Apple Turnover Murder Part 26

Spray cookie sheets with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. You can also use parchment paper if you prefer.

Roll dough b.a.l.l.s one inch in diameter with your hands. (We use a 2-teaspoon cookie scooper at The Cookie Jar.) Roll the cookie b.a.l.l.s in the bowl of white sugar and place them on the cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-size sheet.

Bake the Watermelon Cookies at 325 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes (mine took 11 minutes) or until they're just beginning to turn golden around the edges. Don't overbake.

Let the cookies cool on the cookie sheets for no more than a minute, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: Approximately 6 dozen pretty and unusual cookies that kids will adore, especially if you tell them that they're made with Kool-Aid.

Hannah's 2nd Note: Brandi's mother baked these cookies to send to school on birthdays. She used a number cookie cutter that matched Brandi's or her sister's age that year.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Hannah's sides hurt from laughing so hard. Mayor Bas...o...b..was riding a donkey named Harry. Hannah knew that because the donkey's name was stenciled on the donkey-sized sun hat he wore, complete with slits for his ears to poke up from the straw.

The mayor had hit a nice double to left field, but the left fielder, Gus York, couldn't seem to get his donkey traveling any faster than an ambling walk. Meanwhile, the mayor's donkey had stopped cold in his tracks between first and second base. Harry's head was down, his tail was swishing from side to side in a show of bad temper, and despite the mayor's encouraging shouts of "giddyup, boy" and "c'mon, Harry," he was living up to his stubborn stereotype.

Two members of the team in the field did not have to ride donkeys. The pitcher stood on his own two feet, and so did the catcher. The batter didn't sit on his donkey to hit, but he was required to mount in order to "run" the bases.

The teams had two donkey wranglers. One was Ken Purvis, who'd admitted to Hannah that he'd grown up in the Cities and knew next to nothing about farm animals, and the other was Doug Greerson. As the president of the Lake Eden First Mercantile Bank, Doug had dealt with some stubborn people, but he didn't have much experience with donkeys.

Hannah watched as Doug pulled on Harry's reins and Ken pushed from behind. It seemed to have no effect at all. She would have thought that Doctor Bob, the local vet, would have been the logical choice for a wrangler, but he was known as a prodigious. .h.i.tter and the mayor had wanted him in the lineup.

"Take a look at Petunia," Mich.e.l.le said, nudging Hannah. "I want to know what you think of her hat."

Hannah glanced at Petunia, the donkey that Joe Dietz was riding at third base. She was wearing a big, wide-brimmed hat of white straw with large orange and yellow flowers arranged around the crown. "That's the most..." Hannah was about to say ridiculous when she realized that Delores, who was sitting on the other side of her, was also wearing a white straw hat with orange and yellow flowers arranged around the brim. "That's the most beautiful hat of them all," she said instead, giving Mich.e.l.le a look that promised retribution in one form or another.

It seemed to take forever, but Gus York finally reached the ball that the mayor had hit. He was about to hop off his donkey, Custer. Custer, who had taken his namesake seriously and truly looked as though this game were his last stand, decided to wake up and smell the roses. Literally. With Gus hanging on for dear life, Custer began to move faster than Hannah had thought a donkey could move, across the baseball diamond, past the stands, streaking across the parking lot, and coming to a skidding stop at the rose garden the school grounds team had planted outside Mrs. Baxter's cla.s.sroom.

After a hasty conference with Doctor Bob, the two donkey wranglers headed off to retrieve the absent team member. They made a stop at the concession stand and then hurried to rescue Gus. And in a shorter time than anyone had believed possible, Ken and Doug brought Gus and his donkey back to the field by walking in front of Custer and feeding him bits of apple turnover.

"Does anyone want anything from the concession stand?" Hannah asked.

"Nothing, thank you, dear," her mother responded.

"No thanks," Mich.e.l.le said.

"Okay then...I'll be back in a couple of minutes. I want to see how the apple turnovers are selling."

Hannah made her way down the steps of the bleachers and headed for the concession stand. She was almost there when someone called her name. She turned to see Andrea carrying Bethany, followed by Tracey who was in charge of the diaper bag and the booster seat.

"Hi, Aunt Hannah," Tracey said, giving her a big smile. "Everybody loved your Imperial Cereal. Karen and I divided it up so everybody around us had a taste."

"Did you tell them you made it?"

"Yes, but I don't think they believed me. Maybe I'll have to invite them over and do it in front of them next time."

"Good idea," Hannah said with a smile, and then she turned to Andrea. "Did you find out any more about Tachyon?"

