Lemon Meringue Pie Murder Part 12

"Of course I'm laughing. I was wondering how long it would take you to change your mind. It's only ten-thirty and that means I won."

Hannah's mouth dropped open. "You won what? "

"The office pool. I took the lowest number. Bill thought you'd cave in by midnight, but I figured it wouldn't take you that long. Rick Murphy said eight tomorrow morning and Sheriff Grant thought you'd hold out until noon. The others were all somewhere between that, except for Lonnie, Rick Murphy's younger brother. He had you down for two full days."

"How many people were in on mis?" Hannah asked, not really sure if she wanted to know.

"A dozen. We each put in ten bucks, so I just won a hundred and twenty."

"A hundred and ten," Hannah corrected him. She was still LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 107.

fuming about the fact that she'd been the subject of an office pool and her words hissed out like droplets of water skittering across the surface of a hot griddle. "It's only a hundred and twenty if you forget to subtract your own ten dollars."

"You're p.r.i.c.kly tonight." Mike sounded amused.

"Of course I am. You're betting on me like a football game and I don't like it. Besides, office pools are illegal."

"I guess you could turn us all in, but then you'd have to explain what the pool was about. I don't think you'd like to do that."

"You're right. I wouldn't," Hannah said, giving it up as a bad job.

"Thanks for winning me a bundle, Hannah. I'll take you out to dinner with it. If there's nothing else, I've got to run. I'll drop in to see you tomorrow and we'll compare notes, okay?"

"Uh ... okay." Hannah hung up the phone with a sigh. She wasn't sure what she should be feeling. Of course she was relieved that Mike hadn't been upset at what he'd always referred to as her interference, but it seemed that no one at the sheriff's station had expected her to keep her word about not getting involved.

Hannah thought back to the scene of Rhonda's death. Something was bothering her, niggling at the back of her mind, and she couldn't help feeling that she'd missed an obvious clue. She went over the scene of the crime in her mind, trying to remember everything she'd noticed. The Voelker house had two entrances. They'd gone in through the front and she'd used the back door when she'd carried out the garbage. She'd gone through every one of the rooms, helping Delores tag the items she wanted. The only things that might have been clues were her pie on the kitchen table and the takeout containers and disposable winegla.s.ses in the garbage. There had been nothing else unusual or out of place, no signs of a struggle, and nothing that would lead anyone to suspect that Rhonda's body was in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

The stairs to the bas.e.m.e.nt had seemed perfectly ordinary, 108.

in good repair and clear of debris. Once she'd followed Norman down into the bas.e.m.e.nt, she hadn't noticed anything alarming. There had been the usual clutter and moldy smell, but it was a rare bas.e.m.e.nt that wasn't cluttered and moldy. The door to the furnace room had been hanging from one hinge, but since Hannah hadn't examined it closely, she had no idea whether it had pulled loose recently, or had been that way for years.

Hannah took herself through the door to the furnace room in her mind. Other than the broken jam jars on the dirt floor, there hadn't been any visible clues. Who had broken those jars? Delores, in her shock at seeing Rhonda's grave? Or Rhonda's killer, as he'd struggled with her?

"Sorry, Moishe." Hannah reached out to run her fingers through his glossy fur. "This may upset you, but I need to call your least favorite person."

Hannah picked up the phone, punched in her mother's number, and a few seconds later she had her mother on the line. "Thanks again for dinner, Mother."

"You're welcome. It was fun seeing you and Norman together. Carrie and I talked about it on the way home and we both think you make such a nice couple."

"Thanks," Hannah said, leaving it at that. Delores sounded perky and chipper, and Hannah admired her mother's energy. Most women approaching their sixtieth birthday would be exhausted after working all day and going out to dinner, not to mention finding a murder victim. "I need some information, Mother."

"About Rhonda? I just got home and I haven't had a chance to make any calls yet."

"Not about Rhonda, at least not directly. I need to know about those broken jam jars in the furnace room. Are you absolutely sure you didn't drop them on the floor?"

"I'm positive. I didn't even touch them. I remember stepping around them and thinking that someone ought to clean them up."

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 109.

"Okay. Thanks, Mother. You've been a big help. I'll let you go now and I'll see you ..."

"Just a minute, Hannah," Delores interrupted before Hannah could hang up the phone. "I just want you to know that I'm very heartened about this thing with Norman."

"What thing?"

"The fact that you sided with him, instead of Mike. That means a lot to a man and you made the right decision. I like Mike well enough, but he's not good husband material."

Hannah drew a deep breath and let it out again slowly. Then she said, very carefully, "Don't get your hopes up, Mother. Neither one of them has proposed yet. And I'm not sure what I'd say if they did."

"Good girl, Hannah!" Delores exclaimed, giving a light-hearted laugh. "I always told you it wasn't smart to wear your heart on your sleeve."

