Peach Cobbler Murder (12 page)

Hannah jumped up, forgetting completely how tired she was, and headed to the front window for a better look. Lake Eden Realty was dark except for a dim night-light near the desk Andrea used when she wrote up listings. The bright lights were coming from the Magnolia Blossom Bakery, spilling out the front window and illuminating the whole end of the block. Hannah pulled aside the curtain and squinted. She could see the counter and the front row of tables, but as far as she could tell, no one was moving around inside.

Perhaps Shawna Lee had forgotten to turn off the lights when she’d locked up for the night. A good neighboring business owner would call and tell her. Hannah thought about that for a moment and decided she had much to gain and nothing to lose. If she called and got the answer phone, she’d leave a message and get credit for being thoughtful and courteous. If she called and Shawna Lee answered, Hannah would keep an ear out for signs that someone was there with her, just as Sally had tried to do earlier.

Hannah didn’t have to look up the number. She’d seen it enough times in the ads Shawna Lee and Vanessa had run in the Lake Eden Journal. They’d even done a cable TV spot featuring the two southern sisters standing outside their bakery saying, “Y’all come in now, y’all hear?”

The phone rang once, twice, three times, and then the answer machine kicked in. Hi, y’all. This is Shawna Lee at the Magnolia Blossom Bakery. Our hours are nine to six every day except Sunday. If you’re calling during business hours and we don’t answer, we must be real busy dishing up bowls of our special Southern Peach Cobbler. Y’all come on down and get a bowl for yourself. Or leave us a message to order a whole pan. Wait for the beep-beep-beep.

Hannah, who’d gritted her teeth at Shawna Lee’s syrupy voice and southern accent, almost had trouble opening her mouth when she heard the triple beep.

“Are you there, Shawna Lee?” Hannah asked. “Shawna Lee? Pick up the phone. it’s Hannah across the street. It’s past ten at night on Valentine’s Day and your bakery lights are still on. You must have forgotten to turn them off. Just thought I’d tell you and save you a big electrical bill, that’s all.”

Hannah felt good when she hung up the phone. She’d done her civic duty. But what if Shawna Lee had a separate number for the apartment over the bakery? If she were in bed, sound asleep, she wouldn’t hear the phone downstairs.

It didn’t take long to look up Shawna Lee’s personal phone number in the Lake Eden phone book. Strictly speaking, the phone book didn’t belong solely to Lake Eden. Several other small neighboring towns were listed in the slim volume. But even with the addition of the extra towns and the yellow pages at the end, the local phone book wasn’t something you could have a visiting child sit on to bring him up to table height.

Hannah dialed, half expecting to get an I’m sorry, that number is no longer in service. If you think you have reached this recording in error, please hang up and dial again, since Shawna Lee had moved out of her single apartment at The Oaks and into new living quarters over the bakery almost a month ago. But Shawna Lee must have kept her old number, because the call connected.

After four rings, Shawna Lee’s personal answer machine kicked in. Hannah hung up before the outgoing message had finished playing. If her rolling pin rival was still out on a Valentine’s night date, she’d see the lights when she eventually came home . . . unless she didn’t come home at all, a distinct possibility since neither Shawna Lee nor Mike had shown up at the wedding reception.

At least she wasn’t sleepy anymore. Hannah paced between the back table and the window, waiting for Norman to arrive. A glance at the clock told her she’d have a while to wait. Only fifteen minutes had passed since she’d arrived at The Cookie Jar, and Norman had to take his mother home before he could join her. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn’t take long. Norman’s mother lived only a few blocks from The Cookie Jar. But Carrie was always, without fail, the very last person to leave a party and Lisa and Herb’s reception at the Lake Eden Inn would be no exception.

Since pacing the floor was boring her silly, Hannah decided to bring in some of the desserts while she was waiting for Norman. That way, when he got to The Cookie Jar, they could leave for her condo without delay. She carried in the extra wedding cakes, feeling a proud glow at how well they’d been received.

Unloading desserts was something Hannah could do in her sleep and before she realized it, she’d come close to emptying her cookie truck. There was only one load to go and she carried in the four cream pies that one of Sally’s waitresses had placed in a cardboard box. They needed to go in the walk-in cooler and as Hannah stashed them on a shelf, she experienced an uncomfortable feeling of anxiety.

