Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(65)

"Lovely," Hannah sighed, stirring everything around until it congealed into an unappetizing mass. Some seasoning might have helped, but she checked and found out that Lisa had been right; Moishe couldn't have any. Hannah scraped it into Moishe's food bowl and set it on the floor in front of him, faking a big smile. "Bon appetit."

Moishe sniffed at his food bowl and for one long moment, Hannah was afraid that he was going to refuse her home-cooked meal. But then he purred, bent down, and took the first bite.

"Do you like it?" Hannah asked, feeling like a Culinary Institute of America student begging for praise from a C.I.A. chef.

Moishe didn't even bother to glance up. He just dove right in for another bite, and then another. The cat who had only sniffed at his food for the past few days was now all teeth and appetite.

"Thank goodness for that!" Hannah murmured, breathing a big sigh of relief. At last she'd found something that Moishe would eat, something that was actually good for him. Leaving her feline roommate to his gastronomic pleasures, Hannah rinsed the dishes, stuck them in the dishwasher, opened all the windows to air out the place, and plugged in the air freshener Delores gave her on her last visit to the condo. Then she took one look at the clock and raced back to her bedroom to change her clothes for her dinner date with Mike.



"Nobody makes onion rings they way they do here," Mike declared, reaching for another fat, crispy golden ring from the basket at the center of the table.

"True," Hannah agreed, popping the last of hers into her mouth. "Do you want to split another order?"

"Why not? I'm taking the rest of the night off. Bill and I worked until midnight last night and eleven the night before. I figure we need a little time away from the investigation to clear our minds."

Hannah waited until Mike had called the waitress over and placed another order for onion rings. Then she asked the question she'd been waiting to ask ever since he'd mentioned the case. "Do you have any suspects?"

"Yes, and no."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we've got suspects, but I don't think any of them did it. Neither does Bill and he's got good instincts for things like that."

From past experience, Hannah knew that Mike wouldn't give her any details unless she asked. Even then, he might not tell her anything important. "Which suspects do you have?"

"Uh-uh," Mike said, grinning at her. "You first."

Hannah did her best to look totally innocent. "Me? What makes you think I have any suspects? You told me I should drop my investigation, remember?"

"That's right. Let me rephrase that question. Which suspects did you have before you dropped your investigation?"

Hannah sighed. She wasn't going to get anything out of Mike until she primed the pump. And priming the pump meant she had to give him something first. "Nettie Grant."

"What?"

"You asked me what suspects I had. I had Nettie Grant, but I cleared her."

"You did?"

From the tone of Mike's voice, Hannah could tell he'd switched on the invisible little tape recorder in his mind that all good cops seemed to possess. Although it seemed impossible, he would remember every word she uttered.

"Give," Mike said, leaning forward to gaze at her intensely. "You owe me."

"For what?"

"For dinner. Why did you suspect Nettie Grant?"

Hannah sighed. She could give him this much, at least. "Because she was going to divorce Sheriff Grant and he would have fought her about the settlement. Killing him made her his widow and entitled to everything.

"Your reasoning's right," Mike said, "but how did you find out about the divorce?"

"Nettie told me. But she also told me she didn't kill her husband and I believed her."

Mike frowned slightly. "I don't think she killed him either, but since she doesn't have an alibi…"

"She does have an alibi," Hannah interrupted him, grinning widely. "Lisa checked it out for me."

"She did? What is it?"

"I'll tell you right after you tell me something I don't know."

Mike narrowed his eyes. Hannah imagined how fierce he'd look to a suspect who'd just been hauled in for interrogation. Thankfully, the fierce glower didn't work that well on her. She met it with her most stubborn look and they locked eyes for long moments, each perfectly silent and each perfectly determined to come out on top. The tension built higher and higher until Hannah just couldn't stand it anymore.

"Someone next door saw Nettie in her sewing room," Hannah told him. And at the very same instant Mike said, "Doc Knight found traces of someone else's blood on the lid of the dumpster."

"The killer must have scratched himself when he put Sheriff Grant inside," Hannah said. At the same time, Mike protested, "But I interviewed the neighbors and none of them were home."

Mike and Hannah stared at each other for a moment and then they both burst out laughing.

"You first," Hannah said.

"No, you first," Mike countered.

Hannah sighed. They were getting nowhere in a hurry. She desperately wanted to know about the blood on the dumpster and the quickest way to find out about it was to tell Mike about Nettie's alibi. "Richie Maschler told his parents he was going out that night, but he didn't. He invited his girlfriend over to watch a movie instead."