"Not yet. Bill's in a conference and I didn't get a chance to talk to him. That's why I'm here with the kids. Everybody knows he's overseeing the murder investigation, but it wouldn't be good for the sheriff's whole family to miss such an important charity function."

"Mother's in the stands with Mich.e.l.le. They're in section three, four rows up. There's plenty of room if you want to join us. I'm just going to see how the turnovers are selling."

"Okay. We'll go up there and see you later." Andrea motioned for Tracey to follow her, and they headed off toward the bleachers. Hannah went in the opposite direction to the large concession stand.

"How's it going?" she asked Bonnie Surma, who was working behind the counter.

"Just fine. Your turnovers are a big hit."

"That's good. Are you running out?"

"We would have run out an hour ago, except Lisa brought us another ten dozen. Would you like one?"

"No thanks. I've pigged out enough already today. Just a black coffee for me."

"But I'd like an apple turnover," a voice behind her spoke and Hannah turned to see Sherri Connors.

"Hi, Sherri. You look like you're feeling better."

"Oh, I am! That medicine Doc Knight gave me settled my stomach and I haven't...well...you-know-what in forty-eight hours. The only thing is it made me so hungry I can't seem to stop eating." Sherri accepted the plate with her turnover and gave a little shrug. "I probably shouldn't, but I'd like a hotdog, too."

"One hotdog coming up," Bonnie said, handing over Hannah's coffee. She took a hotdog off the revolving spit that kept them hot and placed it inside a bun. "Ketchup or mustard?"

"Mustard. Four or five packets, please."

"How about pickles?"

"Yes, I just love pickles. And a..." Sherri hesitated, eyeing the array of bottles on the shelf behind the counter. "I'll have a root beer to drink."

"And this is my treat," Hannah said, handing several bills to Bonnie.

"Oh, but you really shouldn't..."

"Yes, I should," Hannah cut off Sherri's objection. "We're celebrating the fact that you're feeling good enough to eat."

Once Sherri had picked up her tray, Hannah followed her over to the picnic area under the trees. They chose a table and sat down.

"Mmmm," Sherri said, biting into the turnover. "This is so good! But it's dessert, so I'd better eat my hotdog first."

Hannah watched as Sherri made short work of the hotdog, opening the packets of mustard, making a yellow pool on her plate, and dipping in the hotdog as she ate it. She took a large swallow of root beer and smiled at Hannah. "It's so good to eat again. You have no idea. I was beginning to think I'd never be able to enjoy food again."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Hannah said, smiling back. And then she watched Sherri attack her apple turnover.

"Oh, this is heaven!" the young dancer exclaimed after her second bite. "Tender, and flaky, and sweet, and good. This is the best apple turnover I've ever had."

And then, as Hannah observed her, a thoughtful expression crossed her pretty face. "I wonder how it would be with...I know it sounds crazy, but...I'm going to try it and see!"

Sherri dipped the apple turnover in her pool of yellow mustard and took a bite. She chewed, smiled delightedly, and looked up at Hannah. "It's good! You really ought to try it sometime."

Hannah didn't say anything, because alarm bells were clanging in her mind. Doc Knight had said Sherri didn't have the flu or food poisoning. He'd remarked that it was a pity, but she'd be all right in a week or so. That information coupled with Sherri's current meal of dill pickle slices eaten with gusto, a whole hotdog devoured in four bites, an apple turnover dipped in yellow mustard and declared delicious, and a sick stomach that wasn't sick anymore led Hannah to one conclusion.

"Sherri," Hannah leaned close across the table. "Maybe this isn't exactly a polite question to ask, but I have to know. Are you pregnant?"

Sherri's face turned white and her hands began to tremble. "Please don't tell anyone," she begged, and Hannah saw her blink back tears. "I should be so happy, but now I just don't know what to do!"

"Please don't cry. I'll help you any way I can," Hannah promised, reaching out to pat Sherri's hand. "You have options, you know. There are places you can go, people who will help you. If you can't keep the baby, you can give it up to a reliable agency for adoption."

"No!" Sherri cried. "I'll never do that! Look what happened to Perry and me. I'll never let my baby grow up without a mother and a father."

"How about the baby's father? Do you love him?"

Sherri nodded, and when she spoke her voice was husky. "Oh, yes! And he said he loved me. He promised me we'd always be together."

"Can you marry him?"

Sherri shook her head and that action seemed to bring about a flood of tears. They rolled down her cheeks and fell on the table, making dark, painful-looking splotches on the wood.

"Help me understand," Hannah said, reaching out to touch Sherri's hand again. "You love the baby's father, but you can't marry him?"

Sherri made a soft, strangled sound in the back of her throat. "Yes," she gasped.

"He's already married?"

