Peach Cobbler Murder (16 page)

“I know I shouldn’t burden you with this,” Mike said. And as so many other people did, he went on to do precisely that. “It’s just that Shawna Lee was there for me when my wife died. I was so lonely, I didn’t know where to turn, and she was my only friend when I needed one. I should have gone over there the second she didn’t show up. If I had, she’d still be alive. I just feel so awful that I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.”

Hannah looked up into Mike’s heartbreakingly handsome face, disregarded the suspicious moisture in his eyes, and spat out precisely what she thought. “Get over it, Mike! You’ve got a job to do. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and go do it.”

Mike’s mouth dropped open the way cartoon characters’ do in comic strips. Hannah never thought real people did that, and she was amazed into absolute silence. But then Mike recovered, almost as quickly as the eye went to the next frame of the cartoon, and he reached out for her.

“You’re right,” he said, taking her hands. “I needed that. I guess that’s why I came here. When I’m in trouble, you always give me what I need.”

Hold the phone, the inner voice in Hannah’s head cautioned her, as Mike came around the workstation and pulled her to her feet. And as he kissed her, the inner voice spoke again, He’s sandbagging you. Don’t let him get away with it!

“Gotta run,” Mike said, breaking their embrace after a long moment. “I’ve got a job to do.”

“Wait!” Hannah said breathlessly, willing her mind to start working again. There was something she had to ask him, something important.

“What is it?”

It took Hannah a split second, but then she remembered. “What was the time of death?”

“Doc Knight hasn’t got back to us yet. But you don’t need that information. And don’t even think about trying to investigate. I’m sorry, but until I clear you, you’re a suspect.”

“Did you have to answer hundreds of questions?” Lisa asked, ducking into the kitchen where Hannah was baking another batch of Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies.

“No, and remind me never to be alone with him again.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’ll let you know later. Mike warned me that I shouldn’t investigate.”

“He always dos that.” Lisa waved that away. “But you’re going to, aren’t you?”

“Of course. He admitted that I was still a suspect, so it’s a matter of necessity.” Hannah stopped speaking and listened to the level of noise coming from the coffee shop. “Sounds like we’ve got a crowd.”

“We do, and it’s a bigger crowd than we’ve had in a month. I told them you’ll be bringing out hot cookies in less than ten minutes. They’re all staying to have some.”

“Of course they are. They saw Mike come in and they want to know what questions he asked me in the kitchen.”

“That too,” Lisa said with a grin. “What are you going to tell them?”

“I’ll dazzle them with fancy footwork. First, I’ll tell them about sitting here and wondering why the lights were on across the street. And then I’ll describe how my heart pounded when I looked in the window and didn’t see anything moving. Then I’ll describe my walk around the building and how I stopped several times, thinking about hightailing it back to The Cookie Jar.”

“Did you really?”

“No, but it makes for great drama. Then I’ll describe how I peered through the window and saw Shawna Lee’s shoe. And then I’ll stop and say I can’t tell them any more, because the sheriff’s department is just starting their investigation and they don’t want me to actually describe the crime scene. But I’ll promise to tell them more the moment the sheriff tells me it’s okay.”

Lisa looked as pleased as punch. “Sounds like the cliffhangers my grandpa told me about when they used to show serials like Deadeye Dick in the movies. They always left you holding your breath.”

“Precisely,” Hannah said with a grin. “And everyone who’s here today will be back tomorrow for the next installment.”

The Corner Tavern wasn’t the best place in the world to discuss Shawna Lee’s murder, but steak was what Hannah felt like eating, and Norman had agreed. She’d left her truck behind at The Cookie Jar, and now she was riding to the Corner Tavern in Norman’s well-heated sedan. Andrea would meet them there since Grandma McCann was making supper for Tracey.

“This is heaven,” Hannah said, unzipping her parka and luxuriating in the steady stream of warm air from the vents.

“You should get yours fixed.” Norman turned onto the highway and flicked his lights to bright.

“I know. I’ll do it one of these days.” Hannah leaned back and watched the scenery roll by. There wasn’t a whole lot to see, just massive snowbanks that were piled high at the edges of the asphalt with an occasional road sign sticking up from the crest like a stubby lollipop.

