Part 10 (2/2)
”That doesn't matter. The fingerprint guys should be able to get a print off the winegla.s.s.”
”No, they can't.”
”How do you know that?”
”Because they don't have it. The garbage truck came before Mother found Rhonda's body and I tossed out the bag.”
Andrea groaned. ”That's bad luck! What are the chances of the garbage truck showing up on the very day Mother finds Rhonda's body?”
”One in seven. They pick up every week. But that's why I need you to check out that takeout.”
”Okay. Don't worry, Hannah. I won't mention it to Bill, since we're already on top of it. And just as soon as I find that restaurant, I'll call you at home and tell you.”
After Hannah hung up the phone, she retrieved her box of
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day-old cookies. She was just opening the back door when her phone rang again.
”I don't care who you are, I'm not going to answer,” Hannah snapped, turning on her heel and walking out. She was going home to Moishe and her boring vegetable salad. Her caller could just call back when she opened in the morning.
The air outside was hot and humid, nearly eighty degrees with a moisture content to match. As Hannah walked the short distance to her truck, she heard the grumble of thunder in the distance. The blacktop in the parking lot was spongy under the soles of her shoes, and she felt the perspiration break out on her skin.
The sun was still up and Hannah knew all about the greenhouse effect. She opened the driver's door of her truck, reached in to stick her key into the ignition, and pushed the b.u.t.tons to lower all the windows. Her leftover Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies would be mush if she didn't cool off the interior of her truck. Judging by the brief moment her arm had been inside the truck, it was almost as hot as her oven.
Thunder sounded again, low and rumbling like the growl of some predatory beast. Hannah stood there with the cookie box balanced in her arms and thought about the melting point of chocolate. Who would want to eat a mushy Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookie? Even if it was free? She stashed the box in the back of her truck, grabbed the bag that contained the Chocolate Chip Crunches and marched back inside The Cookie Jar to put it in her walk-in cooler. Driving home with chocolate in the back of her truck was too much of a temptation anyway. She'd give the bag to Jed and Freddy when they came hi to finish the pantry shelves in the morning.
Hannah was just sliding into the driver's seat when her mother's car pulled into the lot. Delores parked behind her, so she couldn't back up, exited her car, and rushed up. ”I'm
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glad I caught you! Sally's serving coq au vin tonight and I'll take you out to dinner.”
Hannah's hand froze near the ignition. Delores knew her weak spot and she wasn't shy about hitting it. Coq au vin was one of Hannah's favorite entrees at the Lake Eden Inn.
”We need to discuss my murder investigation. I told Carrie all about it and she wants to help.”
”Oh, joy,” Hannah muttered. Carrie had been itching to get involved in her last three murder cases.
”Don't be like that. Carrie knows everybody in Lake Eden and she'll be a valuable resource. Besides, I'm picking up the tab for dinner. When do you want to go?”
The thunder was growing louder by the minute and Hannah recognized a handy excuse when she heard it. ”I'd love to join you and Carrie, but Moishe always gets a little crazy when it thunders. He'll tear up the sofa if I don't get home in time to turn up the volume on the television set.”
”That's not a problem. You go on home and I'll call Sally. I'll make reservations for eight and pick you up at seven-thirty.”
Hannah bristled. Her mother always wanted to be in control of everything. ”I don't need anybody to pick me up. I have my own transportation.”
”That's fine,” Delores smiled. ”You can meet us there. Make sure you wear something appropriate, dear. You never know who you'll run into and it's always smart to look your best.”
Hannah thumped her fist on the steering wheel as her mother climbed back into her car and drove away. She'd had no intention of going out to dinner with her mother, but she'd been outmaneuvered. As she put her truck into gear, Hannah vowed not to use this as an excuse to break her diet. All she had to do was stay away from the delicious things like sauces, and Sally's homemade rolls, and her yummy
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twice-baked potatoes, and the confections on the dessert cart. With all those restrictions, she'd probably end up with meat and a salad, but at least she wouldn't have to fix it herself.
Chapter Eight.
Driving from her condo to the Lake Eden Inn took twenty minutes and even though it was seven-thirty in the evening, there was no need for Hannah to turn on her headlights. Only a week had pa.s.sed since the summer solstice and June twenty-second was the longest day of the year. Darkness wouldn't fall for another two hours and the summer sun was still slanting through the branches of the pines that lined the lakesh.o.r.e, creating a venetian-blind effect on the dusty gravel of the road. Only the shadows were lengthening. When they reached a proportion longer than the height of the trees that teamed with the lowering sun to create them, they would take on a bluish hue. As night fell, their color would deepen to purple and then to velvety black.
Hannah switched off her air conditioner-it never cooled down her truck adequately anyway-and lowered all her windows to enjoy the breezes that blew across the lake. She'd have to brush her hair again when she got to the Lake Eden Inn, but driving with the windows down was pleasant. She'd dressed for dinner in a wraparound skirt, a sleeveless cotton blouse, and the leather thong sandals she'd purchased during her college years. They were made of water buffalo hide and no longer imported, but political correctness wasn't one of
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her top priorities. The water buffalo in question had died long ago and giving up her favorite pair of sandals wouldn't bring him back to life.
The pines along the sh.o.r.e grew in cl.u.s.ters and Hannah caught glimpses of fis.h.i.+ng boats on the s.h.i.+ning mirrored surface of Eden Lake as she drove past the gaps in the trees. Eden Lake was known for its record walleyes and most metropolitan families with a fisherman in residence were lured by the promise of trophy fish. They rented the cabins that the locals owned, and from dawn to dusk, Eden Lake was peppered with anglers.
As she drove, Hannah thought about Rhonda's murder and by the time she'd taken the turnofT for the Lake Eden Inn, she'd reached a decision. Mother, Andrea, Norman, and Lisa all wanted her to investigate. Since she also wanted to investigate, that made five. From what Andrea had said, she could a.s.sume that Bill was neutral. He wasn't firmly on the side of her involvement, but he wouldn't put up much of a fuss. Mike was the only .one who was firmly against it.
Five for, one neutral, and one against. Hannah tallied it up as she brushed her hair, got out of her truck, and headed for the entrance of the inn. The numbers were definitely on her side, and who was she to argue with the statistics? She'd just have to think of some way to deal with Mike's resistance that wouldn't land her in jail.
As Hannah walked up the path, she noticed that d.i.c.k's topiary bear was filling out. It no longer looked skinny and it had grown to almost five feet. For a former stockbroker, d.i.c.k had turned out to be a decent gardener. He'd also done a great job of decorating the inn for summer. The porch had been hung with lights that looked like j.a.panese lanterns and their soft glow was festive. The Lake Eden Inn looked better every year. What had been a risky investment for Sally and d.i.c.k was paying off.
Hannah opened the double doors and stepped inside. The little alcove just to the right of the door had been decorated for summer with a small, self-contained fountain and a group- LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 97.
ing of wicker furniture. In the winter it would contain the ma.s.sive wooden boot rack and benches that were necessary in Minnesota.
”Hi, Hannah.” The hostess looked up as Hannah approached the restaurant door. It was Carly Richardson, Mich.e.l.le's friend from high school.
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