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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 passed 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 lakeshore, 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 shore grew in clusters and Hannah caught glimpses of fishing boats on the shining 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 assume 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 Dick's topiary bear was filling out. It no longer looked skinny and it had grown to almost five feet. For a former stockbroker, Dick 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 Japanese lanterns and their soft glow was festive. The Lake Eden Inn looked better every year. What had been a risky investment for Sally and Dick 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-
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ing of wicker furniture. In the winter it would contain the massive 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, Michelle's friend from high school.
"I thought you were off at college, Carly."
"I am," Carly said. "I just came home for summer break and Sally hired me to fill in while her regular girl's on vacation."
"Do you know that Michelle's coming back to town tomorrow night?"
"I know. She called Tricia and we're all getting together for lunch on Wednesday. You're out here for dinner, right?"
"Right. Mother's supposed to join me."
"Oh, Sally just seated your mother's party. Just follow me and I'll take you to their table."
Her mother's party? Hannah sighed as she followed Carly through the crowded dining room and into the bar. Her mother had told her to wear something appropriate and that should have rung alarm bells in Hannah's mind. She hoped this wasn't another attempt to fix her up with an eligible male.
As Carly walked toward the rear of the bar, Hannah found herself lagging behind. Sally had designated that section for private dining. There were four tables on a raised platform, separated from each other by carved wooden partitions that contained frosted glass. The space that faced the rest of the bar was hung with gauzy curtains that the occupants could draw, or leave open. The fact that her mother had requested one of the private tables and closed the curtains could mean only one thing. Delores had set her up again. The only question in Hannah's mind was the identity of the man her mother was attempting to trap for her.
"Here's Hannah, Mrs. Swensen," Carly announced, pulling aside the corner of the curtain. "Since your party's all here, shall I send the waitress to take your orders?"
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"Not quite yet, dear,*' Delores responded. "Give us five minutes and then we'll be ready."
Hannah wished she could turn on her heel and go back home, but her mother would never forgive her. She took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and stepped inside the curtain. When she saw Norman, her smile turned genuine. "Hi, Norman. Hi, Carrie."
"Come in and sit down, dear." Delores motioned toward the spot they'd saved for her.
Hannah sat down and turned to Norman. "This is a nice surprise. Mother didn't tell me you'd be here."
"Just a minute, dear," Delores hushed her, reaching out to arrange the curtains to hide them from general view. "I really don't think we need everyone in town to see us discussing Rhonda's murder."
"Seeing us doesn't matter, as long as they don't hear us. And they'll be less inclined to eavesdrop if they can see us."
"You've got a point," Delores conceded, opening the curtains again. "I'd never invade someone's privacy like that, but I'm sure some people would."
Hannah just barely managed to squelch a chuckle. She'd seen Delores take the long way around to the ladies room several times in the past, and once she'd even dropped her purse by the row of private booths so she'd have more time to listen.
"I have a question for you, Hannah." Delores stared hard at her. "Norman says he asked you to investigate and you promised to think about it and let him know in the morning. Is that right?"
Hannah hesitated. She'd never been any good at walking on eggshells and this situation had the earmarks of a giant omelet in the making. What if Delores really wanted the job as chief investigator and she'd resent it if Hannah took over? Was there any explanation Hannah could give for her change of heart that wouldn't lead to infanticide? Or was infanticide called something else when a mother killed her grown daughter?
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"Well?" Delores glared at her. "I'm waiting for an explanation, Hannah Louise."
Her mother only called her Hannah Louise when she was in big trouble and Hannah thought fast. "Norman told me that Mike and Bill roped off the entire Voelker house as a crime scene and he can't tear it down before they solve Rhonda's murder. That means he might have to delay building our dream house until spring, and ..."
"That's enough, dear," Delores interrupted her. "I understand perfectly and I think you made the right decision. It was a matter of priorities."
Hannah felt a bit guilty as she basked in her mother's approval. Delores thought their dream house had made all the difference. If Hannah weren't careful, her mother would be sending out invitations to a bridal shower that would never happen.
Norman looked eager as he turned to Hannah. "Does that mean that you're going to do it?"
