Cream Puff Murder (Hannah Swensen, #11)(73)

“What’s the matter?” Norman asked her.

“It’s that moose head hanging over our table. I swear it moved.”

The other three looked up at the moose head. It was huge, with a magnificent rack, and Hannah guessed the animal’s weight when it was alive would have been close to a half-ton.

“I saw it move,” Michelle said, shrinking back slightly. “There! It did it again!”

Norman glanced up at the moose head and down at the table. “I think it’s the candle,” he said. “Whenever it flickers, it makes the moose head appear to move.”

“Let’s test out your theory,” Hannah suggested, pulling the candle toward her and blowing it out. “There. Now let’s see if the moose head moves.”

They watched the wall for at least a minute, but absolutely nothing happened. The moose head remained stationary.

“You’re right,” Hannah told him. “Do you want to light the candle again?”

“I’ll do it.” The voice came from above, and they looked up to see a waitress standing by the table. She picked up the candle, drew the kind of lighter used to ignite a barbecue from her apron pocket, and lit the candle. “Was the moose head moving for you?”

“Yes,” Andrea said. “We thought maybe it was animated or something.”

“Oh, it’s animated, all right. Some people say it dances to the music if you have enough drinks.” The waitress gave a little laugh. “What’ll it be, folks?”

The waitress turned to Norman first, and Hannah thought that perhaps it was because she assumed her tip would come from him. “How about you?”

“I’ll have a ginger ale. I’m the designated driver.” Norman gave his order. “What would you like, Hannah?”

Hannah thought about it for a split second. If she had a glass of wine, she’d probably fall asleep at the table. There was another reason not to imbibe, and that had to do with her diet. A glass of dry white wine had about eighty calories. “I’ll have a diet drink. Coke, ginger ale, anything is fine.”

“The same for me,” Andrea said.

“I’ll have an ice-cream drink,” Michelle said, glancing down at the list of fancy drinks that had been propped up next to the candle. “You make your Brandy Alexanders with chocolate ice cream, don’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll have one of those, but leave out the brandy, please.”

“Okay, but it’s going to taste like a chocolate shake.”

“I know,” Michelle said with a smile.

While they were waiting for their drinks to arrive, Hannah turned to watch the stage. A woman a few years past her prime in an outfit that should have been worn by a teenager was singing a country western ballad about losing her job, and her boyfriend, and her car.

“She ought to just sing it backward,” Andrea said.

Norman looked puzzled. “Why should she do that?”

“Because then she’d get them all back.”

There were predictable groans around the table, and Andrea gave a dainty little shrug. “Don’t blame me. It’s Bill’s joke. He says it’s going around at the sheriff’s station.”

Hannah listened to the singer for a few moments and then she asked, “Does anybody know what karaoke means?”

“No clue,” Michelle said, and Andrea shook her head to show she didn’t know, either.

“I know it’s Japanese,” Norman answered her, “but that’s all I know.”

“It’s a compound word made from two Japanese words. Kara means empty, and oke is orchestra. When you put them together they mean empty orchestra.”

“That makes sense,” Norman said. “They usually remove the vocals from the sound track electronically, and that leaves only the orchestra.”

The singer tried for a high note and missed abysmally. Hannah gave a little groan and decided to concentrate on something else, anything else except the song and the singer. “Does anybody see the mothers?” she asked, scanning the dimly lighted room.

It took a few moments with all of them looking, and then Michelle leaned across the table. “There’s a blonde and a brunette over there in the far corner under the moose head by the Cold Spring beer sign.”

“That could be Mother and Carrie. I can’t really tell,” Andrea offered her opinion.

“I don’t think it is,” Norman said. “Mother never wears her hair like that.”

The country western song ended to loud applause. Hannah wasn’t sure if it was because the audience liked it, or whether they were relieved it was over.

“Maybe they left already,” Michelle suggested, taking a sip of the milkshake their waitress had delivered while they were scanning the room. “If they got what they needed right away, they could be home in Lake Eden right now.”

“I…don’t…think…so.” Hannah forced out the words from a throat that had gone suddenly dry. She swallowed with difficulty and followed it with, “Tell me that’s not Mother climbing the steps to the stage.”

Norman turned to look. “It’s Delores,” he confirmed, “and my mother is right behind her.”

“Are they going to sing?” Andrea sounded horrified.