Peach Cobbler Murder (3 page)

“That’s very . . . helpful. Anyone else?”

Andrea turned to Lisa. “Your dad was there with Marge. I can see a difference already, Lisa. He didn’t have trouble remembering who I was and he mentioned you and Hannah by name. I think those new Alzheimer’s drugs are working.”

“They seem to be,” Lisa said, looking very happy until she remembered the other part of Andrea’s comment. “Wait a minute. What were Dad and Marge doing there?”

“They were sitting with Herb at a table.”

“My Herb?”

“That’s right.”

Hannah was beginning to see a pattern and she voiced it as a question. “They told you they were just checking out our competition?”

“That’s right! How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” Hannah said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Every once in a while, Andrea could be incredibly naïve. “Just for the record, how many people told you they were there to check out our competition?”

“Well . . . there was Dick Laughlin, Kate Maschler, Vera Olsen Westcott . . . she’s married now, you know. And Stan Kramer, Charlie Jessup, and Doc Bennett. They were sitting at a table together. Babs and Shirley Dubinski were there. They were half finished and they told me that your fudge cupcakes were a lot better. I talked to a lot of people, and everyone said they were there to try it out so they could tell you. You have some good friends, Hannah.”

Hannah sighed and an old saw flashed through her mind. With friends like that, she didn’t need enemies.

“What’s the matter? You don’t look happy.”

“Think about it, Andrea. All those friends, the ones who were helping to check out our rivals, were buying their baked goods and paying for them. How much do you think our friends put into the till at the Magnolia Blossom Bakery?”

“I . . . don’t know. A lot, I guess. I didn’t think about that.”

“Lisa and I took in a total of twenty-six dollars and thirty-five cents today. We still have to bake, pay our bills, and keep up on the rent while our friends are across the street stuffing their faces at our competitor’s.”

“Hannah’s right,” Norman said, reaching out to pat her shoulder. “I can see going in there once, just to look around and taste something, but a real friend wouldn’t abandon you they way they’re doing.”

“That’s what I mean!” Hannah exclaimed. “How many servings of Southern Peach Cobbler do they have to eat to critique it? We’ve been operating in the red ever since Shawna Lee and Vanessa opened their doors and our friends are going to put us right out of business.”

Andrea was silent for a moment, and then she sighed. “You’re right. But Shawna Lee and Vanessa’s desserts aren’t that good. At least I don’t think they are.”

Hannah glanced down at Andrea’s plate. She’d only taken one bite of blueberry pie and it was one of her favorites. Another of her favorites, a chocolate cupcakes, was intact except for a tiny little nibble mark on the top.

“Andrea’s right,” Lisa spoke up. “I just tried one of their molasses cookies and they taste like the ones they have at the hospital in the vending machines. I don’t think they’re fresh-baked.”

Hannah reached for a chocolate chip cookie and tasted it. Lisa was right. The cookie part was dry and with no discernible flavor, and the chips tasted more like carob than chocolate. “It’s not the cookies, or the pies, or the cupcakes,” she said, glancing around at the partially eaten pastry.

“Maybe it’s the Southern Peach Cobbler,” Norman suggested, pointing to the only dessert they hadn’t tasted.

“Maybe,” Hannah said, and turned to her sister. “Do you know if they serve it hot? Or cold?”

“Hot. They scoop it out into a bowl, stick it in the microwave to heat it up, and top it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I watched Vanessa do it before she served it to Bonnie Surma.”

Hannah gave a little whimper. Bonnie Surma was one of her biggest supporters, ordering cookies for her Scout troops, and desserts for every party and group meeting she hosted. And now Bonnie had defected to the Magnolia Blossom Bakery for a bowl of their signature dessert!

“We should serve it the way they do, or it won’t be a fair test,” Lisa said as she picked up the pan and stood up. “I’ll go heat it and put on some ice cream.”

Once Lisa left, Andrea reached out to take Hannah’s hand and give it an affectionate squeeze, a rare occurrence for sisters who’d been raised not to be overly demonstrative.

“What?” Hannah asked, noting the suspicious moisture in Andrea’s eyes.

“Do you really think you might lose The Cookie Jar?”

“I hope not, but it doesn’t look good.”

“Then you’re worried?”

“Oh, yes. I just don’t want to say much in front of Lisa. She’s about to marry the man she loves. I don’t want her to have to worry about business.”