Hannah knew she should leave well enough alone, but she couldn't resist. "Andrea did and it worked for her. Everyone knew she was crazy about Bill."

"That's different. They were young and he gave her his cla.s.s ring when she was a senior. That made them pre-engaged. And after that, they were recognized as a couple, and everyone expected them to get married. It's really not fair to compare your current situation with your sister's. Andrea never dated two men at the same time."

Hannah clamped her mouth shut and didn't say a word. She happened to know that her sister had dated two boys in high school who'd never known about each other. It was obvious that Delores hadn't known about them either, and Hannah wasn't going to be the one to tell her.

"I've got to run, dear. I'm starting to crack."

"Crack?"

"My face. I'm giving myself a facial and my fifteen minutes are up. If I don't wash it off now, I'll have to peel it. Goodnight, dear."

When she'd hung up the phone, Hannah glanced at Moishe, 110.

who'd been listening to her conversation. His tail was swis.h.i.+ng back and forth, his ears were back, and he'd puffed up into attack mode. Hannah grinned and reached out to smooth his fur. "It's okay. I hung up and I don't have to talk to her again tonight."

But Moishe wasn't that easily soothed. His tail continued to flick and he regarded her with baleful eyes.

"Come on, Moishe." Hannah reached out for him again. "If you come closer, I'll scratch your ears."

Moishe regarded her solemnly for several seconds and then he moved to the far side of the couch, putting as much s.p.a.ce between them as possible.

"I'm not the enemy here, Moishe. As a matter of fact, I saved you from seeing Mother tonight. She offered to pick me up here and take me to dinner. If I'd agreed to that, she might have come in when she brought me home. Think about it. You would have hated that!"

Hannah wasn't sure what went on in a cat's mind, but Moishe seemed to take it all in. He stared at her for several seconds and then he turned around, inching forward until his head was resting in her lap.

"That's better," Hannah said, scratching his ears and earning a rumble for her efforts. "I knew you'd see it my way. Aren't you glad I have my own wheels and I can drive myself? I don't have to rely on ..."

When Hannah stopped speaking and scratching his ears, Moishe lifted his head to stare up at her. His expression was as quizzical as a cat's expression could get.

"I just thought of something," Hannah told him. "I don't remember seeing Rhonda's car at the Voelker place. I know it wasn't in the driveway when I pulled up, and it couldn't have been in the garage. I looked through the window and it was filled with firewood."

Hannah interpreted the expression on Moishe's face to mean, Yes? So what? and she went on. "If Rhonda drove out there, her car would be there. But if she rode with someone LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 111.

else, her car should be parked in the garage at her apartment building."

Moishe made a sound, a cross between a yowl and a purr, and Hannah nodded, just as if he'd suggested another possibility. He was a social being and he liked to be included in the conversation. "You're right, Moishe. The only other possibility is that Rhonda's car was at the Voelker place and her killer stole it to make his getaway."

Hannah flipped to a blank page in her notebook and jotted a reminder to check Rhonda's apartment building for her car. If she found it parked in its a.s.signed spot, her next step would be to canva.s.s the neighbors to see if anyone had seen Rhonda leave.

The phone rang again, just as Hannah finished making her notes. She reached out to answer it and smiled when she recognized Lisa's voice. "Hi, Lisa. Did you find that list of pie buyers?"

"I've got it right here. I'm sorry it's so late, but I just got home."

"That's okay. Did you have a good time?"

"Yes. We went out to the Corner Tavern for a steak and then we dropped in at the bowling alley. They were short a couple of people on one of the teams, so Herb and I filled in."

"How did you do?"

"Not bad. I averaged one-twenty a game and that's good for me. When we finished, it was time for Herb's night rounds and I rode along."

Hannah knew all about Herb's night rounds. Unlike Bill and Mike, who were with the county sheriff's department, Herb Beeseman was on the Lake Eden city payroll. During the day he enforced parking regulations and ticketed drivers who committed driving infractions within the city limits. Two months ago the city council had asked Herb to patrol the business district every evening. Local business owners had given Herb keys to use in case of emergency, and the 112.

extra precaution had worked out well. In the two months that Herb had been patrolling at night, he'd spotted a broken faucet in the cafe that had saved Hal and Rose a ma.s.sive cleanup, and he'd turned off a smoldering halogen lamp in Stan Kramer's office.

"It's usually boring, but tonight we had some excitement," Lisa went on. "The alarm went off just as we were driving past Granny's Attic."

"Mother had a break-in?"

"No. Herb used his key to check out the inside and everything was fine."

Hannah was puzzled. "Why did the alarm go off if no one broke in?"

"It was the electricity. Remember that pole the owner put up between The Cookie Jar and Granny's Attic?"

