeting, she was used to his antics. "You're glad to see me, right?"

Moishe started to purr as Hannah retrieved her purse with one arm and carried him inside with the other. She chucked him once under his chin, set him down on the back of the couch, and went straight to the kitchen to get him his nightly treat.

Hannah smiled as she dished vanilla yogurt into one of the expensive cut-gla.s.s dessert dishes that had been a Christmas present from her mother. According to Delores, the dishes had appreciated in value, and although her mother would certainly disagree, Hannah figured that Moishe deserved to eat from expensive crystal.

As she put the yogurt back into the refrigerator, Hannah eyed the green gla.s.s jug of white wine on the bottom shelf. She had been good tonight, forgoing the rolls and dessert, and eating only her salad, chicken, and vegetables. A gla.s.s of chateau screwtop was only eighty calories and she deserved a treat. Besides, she still had to call Mike to tell him she'd changed her mind about getting involved in Rhonda's murder investigation, and the argument they'd have was bound to burn a lot of calories.

Hannah knew she was rationalizing, a no-no for a person on a diet, but her mind was spinning with possible suspects and motives, and she was sure she'd never be able to get to sleep without a small gla.s.s of wine. It was obviously the correct thing to do for her health and well-being, and who was she to argue with that? She carried the dessert dish into the living room for Moishe and went back to pour a gla.s.s of wine for herself. One sip and then she'd call Mike and face the music.

Once she'd taken up her favorite position on the couch and tasted the forbidden fruit of the vine, Hannah reached 106.

for the phone and called the sheriff's station. A moment later, she was smiling. Mike wasn't in. If her luck held, he wouldn't be home either, and she could put off their argument until morning.

Hannah crossed the fingers on both hands and punched in Mike's home number, no easy feat. Then she held her breath as the phone rang once, twice ...

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Hi, Mike." Hannah sighed deeply. Her luck had turned rotten and perhaps it was a good thing she hadn't bought more than one ticket for the quilt the Lake Eden Altar Guild was raffling off. "I need to talk to you about Rhonda's murder case."

"Now? I'm in a rush, Hannah. I just stopped off to grab a clean s.h.i.+rt. Bill's waiting for me in the cruiser."

"It won't take long. I just wanted to tell you that I changed my mind about investigating. I'm going to do it."

"I sort of figured you would," Mike said, and then he shocked Hannah by chuckling.

"You're laughing?" Hannah heard her voice squeak in surprise.