Lemon Meringue Pie Murder Part 17

"Jed Sawyer. We found an old Minnesota Twins baseball cap in the bas.e.m.e.nt and Bill remembered that he'd seen Jed wearing one just like it. We questioned him, but it turns out Rhonda hired Jed and Freddy to do some handyman work when she was getting ready to sell the Voelker place."

"That's true. I heard they fixed some of the windows."

"That fits with what Jed told us. He says he remembers taking off his cap while he was replacing one of the bas.e.m.e.nt windows and he must have forgotten it down there."

"And you believe that?"

152.

"It checks out. We took another look at the crime scene photos and the window that Jed said he replaced still had the sticker on the gla.s.s."

"Too bad," Hannah said with a sigh.

"What's the matter? Don't you like Jed?"

"It's not that I don't like him. It's just that... I'm not sure he's a good influence on Freddy."

"What do you mean?"

"It's probably nothing."

Mike gave her a stern look. "Spit it out, Hannah. It's not like you to beat around the bush."

"I think Jed's pushing Freddy too hard and giving him ideas he can't handle."

"Like what?"

"Like trading in his mother's car for a truck and going out to attract girls. Freddy idolizes Jed and he wants his approval. He'll do anything Jed says and that worries me." Hannah thought back to her conversation with Jed and that gave her an idea. "Would you check out something for me?"

"Maybe. Does it have anything to do with the murder investigation?"

"No, I'm just curious. Jed said that he worked on the maintenance crew at the prison and he made a point of telling me that he was a civilian worker. I don't have any reason to think he's lying, but there's something about Jed I don't quite trust."

"That was my impression. I'll find out if he was an inmate. Which prison?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask. But since he said the prison, instead of a prison, I'm a.s.suming it's in Minnesota."

"Okay. I'll get on it first thing in the morning."

"Thanks, Mike." Hannah smiled at him. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"

"Sure. Shall I order you an after-dinner drink?"

"No, thanks. More coffee would be nice, though. I need to keep up my energy level and I'm running about a gallon short."

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 153.

Hannah left Mike sitting at the table and headed toward the entrance of the dining room. It was time to check out the restaurant's takeout menu and see if anyone remembered who'd picked up the containers of os...o...b..co that had landed in Rhonda's garbage.

The hostess was at her post by the entrance. Hannah put on a friendly smile as she approached. "I notice that you have os...o...b..co on the menu and that's my mother's favorite. Does Alfredo's do takeout?"

"Yes, and we alternate our entrees." The hostess returned Hannah's smile. "Os...o...b..co is available every Friday evening from six to eight. You have to call in advance with your order."

"That's reasonable. I'll bet Friday nights are popular'for takeout."

"No, it's actually our slowest night. Hold on a minute and I'll show you what I mean."

Hannah held her smile as the hostess flipped through pages on a clipboard. She was close to getting the information she wanted, but she wasn't quite there yet.

"Here you go." The hostess tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the page she'd chosen. "Six orders of os...o...b..co. That's all we sold last Friday, but I know we ran out in the kitchen. That means most people came out here and ordered it from the menu."

Hannah was impressed. "Your system is very efficient. You actually keep the names of the people who ordered takeout?"

"We have to. It's my job to make sure the takeout goes to the proper person at the time they specified. See? Three people ordered takeout, two orders apiece."

Hannah blessed the fact that she could read upside down. She'd first learned that skill when Andrea was a child and used to sit facing her with a schoolbook. When Andrea had faltered over a word, Hannah had taught herself to read it upside down, so she wouldn't have to move. And that just went to prove that laziness sometimes paid off.

154.

"Would you like one of our takeout menus?"

"I'd like several." Hannah accepted the printed menus the hostess gave her. "I'll call in on Friday and order os...o...b..co for my mother and her friends."

"Not this Friday. We're closed for the Fourth."

"Right," Hannah said. SheVi been so intent on tracking down the takeout dinners, she'd forgotten all about the holiday. "I'll call in next Friday. Thanks for the information."