“Deja-vu,” Hannah said out loud, deciding that being locked in the walk-in cooler with the air vents plugged up once was enough for one lifetime. Even though she knew her mind was playing tricks on her, she shoved the box of pies on the nearest shelf, and rushed out of the cooler into the safety of the kitchen.

Another cup of coffee was in order and Hannah indulged herself with a piece of Shirley Dubinkski’s Poppy Seed Cake. Shirley had checked with Hannah, and since both of them had predicted that the dessert buffet would be a prime example of sugar overload, Shirley had decided to dust the three cakes she’d contributed with a light coat of powdered sugar instead of icing them.

Hannah glanced at the clock. She’d unloaded her cookie truck in only ten minutes. The earliest that Norman could arrive was five minutes from now and that was probably optimistic. She went back to her favorite table, but she couldn’t seem to relax. There was something about the bright lights glaring in the interior of the Magnolia Blossom Bakery that made her nervous.

Perhaps there’d been a robbery. The moment the idea occurred to Hannah, her imagination was off and running. If the robbery had happened during the day, the robber might not have realized that all the lights were on. At this very moment, the cash drawer could be open and the Magnolia Blossom Bakery could be minus the day’s receipts. A good citizen of Lake Eden, one who could put aside petty jealousy and hold the welfare of a neighboring business paramount, would check to make sure the cash register at the Magnolia Blossom Bakery was intact.

Hannah groaned. The last thing she wanted to do was put on her boots and her coat, and walk across the street to make sure no burglar had invaded her competitor’s bakery. But basic decency demanded she do so, and she liked to think of herself as a basically decent person. Hannah stuffed her still-aching feet into her boots and slipped into her parka coat, zipping it up all the way. She scrawled a note to Norman, Across the street at Shawna Lee’s — maybe a burglary? and taped it to the outside of the back door. Then she hurried around the side of her building to see if there was a problem with the Magnolia Blossom Bakery.

The wind had teeth and shards of ice pelted Hannah’s face as she left the protection of her building. She turned up her collar and held her hand up to shield her eyes as she dashed across Main Street. She ducked under the pseudo-Jeffersonian portico of Lake Eden Realty and peered in the plate-glass window of her cobbler challenger.

Andrea’s description hadn’t done the Magnolia Blossom Bakery justice. It was gorgeous and Hannah would be the first to admit it. The magnolia tree mural the Minneapolis artist had painted was spectacular, all the tables and chairs matched, and everything was new and shiny. The color scheme was incredibly appealing and everything Hannah saw fit in perfectly. The homemade decorations at The Cookie Jar couldn’t hold a candle to the decorator embellishments at Shawna Lee and Vanessa’s bakery.

Hannah sighed. She didn’t like feeling second-rate, even in the category of decorations. Comforting herself with the knowledge that at least her baked goods were better, she took another less envious and more appraising look, and came to the conclusion that absolutely nothing was out of place. The cash register drawer was pushed in, there were no signs of vandalism, and everything looked ready and set to go for business in the morning. But something about the bright lights really bothered her and she felt she should check further. Even though there wasn’t much petty crime in Lake Eden, it was possible that a group of teenagers had waited until Shawna Lee had left, and then broken in to steal whatever pastry they could find in the kitchen. The lights were on in there, too. She could see them blazing through the diamond-shaped window in the swinging door.

Hannah wished that Norman were with her, but no cars had driven past and he was probably still doing what they not so jokingly called “mother duty.” She didn’t relish going inside to check out someone else’s kitchen, but she couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. She tried the front door, hoping it would save her a trip around the back, but it was locked securely. If pastry bandits were to blame for turning on the lights, they must have entered and left by the back door.

Keeping a sharp eye out for broken or pried windows, or any other signs of unauthorized access, Hannah walked around the side of the building. Everything looked secure, but a glance in the kitchen window made her frown. There was a colorful pink and green box on the counter and the label read, Betty Jo's Frozen Peach Cobbler, a division of Macon Foods. Shawna Lee claimed that her Southern Peach Cobbler was made from an old family recipe. Maybe that was true, but it was Betty Jo’s family recipe, not Shawna Lee’s.

