Free Sugar Cookie Murder by Joanne Fluke

the man they’d tentatively identified as Silver Fox were sitting, and Hannah headed for the kitchen. She found Edna standing at the counter, surveying the platters, bowls, and the army of Crock-Pots that stood at the ready. “Where do you want the soup bowls, Edna? At the end of the table?”
    “Good idea. I’ll take them out and you can bring the soups.”
    “Do we have enough ladles?”
    “Thanks to your sister we do. Put Vera’s Gazpacho first, since her boyfriend flew in special for the holidays. She told me she paid a fortune for hothouse tomatoes so she could make it for him.”
    “He look nice,” Hannah commented, fishing for information as she picked up the large tureen Vera had brought in and followed Edna to the serving table.
    “He seems all right, but you can never tell about a man until you’ve known him for a while . . . unless you meet him in church.”
    Hannah bit back a startled laugh as she thought of some notable exceptions to Edna’s caveat, and headed back to the kitchen to get the four other soups. There was Sally’s Radish Soup, the one she served at the Lake Eden Inn, with its delicate pink color and surprising depth. Hannah let Edna float a few thinly sliced radishes over the top while she went back for Bridget Murphy’s Quick Irish Chili.
    “I’ve got the toppings for the chili,” Edna called out following on Hannah’s heels with a platter containing dishes of diced onions, sour cream, chipped black olives, and lightly sautéed celery slices. “You get the Corn Chowder, and I’ll bring my Cream of Cheat Mushroom Soup.”
    Once the soups were set out with regular bowls and a multitude of tiny cups for those who wanted to taste all four, Hannah and Edna went back to the kitchen.
    “I’ll take care of the Jell-O molds,” Edna said, gesturing toward the breads she’d already set out in baskets, on plates, and on breadboards. “You can put those breads out now, and come back for the Jell-O.”
    It took Hannah several minutes to set out the breads. Most of the local ladies had their favorites, and there was Sally’s Banana Bread, Gina’s Strawberry Bread, Cranberry Muffins, and Aunt Grace’s Breakfast Muffins. Once those were in place, opposite the soups, she went back for Cheryl Coombs’s Can Bread, which Edna had pre-sliced and arranged on a platter. She’d also cut Bridget Murphy’s’ Soda Bread into pie-shaped wedges and reassembled them in a round on a breadboard. There was a basket of Cheesy, Spicy Corn Muffins, and a big round wicker bowl of oyster crackers that Edna had provided for Mayor Bascomb, who categorically refused to eat soup without them.
    When Hannah returned to the kitchen again, she saw that Edna was ready with two of the four Jell-O molds.
    “Put the Pretty Coleslaw first,” Edna instructed, “and then the Waldorf Salad. I’ve got to tell you, Hannah, I’m having second thoughts about this Ginger Ale Jell-O mold.”
    “Didn’t it set up right?”
    “That’s not it. It’s nice and firm, and it looks really good. But since it’s got fruit in it, I’m wondering if it should go on the dessert table.”
    Hannah thought about that for a moment and then she shrugged. “That’s up to you, but we’ve got a lot of desserts already.”
    “That settles it then. It’s a salad. You can take it out now. I’m still trying to unmold your sister’s Holiday Jell-O.”
    By the time Hannah got back to the kitchen, Edna had resorted to using the dunk method to get the last mold on its platter. She’d half-filled a bowl with hot water and she was immersing the mold in the bowl to within an inch of the rim. “That should do it,” she said, lifting the mold and drying the bottom with a kitchen towel. “Hand me that platter, will you, Hannah?”
    Hannah handed over the platter, and Edna centered it over the top of the mold. Then she held the assembled mold and platter with both hands and inverted it by twisting her wrists.
    “Perfect,” Hannah said as