Blueberry Muffin Murder. Joanne Fluke

of packed snow and chunks of ice that the huge blade had left in its wake, and eased out onto Old Lake Road to follow the snowplow to town.

      It was slow going, but Hannah didn’t mind. As she drove, she thought about the great job of snow removal the state of Minnesota accomplished. Snowplow drivers were on call during the winter months, and at the first sign of a heavy snowfall, they were dispatched. Most other states didn’t begin plowing until the snowstorm was over. By then, the snow had accumulated in deep drifts and it was more difficult to clear.

      When she reached the town limits, Hannah turned off and let the snowplow carry on alone. She stepped on the gas, traveled another few blocks at well over the twenty-five-mile-per-hour limit, and detoured past the Lake Eden Community Center to see if the Winter Carnival committee had hung their advertising banner last night.

      “Nice,” Hannah commented as her headlights illuminated the blue banner. It had been ordered from the same company that manufactured the sweatshirts, and Mayor Bascomb had kicked in the extra money to exceed the ten-word maximum. The bright blue banner, strung up between two lampposts on opposite sides of the street, sported brilliant white snowflake letters proclaiming, “LAKE EDEN WELCOMES YOU TO THE WINTER CARNIVAL.”

      Wondering just how much extra money the mayor had paid from his own pocket, Hannah turned down Fourth Street, the block that housed her cookie shop and bakery. Though none of the neighboring businesses opened until nine, it seemed that everyone was out early. Yellow light spilled from the plate glass window of the Cut ’n Curl, Lake Eden’s beauty shop, and Hannah spotted Bertie Straub bending over the shampoo chair, her hands suds-deep in a customer’s hair. Bertie always charged double to come in early, and someone had paid dearly for a shampoo and set.

      The New York Barbershop, next to the Cut ’n Curl, was also busy. A man Hannah couldn’t recognize behind a face full of lather was getting an early morning shave. Hannah waved at the barber, Gus York, who had taken over his father’s barbershop and added “New” to the name. The summer tourists who came in for haircuts assumed that Gus had been a barber in New York City, and they flocked to fill the row of chairs that lined the wall.

      A surprised look crossed Hannah’s face as she turned her attention to the shop just south of The Cookie Jar, the site of the Ezekiel Jordan House. The plate glass windows were covered with brown paper to discourage curious eyes, but there was a light on inside. Carrie must have collected Delores shortly after their early-morning conversation and they were already working.

      Her shop was next, and Hannah’s eyebrows shot up even further as she drove past. Her partner, Lisa Herman, had also come in early, and she was decorating the windows with a border of white snowflakes.

      “Hi, Lisa,” Hannah called out as she breezed in the back door a few moments later. “The windows look great.”

      “Thanks, Hannah.” Lisa came through the swinging restaurant-style door with a smile on her face. Her petite form was swaddled in a baker’s apron that had been hiked up in the middle and knotted in place with the apron strings.

      “What are you doing here so early?” Hannah asked, hanging her parka on a hook by the back door. “Now that you’re a partner, you can’t earn overtime.”

      Lisa laughed. “I know, but I like to come in early. It’s easy to get the baking done when there aren’t any customers.”

      “You finished the baking?” Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise as Lisa nodded. She’d mixed up twenty batches of cookie dough before they left for the night. If Lisa had baked them all, she must have come in at four in the morning!

      “I love to bake. You know that, Hannah. And it was a good thing I came in early, because your sister called a couple of minutes ago. She said she tried your place, but she must have just missed you.”

      “Oh?” Hannah headed for the sink to wash her hands. “What did Andrea want?”

      “She said to tell you that Janie Burkholtz is in town.”

      “I haven’t seen Janie since Andrea’s wedding.” Hannah smiled as she lathered her hands. It would be good to see Janie again. Andrea and Janie had been best friends in high school, and then Janie had gone off to college. She’d come home a few times during her freshman year, but after her parents sold their Lake Eden house, Janie had spent the rest of her college vacations at their new condo in Florida. “Is Janie back for the Winter Carnival?”

      “Yes, but it’s not a pleasure trip. Andrea said she’s working for Connie Mac as her personal assistant.”

      “Really!” Hannah was impressed. Connie MacIntyre was the star of a popular cable television cooking show, Cooking With Connie Mac. Almost everyone in Lake Eden stayed home from three to three-thirty on Saturday afternoons to watch Connie Mac banter with her guests, give advice on how to improve your marriage, and cook a complete dinner, all in thirty minutes. An attractive woman in her early fifties, everything she touched had turned to gold. Her cookbooks were bestsellers, her chain of kitchen boutique stores was thriving, her television show had a number one rating, and copies of her monthly magazine, Home Sweet Home, were flying from the shelves of the newsstands. The Connie Mac empire, run by her husband, Paul MacIntyre, was a multi-million-dollar industry.

      “Janie’s staying out at the inn with all the other Connie Mac people. Andrea and Bill are meeting her there for dinner tonight, and you’re invited, too. Andrea said to tell you that Janie would love to see you again.”

      “I’d love to see her, too.” Hannah said, wondering if she’d be up for a fancy dinner out after what promised to be a hectic day.

      “There’s one other thing. Mayor Bascomb dropped by to see you. He’s at the barbershop now, but he’s coming back after Gus finishes up with him.”

      “Did he tell you what he wanted?”

      Lisa shook her head. “Not exactly. He just said he needed to talk to you about something really serious.”

      “I hope it’s not a snag in the Winter Carnival plans.” Hannah turned toward the door that led to the coffee and cookie shop. “He’ll probably want coffee. I’ll put it on.”

      “It’s all made. I put it up right after he left.”

      “Bless you, Lisa,” Hannah said gratefully. “Have I told you lately what a gem you are?”

      Lisa gave a girlish giggle, and Hannah was reminded of just how young she was. Howie Levine, Lake Eden’s only lawyer, had broached that subject when Hannah asked him to draft their partnership agreement. Hannah had cut off his objection at the pass by insisting that Lisa was a better worker and manager than most people twice her age. Steady, reliable, and capable of handling any emergency that came their way, Hannah was certain that she’d never regret signing over a third of her enterprise to Lisa.

      “Sit down and I’ll bring you a cup,” Lisa offered, motioning to a stool at the work island. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

      “Because of Mayor Bascomb?”

      “Yes. He was really upset, Hannah. I offered him a warm Peanut Butter Melt and he said he couldn’t eat a thing.”

      “Oh-oh. That’s not a good sign.” Hannah gave a deep sigh as she sat down on the stool. Mayor Bascomb had an active sweet tooth and he was wild about her Peanut Butter Melts. For him to refuse to even taste his favorite cookie meant that there was definitely trouble in the making.

      Peanut Butter Melts

      Preheat oven to 375ºF, rack in the middle position

      1 cup melted butter (2 sticks)

      2 cups white sugar***

      2 teaspoons vanilla

      ¹⁄₈ cup molasses (2 tablespoons)

      1