Norman slipped his arm around Hannah’s shoulders. And then he said something he’d never said before. “That’s one of the reasons I love you, Hannah. You’re always thinking of other people, even when you’re in trouble.”

“Bill and I talked before he went back to the station.” Andrea gave Hannah’s hand another squeeze. “If you need to borrow money, we’ll take out a line of home equity on the house.”

Hannah was so touched it took her a moment to find her voice. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, not when I know that Vanessa can afford to run their business at a loss for a whole year. Don’t even consider it. You and Bill and the kids come first.”

“I’m not married and I don’t have kids,’ Norman said. “I’ve got some savings and I’ll lend you enough to tide you over.”

“Thank you, but no,” Hannah said forcefully enough to erase all doubt that she’d change her mind. “Both of you are really sweet to offer, but throwing money at the problem won’t help. If our business at The Cookie Jar doesn’t pick up by the end of the month, it’s not going to pick up at all.”

“What are you going to do if it doesn’t?”

“Liquidate. We’ll sell the capital assets and I’ll give Lisa her share in cash. She’ll be able to find something else, and even if she doesn’t, Herb’s got a good job.”

“But that’s just awful! Mother’s got money. She could . . . “ Andrea stopped in mid-sentence after one glance at Hannah’s expression. “Okay. Forget that. There’s no way you want to ask Mother. But family is supposed to stick together and . . . I don’t know what else to do! If I could figure out a way to get rid of Shawna Lee and Vanessa, I’d do it in a flash!”

There was a note of panic in Andrea’s voice that worried Hannah. Her younger sister was really upset. “Take a giant step back and wait for the Southern Peach Cobbler. If it’s good, we have cause to worry. If it’s not, we can relax a little. Then the Magnolia Blossom Bakery is just a flash in the pan and our customers will be back when they get tired of inferior baked goods.”

As if on cue, Lisa appeared bearing four bowls of Peach Cobbler with vanilla ice cream melting in rivulets on the top. “Here you go. I hope you hate it!”

Hannah laughed. Lisa, who never said anything bad about anyone and seldom criticized anything, was already giving the signature dessert a thumbs-down. “Did you taste it?”

“I had a bite in the kitchen, but don’t let that influence you. Make up your own minds.”

Andrea raised the spoon to her mouth and took a bit. “This is really good ice cream.”

“It’s Bridgeman’s. Taste the cobbler.”

Andrea spooned up a bit of cobbler and tasted it. She chewed, swallowed, and shrugged. “It’s funny, but I’ve got the strangest feeling I’ve tasted this somewhere before. And before you ask, today’s the first time I’ve ever been in the Magnolia Blossom Bakery.”

“But who do you think of it? Is it good?”

Andrea frowned slightly. “There’s nothing wrong wit hit. It’s . . . okay.”

“Just okay?” Hannah asked, feeling pleased when Andrea nodded. She tried a spoonful for herself and decided that her sister was right. It was generic peach cobbler, acceptable, but no better than that. “What do you think, Norman?”

“It tastes like the peach cobbler you’d get at a twenty-four hour coffee shop. There’s nothing really wrong with it, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to order it again.”

“Then we all agree,” Hannah said, giving a little sigh of relief. “But this place is empty and theirs is full. If it’s not the baked goods, why have all our customers deserted us for the Magnolia Blossom?”

“Do you think it’s the outfits they wear?” Norman asked.

“I thought you said you’d never been in there!” Hannah frowned at him.

“I haven’t, but Vanessa came in for a checkup and she was wearing her work clothes.”

“I should have mentioned their outfits before. It probably has something to do with it.” Andrea gave a quick little nod.

“What do they wear?” Hannah asked.

“Short dresses with full skirts and low-cut necklines. And they bend over a lot when they’re serving customers. That could be one reason most of the men go there.”

“How about the women?” Lisa asked,

“The women go where the men go,” Hannah answered. “It’s human nature.”

“Then there’s the contests,” Andrea went on.

Hannah frowned. This was the first she’d heard about any contests. “What contests?”

“The ones where you get your order free. If the theme song from Gone With The Wind comes on the loudspeakers while you’re paying, all you have to do is say, Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a darn! and whatever you were about to pay for is free.”

“I don’t give a darn?” Hannah asked.

“They changed it because of the kids. Shawna Lee and Vanessa didn’t want them running around repeating the real word.”

