Chocolate Cream Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen #24)(78)

Chapter Twenty-two


When Hannah woke up in the morning, the sun was in the wrong place. For one brief moment she thought she’d slept all morning and it was late afternoon. But then she realized that the sun wasn’t the only thing out of place. The dresser wasn’t against the right wall next to the door. The closet wasn’t on her right, and the mirrors had been replaced with wooden doors. And the bed was king-size rather than queen-size. And that was when she finally realized that she was not at home in her own condo.

Reality swam in, doing a rapid Australian crawl, and even though she fought to stop its advance before it got to the bad part, the memories of the previous night rushed back. Ross on the bed, covered in blood and almost unrecognizable. Splatters of his lifeblood on the wall and the carpet that Andrea had chosen for their condo. She was in her mother and Doc’s penthouse, and the guest bedroom began to spin around her in dizzying circles.

You’re stronger than that. Get over it, her rational mind told her. And when she opened her eyes, the bedroom was stationary once again.

Oh, how she wanted to stay right where she was now, safe in her mother’s guest room, not thinking and not feeling! You can’t do that, her rational mind reminded her. You have work to do and only you can do it.

Hannah sat up and shoved her feet into her slippers. Her mission, her obligation, was clear. It was her duty to discover the identity of Ross’s killer, learn why he’d been murdered in the condo they’d shared for such a brief time, and make sure that the killer was punished for the awful crime that had been committed. She had to make sure that justice was done.

Even though her tired body clamored for more rest, Hannah rose to her feet. She turned to look at the pillow next to hers and felt grateful as she saw that Moishe was sleeping there. He was a comfort and he loved her unconditionally. If only Ross could have been that way!

Don’t think, just do, her rational mind told her, and Hannah shrugged into her chenille robe, the one her mother hated because it was so old and so worn. How had her robe gotten here? She pondered that question as she walked to the adjoining bathroom to take her morning shower.

Her question was answered when she came out of the shower. There was a note propped up on her dresser and it was in Michelle’s handwriting. Sleep in this morning, Hannah. You don’t have to go to work. Aunt Nancy, Lisa, and I have everything covered at The Cookie Jar.

Hannah’s lips curved up in a small smile. And then she noticed the open suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed. Clean clothes, but how had they gotten to her mother’s penthouse?

These were in the dryer, another note read. It was propped up on top of a pair of Hannah’s clean jeans and Hannah didn’t need a signature to know that this was more of her thoughtful youngest sister’s work. Michelle must have gone back to the condo last night to collect clean clothes for her. And since the master bedroom was probably taped off as a crime scene, Michelle had been resourceful enough to check the dryer in the laundry room and discover the clothes Hannah hadn’t taken out before they’d left for work.

Several minutes later, Hannah was dressed in clean clothes. She opened the bedroom door, stepped out into the carpeted hallway, and realized that there was a delicious smell in the air.

Pineapple, she thought, beginning to smile. And then she led the way to the kitchen with Moishe following at her heels. Michelle was baking something with pineapple.

When woman and cat entered the kitchen, they parted ways. Moishe’s feeder, the one Norman had given him that never ran out of dry kitty crunchies, sat against the far wall. Moishe made a beeline for the rug Michelle had placed under the feeder. He took a bite, crunched loudly, and moved to his water bowl to drink.

“Good morning, Hannah,” Michelle greeted her. “Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

Smart sister, Hannah thought as she slid into the cushioned booth her mother and Doc had installed in a corner of their kitchen, and accepted the mug of coffee that Michelle handed to her. I’m really glad Michelle didn’t ask how I was feeling. The word I might have chosen is not the right word to utter before one’s first sip of coffee.

“Thanks, Michelle,” Hannah said, taking a big sip of coffee and swallowing. “This should help. I don’t know why, but I’m a little groggy this morning.”

“I know why,” Michelle said, pouring a cup of coffee for herself and setting it down across from Hannah. “Doc said he gave you something to help you sleep last night.”

“He did?” Hannah thought back to the previous evening, but she didn’t remember taking any pills except a couple of aspirins for the headache she’d felt coming on.

“He put it in the paper cup with your aspirin,” Michelle explained. “He told us that it was a very light tranquilizer that would keep you sleeping without nightmares.”

Just then the stove timer sounded and Michelle grabbed oven mitts, opened the oven door, and took out two muffin tins. She hurried to the wire cooling racks sitting on the counter and set the pans on them.

“Remind me to get Mother new oven mitts,” she said to Hannah. “Hers are wearing out and they’re thin.”

Hannah began to smile. “That’s okay. Mother doesn’t bake anyway.”

“True,” Michelle agreed, coming over to sit in the booth.

“Are those pineapple cupcakes?” Hannah guessed.