"No!" Sherri covered her eyes with her hands. "No, no, no!"

"He's not married, but you can't marry him."

"Yes! I thought I could, but I can't marry him...not now!"

And with that anguished cry, Sherri was up and fleeing, her dancer's legs churning across the parking lot and around the corner of the school building, leaving Hannah to sit there wondering what she could possibly do to help her young friend.

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Hannah sat there for a long time after Sherri had fled, attempting to decide the right thing to do. Since she didn't know the name of the baby's father, she had to forget about contacting him. She had to go to the person who cared most about Sherri's welfare, her twin brother, Perry. He'd be shocked when Hannah told him about Sherri's pregnancy, but he loved his sister and together they could work out some way to help her.

A quick survey of the bleachers confirmed that Perry was not at the Donkey Baseball fundraiser game. Hannah was just crossing the road to the parking lot to get her cookie truck and drive to the college apartment he shared with Sherri when she remembered his job schedule. Perry worked on the city maintenance and grounds crew every Friday afternoon. This was Friday afternoon and he'd be at work somewhere right here in Lake Eden.

Almost as if she'd willed it, a city maintenance truck pulled into the school parking lot. Hannah hurried over to talk to the driver, intending to ask him where Perry was working, when Lady Luck smiled upon her. The driver was Perry.

"Hi, Perry," she said, approaching the open driver's window. "You're just the guy I need to see."

"Hold on a second." Perry looked apologetic as he pointed to the cell phone on his dash. "I've got to take this call. It's work."

"Go ahead," Hannah said, stepping back slightly. Because the window was open, she could still hear the call, but it was the polite thing to do.

Perry answered the phone, listened for a moment, and then he spoke. "I'll run out there right now, before I finish that street sign. You say you need the distance between the first five light posts and the gate?"

There was another silence while Perry listened to the reply. "Okay. I'll call it in as soon as I measure."

When he'd clicked off the phone, Perry turned to Hannah. "Sorry. That was another a.s.signment for me. I have to run out to Spring Brook Cemetery. We're putting in motion lights and they need to confirm a measurement someone made this morning."

"I understand, but I really need to talk to you, Perry."

"How about later this evening? They need this measurement right away."

"This is something that shouldn't wait. It concerns Sherri."

"Oh. Well...you can ride along with me if you want to. We can talk while I'm measuring, and then I can bring you back here."

"That'll work fine," Hannah said, walking around to the pa.s.senger side of the truck and climbing in.

She hadn't thought it was a good idea to bring up the subject of Sherri's pregnancy while Perry was driving. Hannah waited until they got to the cemetery and took the road that separated the new side of the grounds from the old.

Perry parked under a towering oak and went around to the back of the truck to get out his equipment. Hannah stashed her purse under the pa.s.senger seat and got out of the truck to wait for him.

It was shady and much cooler than it had been at the school baseball field. A breeze was blowing from the direction of the brook, and trees dotted the carefully manicured gra.s.s. A stately elm spread its leaves like an umbrella over the top of a gra.s.sy knoll, tall pines pierced the sky in a bid for a celestial home, and a silver maple rustled its delicate leaves beside the alabaster statue of an angel. The gra.s.s lay like a thick green carpet over rolling hills, and even with the headstones to remind her of its purpose, Hannah could see why teenagers might want to park in this beautiful place.

She turned to look at the family mausoleums on the older side of the cemetery. The one directly across the road, a pink granite edifice with crumbled stone columns in front, was in bad repair. The granite blocks that made up the building had separated slightly as the ground had settled, and from where she was standing, she could see a triangular-shaped wedge of the dark interior. It was a real pity the gravesite hadn't been maintained. The bas-relief carving of cherubs on the front was lovely.

Perry got out of the truck with his rolling tape measure, the kind the flooring salesman had used to measure her condo for new carpets. "Do you mind if we talk while I measure?" he asked.

"Not at all. It's really beautiful out here."

"I know. That's why we have to secure the place with motion lights. People are just dying to get in."

Perry grinned, Hannah groaned at one of the worst jokes she'd ever heard, and they set off for the gate. Once they got there, Perry zeroed his measuring device, set it on the ground, and began to walk to the first light post. "So why do you want to talk about Sherri?" he asked her.

"She's in trouble, Perry."

"How is she in trouble?" Perry asked, not looking up at her. He kept his eyes on the rolling measuring tool, making sure the wheels were in contact with the ground as they walked.

They'd covered half the ground to the first light post, an ornate metal base with filigree at the top that supported a large globe. Hannah knew that there was no time to waste if she wanted to accomplish a plan to help Sherri. "I don't know if you know this, and I hope it's not too much of a shock, but Sherri's pregnant."