Carrot Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #10)(16)

“Hannah?”

Delores interrupted her mental chain of similes, and Hannah focused on the here and now. Delores had wanted something, and now she knew what it was. “Okay, Mother.” she said, bowing to the inevitable. “I’ll go find Gus for you.”

Nothing was ever easy. Hannah gazed around the small lake cottage. The only living creature inside was a small green frog hopping determinedly from the bedroom closet toward the kitchen alcove. Unless Gus had met a witch who’d turned him into the Frog Prince, he wasn’t here. And since his Jaguar was still parked in the driveway, he’d gone somewhere on foot. But where? Eden Lake was far from being the largest body of water in Minnesota, but it would still take several hours to walk around the perimeter searching for him.

The frog gave a croak, and Hannah watched as he hopped up on the counter and into the sink. He landed next to what looked like a green-and-white capsule, and Hannah picked it up just in case it was something that could hurt him. There were markings, probably indicating the manufacturer, but they were so blurred Hannah couldn’t read them.

There was no pill bottle on the counter, and the bathroom medicine cabinet had been empty and standing open when she’d checked the bathroom. She didn’t know where the pill had come from, so she couldn’t put it back. She supposed she could wrap it in plastic and toss it in the open suitcase that Gus had left on the bed, but the green-and-white capsule appeared to be a twin to the over-the-counter antacid she’d seen Gus take at the dance last night, and that meant it was probably expendable.

She glanced down at the capsule again, and her decision was made for her. The powder inside was already starting to leak out of the side. It was dissolving from the slight bit of moisture that had gathered in the bottom of the sink and there was no sense saving a dissolved capsule. She poked it down the drain so the frog couldn’t get it, and ran some water to flush it down. That was when she realized that there were no dirty breakfast dishes. It was a cinch that Gus hadn’t washed them. The dishtowel hanging on a rack by the side of the sink was bone dry.

“No dishes,” Hannah said to the frog, who was looking at her with inscrutable black eyes. The frog didn’t comment, not even a croak, as she opened the refrigerator door. A quick peek inside explained the absence of dirty dishes. There was no food. The only contents were a bottle of Jack Daniels and two cans of beer. There was nothing in the freezer compartment, either, except two trays of ice cubes, the old metal kind with the dividers between the cubes that nobody could pry up if they were filled too full. If Gus had wanted something other than a boilermaker for breakfast, he’d probably walked over to the Eden Lake Store to buy supplies.

Hannah ran a little more water in the sink for the frog and then she headed across the road to the store. It had been one of her favorite places as a child. The old-fashioned bell on the door tinkled as she pushed it open and stepped in. Some things never changed, and Hannah found that comforting. The interior of the store still smelled the way it always had, a curious mixture of ring bologna, dill pickles in a large jar on the counter, and elderly bananas that had gotten too ripe for anything except banana bread.

“Hello, Hannah.” Ava Schultz came out from the back, pushing aside the curtain that concealed her living quarters from her customers’ view. A small woman prone to quick movements and rapid speech, she reminded Hannah of a little brown wren, flitting from one part of the store to another and seldom lighting in one place for long. Ava had fashionably cut, perfectly coiffed, dark brown hair without a touch of gray. Delores and her friends were certain that, she wore a wig, since Bertie Straub, the owner of the Cut ’n Curl, insisted that Ava had never come in, not even once, to have her hair cut, styled, or colored.

“Hi, Ava.” Hannah walked over to the main attraction, a shiny metal case filled with every available Popsicle flavor. “Anything new since I grew up?”

Ava gave a little laugh and joined her at the case. “See the three boxes in the middle?” she asked, pointing to them. “Those are Rainbows, Scribblers, and Great Whites.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Of course not. We didn’t have them when you were a kid. All we carried then were the double pops in a variety of flavors.”

“Rhubarb,” Hannah said with a grin. “That was my favorite.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open. “They never made rhubarb!” she exclaimed. “You’re pulling my leg, Hannah.”

“You’re right. I should have known I couldn’t put one over on Winnetka County’s leading Popsicle authority.”

“I do like to keep up with it,” Ava admitted. “The kids enjoy hearing about the new products, and they’ve got so many nowadays.” She pointed to another box. “Look at those Lifesaver Super Pops. From the bottom up, they’re pineapple, orange, cherry, and raspberry. And over here are the Incredible Hulks. They’re part of the Firecracker Super Heroes series. The Hulk is strawberry-kiwi, grape, and green apple. They’ve even got Big Foot. It’s cherry and cotton candy swirled together and shaped like a foot with a gumball. Get it?”

“Big Foot. Cute. Popsicles have come a long way since nineteen-oh-five when Frank Epperson left his lemonade and stir stick out on the porch and it froze solid overnight.”

“You remembered!” Ava gave her the same smile a teacher might bestow on a favorite student.