Blueberry Muffin Murder (22 page)

"No, I hate that show. This is just common sense, Hannah. Norman loves you and he's trying to convince you that he's worthy of your love."

Hannah remembered having a remarkably similar conversation with Andrea. In Lisa's version, only the name of the man had changed. Was it possible that both Mike and Norman were in love with her? Life wasn't a B-movie, and she certainly wasn't the gorgeous ingenue who sashayed her way into a love triangle with two men.

"I'm right, Hannah. You've got to trust me on this."

Hannah still wasn't convinced. "Okay. What do you think I should do?"

"Think of some way to stop Norman before he gets himself into trouble."

"Right," Hannah said, wondering what that would entail. Putting Norman in a straitjacket would work, but she didn't happen to have one handy. Handcuffs were out, Norman could still walk around in those, and an enforced trip to a desert island was impractical. Instead of concentrating on a way to render Norman immobile, she had to think of a way to convince the killer that Norman hadn't taken his picture.

"The timer just rang. You sit here and think and I'll get the cookies out of the ovens. Be devious, Hannah. You're good at that."

Hannah wasn't sure if that was a compliment, but she sat on her stool and thought as she gazed out the window that overlooked the dining room. A few people were beginning to arrive for the continental breakfast that Sally always provided on Sunday mornings, and Hannah noticed a man filling his cup from the urn of coffee on the bar.

As she watched the man carry his coffee and a sweet roll to a two-person table in the center of the dining room, Hannah's thoughts turned back to Norman. How could she save him from himself? If he was trying to impress her with his courage, it was having quite the opposite effect. She could just kill him for offering to bait a trap, but she might not have the chance if the murderer got to him first.

The man she'd been watching had eaten his sweet roll and now he was finishing his coffee: Hannah expected him to go back for a second cup, but he surprised her by pulling a small notebook from his pocket and beginning to write. He was probably a reporter, and that realization gave Hannah the perfect idea to take the wind out of Norman's macho sails.

"I got it!" she called out to Lisa. "Can you hold the fort for a couple of minutes? I have to find Sally and ask her who that reporter is."

"Which reporter?" Lisa asked, walking over to peer through the window.

"The one in the center of the room. He's wearing a blue Scandinavian sweater."

"That's Larry Kruger. Alex pointed him out to me yesterday. He's the one who's been writing those ghost stories."

"Bingo!" Hannah said and gave Lisa a hug. "I'll be back right after I plant the idea for his next installment."

Larry Kruger smiled at Hannah. "It sounds like you really enjoyed my story."

"Oh, yes, very much," Hannah said, resisting the urge to kick him in the shins for all the trouble he'd caused. "I'm a friend of Norman's, and he told me something about his attack mat wasn't in the paper."

"Really?"

"Yes. Norman told me that he tried to take a picture of Ezekiel Jordan's ghost on the night that Connie Mac was murdered."

'No kidding!"

Hannah could practically see the wheels turning in Larry Kruger's brain. She had him hooked and she knew it. "Norman was right next door and he saw a very strange shape lurking around outside. He said it seemed to float. Of course he had no idea that the shape was a ghost. He just thought it was curious and he snapped a whole role of film."

"Did he . . . uh . . . develop the film?"

"Oh, yes. And absolutely nothing was on it. Of course, I wasn't surprised. 'I'm very interested in the occult, and I know that it's impossible to take a picture of a spirit. Their essence can't be captured by any mortal means."

"Uh . . . yes. I've heard that. Thanks for telling me about it."

"You're welcome. I really think people should know more facts about the spirit world. It's just fascinating. I've been toying with the idea of calling KCOW radio to tell them about Norman's experience, but I just hate to give them my name and . . ."

"You don't have to do that," Larry interrupted. "I'll be happy to call them for you. And I'll put it in the papers, too."

"And you won't use my name?"

"Not if you don't want me to," Larry promised. "I'll just say I got the information from a reliable source who knows Norman Rhodes. No one will ever connect you to my story."

Hannah put on her best grateful look. "Thank you, Larry. That'll be just fine with me."

Lisa was practically in hysterics by the time Hannah finished telling her what she'd done. "And he actually believed you?"

