Peach Cobbler Murder (32 page)

“We got her!” Delores exulted, as the Corvette sank into the snow so far that its wheel were covered. “There’s no way she can drive out of that!”

“You’re right. But I wonder why she . . . Look!”

Hannah pointed to what had caused Vanessa’s abrupt reversal. Four sheriff’s squad cars were waiting at the entrance to the freeway with their lights flashing.

“There’s more back there!” Delores exclaimed.

Hannah turned to see what looked like a phalanx of squad cars coming up behind them.

Sirens screamed as the squad cars descended upon them, and Hannah and Delores covered their ears. A brace of deputies headed for Vanessa’s Corvette, and radios crackled commands in the icy night air.

“Are you okay, Mother?” Hannah asked, tearing her eyes away from the multitude of red lights that were dancing across the face of the snow.

“I’m fine,” Delores said, her eyes sparkling. “I haven’t had so much fun in years.”

Once Hannah made sure her mother was comfortable with coffee and the bag of cookies she’d grabbed on her way out the door, she got out of the truck and headed for the scene of the action. She climbed a slight rise and peered down the embankment at Vanessa’s car buried in the snow. Two sheriff’s deputies had Vanessa in handcuffs and Mike was supervising her arrest. When he finished, he turned, saw Hannah, and motioned for her to wait as he climbed the bank.

“Why were you following Vanessa?” Mike asked when he arrived at her side.

Hannah swallowed hard. Mike didn’t sound pleased at all. “Well . . . Mother and I thought that maybe . . . “

“That maybe I was so dumb I wouldn’t stake out her apartment?” Mike finished the thought for her.

“Not exactly. It’s just . . . “

“It’s just that you didn’t trust me to do my job?” Mike interrupted again.

“No! Mother and I were in The Cookie Jar having coffee. And we saw Vanessa leaving in her car. You didn’t tell us you were going to have her under surveillance, or stake out her apartment, or anything like that. If you had, we wouldn’t have bothered to chase her.”

“So you just underestimated me,” Mike said.

“I . . . I . . . “ Hannah struggled to think of some way to go on the attack, but Mike was right and the only fair thing to do was admit it. “I did underestimate you. I’m sorry, Mike.”

Mike didn’t say anything. He just stared at her for a long minute. And then he asked, “Did I just hear you apologize?”

”Yes.” Hannah nodded, and then she decided she’d better qualify it. “I apologize for underestimating you, not for anything else.”

Mike grinned. “Good enough.”

There was a moment when Hannah thought Mike was going to kiss her, but he just slipped one arm around her waist and gave her a little hug. “You must be tired. It’s exhausting to try to run the world, isn’t it, Hannah?”

“I don’t . . . “ Hannah stopped in mid-sentence. Now wasn’t the time to light into Mike, not when she had a favor to ask. “Can I talk to Vanessa for just a second? We have some unfinished business.”

“Yes, as long as you don’t scratch her eyes out, or maim her in any way.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I wouldn’t attack her in front of witnesses.”

Mike laughed and Hannah felt better. Laughter was better than apologies.

“Hold up a second,” Mike called out to the two deputies who were about to climb into their squad car. Then he turned back to Hannah. “Come with me. you’ve got one minute.”

Mike escorted Hannah to the squad car and opened the back door. “Someone to talk to you, Vanessa,” he said.

“You!” Vanessa glared at Hannah. “You ran me off the road!”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t let you get away. Do you want me to find you a lawyer?”

Vanessa’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’d do that for me?”

”Absolutely . . . if you’ll sell me everything in your bakery. I’ve decided I want it all.”

“Take it. I don’t care. Take everything that’s there. It’s a gift. Just find me a lawyer.”

“A gift that big isn’t legal. Not when you’re under duress. Set a price and I’ll pay it.”

“A thousand dollars for everything. Take it or leave it. But you have to find me the best lawyer in town.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Deal,” Hannah said, smiling. And then she turned to Mike. “You heard that?”

“I heard it.”

“Okay. I’m out of here then. I have to get Vanessa a lawyer.”

When Hannah got back to her cookie truck, the smile was still on her face. It had been a very productive night.

“You look happy,” Delores said.

