Wedding Cake Murder (Hannah Swenson, #19)

“Yes. One of my neighbors gave me a ride to the Quick Stop the next morning. He waited while I bought a gas can, filled it with gas, and then he took me back to my car. He waited until I poured in the gas and started my car before he drove off. I went straight to the Quick Stop to fill the tank. I can give you my neighbor’s name if you want to substantiate what I told you.”


“Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” Hannah said, not mentioning the fact that she was going to check his alibi with Sean and Don at the Quick Stop.

Once Heiti had walked them through the house and showed them all the improvements he’d made, he turned to Andrea. “This house is quite old, but it’s very well built. It reminds me of the house my parents had. They knew how to build back then and they used good materials.” He turned to address Hannah. “Nancy and I will be there to watch you tonight,” Heiti said as he opened the door for them. “Which cookie are you baking?”

“Butterscotch Sugar Cookies,” Hannah told him.

“They sound very good. I’ll be looking forward to watching you tonight.”





Chapter Twenty-two




Of course they detoured past the Quick Stop on their way back to The Cookie Jar, and Hannah was glad to find out that Sean and Don remembered Heiti and confirmed his alibi. When they got back to The Cookie Jar, Hannah took one look through the front plate-glass window and stopped Michelle and Andrea from entering.

“It’s the noon rush and Lisa’s telling her story again. Let’s go around to the back door and sit in the kitchen. Then Andrea can taste our cookies and tell us what she thinks of them.”

The kitchen coffee pot was on and Michelle filled three cups while Hannah put the cookies on a plate. Then they sat down on the stools that surrounded the stainless-steel work island. But before any of them had even reached for a cookie, there was a knock at the back door.

“Mike?” Michelle guessed, motioning toward the plate of cookies. “He probably smelled them when he was driving by.”

“Coming!” Hannah called out, getting up from her stool, but she took time to answer Michelle’s question. “It’s not Mike. He has a cop’s knock. It’s louder and more authoritative.”

“Norman?” Andrea guessed.

“No. Norman has a nice, masculine knock, but it’s not as demanding as Mike’s. It’s probably Mother. Mother’s knock is softer and more ladylike with an undertone of insistence.”

“What’s my knock like?” Andrea asked.

There was no way that Hannah was going to tell Andrea that her knock was exactly like their mother’s knock. Perhaps Andrea would forget she’d asked, if she delayed her answer.

“I’ll describe it later,” Hannah said. “If I don’t get this, Mother will be in a huff. And there’s no way I want to open the door to Mother in a huff.”

Hannah opened the door and found she was right. It was Delores. “Hello, Mother,” she greeted her. “Come in and join us for coffee and cookies. We just got back here and we’re about to sample the cookies that Michelle and I are baking tonight.”

“Oh, good!” Delores said, as she saw them at the work island. “I’m glad all three of you are here.”

Michelle jumped up to get their mother a cup of coffee, and Hannah waited until they were all seated again. “Why are you glad all three of us are here?”

“Because I brought you this!” Delores reached across the work table to give Hannah a white, official-looking envelope. “It’s a copy of the autopsy report Doc sent to Bill.”

“But I . . .” Andrea stopped speaking as Hannah gave her a look that said, Don’t steal Mother’s thunder!

“I know how you feel, Andrea,” Hannah said quickly. “If there are any photos, we won’t show them to you. Right, Mother?”

“Right.” Delores turned to Andrea. “Don’t worry, dear. We all know how squeamish you are about things like that.”

“Thank you,” Andrea said, quickly recovering her poise. “I really don’t know how you do it, Mother.”

“Do what, dear?” Delores asked her.

“Make copies of the autopsy photos.”

“I’m married to a doctor,” Delores explained. “I can’t be delicate about things like that now.”

“Good for you, Mother!” Hannah complimented her, remembering how their mother had refused to even discuss anything she termed unpleasant when they were growing up. “Overcoming something like that must have been very difficult.”

“It was a necessity,” Delores said. “There are certain requirements for doctors’ wives, and I intend to fulfill them. And actually, dear, it isn’t that difficult. Doc uses medical terms to describe these matters, and I never ask him what they mean. And as far as those awful autopsy photos are concerned, copying them was quite simple. I flipped them over on the color copier, pressed the button, slipped the copies into the envelope, and returned the photos to the autopsy report without ever actually looking at them.”

“Very clever,” Hannah commented, deliberately avoiding Andrea’s eyes. That was exactly what Andrea had said she’d done when she’d first started scanning the police files in Bill’s briefcase.

“Did Chef Duquesne die the way Hannah thought he did?” Michelle asked.