“I’m really looking forward to this,” Norman declared, exiting the freeway on the access road that led to the Corner Tavern. “I’m going to have a steak, and onion rings, and garlic bread. Mother doesn’t believe in red meat or deep fried food.”

“How about the garlic bread?”

“She doesn’t think that’s healthy, either.”

“I guess she hasn’t compared health notes with my mother. Delores is convinced that garlic lowers your cholesterol.”

“That’s a good argument. I’ll try it on her.” Norman pulled into the parking lot and found a spot near the door. “Do you think this whole diet thing really matters in the long run?”

”Absolutely,” Hannah said and waited until Norman walked around the car to open her door. Norman always opened doors for her. He was just that kind of a guy. “There’s a lot of evidence that diet is related to longevity.”

“So watching your cholesterol and limiting your carbohydrates are worth doing?”

“I didn’t say that. You might live longer, but without any of the good stuff, it’s not worth it.”

Norman was still laughing as they walked in the front door of the rustic establishment that had been on the intersection of two county roads, one of which had become the interstate, for the past eighty years. There was a large cloakroom just to the right of the door that contained long benches for use in removing boots, a boot rack located in back of the benches, and hooks on the wall for coats. One wall was mirrored and as Hannah and Norman entered to hang up their coats, a woman in a blue velvet warm-up suit and silver tennis shoes was rearranging her hair. The cloakroom at the Corner Tavern had a scent that was particular to most Minnesota cloakrooms. It was a combination of damp wool, moist leather, drying rubber, and a hint of pine Hannah would have liked to think came from the knotty pine planks that lined the walls, but more likely originated with the cleaning solution they used to mop the floor.

Once Hannah had shed her parka coat and hung it on a hook, she sat down on the wooden bench to pull off her boots and placed them, like twin sentinels, on the boot rack. Then she reached into her extra-large, shoulder bag purse to get out the soft ballet-type slippers with rubbers soles that she always carried with her in the winter months. Once those were on her feet, she ran her fingers through her hair to arrange it or disarrange it, depending on your point of view, and stood up. “I’m ready. Let’s go eat.”

“That’s one of the things I like best about you,” Norman said. “You never primp in front of a mirror like most women do.”

“That’s because it doesn’t do me any good.”

“No, it’s because you don’t have to. You always look good.”

“Points,” Hannah said. “Lots of points.” And then she took Norman’s arm as he held it out. Norman had a talent for saying the right thing at the right time.

As they neared the door to the main room of the restaurant, the noise level increased. There were sounds of silverware clinking, the low hum of conversation, and an occasional laugh. Hannah was smiling as Norman pushed open the door and she stepped through. The reservations desk was to the right and there was a line stretching all the way to the Corner Tavern mascot, a five-hundred-pound bear that was mounted standing on his hind legs.

“Hi, Albert,” Hannah said. And then, unable to resist, she reached up to pat the bear’s bristly broad chest.

“What’s the story on this bear?” Norman asked, staring up at the glassy-eyed ursine.

“The official story is that the owner’s great-grandfather shot the charging bear with a .22 rifle,” Hannah related. “His name was Nicholas Prentiss and the Nick we know now is fourth generation. Great-Grandpa Nick realized that a .22 wouldn’t do anything except make the charging bear angrier and his only hope was to hit a vital spot. Luckily, he was close to the bottom of a hill and bears don’t run well downhill, so he hurried to the bottom to give him a few more precious moments. He remained motionless at the bottom and the charging bear didn’t spot him, because a bear’s eyesight isn’t that keen. It took nerves of steel to wait there without moving or making a sound, but when the bear was close enough, he jumped to his feet, jammed the barrel of his rifle in the bear’s mouth, and pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight into the bear’s brain and it stopped him dead in his tracks.”

“Is it true?” Norman wanted to know.

“Probably not, but it’s a good story. Nicholas suffered a broken leg when the bear fell on him, but he knew he was lucky to be alive. He stayed with a family that owned a farm not far from where it happened until his leg healed. The family had a daughter, and he ended up marrying her.”

“And this is the same bear?”