“I am.” Hannah climbed in behind the wheel and turned around to drive back to town. Howie Levine was the best lawyer in Lake Eden. He was also the only lawyer in Lake Eden, but that didn’t matter. She’d call him the moment she got home and tell him about his new client. That would fulfill her part of the bargain, and once she sold off Vanessa’s crystal, silver, and china, she would completely recoup the business losses they’d suffered at The Cookie Jar.

“So why are you smiling like that?” Delores asked.

Hannah considered telling her about the incredible deal she’d made on Vanessa’s possessions, and how she thought she’d arrived at some kind of a truce with Mike, but all that was complicated. It had been a long day, and she was too exhausted to explain. She summed it all up as best she could in one simple sentence. “I’m always happy when the good guys win,” she said.

Hannah glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She looked good, really good. Her hair was behaving, and her skin was glowing. The former was due to a new gel that Andrea had picked up for her, and the latter had been caused by the icy wind she’d braved when she’d dashed out this morning with the garbage.

The outfit Hannah was wearing was pure Claire. Claire Rodgers from Beau Monde Fashions, the upscale boutique next to The Cookie Jar, had called Hannah in to show her a suit from her newest shipment. It was a color called barley-corn, a shade of brown with a bit of orange in it that picked up the highlights in Hannah’s red hair. The fitted jacket and circle skirt were cut from a woven material that Claire said would accentuate her figure assets and minimize her figure faults. Since Hannah figured she had more faults than assets, she’d bought the outfit on the strength of Claire’s conviction.

Today was a special occasion. Lisa and Herb had decided to use the complimentary champagne brunch gift that Gloria Travis had given them for their wedding. Sally’s champagne brunches, at the Lake Eden Inn, were legendary, and Hannah hadn’t eaten a speck of food in twenty-four hours to prepare for the event. They were celebrating the arrest of Bobby Joe Peters, aka Winthrop Harrington the Second, for the murder of Shawna Lee Quinn. And they were also celebrating the arrest of Vanessa Quinn Roper for the murder of her husband, Neil Roper. There was even more to celebrate because Hannah had given Lisa and Herb a second wedding gift. Now that she owned all the durable goods in the Magnolia Blossom Bakery, she’d told them to go through the apartment on the second floor and take any furnishings they liked for their home.

Hannah had just picked up the earrings she was planning to wear, an unusual accessory for her and a testament to the importance of the occasion, when she happened to glance in the mirror. What she saw made her stop with her hand halfway up to her ear, and stare.

Moishe had just come into the bedroom and it was clear he was carrying kitty crunchies in his mouth. He often did this, transporting food to a more comfortable place to consume it. But instead of sitting down to eat it on the floor. Or hopping up on the bed to have his snack, he snagged the sliding door to the closet with his paw and pulled it open.

Strange, Hannah thought, continuing to watch as her resident feline disappeared into the jumble of shoes, boxes, and other things she simply couldn’t throw out that were stored on the floor of her closet. A few moments later, Moishe came back out, pushed the closet door shut, and headed back to the kitchen for another bite.

Even stranger, Hannah thought. What is he doing? Feeding the mice he keeps in the closet?

Hannah chuckled as she put on one earring. That was patently absurd. Cats fed mice in an occasional cartoon, never in real life. In real life, mice fed cats. Literally. Perhaps the closet was the scene of a particularly tasty former meal involving small rodents and dust bunnies, and Moishe had decided to treat it thereafter as his private dining room.

Hannah had put on her second earring and was struggling with the clasp on her necklace when Moishe came back into the room. Again, he was carrying kitty crunchies in his mouth, and again, he opened the closet door with his paw. Hannah listened carefully, but she didn’t hear the sound of crunching. Moishe wasn’t eating. She was almost sure of that. But she did think she heard a small squeak. Could she have bee right the first time? Could Moishe actually be feeding the mice he was keeping in the closet? If so, there must be a reason and only two occurred to her. Either the mice had become Moishe’s friends and he was feeding them to keep them alive, or he’d taken a hint from the farmers in the Lake Eden area and he was fattening them up for the kill.

She had to find out. Hannah waited until Moishe had headed back to the kitchen again, and then she opened the closet. What she saw surprised her. It was a mound of kitty crunches with no mice in sight.

