Key Lime Pie Murder. Joanne Fluke

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Key Lime Pie Murder - Joanne Fluke


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means we have to be really self-sufficient.” Ruby stopped talking and gazed over Hannah’s shoulder. “So how about that deep-fried Milky Way? Your mother’s nowhere in sight.”

      Hannah laughed. She didn’t know how she could possibly manage it after all the sweet dough breads they’d tasted, but the thought of getting to taste one at last made her mouth start to water. “Well…I really shouldn’t but I guess…” Hannah stopped in midsentence when a voice called her name. She turned to see Norman hurrying across the food court toward her, and she gave a little sigh. She was glad to see him. It wasn’t that. But this was the second time she’d been thwarted in her attempt to taste a deep-fried candy bar.

      “You can’t eat one right now?” Ruby guessed.

      “You got it,” Hannah said, and then she turned to give Norman a smile as he arrived at her side. It had been several days since she’d seen him, and it felt good to be with him again.

      “Are you going to eat one of those?” he asked, as he arrived at her side.

      “No,” Hannah replied. Norman didn’t sound censorious, the way her mother had, but it would be wise to play it safe.

      “I need your help, Hannah.” Norman took the pan from her arms and steered her away from the booth, barely giving Hannah time to wave goodbye to Ruby. “I’ve got a problem with my dishwasher.”

      Hannah was confused. “‘I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t know anything about fixing dishwashers.”

      “I know you don’t. And I wasn’t asking you to. All I want you to do is help me pick it out. The brochures for the kitchen appliances came today, and I can’t make up my mind between two models.”

      “No problem. I’ll be glad to help you.”

      “Thanks, Hannah. I was afraid I’d pick the wrong one.” Norman looked down at the pan he was carrying. “I heard you were filling in for Edna. Is this tonight’s winner?”

      “No, it’s part of the third-place entry, a chocolate cherry coffeecake. I’m taking it to Mother.”

      “Now?” Norman asked, looking disappointed.

      “Now. I’m going to deliver the coffeecake, congratulate Michelle on her win in the evening gown competition, and then I’m going straight home. I think Moishe might be getting sick.”

      “What’s wrong with him?”

      “I don’t know. It’s probably the heat, but I’m a little worried. He didn’t touch his breakfast.”

      “How about dinner?”

      “Only a sniff and a lick. And I made him a Denver sandwich without the onions and the bell peppers. I even put in double ham and he still wouldn’t touch it.”

      “That sounds serious. How about if I stop at my house to pick up the brochures, and head over to your condo to check on Moishe? Maybe I can get him to eat. When you get home, you can take a quick look and tell me which model is the best.”

      Hannah didn’t have to think twice about that. “Great,” she said, giving Norman a grateful smile. He always came through when she needed him. And that was one of the things she loved most about him.

      “Hi, Hannah!” Michelle greeted her oldest sister at the door. Her face was devoid of makeup, and she was wearing cut-off jeans and a Macalester College T-shirt. “What have you got?”

      “Chocolate cherry coffeecake. Where’s Mother?”

      “In Dad’s old office. She’s using it now. She said she had some work to do on her computer.”

      “What work?”

      “I don’t know. I asked, but she said it was personal.”

      Hannah frowned as visions of e-mail romances with prison inmates danced through her mind. “Is she on-line yet?”

      “No. The cable company’s going to have free installation on their high-speed Internet access next month. She told me she’s waiting until then.”

      “Good! I mean…I just didn’t want her to start something with…” Hannah stopped, not quite sure how to phrase what she’d been thinking.

      “Weirdos, perverts, and creeps?” Michelle asked. “With a few con artists thrown in?”

      “Exactly.”

      “I wouldn’t worry too much. I think Mother learned a lot from what happened last spring.”

      “I hope so! It just makes me so mad that somebody tried to take advantage of her!”

      “Me, too. But it’s over now, and Mother’s smart enough not to fall for somebody like that again.” Michelle gave Hannah a little shove toward the office that Delores was using. “Do me a favor, okay?”

      Hannah knew better than to agree without knowing what Michelle wanted. “That depends on what it is.”

      “It’s snooping. I tried to see what Mother was working on, but she’s got one of those privacy screens. One keystroke and all you can see is a bouquet of flowers, or pine trees in a snowy forest. See if you can find out what she’s working on. I just hate it when people say that it’s personal and they won’t tell you what it is.”

      “Okay, I’ll do it,” Hannah agreed. And then she headed down the hallway to see if she could figure out what secret their mother was hiding.

      “Mother?” Hannah called out, tapping on the door and then opening it without waiting for an invitation.

      “Hello, dear.” Delores looked up when Hannah came into the room. “Sit down and wait just a moment, will you? I really need to finish this paragraph.”

      “Sure. Michelle said you were working on something personal.” Hannah sat down in the old leather chair that had been moved to a spot near the window. It had been her dad’s desk chair, but Delores had replaced it with a smart-looking model upholstered in blue tweed. It was clear at a glance that her mother’s new chair rolled, reclined, and swiveled, while the old leather chair merely sat there.

      “That’s right.”

      “I’m curious. What is it?”

      “Nothing you’d be interested in, dear.”

      Delores went right back to typing, and Hannah gave a little sigh. She’d struck out. So much for being forthright. She’d have to think of some other way to find out.

      “You were always the best speller in the family,” Delores said, pausing with her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Recommendation has one c and two m’s, doesn’t it?”

      “Recommendation?” Hannah repeated, not sure she’d heard her mother correctly.

      “That’s right. Yes or no, dear.”

      “Yes,” Hannah said, and then she spelled it out. “Are you writing a letter of recommendation for someone?”

      “No, dear. Just give me a moment more and I’ll be through.”

      Hannah’s curiosity reached new heights. Her mother had told Michelle it was “personal,” and it wasn’t a letter of recommendation. Asking politely hadn’t worked, and she’d promised Michelle that she’d snoop if she got the chance. Feeling a bit like someone cheating on an exam, Hannah craned her neck to try to see her mother’s computer screen. Unfortunately she was off-axis, and all she saw was a faintly lighted screen. She inched slightly to the side to get a better view, not an easy task with a heavy desk chair that didn’t roll, but the only thing she could make out was faint lines of double-spaced type. It was definitely not a letter. Letters were single-spaced.

      “Almost through, dear,” Delores said, her fingers beating a staccato rhythm on the keys.

      Hannah gave a lurch, and the chair slid another inch to the side. That was better!


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