Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1)

Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1) by Joanne Fluke



Chapter One




Hannah Swensen slipped into the old leather bomber jacket that she’d rescued from the Helping Hands thrift store and reached down to pick up the huge orange tomcat that was rubbing against her ankles. “Okay, Moishe. You can have one refill, but that’s it until tonight.”

As she carried Moishe into the kitchen and set him down by his food bowl, Hannah remembered the day he’d set up camp outside her condo door. He’d looked positively disreputable, covered with matted fur and grime, and she’d immediately taken him in. Who else would adopt a twenty-five-pound, half-blind cat with a torn ear? Hannah had named him Moishe, and though he certainly wouldn’t have won any prizes at the Lake Eden Cat Fanciers’ Club, there had been an instant bond between them. They were both battle-worn—Hannah from weekly confrontations with her mother, and Moishe from his hard life on the streets.

Moishe rumbled in contentment as Hannah filled his bowl. He seemed properly grateful that he no longer had to scrounge for food and shelter and he showed his appreciation in countless ways. Just this morning, Hannah had found the hindquarters of a mouse in the center of the kitchen table, right next to the drooping African violet that she kept forgetting to water. While most of her female contemporaries would have screamed for their husbands to remove the disgusting sight, Hannah had picked up the carcass by the tail and praised Moishe lavishly for keeping her condo rodent-free.

“See you tonight, Moishe.” Hannah gave him an affectionate pat and snatched up her car keys. She was just pulling on her leather gloves, preparing to leave, when the phone rang.

Hannah glanced at the apple-shaped wall clock, which she’d found at a garage sale. It was only six A.M. Her mother wouldn’t call this early, would she?

Moishe looked up from his bowl with an expression that Hannah interpreted as sympathy. He didn’t like Delores Swensen and he had done nothing to hide his feelings when she’d dropped in for surprise visits at her daughter’s condo. After suffering through several pairs of shredded pantyhose, Delores had decided that she would limit her socializing to their Tuesday-night mother-daughter dinners.

Hannah picked up the phone, cutting off the answering machine in midmessage, and sighed as she heard her mother’s voice. “Hello, Mother. I’m ready to walk out the door, so we’ll have to keep this short. I’m already late for work.”

Moishe raised his tail and shook it, pointing his posterior at the phone. Hannah stifled a giggle at his antics and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “No, Mother, I didn’t give Norman my phone number. If he wants to contact me, he’ll have to look it up.”

Hannah frowned as her mother went into her familiar litany on the proper way to attract a man. Their dinner last night had been a disaster. When she’d arrived at her mother’s house, Hannah had encountered two additional guests: her mother’s newly widowed neighbor, Mrs. Carrie Rhodes, and her son, Norman. Hannah had been obligated to make polite conversation with Norman over sickeningly sweet Hawaiian pot roast and a chocolate-covered nut cake from the Red Owl Grocery as their respective mothers beamed happily and remarked on what a charming couple they made.

“Look, Mother, I really have to…” Hannah stopped and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Once Delores got started on a subject, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise. Her mother believed that a woman approaching thirty ought to be married, and even though Hannah had argued that she liked her life the way it was, it hadn’t prevented Delores from introducing her to every single, widowed, or divorced man who’d set foot in Lake Eden.

“Yes, Mother. Norman seems very nice, but…” Hannah winced as her mother continued to wax eloquent over Norman’s good qualities. What on earth had convinced Delores that her eldest daughter would be interested in a balding dentist, several years her senior, whose favorite topic of conversation was gum disease? “Excuse me, Mother, but I’m running late and…”

Moishe seemed to sense that his mistress was frustrated because he reached out with one orange paw and flipped over his food bowl. Hannah stared at him in surprise for a moment, and then she began to grin.

“Gotta run, Mother. Moishe just knocked over his food bowl and I’ve got Meow Mix all over the floor.” Hannah cut off her mother’s comments about Norman’s earning capabilities in midbreath and hung up the phone. Then she swept up the cat food, dumped it in the trash, and poured in fresh food for Moishe. She added a couple of kitty treats, Moishe’s reward for being so clever, and left him munching contentedly as she rushed out the door.

Hannah hurried down the steps to the underground garage, unlocked the door to her truck, and climbed in behind the wheel. When she’d opened her business, she’d bought a used Chevy Suburban from Cyril Murphy’s car lot. She’d painted it candy-apple red, a color that was sure to attract notice wherever it was parked, and arranged for the name of her business—The Cookie Jar—to be painted in gold letters on the front doors. She’d even ordered a vanity license plate that read: “COOKIES.”

As Hannah drove up the ramp that led to ground level, she met her next-door neighbor coming home. Phil Plotnik worked nights at DelRay Manufacturing, and Hannah rolled down the window to pass on the warning that their water would be shut off between ten and noon. Then she used her gate card to exit the complex and turned North onto Old Lake Road.