Hannah’s gaze moved toward the ovens and what she saw made her frown deepen. A pan of peach cobbler was on the floor next to the open oven door. It was a mess, a jumble of sliced peaches and biscuit topping strewn over a puddle of sticky juice on the white tile floor. Had Shawna Lee simply dropped the pan as she was taking it from the oven? Or was there a more sinister reason for the baking disaster?

A glance at the other kitchen window gave Hannah an unwelcome answer to her question. There were two round holes in the glass and each hole was surrounded by a spider web of cracks. She was no expert, but they looked like a couple of bullet holes to her!

Hannah swallowed hard as she pressed her nose against the glass and held her breath so it wouldn’t fog up. Was that a shoe she saw peeking out from behind the work counter?

There was the wise thing to do and the foolish thing to do. Hannah knew the wise thing would be to call for help, or wait for Norman, or do anything other than go into the kitchen to check it out by herself. but the time it took to do the wise thing could spell the difference between life and death for whoever was wearing that shoe.

Maybe the best thing to do is nothing at all, the not-so-nice side of Hannah’s psyche whispered in her ear. What difference would it make if you just went back to The Cookie Jar and pretended you hadn’t seen that shoe? Who would know?

“I’d know,” Hannah answered out loud, accepting the burden of her own good character. It didn’t matter what she thought of Shawna Lee personally. If her cookie competitor was hurt or in trouble, Hannah had a responsibility to do what she could to help.

Once she’d made up her mind, Hannah moved quickly. She raced to the back door, fully prepared to kick it in if that’s what it took, but when she turned the knob she found it unlocked. She pushed the door open, praying that the two hole she’d seen weren’t bullet holes, the shoe behind the counter had no foot in it, and the peach cobbler on the floor meant nothing more than a slip of an oven glove. But where was Shawna Lee? And why hadn’t she shut the oven door and cleaned up the mess?

“Uh-oh,” Hannah gasped, skidding to a stop as she rounded the corner of the counter. Shawna Lee was down on her back on the tile floor and there was a huge blossom of what looked like dried strawberry syrup on the bib of her chef’s apron. There was also a neat hole in the middle of the blossom and Hannah knew that there was no point in continuing to contaminate what was surely a crime scene. Shawna Lee had been shot in the chest and anyone with an ounce of brains could see that she was dead.

Hannah took several deep gulps of the frosty night air. It helped somewhat, but her knees were still shaking. She leaned against the closed door for a moment and attempted to breathe more like a normal person and less like a trapper being chased by a pack of wolves. She had to calm down so that she could go back to The Cookie Jar to call the police. While it was true that there was a phone only a few feet away on the kitchen wall of the Magnolia Blossom Bakery, there was no way she could force herself to go back inside and use it.

She was about to take a step away from the wall, to see if her legs would support her, when she heard a faint voice calling her name. It was Norman and she gave a relieved sigh. Norman could call the police. She wouldn’t have to do anything except stand here.

“I’m here!” Hannah managed to gasp out, hoping the faint voice that hadn’t seemed to belong to her would carry to the front of the building. And it must have, because she heard Norman coming down the walkway that led to the back.

As she stood there and waited for him, bright lights came down the alley. It was a squad car and Hannah began to frown as it pulled into the bakery lot and Mike got out. She hadn’t called the police.

Both men strode toward her. They wore identical worried expressions as they spotted Hannah outside, leaning against the back door.

“Did she get burglarized?” Norman asked, arriving at Hannah’s side.

“I don’t know for sure. It didn’t look like anything was missing, but I’ve never been here before.”

“Shawna Lee’s not here?” Mike asked.

“She’s here,” Hannah answered. Her voice shook a bit, but Mike didn’t seem to notice.

“Where is she?”

“In the kitchen.”

”And she was here when it happened?”

Hannah swallowed hard as a picture of Shawna Lee’s body on the tile floor flashed through her mind. She wasn’t sure she could speak, so she nodded emphatically.

“Then it was robbery, not burglary,” Mike explained. “Robbery takes place when the victim is present. Burglary happens when the victim isn’t home. If Shawna Lee was here, the crime was robbery.”