Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen #4)(18)

"Not without me, you're not." Norman had gone down three steps when he stopped abruptly. "Here she comes, now. Back up to give her room."

Hannah backed up, but she gazed over Norman's shoulder to watch her mother climb the stairs. Delores didn't appear to be hurt, but her mouth was set in a tight line. Something had happened in the basement. And judging by the way her

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mother was gripping the handrail, that something wasn't good.

"Water," Delores croaked as she reached the top of the stairs, and Norman rushed to get her a glass. She took one sip, handed the glass back to him, and shivered visibly.

"You look like you just saw a ghost," Hannah commented and immediately wished she hadn't when her mother's face turned even paler.

Delores gave a small smile, so small that it could only be classified as a grimace. "Not a ghost. I found... a body!"

Chapter Six

Delores sighed and leaned back against the headrest in the passenger seat of Hannah's truck. "You were right, Hannah. The chocolate helped."

"Chocolate always helps." Hannah held out the bag of leftover Chocolate-Covered Cherry Cookies. When she'd started her business, she'd vowed never to sell day-old cookies. She always had some in her truck and she gave them away as samples, telling everyone that if they thought her leftover cookies were good, they should come in and taste them fresh out of the oven. People did, and they were hooked. Business at The Cookie Jar was thriving. "Have another cookie, Mother. I guarantee you'll feel even better."

Norman peered closely at Delores. "Your color's coming back and you're beginning to look like yourself again. When you feel up to it, tell me exactly what you saw. I need to go down to the basement to check it out."

"I'm not going with you!"

"Nobody expects you to," Hannah assured her. "I'll go with Norman if you'll tell us exactly where to look."

"In the furnace room, just like I said. It's way in the back. I was standing by a shelf filled with jars when I saw the pile of dirt."

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"Okay," Hannah said, reaching in through the open window to pat her mother's arm. "Do you want to come inside with us and sit in the kitchen while we look?"

"No! I'm not setting foot inside that house again, not with that dead body in there. I'll stay right here, thank you very much."

"That's fine, Mother. Just honk the horn if you need us. And if it makes you feel better, roll up the windows and lock all the doors."

Norman led the way toward the house and Hannah followed. They went down the hallway to the kitchen and approached the basement door.

"You don't have to go, Hannah." Norman turned to look at her. "I can take care of it."

"And let you have all the fun?" Hannah gave him a grin. "I want to be there when we discover it's a pile of rags, or a bag of old clothes."

"You don't think your mother saw a body?"

"I doubt it. Andrea said looky-lous have been traipsing through this house for the past three months. If there was anything in the basement, one of them would have found it."

"Maybe they didn't go down there. Your mother was very descriptive, Hannah. She said the body was partially buried in a grave."

"A grave is nothing but a hole and someone could have dug up the floor to fix the plumbing. Mother said the furnace room light was burned out and she admitted that she couldn't see very well. I know her better than you do, Norman. I'm sure she saw something, but she's a drama queen. I'll never forget the time she swore she saw a black bear going through our trash can and it was only our neighbor's French poodle."

"That's good to know," Norman said, looking relieved. "But we still have to look. Did you bring those flashlights?"

"Of course I did." Hannah handed him a flashlight and kept one for herself.

Norman started down the steps first and Hannah let him. It was clear he was exercising his manly prerogative, and

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that was fine with her. She really didn't think her mother had found a body, but it would be negligent of them not to check.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs and started to walk across the basement floor, Hannah looked around her curiously. The basement ran the full length of the house. It looked cavernous in the light from the single string of bulbs that hung from the rafters and the shadows were deep and slightly menacing.

"It's creepy down here," Hannah said, her voice much louder than she'd intended.

"It's also a mess," Norman added, stepping over a pile of old newspapers and detouring around a stack of decaying boxes. "Rhonda's cleaning woman didn't clean down here."

As they picked their way past piles of greasy rags, old paint cans, and stacks of old magazines tied up with twine, Hannah let her flashlight play over the walls. One wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling shelves that held an array of home-canned vegetables and fruit. The jars were laden with years of dust, but she could still see the brightly colored contents and she was impressed. "Look at all those preserves. Mrs. Voelker must have spent a lot of hours canning."

"Rhonda said she used to win blue ribbons for her jams and jellies at the county fairs."