"Of course it does," Delores answered for her. "And I'm glad we got all this settled. We'll all do everything we can to help you, Hannah. I made some calls this afternoon and I'm almost positive that Rhonda led a double life."
"Really?" Norman looked interested. "What kind of a double life?"
Delores leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "I think she had a boyfriend, perhaps even more than one. But let's not go into all that now. Why don't we order? Once we've eaten, we can discuss Rhonda's murder in detail over dessert.**
Hannah's dietary resolve wavered dangerously when their waitress wheeled up the dessert cart. Sally's delicious flour-less chocolate cake was sitting in the center of the display. Hannah started to salivate the moment she spotted it.
"I'll have the chocolate cake," Delores declared. "I ordered it the last time I was here and it was simply scrumptious."
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"The same for me," Carrie echoed.
"Nothing for me." Norman glanced at Hannah. "How about you?"
"Just coffee." Hannah forced the words past her lips. She'd followed her diet to the letter so far, eating only her salad and her serving of coq au vin. She'd even ordered steamed broccoli in place of potatoes.
Once their coffee had been replenished and the cake had been served, Delores turned to Hannah. "Well? What do you want us to do first, dear?"
Eat your cake fast, before I cave, Hannah thought, her eyes glued to the rich confection on her mother's dessert plate, but of course she didn't say that. If Delores found out that she was on a diet, she'd have to listen to hours of unsolicited and unhelpful advice. "Just keep your ears open for any facts about Rhonda's private life that might have led to a motive for her murder."
"I think I can find out who her boyfriend was," Carrie volunteered. "When I get home tonight, I'll make some calls."
"How about the UPS man?" Delores asked.
"Sam?" Carrie sounded shocked. "Oh, he was Rhonda's cousin on her father's side. That's why he used to drop by to have lunch with her."
"Is Sam still in the area?" Hannah asked, wondering
about Rhonda's family history. If Rhonda's cousin was jealous over the fact Rhonda had inherited the Voelker place, he might have had a motive for murder.
"No, he went back to Utah a few months ago. Rhonda said his uncle was wealthy and they owned some high-tech corporation. Sam took over as president when the uncle retired."
Hannah sighed, mentally scratching Sam from her list of suspects. Not only was he several hundred miles away, he was now running a successful business. Sam wasn't likely to care that his cousin had inherited an old wreck of a house in Lake Eden, Minnesota.
"Would it help to talk to Rhonda's cleaning woman?" Norman asked.
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"Absolutely." Hannah beamed at him. Cleaning women often knew a lot more than they let on. "Do you know who she was?"
"Luanne's mother, Marjorie Hanks. She called and left a message on my answering machine at the clinic to see if I wanted her to keep on cleaning the house. I told her I didn't, but I hired her to clean the dental clinic."
Hannah took out her notebook and jotted down the information. Marjorie Hanks was no fool. She might have noticed something at the Voelker house that could provide them with a clue.
Delores pushed her partially eaten cake across the table toward Hannah. "Would you like to finish it, dear? My eyes were bigger than my stomach and I know it's one of your favorites."
Despite her best intentions, Hannah glanced down at the cake. It looked moist and delicious, and the scent of chocolate wafted dark and heady in the air. Hannah had the insane notion to utter the words, Vade retro, Satana, undoubtedly prompted by the fact that she'd watched a rerun of The Exorcist over the weekend. She reminded herself that it hadn't helped Max Von Sydow and it probably wouldn't help her, either. Her only solution was to move herself out of harm's way.
"Thanks, but I'll pass," Hannah said, rising to her feet before she could grab the remaining cake and stuff it into her mouth. "Excuse me. I need to find Sally to tell her how much I enjoyed the dinner."
After a fruitless search of the dining room, Hannah found Sally in the kitchen. She was sitting at the small desk in the comer, writing out the lunch specials for the next day.
"Hi, Hannah," Sally greeted her. "Did you enjoy your dinner?"
"It was delicious. Do you have any idea how many calories there are in .. .never mind. I don't want to know. I was just wondering if you'd served osso buco lately, like over the weekend?"