"Oh, yes. The story should be on KCOW radio by noon at the latest. Now all I have to do is hope that the killer is listening."

"What are you going to tell Norman?"

Hannah winced. She hadn't thought of that. "I guess I'll I just say that I knew how stubborn he could be and I wanted to save him from doing something idiotic."

"Don't say it like that!" Lisa looked appalled. "You have to be more tactful. Tell Norman that you care about him and you were worried about his safety. And admit that maybe you should have consulted him first, but you felt you had to do something."

"Okay, I can live with that. Now let's get going on these cookies. You mix up another batch of your White Chocolate Supremes and I'll start baking the Pecan Chews."

Lisa left for the pantry to gather up her supplies, and Hannah scooped out dough for the Pecan Chews. She'd just slipped the first two pans into the oven when Sally came into the kitchen.

"Pecan Chews?" Sally walked over to gaze at the dough in Hannah's bowl.

"Give the little lady a stuffed toy. Pull up a stool, Sally. I need to ask you something." Hannah waited until Sally was seated. None of the kitchen staff was close enough to hear, and it was the perfect opportunity to ask her about the ghost sightings. "I read the article in the paper this morning and it said you saw Ezekiel's ghost last night. I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

"I don't, but your sister was right. Ghosts are good for business. The phone rang off the hook yesterday afternoon, and everyone that called in for reservations wanted to know if I'd actually seen the ghost. I happened to mention all the new business to Francine, and she thought we should actually have a ghost."

Hannah stared at Sally in amazement. "How do you actually have a ghost?"

"Francine offered to float down the hall like a ghost. She's going to put in appearances every couple of nights, just to keep the story going. I didn't want to do it at first. I mean, it's not exactly honest. But Francine pointed out that a lot of big theme hotels have events, and this was just another form of entertainment."

"That's as good a reason as any. How does Francine float down the hall?"

"She worked out a technique. You've got to see it to believe it. Do you want me to call you before she does her next appearance?"

"Absolutely," Hannah said, a plan beginning to hatch in her mind. If Sally gave her enough advance notice, she'd bring her mother and Carrie out to the inn for dinner and make sure they had front-row seats for the ghost sighting. If Francine was convincing enough, it might just scare the matchmaking schemes right out of their minds.

LISA'S WHITE CHOCOLATE SUPREMES

Preheat oven to 350'F, rack in the middle position

1 cup melted butter (2 sticks, one-half pound) ' cup white sugar ' cup brown sugar 2 teaspoons vanilla 1 ' teaspoons baking soda ' teaspoon salt 2 beaten eggs 2 ' cups flour (no need to sift) 2 cups (1/2 pound) real white chocolate (or white chocolate chips) 1 ' cups chopped macadamia nuts (measure before chopping)

Melt the butter. Mix in the white sugar and brown sugar. Then mix in the vanilla, baking soda, and salt. Add the eggs and stir again. Add the flour and mix thoroughly.

If you're using block white chocolate, chop it up into pieces roughly the size of chocolate chips. You can do this in a food processor by cutting the chocolate in chunks and processing it with the steel blade. If you're using white chocolate chips, just measure out 2cups. (You can use vanilla chips, but the cookies won't taste the same.)

Measure out the whole macadamia nuts. Chop them into pieces roughly the size of peas with a knife, or use your food processor and the steel blade.

Add the white chocolate and nuts to your bowl and mix thoroughly.

Drop the dough by teaspoons onto an UNGREASED cookie sheet, 12 cookies to a standard-size sheet. Bake at 350'F for 10 to 12 minutes or until nicely browned.

Let the cookies cool for two minutes, then remove them from the baking sheet and transfer them to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Lisa developed this recipe, and it's just like they say in the potato chip commercials ' you can't eat just one.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the day?" Hannah asked Lisa when they'd finished loading the cookies into the back of her truck.

"I'm taking Dad on a tour of the Ezekiel Jordan House and we're making an appointment to have our pictures taken. Then we're going to the park to watch the family snowman contest."

"I'll see you there," Hannah told her. "Tracey's entered, and since Bill is working, I promised Andrea I'd help. Janie's coming along with me to watch."

