Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen #4)(61)

"It lists some of it. If a robber conies in and empties the cash drawer, there's no record of the serial numbers. But if he takes money from the safe, there is. And it's not just from bank robberies. It's also a list of marked money."

"Like the cops give out when they're trying to track down a ring of scam artists?"

"That's right. Hold on a second and I'll get the printout."

Hannah poured herself more coffee while Doug was gone. It was so good, she even considered installing a gourmet coffee bar in The Cookie Jar, but she didn't think that would go over well in Lake Eden. New fads took years to catch on and the residents in Lake Eden would balk at paying three or four dollars of their hard-earned cash for a cup of designer coffee.

"I've got it," Doug said, coming in the door with a large three-ring notebook. "Read off that serial number and I'll see if it'sin here."

Hannah gave him the serial number and Doug flipped the pages to the proper section. He ran his fingers down a long line of numbers and then he looked up with an excited expression. "I knew it was a long shot, but it's in here. Your ten-dollar bill was part of the cash that was stolen from the Redwing City Bank in June of nineteen seventy-four."

"Stolen money?"

"That's right. Keep your eye out for more and tell Lisa to do the same. I'll copy this page and give it to Sheriff Grant. He can have his deputies distribute it to every merchant in

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town, and we might be able to catch ourselves a bank robber. Think back, Hannah. Do you have any idea who gave you this bill?"

Hannah assumed the most innocent expression she could muster as she shook her head. She remembered what Doug had said about federal agents breathing down her neck, and she wasn't about to involve her baby sister in a bank robbery investigation until she'd had the chance to talk to her first.





Chapter Nineteen

Of course Delores had called to invite her to the family party. Once Hannah had fed Moishe, she changed into a pair of old jeans that had become threadbare through frequent washings and were perfect for summer. The waist felt a bit loose and that made her wonder just how many pounds she'd lost.

Hannah glanced in the mirror as she slipped into a cotton pullover sweater with short sleeves. It was in one of her favorite colors, a muted teal that looked good with her red hair. She'd worn it for good until she'd dripped mustard on the front at the volunteer fire department's picnic last year. The mustard had come out, but the stain remover she'd used had lightened the material. Rather than relegate the sweater to the ragbag, she'd dabbed the stain remover on in a random pattern all over the material, washed it again, and now she had several dozen dime-sized circles of light teal dancing down the front and back of her new "designer" sweater.

It didn't look half bad, Hannah thought, glancing in the mirror. She skinned her hair back into a ponytail, a style she knew was probably too young for her, but she planned to drive with her windows open and she could ditch the elastic band once she got to the lake. Then she went back to the

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kitchen to refill Moishe's bowl for the final time, slung her purse over her shoulder, and hurried down to her truck to drive to Eden Lake.

Twenty minutes later, Hannah found a parking place at the side of the dirt road that ran past the lake cottage that had been in the Swensen family for the past thirty years. It had belonged to her grandparents, who had rented it out every summer for the extra income. When her father had inherited it, he'd done the same. As a child, Hannah had spent two weekends at the cottage every year. One had been at the beginning of May when it was still too cold to set foot in the lake. They'd spent that weekend getting the cabin spruced up and ready for the summer rental season. Hannah's second, summer weekend had been at the tail end of August right after dog days, when the surface of Eden Lake had been covered with algae so thick, Hannah hadn't been allowed to swim. That time had been spent winterizing the cottage, shutting off the water and bleeding the pipes, covering the screens with heavy plastic to protect them from the icy winter winds, and packing up the dishes and silverware to store for the next summer.

Hannah sighed as she thought back to her childhood. She'd always dreamed of staying at the cottage during the height of the tourist season, when the tiny grocery store was stocked with a dozen flavors of Popsicles, and there would be other kids from fascinating places like Iowa and Wisconsin to swim with. Now she was here, at the height of the season, and she didn't even own a swimsuit. And she couldn't have any Popsicles because she was on a diet. Sometimes life just wasn't fair.

Hannah got out of her truck and walked past Andrea's Volvo. Her sister and niece were here early. There was Norman's car, too. And Carrie's. Delores must have invited the whole extended family. That was good. With more people here, it would be easier for her to pull Michelle off in a corner and ask her about the ten-dollar bill.

As she approached the screen door of the cottage, Hannah

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sniffed the air. She expected to catch a whiff of Hawaiian Pot Roast, or E-Z Lasagna, her mother's favorite company dishes. Hannah wasn't particularly fond of either one, but the fact that she couldn't eat them made them sound delicious. All she could have was salad and Delores had promised she'd have plenty of that.