Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen #4)(33)

Hannah hung up and opened the bedroom window to catch any night breezes that might blow her way. Then she doused the light to stop the moths from trying to commit suicide against her screen and crawled under the sheet she used as a quilt in the summer. There was a thump, resembling a mini-earthquake, and a furry shape crept up in the near darkness. Hannah grabbed her pillow protectively and glared in his direction. "This pillow is mine. I won't let you have it until my new one comes."

There was a rustle and then another thump as Moishe settled down on the other pillow, the foam one she'd designated for his use. Silence filled her bedroom for several moments and then Hannah heard a rumbling purr. She reached out and stroked Moishe's soft fur three times and pulled her hand back. Experience had taught her that four strokes would cause him to move to the bottom of her bed. Hannah checked to make sure her alarm clock was set correctly and then she seized her pillow in a death grip and closed her eyes, hoping that her arms wouldn't loosen as she slept so that Moishe could steal it again.

Chapter Ten

Hannah awoke to an inky black bedroom and the infernal electronic beeping of her alarm clock. It took her a minute to sit up and shut it off, but when she did, she realized that her head had been lying on the mattress. She flicked on the light and turned to eye her goose-down pillow. Moishe had commandeered it once again.

Even though she wanted to settle back down for another few minutes of rest, Hannah tossed back the sheet, placed her feet firmly on the floor, and got out of bed. It was a psychological trick she'd learned in college and it worked for those mornings when she was tired and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Once she'd thrown back the covers and was standing by the side of the bed, the task of straightening the bedding to climb back in seemed like more work than starting the day.

Hannah stuffed her feet into her slippers and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Once she got there, she switched on the light and headed straight for the coffeepot. There was coffee in the carafe and the little red light was glowing. She sent up a short, thankful prayer for modern conveniences and poured her first cup of the day.

The coffee was hot, practically scalding, but Hannah sipped

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gratefully. Even the kink in her neck seemed to straighten out somewhat with the invigorating infusion of Swedish Plasma. She drank one cup standing, leaning one hip against the counter, and then she poured a second. Her eyes were no longer at half-mast and her brain was beginning to function again.

There was a plaintive yowl from the direction of Moishe's food bowl and Hannah turned to frown at him. The new pillow couldn't come soon enough to suit her! Even though her neck was still stiff as a result of Moishe's nighttime theft, her heart wasn't hard enough to resist the appeal in his round yellow eyes.

Once Hannah had given Moishe fresh water and filled his bowl with kitty crunchies, she carried her second cup of coffee to the table and opened her steno pad. It was time to organize her day, now while she was still only three-quarters awake. If she waited until she was fully alert, the task would seem daunting.

Hannah glanced at the calendar that hung on the kitchen wall, an exact duplicate of the one in the kitchen at her cookie shop. She had a two o'clock cookie-catering job for the Lake Eden Quilt Society at Trudi's Fabrics, and a three o'clock at the community center for the Lake Eden Friends of the Library. She jotted those down, then turned to other matters. She had to mail off the rent check for The Cookie Jar, change the batteries on the flashlights she carried in her truck, and buy a bag of lettuce and some sliced low-fat turkey breast for her dinner salad. These were small things, easily accomplished, but they all took time. And somewhere between her trip to the grocery store, her baking, and her catering, she had to find time to investigate Rhonda's murder.

"Shower time," Hannah said, glancing at Moishe, who was more concerned with crunching down his breakfast than anything she might have to say. His bowl was still half full, but Moishe was a pessimist. A half-full bowl was half empty to him, and he'd panic if any part of Garfield's picture on the

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bottom came into view. Hannah added another scoop for insurance before she headed off to the shower.

In exactly fifteen minutes, Hannah emerged from her bedroom, dressed and ready for her day. She owned three short-sleeved cotton pantsuits that she wore for summer catering jobs and she'd chosen the green one this morning. As she'd pulled on the pants, she'd noticed that they'd felt a bit looser. It was difficult to judge with elastic waists and perhaps it was only wishful thinking on her part, but she really thought her diet was working.

Since she still had a few minutes before she had to leave, Hannah retrieved the steno pad she was using for Rhonda's case notes and sat back down at the kitchen table. She'd written down what Norman had told her, that Marjorie Hanks had been the one to clean the Voelker place. She'd even thought about calling Luanne's mother when she'd gotten home last night, but she'd decided that it was too late. Now it was too early. Even if Marjorie rose before sunrise, she wouldn't appreciate getting a phone call first thing in the morning.

Hannah flipped to the next page. She'd copied the list of pie buyers that Lisa had given her and it was time to go over them again. Perhaps she'd see a connection now that it was morning and she was more alert.

There were ten names. Hannah checked them off one by one. Most were repeat customers, mothers who always came in for pie on Friday to serve it to their families that night. There was no way any of them had given their dinner pie to Rhonda. The two men on the list were easy to eliminate. One lived out at the retirement home and shared Hannah's pie with his friends. The other was a Jordan High student who took Hannah's pies to his girlfriend's mother when he went to her house for Friday night dinners.