“Of course not.”

“Then they’ve got the flower mug. That’s the contest I won.”

Hannah groaned. There was a lot Andrea hadn’t told them. “What’s the flower mug?”

“They serve coffee in white mugs and a couple of them have pink magnolia blossoms painted on the bottom. When your mug is empty, you turn it over to look. If you’ve got a magnolia blossom, your order is free. I didn’t have to pay at all today because my coffee was in one of the magnolia blossom mugs.”

“Cute,” Hannah said, a trifle sarcastically. “Contests like that are fun for the customers, but they’re expensive for the owners.”

“Oh, I know. Shawna Lee told me they give away almost three hundred dollars of baked goods every day.”

“A lot of new businesses have contest for the first few weeks as part of their grand opening,” Lisa said.

“They’re doing it for longer than the first few weeks. Vanessa decided they should have two different contests every day for the first three months and then gradually taper off. She hired a marketing consultant to think up the contests.”

“Oh, boy!” Hannah breathed. There was no way a small shoestring operation like The Cookie Jar could begin to compete with the Magnolia Blossom’s unlimited financing.

Lisa gave a dejected sigh. “We can’t afford to give away three hundred dollars of free baked goods every day. And there’s no way I’m going to serve coffee in a short, low-cut dress and bend over a lot!”

“No need for that,” Norman spoke up. “Not that it wouldn’t be scenic, but the way to a guy’s heart is through his stomach and your baked goods area quantum leap better than theirs.”

“Then what do you think we should do?” Hannah asked, moving a little closer to Norman’s side.

“Just hang on and don’t do anything.” Norman smiled down at her and then he repeated her personal mantra. “Once the novelty wears off, they’ll be back.

Hannah unlocked her condo door and braced herself for the onslaught. Her cat, Moishe, had been alone since daybreak and he would be eager for food and company.

“Yow!” Moishe said, licking her nose.

Since Moishe was purring with the same intensity as a lawn mower stuck on rough-terrain speed, Hannah knew he’d been waiting for her to come home. She shrugged out of her parka coat, juggling Moishe from one arm to the other in the process, and kicked off the moose-hide boots that had earned her a black mark with the Bambi lovers who’d never come within a mile of a moose.

“Dinnertime,” Hannah announced, carrying her one-eyed friend into the kitchen and setting him down by his food bowl. Then she headed for the broom closet where she kept Moishe’s food, unlocked the padlock she used to secure the door, and frowned as she noticed the new bite marks at the corner of the narrow wooden door. It wouldn’t be long now. Her food-loving cat had chewed through the veneer on the corner of the door and he was well on his way to demolishing the wood. A lock is only as good as the door. Hannah remembered her father’s words, the wisdom he’d imparted to his customers at Lake Eden Hardware. The padlock had Moishe stymied, but he was smart enough to concentrate his efforts on the hollow-core door. Her cat was remodeling her broom closet by adding his own cat-size passage to the mother lode.

Hannah estimated she had about a week before Moishe invaded the cat food stronghold. It was time to start thinking about another solution, preferably one that didn’t require an armed guard. She couldn’t really blame Moishe for trying to get at his food. He’d lived on the street, not knowing where his next mouse was coming from, and he’d been half starved when he’d arrived at her door. Even though almost two years had passed since that winter day and his girth had doubled with regular meals and then some, he still went into a panic if he could see Garfield’s picture on the bottom of his food bowl.

“Kitty crunchies, or braised liver tidbits?” Hannah asked her furry roommate. “Or would you like both?”

The moment Hannah had given him the third choice, Moishe’s purring intensified to a rumble so loud, she could hear it across the room. Hannah interpreted that to mean that her feline friend wanted both liver and kitty crunchies. She would serve them separately, of course. Moishe fancied himself a gourmet and he didn’t like to mix his dry food with his wet food.

Once Moishe had gobbled down his liver tidbits and was happily crunching his dry food, Hannah headed for the bedroom to get into her at-home clothes. In the summer they consisted of lightweight pull-on pants in a nondescript shade of gray and one of several oversize short-sleeved T-shirts in her favorite color; bright red. The red color of the shirts clashed with her frizzy red curls, but there was no one except Moishe to complain. And even if cats were color-blind, a fact that she sometimes doubted, he was content with Hannah’s appearance as long as she kept his food bowl full.