Blueberry Muffin Murder. Joanne Fluke

it could be as long as it takes us to catch the killer.”

      “What happens if you don’t catch the killer?” Hannah frowned at the man who had recently been the subject of her romantic fantasies.

      “We will. I just spoke to Sheriff Grant and he’s putting every available man on this. You have to be patient. It could take a while.”

      Hannah’s frown turned into a glare. “But I don’t have a while! If my shop is locked up for long, I’ll go bankrupt.”

      “Let’s not borrow trouble.” Mike reached out to take her arm, but Hannah snatched it back out of his reach. “I’m not the enemy here, Hannah. It’s police procedure and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

      Hannah glared at him. “Is it fair that I should lose my business because a killer committed murder in my pantry?”

      “Of course it’s not fair, but I have to follow procedure here.”

      Hannah knew that Mike was a by-the-book cop. When it came to procedure, nothing would budge him. “Could you bring out my muffins? They’re on a shelf in the pantry in plastic containers, and I need to deliver them this morning.”

      “Sorry. There could be prints on some of the containers.”

      Hannah gave a resigned sigh. Her muffins would be history by the time the crime scene guys got around to lifting the prints. “How about the cookie dough I mixed up last night?”

      “That depends. Where is it?”

      “In the cooler, and that’s completely separate from the pantry. Since Connie Mac brought her own ingredients, there was no reason for her to go in there.”

      “If we don’t find any suspicious prints on the cooler door, I’ll release your cookie dough. In the meantime, try to find an oven you can use temporarily.”

      Once Mike had left to go back inside, Norman pulled Hannah close again. “It’s not the end of the world. All we have to do is find you another oven to use. Let’s go to the clinic and I’ll help you make some calls.”

      “It won’t be that easy.” Hannah was about to explain the difference between a home oven and a commercial oven when she saw another car pull into the alley. “Oh-oh! There’s Mother. She’s convinced I’m on a perpetual safari for dead bodies just so I can embarrass her.”

      Delores fishtailed to a stop when she noticed the sheriff’s cruiser. She rolled down her window and called out to Hannah. “Are you all right?”

      “I’m fine, but Connie Mac’s dead.”

      With no regard for any other traffic that might come along, Delores left her car in the center of the alley and got out. When she arrived at Hannah’s side, she was breathless. “Did you say dead?”

      “That’s right,” Norman said, moving close to Hannah. “Someone killed her last night while she was baking the Winter Carnival cake.”

      “In my shop,” Hannah added. “Now it’s a crime scene and Bill and Mike are going to close it down.”

      “That’s terrible!” Delores gasped.

      “Yes,” Hannah said, not sure if her mother was referring to Connie Mac’s demise, or the fact that The Cookie Jar would be closed.

      “A murder scene right next door,” Delores moaned. “Now no one will come to tour the Ezekiel Jordan House.”

      Hannah glanced at Norman, who was having trouble keeping a straight face. Delores wasn’t concerned that her daughter’s business would be closed, or the fact that Connie Mac was dead. Her only worry was that people wouldn’t come to see her historic re-creation. “Relax, Mother. Most people are fascinated by murder scenes. Since they can’t get into The Cookie Jar, they’ll take your tour and peek through the windows.”

      “Do you really think so?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Maybe you’re right. I went to a lot of work, you know, and everything is absolutely authentic for the…” Delores stopped speaking and her eyes narrowed. “Who found her?”

      Hannah winced. It would come out sooner or later, and it might as well be now. “I did.”

      “Hannah! You’ve simply got to stop finding bodies. I swear you attract them like a magnet. If you’re not careful, everyone’s going to get the wrong impression of you.”

      “That’s unfair,” Norman objected. “Hannah just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

      “That’s exactly what I thought…the first few times. But five? That’s enough to make people wonder. If she’s not careful, no decent person will want to associate with her.”

      Norman gave Hannah’s hand a squeeze and then he stepped up to Delores. “I’m not afraid to associate with Hannah, and I certainly don’t have the wrong impression of her.”

      “Well…I’m glad to hear it.” Delores backed off slightly. “You’re a good man, Norman.”

      “I try to be.”

      Delores turned back to Hannah. “Where did you find her?”

      “In my pantry.”

      “Don’t tell anyone. If people hear that she died in your pantry, they won’t want to eat your cookies. You’d better throw everything out and start fresh.”

      Hannah didn’t follow that logic at all, but she nodded. “Yes, Mother. I’ll do that just as soon as they let me back in.”

      “Good. If you’re sure you’re all right, Hannah, I have to run. You have no idea how many last-minute things I have to do before we open to the public.”

      “I’m fine, Mother. Go ahead.”

      “I’d stay to lend moral support, but—”

      Norman held up his hand to interrupt her. “Don’t worry, Delores. I promise I’ll take care of Hannah.”

      “All right, then.”

      Hannah watched as Delores turned and walked back to her car. Then she looked over at Norman. “You’ll take care of me?”

      “Just a figure of speech. I figured she’d like that sort of thing.” Norman glanced up as another car turned into the alley. “Is that Andrea?”

      “Yes, and Tracey’s with her. Bill must have called her to tell her what happened.”

      Andrea pulled up and got out of her Volvo. The passenger door remained closed, and Hannah assumed that she’d told Tracey to stay in the car until she assessed the situation.

      “Hannah! You poor thing!” Andrea rushed up to her. “Bill told me all about it. Have they taken her away yet?”

      “Not yet. Doc Knight’s still in there.”

      Andrea waved and the passenger door opened. A moment later, a small blond-haired bundle in a bright pink parka hurtled across the snow toward Hannah.

      “Hi, Aunt Hannah.” Tracey gave her a hug. “Mommy said you found another one, and now Grandma’s going to be so-o-o mad at you.”

      Hannah glanced down at Tracey’s earnest face, and she had all she could do not to laugh. “Oh, well. That’s nothing new.”

      “Grandma never gets mad at me. Why does she get mad at you, Aunt Hannah?”

      “Because I’m all grown up and I’m supposed to be perfect. You’re four years old and you’re still allowed some mistakes.”

      Tracey thought about that for a moment and then she nodded solemnly. “We came to tell you that you can use our oven for your cookies. It’s a really nice oven and Mommy’s only used it once.”

      “From the mouths of