Free Strawberry Shortcake Murder by Joanne Fluke Page A

and Carrie doesn’t like it one bit. I think you’d better start paying more attention to Norman before Lucy snatches him up on the rebound.”
    Hannah’s mouth dropped open. What rebound? She’d gone out with Norman three times, and there was nothing romantic about it. But saying that would only lead to a longer discussion, and she needed to get back to work. “Consider me warned. I’ll talk to Norman today, I promise.”
    “Make sure you do.” That seemed to satisfy Delores because she stood up and smoothed down her skirt. “I’ve got to run, dear. I told Carrie I’d pick her up in ten minutes.”
    “Christmas shopping at the mall?” Hannah guessed.
    “Of course not.” Delores looked slightly affronted. “I do my shopping the day after Christmas. The bargains are simply amazing. I’ve had all my presents wrapped and stored for almost a year.”
    Hannah saw her mother off and went back into the front of her shop. Delores had always been incredibly organized. Hannah admired that quality in her mother, but she knew it wouldn’t work for her. If she bought next year’s presents the day after Christmas, she’d forget where she’d stored them and have to run out at the last minute to buy them all over again.
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    During the next two hours, Hannah served coffee and cookies nonstop. On her forays to the tables, carrying cookies and coffee refills, she heard at least a dozen different theories about Boyd Watson’s murder. Kathy Purvis, the principal’s wife, thought that Boyd had interrupted a burglary in progress. Lydia Gradin, a teller at First National, was sure that a carload of gang members from Minneapolis was to blame. Mrs. Robbins and her friends from the Lakewood Senior Apartments thought that the killer must have escaped from the state reformatory for men in St. Cloud, while Mr. Drevlow, Lisa’s neighbor, insisted that he must have been a homicidal lunatic from the state hospital in Wilmar who’d been released owing to budget cuts. Only one person mentioned the Hartland Flour Dessert Bake-Off, and that was in passing. “Digger” Gibson, the local mortician, speculated that an old enemy of Boyd’s had recognized him on television while he was judging the bake-off and driven to Lake Eden to kill him. Hannah hadn’t heard anyone mention Danielle’s name without following it with the phrase, “the poor dear,” and she assumed that, so far, Boyd’s shameful secret was safe. She also knew that the sympathetic thoughts that were wafting Danielle’s way could change to suspicion in an instant. If the residents of Lake Eden found out that Boyd had battered Danielle, they’d be convinced that she’d killed him either in self-defense or as retaliation.
    By the time eleven-fifteen rolled around, there was only one customer left. It was too late for a breakfast cookie, everyone’s midmorning coffee break was over, and the cookie-after-lunch crowd wouldn’t appear until noon or later. Hannah had just finished putting on a fresh pot of coffee to prepare for the noon rush when Andrea came in the door.
    “Hi, Hannah.” Andrea hung her coat on the almost-empty rack and slid onto a stool at the counter. She glanced over at old Mr. Lempke, whose daughter had left him in Hannah’s care while she’d run down to the drugstore, and frowned slightly. “Does he have his hearing aid turned on?”
    Hannah shook her head. “Roma took his batteries to the drugstore to get replacements.”
    “Good. I need to talk to you about Danielle. Bill told me all about it, and I want to do something to show my support. I don’t believe for a second that she killed him, but if she did, he deserved it!”
    “I know,” Hannah poured a mug of coffee from the carafe she’d filled before she’d emptied the urn and shoved it over to her sister. Andrea’s color was high, almost matching the coral pink of her expensive cashmere sweater, and her blue eyes were snapping. “You’re really upset, aren’t you?”
    “You bet