“So the story goes. The girl’s father had the bear stuffed because it was such a fine specimen, and he gave it to the newlyweds as a wedding present. And when Nicholas and his wife built the Corner Tavern a few years later, the bear was installed inside the entrance to greet diners. Give him a pat, Norman. It’s supposed to be good luck.”

Norman gave the bear a pat. “Forty-two teeth. Twelve incisors, four canine, sixteen premolars, and ten molars.”

“What?”

“I thought for a while I’d like to be a zoo dentist.” They’d reached the front of the line and Norman stepped up to the reservations desk. “Norman Rhodes. I have a reservation. Three for dinner.”

While the woman at the desk looked for Norman’s name on her list, Hannah amused herself by adding up the inconsistencies in the story about the bear. For one thing, there hadn’t been any grizzly bears in Minnesota for well over a hundred and fifty years. Back then grizzlies had only occupied a narrow area on the western border of the state. Lake Eden was in central Minnesota, where there were no known grizzly sightings.

Hannah might have believed the story if it had been about a black bear. Black bears, the kind one would encounter in the Lake Eden area, were approximately a hundred and thirty pounds. The black bear had a straight face profile, while the grizzly had a dish face. The black bear had no hump, while the grizzly did. The black bear didn’t grow a ruff of long hair in the spring and the fall, and it had short, dark claws. The grizzly grew a ruff, and had long, lighter-colored claws.

This was a grizzly. It was as simple as that. and there were other inaccuracies in Nick’s great-grandfather’s story that had to do with bear behavior. Bears can run down hill easily. And bears can see as well as a man. Hiding at the bottom of a hill wouldn’t have gained Great-Grandfather Nicholas any time. And thinking a bear couldn’t see you because his eyesight was bad was just plain ridiculous.

Hannah patted Albert again. He was nearly three and a half feet across at the shoulders and that was even more proof that he was a grizzly. Hannah was willing to bet that the first Nicholas had bought the stuffed bear from a taxidermist, installed his ursine purchase in his new tavern, sworn his wife and in-laws to secrecy, and made up the whole story to pass on to future generations.

“Here it is,” the woman behind the reservations desk said, flashing them a smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t find it right away, but that’s because you’re reservations’ for three and three are already here. They requested an extra two chairs though, so you’ll be fine.”

“Did you say three are here?” Norman asked, glancing at Hannah.

“Yes. The first one came in earlier and the second two joined her about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Who are they?” Hannah quizzed the woman. “Were you here when they came in?”

“I don’t know all the names, but Mrs. Sheriff Todd came in first.”

”We were expecting her. She was the third on our reservation. Who are the other two?”

“I’m not sure, but one was wearing a fur coat. I remember her because it looked like one that my sister-in-law bought. She was a blonde and . . . uh . . . “

“If the word you’re looking for is plump, it’s my mother,” Norman said.

“You’re right. I was just trying to think of a nice way to say it. Very nice looking, and . . . she was plump. And the other lady had dark hair and wasn’t at all . . . er . . . plump.”

“My mother,” Hannah said, locking eyes with Norman. “Batten down the hatches, Norman. The mothers have invaded.”

The woman at the reservations counter started to laugh, but she sobered quickly. “I’m really sorry about that. How about if I seat you across the room in a private booth? And I don’t let anyone know you’re here?”

Hannah looked at Norman. Norman looked at Hannah. And both of them said, at the very same time, “It’s tempting.” And then they burst into laughter so infectious, the woman at the reservations desk couldn’t help but join in.

Once the jocularity had passed, Norman made a decision. “Better not,” he said. “Family, you know?”

“Believe me, I know!” The hostess gave them a parting smile and turned them over to a waitress, who shepherded them to a table across the room where Andrea, Delores, and Carrie waited.

“Okay,” Andrea said, putting down her fork. “I didn’t say anything while we were eating because you asked us not to, but I got the straight stuff from Doc Knight. Shawna Lee was killed between five and seven at night. Who do you think did it?”

Hannah took the last bite of her steak. It was blood rare, just the way she liked it, and she wasn’t about to start talking about Shawna Lee until she’d enjoyed it. “Mmm. Just a sec.”

Swallowing didn’t take long, but Hannah milked it to the last millisecond. Then she turned to her sister. “I don’t know who did it. All I can do right now is to look at the people who had a motive.”