Hannah gave the hostess a parting smile and headed off to the ladies room. Once there, she pulled her steno pad out of her purse and jotted down the names from the takeout list. The first was Ken Purvis, Jordan High's princ.i.p.al. Hannah really had to stretch her imagination to imagine Ken as Rhonda's boyfriend. The second was Gil Surma, the high school counselor, and that also seemed impossible. The third name was even more unlikely because it was Reverend Knud-son. He wasn't married, but he lived with his grandmother. Hannah supposed that Rhonda could have been referring to Priscilla Knudson when she'd made her comment about not being able to marry unless there was a funeral. Mrs. Knudson had suffered a stroke only weeks before the Goetz's New Year's Eve party and Rhonda'd had no way of knowing she'd completely recover. Finding out which of the three men was involved with Rhonda would take time, but there was a pay phone in the ladies room and there was no time like the present to start narrowing the field.

Bonnie Surma, Gil's wife, answered on the first ring. Hannah fixed a smile on her face-she'd heard that telemar-keters used this technique to sound friendly-and took a deep breath. "Hi, Bonnie. It's Hannah Swensen. I'm out here at Alfredo's Ristorante and..."

"Take my advice and order their os...o...b..co," Bonnie interrupted her. "Gil picked it up for us on Friday night and it was marvelous."

Hannah's phony smile turned into a real grin. If Gil had taken os...o...b..co home to Bonnie, he wasn't Rhonda's boyfriend.

155.

"Friday was our anniversary and Gil wanted to do something special. I didn't feel like getting dressed up and going out, so he ordered dinner and brought it home."

"That was sweet of him," Hannah said, scrounging for a pen in the bottom of her purse and crossing Gil's name off her suspect list.

"It would have been sweeter if he hadn't left for a meeting right after dinner, but even a good marriage can't be perfection. Gil and I rub along very well together."

Perfection. Rub along very well. Hannah came close to chuckling. Bonnie must have been at the same Lake Eden Regency Romance Club meeting as Delores.

"Did you need something, Hannah? Gil's at a city council meeting. He said he'd call before he left for home, so I need to keep the line free."

"Uh ... yes. Yes, I did." Hannah thought fast. She should have had an excuse for her call all prepared. "Tracey was talking about joining the Brownies the other day. She wanted to know how old she had to be."

"I'm glad Tracey's so interested. She's still too young, but I'll mail a packet to Andrea tomorrow with the guidelines."

"Thanks, Bonnie. That's all I needed. I'll let you go." Hannah hung up the phone and let out a relieved sigh. She liked Bonnie and Gil and she was glad that Rhonda hadn't been a threat to their marriage.

The next name on Hannah's list was Kenneth Purvis. Hannah had trouble visualizing Jordan High's princ.i.p.al, a man whose most notable habit was polishing his gla.s.ses, in a steamy embrace with Rhonda, but she couldn't discount the possibility. Ken had picked up two orders of os...o...b..co on Friday night.

Hannah had learned her lesson from Bonnie. She needed a good excuse for her call. When Ken or his wife, Kathy, answered, she'd ask about the community outreach night cla.s.ses Jordan High was planning to hold in the fall. There had been an article about it last week in the Lake Eden Journal. She 156.

could pretend to be interested in signing up for basket weaving, or fly casting, or something like that.

Hannah looked up the number and dialed. The phone rang several times and then their answering machine clicked on. Rather than leave a message, Hannah hung up and turned to the third name on the list, Reverend Knudson.

"Redeemer Lutheran," Reverend Knudson's grandmother answered on the second ring.

"Hi, Mrs. Knudson. It's Hannah Swensen."

"h.e.l.lo, Hannah." Mrs. Knudson sounded pleased to hear from her. "The reverend isn't home right now, but I can take a message and have him call you in the morning."

"That's okay. Maybe you can help. I meant to call earlier, but I forgot. I'm out here at Alfredo's Ristorante. Have you ever had their os...o...b..co?"

"No, but it's one of my favorite dishes."

"Maybe your grandson could pick it up as takeout for you," Hannah said, hoping to solicit more information. It was obvious that Reverend Knudson hadn't taken os...o...b..co to his grandmother, but he'd left Alfredo's last Friday night with two takeout orders. "They have it on their menu every Friday night."

