Blueberry Muffin Murder

As Hannah joined her sister on the bench, she recalled that Andrea had eaten two large pieces of coffee cake at Lisa's. for someone who never did more than nibble at a slice of toast for breakfast, she was uncharacteristically hungry. Hannah had been off at college when her sister had been pregnant with Tracey, but Bill had mentioned pounds in the first month. Was the stork about to pay another visit to the Todd household?

'What?' Andrea asked, intercepting Hannah's searching look.

'I was just wondering why you're so hungry, that's all,' Hannah explained, shedding her boots and pulling on the pair of suede slip-ons she carried in her purse.

'I'm not, you know.'

'Not what?'

'Pregnant. I saw that look in your eye. You were wondering if you were going to be an aunt again, weren't you?'

Hannah laughed. She was caught dead to rights Andrea had always been able to read her expressions 'It did cross my mind.'

'Well, forget it. It's just the cold weather. My body's telling me to put on an extra layer of fat for insulation.'

'An extra layer?' Hannah glance at her thin and fashionable sister. 'You don't even have layer number one. There's not an ounce of fat on you.'

'That's because I burn it all off. I have a very active metabolism. Remember how you used to make us oatmeal with brown sugar and chocolate chips when I was in high school?'

'Of course I do.'

'You really sold me on breakfast, Hannah. It's my favorite meal.'

'Then why don't you ever make it?'

'The last time I tried to cook oatmeal, it burned on the bottom and I had to throw away the pan. Toast and cold cereal is a lot safer. I can't mess that up.'

Hannah tried to think of something kind to say, but absolutely nothing occurred to her. Andrea was a terrible cook.

'Let's find Sally and offer to help her. That'll give us a chance to ask her some questions.'

'Good idea.' Hannah stood up and followed Andrea past the old-fashioned reservation desk. She glanced at the wall of pigeonholes behind it and noted that there were no keys in the little cubicles. That wasn't a surprise. When she'd talked to Sally a few days ago, she'd mentioned that The Lake Eden Inn was fully booked with Winter Carnival guest, reporters, and the people in Connie Mac's entourage.

Andrea pushed open the door to the large dining room. It was deserted, and she turned to Hannah in surprise. 'Where are all the people?'

'They're still in their rooms,' Hannah told her. 'It's Saturday and Sally doesn't open the buffet until nine.'

'But it's . . . ' Andrea stopped speaking and glanced at her watch. 'It's only eight. I thought it was much later than that.'

Hannah reached out to pat her sister's shoulder. Andrea liked to sleep in on Saturday mornings and she never lifted her head from her pillow until nine. The fact that she'd arrived at The Cookie Jar at six-thirty was tangible proof of her sisterly devotion.

The two sisters walked past the neatly set tables and headed straight for the inn's large industrial kitchen. As they pushed through the swinging door, Hannah started to smile. Sally's kitchen was her favorite place at the inn, combining modern stainless-steel restaurant equipment with homey touches that were Sally's alone.

The floor was tile, a must for a restaurant because the health code required that it be kept spotless. But instead of the solid-color ones that most restaurateurs used. Sally had installed designer tile that simulated an old-fashioned multi-colored braided rug. The areas that weren't covered by the oval-shaped rug design were formulated to look like one you might find in an unusually large farmhouse kitchen.

The long wall that Sally's kitchen shared with the dining room had a window that ran from the stainless-steel counter all the way up to the ceiling. This meant that Sally's kitchen staff was always on display, and they were dressed to take full advantage of that. The women wore frilly caps that satisfied the health department's requirement for head covering and were patterned to match their bib aprons. The men were also on display in colored chef's coats and matching toques. The color scheme changed every day, and today's theme was green.

'There's Sally,' Hannah said, directing her sister's attention to the far wall, where Sally was removing a tray of freshly baked popovers from the oven.

Andrea nodded and her face lit up in a smile. 'Popovers! Sally makes the best popovers in the world!'

'I heard that.' Sally looked pleased as she walked to a clear space at the long stainless-steel counter and tipped the popovers out in a napkin-lined basket. 'Pull up a stool and have one while they're hot.'

'Do you have time to join us?' Hannah asked.

'They can get along without me for a few minutes.' Sally passed the basket of popovers to Andrea and set out a tub of butter and a jar of apricot jam. 'What took you so long? I thought you two would be out here an hour ago.'

'You know?' Hannah was surprised. The sheriff's department never released the news of a murder until after the family had been notified.

'Of course I know. I was listening to KCOW radio in the kitchen and it was the lead story at five-thirty.'

'Five-thirty?' Hannah was astonished. She hadn't found Connie Mac's body until ten to six. 'But . . . that's impossible!'

'You know that, and I know that, but you'd be surprised how many people actually believe in them.'

'Time out.' Andrea held up her hands. 'It's obvious that you and Hannah are talking about two different things. You first, Sally.'

'Okay. At five-thirty this morning, Jake and Kelly announced that Ezekiel Jordan's ghost was haunting the halls of the Lake Eden Inn, looking for revenge.'

'Revenge for what?' Hannah asked the obvious question.

'For losing his prized rosewood desk in one of F. E. Laughlin's poker games. You see . . . '

'Wait a second, Sally,' Andrea interrupted. 'Is that the same desk Mother has in her re-creation?'

Sally nodded. 'Ezekiel and Dick's great-great-grandfather were contemporaries a hundred years ago. When Dick and I found the desk up in the attic, we assumed that F. E. bought it after Ezekiel died, but Francine uncovered the story about the poker game.'

'Your stepmother's still here?' Hannah asked. She'd met Francine at Sally and Dick's Christmas party. Francine had planned to stay for a couple of weeks to help out with the new baby, but little Danny was almost two months old.

'Everything worked out so well, Dick and I invited Francine to spend the winter with us when she's not baby-sitting with Danny, she's researching Dick's family for him on the Internet. That's how she found out about the poker game and Ezekiel's desk. Do you want the long story or the short story?'

'The long story.' Hannah jumped in before Andrea could open her mouth. 'Tell us about the poker game.'

'It happened almost exactly a hundred years ago. F. E. and his cronies came out here to do a little ice fishing and hunting. They always played poker on Saturday nights and they invited some of the notables in town to drive out and get in the game. Ezekiel Jordan came out to play, but he wasn't a very good poker player and he ran out of money early.'

'So he bet his desk?' Andrea looked shocked.

'That's right. Francine found the slip of paper he tossed in the pot with a bunch of F. E.'s other papers.'

'Go on,' Hannah urged her.

'F. E. won the pot, and the very next, Ezekiel loaded up his desk and hauled it out here. On his way home, a winter storm blew up and Ezekiel caught a bad chill. If you know your Lake Eden history, you can guess what happened next.'

Hannah thought about it for a moment and then she nodded. 'Ezekiel died of a lung ailment, didn't he?'

'That's right, three days after his trip out here. He blamed F. E. because he got sick, and he told everyone in town that the poker game was rigged.'

'Was it?' Andrea wanted to know.

'I don't know,' Sally shrugged, 'but it's certainly possible, especially if F. E. wanted that desk bad enough. He could be ruthless.'