Cinnamon Roll Murder (Hannah Swensen, #15)(45)

“Moishe?” Hannah called out, but there was no answering meow. “Where are you?”

“Hiding,” Michelle said, coming into the living room from the kitchen where she’d been looking for Moishe.

“Hiding? Why?”

“You may not want to know. Let’s just say that you need a new flour canister and new flour to go in it.”

Hannah turned, intending to go into the kitchen to see for herself, but Michelle stopped her.

“Here,” Michelle said, holding out her cell phone. “A picture is worth a thousand words. You’ve had a rough day already, and I thought I’d better prepare you before you saw the actual disaster.”

Hannah stared at the small screen on Michelle’s phone and groaned loudly. It was a disaster, even in miniature, and Hannah groaned again. It was clear that a game of chase had included the kitchen as a venue. Her plastic flour canister was on the floor on its side. The top had popped off and flour was spread all over the floor. To add to the mess, one of the cats had tipped over the water dish, and there was a puddle of flour mixed with water in front of the sink. Moishe’s self-feeder was also on its side, and red and brown kitty crunchies had spilled out all over the mess on the floor.

“At least it’s colorful,” Michelle commented, taking her phone out of Hannah’s hands and turning it off.

“That’s true, but I really didn’t need floor art. Let’s go clean it up before it turns into a permanent sculpture.”





Thirty minutes later, Hannah’s kitchen floor was clean. With both of them working, it hadn’t been the impossible task it had appeared to be at first glance. The cats had emerged from hiding and Hannah thought Moishe looked guilty. That made her feel bad. He’d only been playing, after all, and she’d cuddled him and told him that she wasn’t that mad at him. She’d filled the self-feeder with fresh kitty crunchies and the water bowl with water. Everything was back to normal, except for the cracked canister and the lack of flour.

Hannah had picked up the pieces of the cracked flour canister and dumped them in the garbage. When she got a new one, it would be the unbreakable kind with a lid that screwed on tightly. She knew Moishe was having a good time with Cuddles here, but if they kept on going the way they were, the toll on her breakables could become simply astounding.

“Do you think Cuddles is a bad influence on Moishe?” Michelle asked, tying the top of the garbage bag closed.

“No. It’s just that Norman’s house is all set up for a young, active cat. It’s big, there’s thick carpeting, and not much furniture to get in the way when Cuddles is dashing around playing chase. Moishe and Cuddles never break anything in Norman’s house, because they have enough room to run. My condo is a lot smaller, and it’s packed with things.”

“Well, it’s really too bad that you lost all your flour. Do you have any more?”

“I don’t think so, at least not here. The last time I ran out of flour, I just took the empty canister to work with me and filled it up at The Cookie Jar. It’s silly to buy flour for home, when I’ve got fifty-pound sacks there.”

“Too bad you don’t have any here. I was going to bake cookies for Mike.”

“For Mike? Why were you going to do that?”

“Because he should be knocking on your door in about an hour.”

Hannah stared at her sister in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me Mike called?”

“Because he didn’t call.”

“Then why do you think he’s coming over?”

“Because there’s been a murder, and Mike always drops in at your place to see what we’ve found out.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “You’re right,” she said. “Now I wish I hadn’t thrown away that flour in the bottom of the cracked canister. We can’t bake cookies without flour. And we don’t have any flour, unless ...”

Hannah stopped speaking, and Michelle waited for her to continue. “Unless what?” she finally prompted.

“Check my freezer. There may be some loose flour in a double freezer bag. I think I brought home too much when I was doing my Christmas baking. I seem to remember that rather than taking it back to The Cookie Jar, I froze the leftover flour.”

“Makes sense,” Michelle said, opening Hannah’s freezer. “That’s what I do at our house to keep the weevil eggs from hatching. It’s really gross if you think about it.”

“Not necessarily. You’re getting extra protein.”

“Eeuw!” Michelle made a face.

“If it really bothers you, sift your bag of flour into a bowl before you put it into your canister.”

“And that’ll get rid of the weevil eggs?”

“Some of them.”

“Why would I go to all that trouble to get only some of the weevil eggs out?”

“Because you’re compulsive and it might make you feel better.”

“I’m not that compulsive!” Michelle declared, starting to look for the frozen flour, removing items from Hannah’s freezer and then putting them back again. “Here it is,” she said, holding the bag up triumphantly. “It was in the last place I looked.”

“It always is. That’s an unwritten law. How much flour is there?”