"You might know it would be Fridays!" Priscilla Knudson gave an exasperated sigh. "The reverend is always gone on Friday nights. Church-related meetings, you know."

"Of course," Hannah said, drawing a circle around Reverend Knudson's name. If he'd gone to a church-related meeting on Friday night, she was willing to bet he hadn't arrived with two orders of takeout os...o...b..co from Alfredo's Ristorante.

"You said earlier that you thought I might be able to help you. With what, Hannah?"

Mrs. Knudson's question brought Hannah back from her speculations and she launched into the excuse she'd prepared. "I heard about the bake sale Redeemer Lutheran is holding on Sat.u.r.days and I wanted to contribute something. How about a box of cookies?"

"Why, that would be lovely, Hannah. I'm sure the rev- LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 157.

erend will be delighted. Can we count on you for this Sat.u.r.day?"

"Absolutely."

Hannah smiled as she hung up the phone. A box of free cookies was a small price to pay for the information Priscilla Knudson had given her. She'd eliminated Gil Surma and she had yet to reach Princ.i.p.al Purvis, but Reverend Knudson had just jumped to the top of her suspect list.

Chapter Fourteen.

Hannah glanced at her watch in the light from Mike's dashboard as they came over the crest of a long steep hill and neared the Quick Stop. They still had almost fifteen minutes before Mich.e.l.le's bus was due to arrive. "Let's park on the side and go in. I want to see how my cookies are doing for Sean and Ron."

Mike pulled into a spot at the side of the building and shut off his engine. "We can go in, but I already know your cookies are selling really well."

"How do you know that? Did you ask Sean and Ron?"

"I didn't have to ask. The guys at the station used to stop for doughnuts and coffee on their way to work, but now they bring in coffee and your cookies. n.o.body buys doughnuts anymore."

"Thanks for telling me." Hannah was pleased. She'd started to supply the Quick Stop with cookies several months ago and the volume of their orders had been steadily increasing. That was a good sign, but she hadn't been sure if Sean and Ron were selling more cookies, or just eating more of them.

"You can go in if you want to." Mike turned to smile at her. "I'll stay here and meet Mich.e.l.le if her bus comes in early."

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER 159.

Hannah laughed. "Thanks, but that won't work."

"Why not?"

"You've never met Mich.e.l.le. You don't even know what she looks like."

"Yes, I do. There's a picture of the three of you on the mantel over your fireplace. I recognized Andrea and you, so I figured Mich.e.l.le had to be the one in the middle with the brown hair."

Hannah was impressed, even though she knew Mike had been trained to notice things. "You're right, but that's an old picture. You might not recognize her now."

"She can't be that different. Her hair could be another color and she could have gained or lost weight, but her basic bone structure is the same. I'll spot her. You don't have .to worry about that."

Hannah began to grin. "I guess any cop who can recognize a suspect from his DMV picture wouldn't have much trouble with an old family photo."

"That's right." Mike lowered his window, looked out for a moment, and then he turned to grin at her. "It's a good thing you didn't go inside. Here comes the bus now."

Hannah glanced out his window, but all she saw was an empty road. "Where? I don't see anything."

"You'll see it when it comes over the hill."

"Who do you think you are?" Hannah asked, eyeing him with some amus.e.m.e.nt. "Supercop with x-ray vision?"

"No, but I might try out for Supercop with subsonic hearing"

"You/zear^thebus?"

"That's right. A diesel engine's got a certain high-pitched whine to it. On a still night it'll carry for a long way."

Hannah stared at him, but he didn't seem to be putting her on. "Okay, I believe you even though I've met the bus lots of times and I never heard a whine."

"You probably wouldn't notice."

"Because it's a cop thing?"

"No, it's a trucker thing. My father was an owner-operator 160.

and I drove most of his short runs every summer. It gets boring, driving the same route day after day. I looked for ways to amuse myself and I started concentrating on the sounds trucks make. I got so good, I could tell a Peterbilt from a Kenworth a quarter-mile away."