Blueberry Muffin Murder. Joanne Fluke

lumps inside. She turned it off, ran to the windows to yank them open, and flicked the exhaust fan on high. Coughing slightly from the smoke and the exertion, she ran out the back door and propped it wide open behind her.

      Hannah was livid as she paced back and forth in the parking lot, kicking up snow with the toes of her boots and waiting for the smoke to clear. Connie Mac had waltzed out of The Cookie Jar with cakes in the ovens, and if Hannah hadn’t come to work early, The Cookie Jar might have burned to the ground!

      After ten minutes of pacing and fuming, Hannah approached the doorway and took a tentative sniff. There was still a trace of smoke in the air, but it no longer made her eyes water. She stomped into her kitchen with a scowl on her face and headed straight for the sink. There was no time to waste. She had to clean up the mess and begin mixing her cookie dough for the day.

      Hannah swept the egg cartons and shells into the nearly overflowing trash can and turned on the hot water to fill the sink with soapy water. Once she’d set the dirty dishes to soak, she carried out the trash and lined the can with a new plastic bag. She was gathering up her cake-batter-encrusted mixing bowls from the work island, preparing to move them to the counter by the sink, when she noticed something that made her stop cold.

      Connie Mac’s leather handbag was sitting on top of a stool. She must have forgotten it, unless…Hannah swiveled around with a frown on her face. Connie Mac’s sable coat was still hanging on a hook by the back door. It had dropped down below zero last night. Connie Mac must have been in a real rush to leave if she hadn’t taken the time to grab her coat.

      Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place, and Hannah glanced around her uneasily. Janie had left early. That much was obvious. Her car was gone, and so were her coat and purse. Connie Mac had been here alone, and someone or something had frightened her away.

      A glimmer of light caught Hannah’s eye. The pantry door was open a few inches and someone had turned on the light. Hannah grabbed the first weapon she could find, the heavy pot she used to make boiled frostings. If the person who’d frightened Connie Mac away was hiding in her pantry, she’d get in a few good licks before she turned him over to the sheriff!

      Once she had moved silently into position, Hannah inched the door open with her foot. She glanced inside, and what she saw caused the pot to slip from her nerveless fingers. Her earlier assumption was wrong. Connie Mac hadn’t left last night.

      The Cooking Sweetheart was facedown on the pantry floor, her arms and legs sprawled out like a kid who’d hit the surface of Eden Lake in an ungainly belly dive. She had been struck down by a massive blow to the head in the act of sampling one of Hannah’s Blue Blueberry Muffins.

      Shock rendered Hannah immobile for a moment, but then she knelt down to feel for a pulse. The biggest celebrity ever to set foot in Lake Eden would never star in another episode of her television show or pose for pictures in her magazine. Connie Mac was dead.

      Chapter Seven

      Hannah was pacing the parking lot, trying to banish the gruesome sight from her mind, when she spotted the headlights of an approaching car. As it passed under the streetlight in the middle of the alley, she realized that it was Norman’s car and that they had an early-morning coffee date.

      Norman stepped on the gas when he spotted the sheriff’s department cruiser. One glimpse of his concerned face as he jumped out of his car was all it took for Hannah to forgive him for not being jealous of her dinner with Mike.

      “Are you all right, Hannah?” Norman asked, pulling her into his arms before she even had time to answer.

      Hannah nodded, almost hating to admit it because it was so good to be hugged. Norman was solid and dependable, and it felt a lot better than she’d remembered to be in his arms. Actually, it was quite habit-forming. Once there, she didn’t want to leave.

      “What happened?” Norman asked her.

      “Connie Mac’s dead and I found her in my pantry this morning and someone bashed in her head when she was eating one of my muffins and I called the sheriff’s department and that’s why they’re here.” Hannah’s words came out in a rush, with no pause for punctuation. She reminded herself to slow down so that Norman could understand her, and went on. “Someone killed Connie Mac last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake.”

      “That’s horrible. Do they know what time it happened?”

      Hannah shook her head. “Not yet. Doc Knight’s examining her now.”

      “Well, it must have been after nine.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “I grabbed a quick sandwich and then I came back to test my fill lights. I saw Connie Mac and Janie through your window when I left to go home.”

      “You’d better tell Mike and Bill.”

      “I will. I’m sorry you were the one to find her, Hannah. It must have been awful.”

      “It was.” Hannah nodded. Then she took a deep breath and managed a shaky laugh. “After all the others, you’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

      “I don’t think you ever get used to something like that.”

      “Maybe not, but if I keep on finding dead bodies, I’d better put the sheriff’s number on speed-dial.”

      Norman chuckled. “Your sense of humor is coming back. You’re going to be fine, Hannah.”

      “Of course I am.”

      The back door of The Cookie Jar opened and Mike stepped out. He frowned when he spotted Norman, but then he put on a polite smile as he strode forward across the snow. “Hi, Norman. It’s a good thing you’re here. Hannah shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. I would have stayed with her myself, but I’ve got a job to do inside.”

      “Go ahead,” Norman responded. “I’ll stay with Hannah.”

      That comment earned another frown from Mike, and Hannah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Norman and Mike were facing off like two banty roosters, and she was no spring chicken.

      “I’ve got some bad news for you, Hannah.” Mike didn’t look happy as he turned to her. “Your shop is a crime scene. We’ll be securing it in a couple of minutes.”

      It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, Hannah groaned. She’d seen enough cop shows and movies to know that only authorized personnel were allowed past the barrier of yellow crime scene tape. “You mean I can’t go back inside?”

      “I’m afraid not. I’ll send Bill out with your purse. I really shouldn’t do it, but since it wasn’t here when the crime was committed, I’m willing to bend the rules a little.”

      “So what am I supposed to do?” Hannah asked him.

      “Go home, get some rest, and try to forget about this. The forensics guys are on their way and we’ll take care of everything.”

      Hannah’s thoughts were so jumbled, it was difficult to think clearly. If she couldn’t get into her kitchen, how could she bake the cookies she needed for the Winter Carnival? “I know I have to wait until the forensic team is through, but I can get back in soon, can’t I? I’ve got to bake cookies for this afternoon.”

      “Sorry, Hannah.” Mike looked glum as he shook his head. “I can’t let anyone disturb the scene until the lab results are in.”

      “How long does that take?”

      “It depends. Our lab’s not set up for DNA testing and we have to send it out. And depending on the results, our guys may have to come back in to collect more samples. I know it’s an inconvenience, but I can’t let you contaminate possible evidence.”

      “Just a minute,” Norman said, stepping up to face Mike squarely. “You didn’t answer Hannah’s question. How long could she be locked out?”

      “It’s not up to