"Tell Janie she can watch with us. I really like her, and I know Dad would like to see her again. I mentioned her name to him and he actually remembered her from years ago."

"He remembers quite a few things from the past, doesn't he?"

"That's one of the strange things about his memory. Dad can recall things from twenty or thirty years ago, but new things don't seem to register. Every time I take him to the senior center, he gets all excited because he thinks he's going there for the first time."

"At least he's never bored," Hannah said, attempting to put the brightest face on things. She knew Alzheimer's was a terrible disease, and that it was degenerative. The time could come when Jack Herman might not even remember his daughter.

"Don't be sad, Hannah." Lisa reached out to touch her arm. "I know Dad's prognosis, but at least he's happy now."

"He's very lucky he's got you," Hannah said, giving Lisa's hand a comforting pat. "And thanks for offering to entertain Janie while I'm off making a fool of myself."

Five minutes later, Hannah was zipping down the road toward her first venue. She was dropping off cookies at Jordan High, and the parking lot at the school ice rink was already dotted with cars. When she pulled in, she saw a familiar face, or at least part of one. It was Craig Kimball, and he was wearing a blaze orange ski mask.

"Hi, Miss Swensen!" Craig hailed her as she got out of her truck. "Do you need some help with your cookies?"

"Are you offering? I've got a bag of new cookies you can try if you are."

"You bet." Craig's eyes crinkled at the corners, and Hannah knew he was smiling behind all that orange yarn. "Just let me rope a couple of my friends into helping and we'll only have to make one trip."

Hannah opened the back of her truck while Craig jogged over to a group of Jordan High seniors. Before she had time to pick up the first box of cookies, she had six eager helpers. They carried the cookies over to the warm-up tent, and Hannah was amazed to see about a dozen spectators already in the bleachers that surrounded the rink. They were huddled in the front row in a tight little group, drinking steaming cups of coffee.

Once she'd paid off her volunteers, Hannah turned to Linda Nelson, who was running the counter. She was a senior, and Mrs. Baxter had told Hannah that she was the best homemaker in the class. "It looks like you've sold some coffee already."

"We sold one whole urn and we just made the second," Linda told her. "It's cold out there."

"What time does the speed-skating competition start?"

"At one o'clock. Some of the parents came early to see the warm-ups. You should come back to see it, Miss Swensen. Barry Withers is just incredible. If he can shave off a tenth of a second, he'll break the school record."

Hannah took one look at Linda's shining eyes and figured that a little romance might be brewing right along with that fresh urn of coffee. "I'll come back if I can. Right now I've got tons of cookies to deliver."

"Would you like a cup of coffee for the road?"

"I'd love it, thanks. And if you see Barry, tell him that I'm rooting for him."

Less than five minutes later, Hannah was back on the road, a fresh cup of coffee resting in the plastic carrier between her seats. The town baseball field was her next destination, and she was right on schedule.

As she pulled into the parking lot, Hannah saw that there was a flurry of activity out on the field. Two parka-clad teams of students were building snow forts at opposite ends of the field. In less than an hour, the "Great Snowball War" would begin, and the preparations were underway. Gil Surma, Jordan High's counselor and the assistant coach of the basketball team, was the general of the blue army stationed at first base. His team wore blue ski masks. The boys in the rival red army, which sported red ski masks, were engaged in building a fort by third base. They were commanded by their principal, Mr. Purvis. Both "generals" were out on the field, supervising the stockpiling of munitions to make sure that no foreign objects, such as rocks or chunks of ice, were rolled into the snowballs that were being stacked inside the forts.

Hannah parked as close to the warm-up tent as she could and got out to open the back of her truck. She stacked up as many boxes as she thought she could carry in one trip, picked them up with both arms, and headed for the entrance to the tent.

"Steady, Hannah." A familiar voice greeted her and strong arms reached out to take the top three boxes. "You were getting a little wobbly there."

Hannah smiled the moment the boxes were removed and she could see who her rescuer was. "Hi, Norman. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. My headache is gone and Doc Knight took off that bulky bandage. He says the stitches are already starting to heal."