“Stranger and stranger,” Hannah intoned, hurrying to the kitchen. Moishe was still there, but he was just disappearing into a hole he’d eaten in the side of the broom closet door, a hole that led straight to the twenty-five-pound bag of kitty crunchies. He’d tunneled through the door and he hadn’t wanted Hannah to know that he’d done it until he’d moved the mother lode a safe place!

“I just couldn’t!” Hannah said, shaking h as Sally came to the table with a fresh basket of popovers. “I’ve already eaten way too much.”

“Are you sure?” Sally asked, holding the basket out so that Hannah could see the puffs of golden pastry nestled in the napkin.

“Well . . . maybe one. With butter. And apricot jam.”

Everyone laughed including Norman, now was sitting to her right, and Mike, who was sitting to her left. Hannah grinned good-naturedly and looked around for the dish of butter and the pot of homemade apricot jam.

“Here’s the butter,” Mike said, and he passed the dish so that Hannah could take it with her left hand.

“And here’s the jam,” Norman added, zooming in from the other side so that Hannah could take the pot of jam with her right hand.

“How about some more coffee to go with that?” Norman asked, grabbing the carafe. “Or orange juice?” He picked up the pitcher of orange juice with his other hand.

“I could make you a Mimosa,” Mike offered, taking the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket.

“Thanks, but I don’t want a Mimosa,” Hannah said, answering Mike. “But I’ll have a little more champagne.” Then she turned to Norman. “And I’ll have more coffee, but I don’t want more orange juice.”

And there Hannah sat, holding butter in her left hand and jam in her right, as Norman filled her cup with coffee and Mike poured champagne in her glass. She was hemmed in by two men who were falling all over themselves to serve her and it made her feel ridiculous. She really had to talk to the person who arranged the next extended family gathering in advance. She was tired of feeling like the white filling in Norman and Mike’s Oreo.

The whole gang was here and they were all in marvelous moods. Andrea and Bill looked as happy as Lisa and Herb, and so did Marge Beeseman and Jack Herman. Evidently their living arrangements were working out just fine. Mike was happy at having solved two cases, and Norman was proud of the fact that he’d helped her sleuth. Carrie and Delores were sitting on either side of Tracey, who’d been invited to attend her very first champagne brunch. She was drinking sparkling apple juice out of a champagne glass and she had both Carrie and Delores laughing at something she’d said.

“And here’s to Hannah’s contribution to the brunch,” Sally announced, passing a silver tray filled with Chocolate Overload Cookie Bars, the rich confections Hannah had made to celebrate the fact that two killers were behind bars.

For a long moment, there was no talking, and that was the greatest compliment a baker could receive. Hannah watched the rapturous expressions of her friends and relatives as they ate the rich, creamy, chocolate cheesecake cookie bars. In no time at all, the tray was empty and everyone was smiling.

“Hannah?” Mike grabbed his opportunity as Norman went over to talk to Bill. “Have you got a minute? I really need to talk to you alone.”

Hannah wanted to say no, but that wouldn’t be polite. Not only that, she was curious. She reminded herself that curiosity had killed the cat, but it didn’t deter her the way she’d hoped it would.

Once they’d excused themselves to the group, Hannah and Mike walked out of the restaurant and down the carpeted hallway to the lobby. Mike led her toward a couch near the huge granite fireplace and waited until she was seated.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” Mike said as he took her hand and sat down on the couch with her. “I’ve been a terrible fool. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I’m not sure,” Hannah replied quite honestly, doing her best to maintain her objectivity. Having Mike this close must be a bit like getting hooked on drugs. She felt that without him, she’d be a shell. And with him, she could be anything she wanted to be. The feeling scared her and she fought it. This wasn’t love; this was addiction.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” Mike took both of her hands in his. “I realized how much I love you . . . really love you. And I promise I’ll never look at another woman again. You’re the only one in the world for me.”

Hannah couldn’t breathe. And that meant she couldn’t speak. did this mean what she thought it did?”

“I wasn’t ready before, but I am now,” Mike declared. “Everything’s changed. I want to put the past behind me and start a new life with you. If you’re willing, that is. Be willing, Hannah . . . please.”

Hannah tried to move, or breathe, or speak, but she couldn’t. she was frozen like a deer in the headlights, waiting for her rescuer, or killer, or captor . . . whatever the case might be . . . to release her.