Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1)(74)

“It’s always terrible when someone loses his life.” Hannah parroted another polite phrase, the same one she’d used countless times this morning.

“They’ll catch him soon, won’t they? I swear I haven’t slept a wink since I heard about Ron. To think that there’s a killer out there among us!”

“I’m sure they will, Bertie. Bill’s on the case and he’s a very good detective.”

Hannah was saved further questioning by the arrival of Lisa, bearing more cookies on a tray. Lisa took one look at her employer’s frustrated expression and winked. “Your mother’s on the phone, Hannah, and she says it’s urgent. Why don’t you catch the phone in back? It’s quieter there. And take some coffee with you.”

“I’ve got to run, Bertie.” Hannah shot Lisa a thankful look, filled her mug with coffee, and headed off through the swinging door. She’d answered so many questions, her head was spinning, and it was only eleven in the morning.

She was about to sit down on a stool at the work island when the phone rang. Hannah grabbed it up before she could think better of it, and she heard her mother’s excited voice.

“Hannah? Are you there?”

“Yes, Mother.” Hannah took a slug of her coffee. “You must be psychic.”

“What, dear?”

“Never mind. What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen the pictures Carrie took at the Woodleys’ party yet?”

“Not yet.” Hannah glanced up at the clock. “Norman said he’d bring them over at noon.”

“Well, you’re in for a pleasant surprise. There’s one of you that’s very nice. You don’t look like yourself at all. Norman promised to make me an eight by ten to put in a frame.”

Hannah had all she could do not to laugh. She looked nice? Not like herself at all? Leave it to a girl’s mother to destroy her confidence.

“I’ve got to rush, dear. I’m just on my way out, but I wanted to call you first.”

“Thanks, Mother. I’ll talk to you later.” Hannah groaned as she hung up the phone. Maybe she should accept Lisa’s advice and take the rest of the day off. She’d already heard all there was to hear from her customers. She’d stick around to see that “nice” picture of her and then she’d go home and concentrate on the important things. If she really worked hard, she might be able to solve Bill’s murder case before Mike Kingston came on board.



“What do you think, Hannah?” Norman watched her as she paged through the prints he’d brought. “That one on top is your mother’s favorite.”

Hannah sighed, staring down at the print. Her eyes were half-closed, her smile was crooked, and her hair stuck up over her left ear. “It’s not exactly the best picture of me I’ve ever seen.”

“I know,” Norman sympathized. “There’s a much better one of you, but my mother managed to cut off your left arm.”

“Let me see.” Andrea reached for the print. She’d come in, about five minutes ago, with Tracey.

Hannah watched while Andrea studied the print. She could tell, by the little line of concentration between her sister’s eyes, that Andrea was trying to think of something nice to say. It must have been a struggle because it took Andrea at least thirty seconds to react. “You look a little thinner than you usually do. And your dress looks beautiful.”

“I think Aunt Hannah looks pretty.” Tracey smiled up at Hannah. “Maybe not as pretty as right now, but still pretty.”

“Diplomatic Corps.” Hannah winked at Andrea. “Tracey shows real promise.”

Andrea laughed and held out her hand. “Let’s see the rest.”

Hannah glanced down at the next picture. It was one of Andrea and Bill, and they both looked fabulous in their formal clothing. Andrea was amazingly photogenic, while pictures of Hannah always reminded her of the “before” photos in makeup ads.

They went through the prints one by one, Hannah handing them to Andrea after she’d seen them. Thankfully, her customers were settled with their coffee and their cookies and no one rushed up to the counter to interrupt them. Hannah came to the one that Norman had mentioned and she did look better. She was sitting on the couch with Norman standing behind her, and it was just a pity that her left arm was out of the frame. Norman’s mother had managed to center the picture so badly that almost half of the photo was taken up by the end table next to the couch.

Hannah was about to hand it to Andrea when she noticed a stack of books and papers on the table. There was a white folder on top of the stack and it had red lettering. She held it closer, squinted a little, and read the words: “Compacts Unlimited.” One of the Woodleys had rented the kind of car that Mr. Harris had seen pulling out of the Cozy Cow driveway on the morning of the murders!

“What’s the matter, Hannah?” Andrea caught the shocked expression that must have flitted across her face.

“Nothing, but I really like this one.” Hannah turned to Norman and asked, “Can I keep it?”

“Sure. But why do you want that one?”

Hannah thought fast. She couldn’t go wrong appealing to Norman’s vanity. “It’s a very good picture of you.”

“It is?” Norman leaned over to examine the print. “I don’t think so.”