Key Lime Pie Murder. Joanne Fluke

compelling scent wafted in from the kitchen to help Hannah make up her mind. The timer on her coffee pot had activated, and her morning brew was ready.

      “Coffee,” she pronounced in a voice that was midway between a groan and a prayer. She needed caffeine, and she needed it fast, before the specter of another hot, muggy day would drive her to turn on the window air conditioner the former owners had installed in the bedroom and sleep until the unseasonable June heat wave headed east, or west, or anywhere far away from Lake Eden, Minnesota.

      Hannah stood up and shivered slightly. She’d fallen asleep in her favorite summer sleep outfit, an extra-long, extra-large tank top in such an eye-popping shade of magenta that she hoped Moishe’s vet, Dr. Hagaman, was right and cats truly were color-blind. Not only was her sleepwear the wrong color choice for anyone with red hair, it was plastered to her skin in a manner her mother might call decidedly unladylike.

      “Okay, I’m up,” Hannah declared to the orange and white tomcat who still wore the scars of his former life on the streets. She tugged her tank top back into place, got to her feet with what she thought was a minimum of groaning, and headed off to the kitchen. “Just let me pour a mug of Swedish Plasma and then I’ll get your breakfast.”

      But Moishe didn’t follow her into the kitchen as he usually did. He didn’t even move from the back of the couch where he’d perched. And then everything came back in a rush of memory, and Hannah recalled why she’d been sleeping on the couch. She was worried about Moishe. He wasn’t eating. And she’d wanted to wake up and take note if she heard him crunching his food in the middle of the night.

      Hannah had just poured her first, life-giving mug of coffee when she heard a voice that seemed to be coming from inside her condo.

      “Is Moishe okay?” the voice asked.

      Even in her sleep-deprived state, Hannah recognized that voice. It was Michelle, and she was staying in the guest room.

      “Don’t know yet. Want coffee?” she managed to say, anything other than Pidgin English eluding her.

      “I’ll get it. Just sit there and drink yours. Do you know your eyes aren’t open all the way?”

      “No.”

      “What time did Norman leave?”

      “No numbers.” Hannah took a giant swig of coffee and felt it burn all the way down. It was worth it if it lifted the curtain of fog from her mind. “Never good at math in the morning.”

      “I’m sorry I asked. Take another sip of your coffee. I won’t bother you again until you finish that mug.”

      Hannah finished her coffee in several large, near-scalding swallows and held out her mug for more. By the time Michelle had set it on the table in front of her, the mists of sleep were starting to depart and she had glimpses of clarity. “Okay,” she said, giving her youngest sister a little smile, mostly because Michelle’s sleep outfit, a green cotton nightgown with miniature cows grazing all over it, was even more ridiculous than hers. “What did you ask me before?”

      “I asked if Moishe was all right.”

      “I’m not sure. I think I heard him eating something in the middle of the night, but that could have been wishful thinking.”

      Michelle set her own mug down on the table and walked to Moishe’s food bowl. “How full was it last night?”

      “It was up to the brim. It was even mounded a bit in the middle. I wanted him to have plenty if he got hungry and wanted a midnight snack.”

      “Well, it’s not mounded on top anymore.”

      “Really?” That information got Hannah out of her chair to join her sister at the food bowl. “You’re right. He definitely ate some kitty crunchies.”

      “So you can stop worrying?” Michelle followed Hannah back to the table and sat down across from her.

      “I’m not sure. He didn’t eat very much. He usually cleans his bowl during the night and yowls for more in the morning.”

      “How about water?”

      “He’s drinking. His water dish was full, too. He drank about half, and that’s what he usually drinks.”

      “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

      “I think so. It’s just not like him to turn down food. You saw what happened when Norman tried to give him fried chicken last night. He loves fried chicken, but last night he just sniffed it and walked away.”

      Michelle leaned to the side so that she could see into the living room. “I think you’d better take him to the vet, Hannah. He’s sitting on the back of the couch again, just staring out the window. Maybe it’s just the hot weather and he doesn’t feel like eating much, but you’ll never forgive yourself if it’s something serious and you didn’t have Dr. Bob check him out.”

      “You’re right. This is Tuesday, isn’t it?” When Michelle nodded, Hannah glanced at the clock over the table. It was five-fifteen, much too early to call for an appointment. “I’ll take my shower now, and I’ll call Sue at home at six.”

      “Isn’t that kind of early?”

      “Not really. Tuesday’s their half day and they’re open from seven to noon. That means they’re bound to be up if I call them at home at six. If I can get Moishe in right away at seven, I can run him back here and still get to work by eight-thirty.”

      Michelle shook her head. “You can get to work by seven-thirty. I’ve got Mother’s car and I’ll follow you to town. I can bring Moishe back here with me and you can go straight to work.”

      It was six-twenty when Hannah pulled up in the parking lot behind the Lake Eden Pet Clinic. When Michelle pulled into an adjoining parking space, Hannah picked up the bag of cookies she’d brought, grabbed Moishe’s leash, and got out of her cookie truck.

      “Do you want me to carry something?” Michelle asked.

      “All I’ve got is Moishe and the cookies. Moishe would rather walk on his own, and since you haven’t had breakfast yet, I’m not sure I should trust you with the cookies.”

      “What kind are they?”

      “Walnut-Date Chews.”

      Michelle rolled her eyes heavenward. “I remember those! You used to make them for Dad. They taste almost like date nut bread, right?”

      “Right.”

      “I haven’t had them for so long!” Michelle looked at the bag hungrily. “And dates and nuts are so good for you.”

      “They are?” Hannah asked, tugging a bit on the leash to get Moishe moving forward.

      “They’re both heart healthy. Dates are especially good for your muscle tone, and walnuts prevent cellulite.”

      Hannah’s eyes narrowed. Michelle sounded just a tad too convincing to be believed, and she was a theater arts major. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

      “Yes, but I love those cookies. And you haven’t made them in ages. Can I please have one, Hannah?”

      “May I. And no, you may not. They’re for Dr. Bob and Sue for letting me bring Moishe in so early.”

      “Not even one? They’re my all-time favorite cookies!”

      “Absolutely not. But when you get home, there’s a bag just like this on the kitchen counter. You’ll find another two dozen in there.”

      Michelle was grinning as Hannah knocked on the back door of the clinic. When she’d called, Sue had answered the phone from the clinic and she’d told Hannah that they always arrived an hour early when they had overnight patients.

      “Hi, Hannah,” Sue said, opening the door. She spotted Michelle standing behind Hannah and gave her a friendly smile. “You looked really