"Of course," Hannah said. The pole was an eyesore, but the owner had a.s.sured them he'd take it down just as soon as Granny's Attic was rewired.

"The problem is with the circuits. The same circuit that runs your mother's alarm is the one that runs our freezer and our walk-in cooler. If our cooler and freezer happen to kick in together, there's a sudden drop in power that triggers the alarm at Granny's Attic."

"That doesn't sound good. Does Herb think it could happen again?"

"It could, but your mother's taking care of it. Herb just spoke to her and she's going to call the alarm company in the morning. They'll send a man out to move her alarm system to a circuit that's not so heavily loaded."

"Good. How about our freezer and walk-in cooler? Are they okay?"

"They are now, thanks to Herb. It didn't affect our freezer at all, but our cooler's got some kind of internal circuit breaker that shuts it off during a brownout. Herb hit the reset b.u.t.ton and it started right up."

"Tell Herb he's a doll."

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Lisa laughed. "I'll tell him. Do you want those names of pie buyers now?"

"Sure." Hannah reached for her steno pad and a pen. "Okay, I'm ready."

Lisa read off the names and Hannah wrote them down. No one on the list seemed likely to have given Rhonda a pie, but she thanked Lisa, told her she'd see her in the morning, and hung up the phone. It was past bedtime and morning would come much too soon.

Hannah performed her nightly ritual, making sure the doors were locked and preparing the coffeemaker for its automatic timed brew in the morning. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and got into the oversized s.h.i.+rt that she wore for a nightgown. She was just about to crawl into bed when the phone rang again.

"h.e.l.lo?" Hannah answered at bedside, using the shocking-pink Princess phone she'd picked up at the thrift shop. The little light no longer worked, but the phone was still operational.

"Hi, Hannah. It's me." Andrea's voice floated out of the tiny holes in the receiver. "I'm sorry it's so late, but I didn't get a chance to call earlier."

"That's okay. I wasn't in bed yet."

"Good. I made some calls right after I talked to you, but the finer restaurants weren't open yet. I hit pay dirt about an hour ago, but Bill came home and I didn't want to call you until he went to bed."

"What did you find out?"

"It's Alfredo's Ristorante. That's the new place out at the lake. They served os...o...b..co for takeout on Friday night."

"Good job!" Hannah said, jotting down the name. "Thanks, Andrea."

"No problem. It was easy. What do you want me to do next?"

Hannah thought about the leads she had to follow. "Do you know where Rhonda's apartment building is?"

114.

"Sure. I've got her address in my client file. She lives at the apartment building that Beatrice and Ted Koester bought last year."

"Could you run over there in the morning and check to see if her car is still in the garage? It would save me a trip."

"I can do that. What do you want me to do if it's there?"

"Nothing. Just drop by The Cookie Jar and tell me. We'll decide what to do about it then."

"Okay. I'd better get to bed before Bill starts wondering what I'm doing out here. I'll see you in the morning, Hannah."

Hannah hung up and opened the bedroom window to catch any night breezes that might blow her way. Then she doused the light to stop the moths from trying to commit suicide against her screen and crawled under the sheet she used as a quilt in the summer. There was a thump, resembling a mini-earthquake, and a furry shape crept up in the near darkness. Hannah grabbed her pillow protectively and glared in his direction. "This pillow is mine. I won't let you have it until my new one comes."

There was a rustle and then another thump as Moishe settled down on the other pillow, the foam one she'd designated for his use. Silence filled her bedroom for several moments and then Hannah heard a rumbling purr. She reached out and stroked Moishe's soft fur three times and pulled her hand back. Experience had taught her that four strokes would cause him to move to the bottom of her bed. Hannah checked to make sure her alarm clock was set correctly and then she seized her pillow in a death grip and closed her eyes, hoping that her arms wouldn't loosen as she slept so that Moishe could steal it again.

Chapter Ten.

Hannah awoke to an inky black bedroom and the infernal electronic beeping of her alarm clock. It took her a minute to sit up and shut it off, but when she did, she realized that her head had been lying on the mattress. She flicked on the light and turned to eye her goose-down pillow. Moishe had commandeered it once again.

Even though she wanted to settle back down for another few minutes of rest, Hannah tossed back the sheet, placed her feet firmly on the floor, and got out of bed. It was a psychological trick she'd learned in college and it worked for those mornings when she was tired and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Once she'd thrown back the covers and was standing by the side of the bed, the task of straightening the bedding to climb back in seemed like more work than starting the day.

Hannah stuffed her feet into her slippers and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Once she got there, she switched on the light and headed straight for the coffeepot. There was coffee in the carafe and the little red light was glowing. She sent up a short, thankful prayer for modern conveniences and poured her first cup of the day.