"I wonder how many books Marge sold," Hannah mused as they sat down in chairs at the book-signing table to switch from their shoes to their boots.
"A hundred and sixty-three. I heard her talking to Bertie Straub about it. She's taking the rest to the warm-up tents, and Mrs. Baxter's girls are going to sell them for her."
"That's great," Hannah said, stashing her shoes in her purse and opening the door so that they could step out.
"It's snowing again!" Andrea complained, gazing up at the sky as they walked across the icy parking lot to their vehicles. "I signed us up for the family snowman contest, and Tracey's really looking forward to it."
"It's supposed to stop by tomorrow morning. I heard the KCOW weather report on the drive in."
"I hope they're right." Andrea arrived at her Volvo and unlocked the door to retrieve her long-handled brush and scraper. She brushed the snow from her windshield and tossed the essential piece of winter equipment into the backseat. "I haven't built a snowman since I was a kid. Do you remember how to do it?"
'All you have to do is roll three balls of snow. You make a big one for the base, a medium-sized one for the torso, and a small one for the head. You stack them up, put on a face, and stick in some twigs for the arms. Then you decorate it with a hat or a scarf or whatever, and you're done. Anyone can build a snowman. It's easy."
"Since you know how, will you help us? Bill's going to be busy with the murder investigation, and it'd go a lot faster with three people. There's a time limit, you know."
Hannah sighed. She'd been had and she knew it. "Okay, I'll help. What time is the contest?"
"Two o'clock at the park. Thanks, Hannah." Andrea glanced at her watch in the glare from the dome light. "I've got to get a move on. Mother and Carrie are dropping Tracey off in twenty minutes. Do you want me to wait to see if your truck starts?"
"It'll start. And if it doesn't, someone will give me a jump."
Once Andrea had driven off, Hannah brushed the snow from her own windshield and started her truck. It fired up immediately and she cranked the heater up to high. As she waited for the engine to warm up, she took out her notebook and wrote down what they'd learned tonight, even though none of it seemed important.
By the time Hannah had slipped her notebook back into her purse, a whisper of tepid air was emerging from her heater vents. It was enough to chase away the frost from the inside of the windshield, but that was about it. Wishing that she'd opted for the auxiliary heater that Cyril Murphy had attempted to sell her when she'd bought her truck, she switched on her headlights and windshield wipers, and drove out of the parking lot.
Resisting the urge to drive past her shop to see if they'd taken the crime scene tape down, Hannah headed for the highway. Bill would have called if there'd been any change.
Hannah stepped on the gas, pulled in behind a rental truck with Michigan plates, and drove toward home. The only way she could get back into The Cookie Jar fast was to catch Connie Mac's killer, and that was turning out to be a lot harder than she'd hoped it would be.
-18- "This is delicious, Hannah," Janie said as she bit into the sandwich Hannah had made for her. "I still remember the first time you made us a grilled cream cheese sandwich."
"So do I," Hannah replied, smiling at the memory. She'd decided to make grilled cheese sandwiches for Andrea and Janie one high school night when they'd stayed up late, cramming for a test. She'd buttered the bread, heated the frying pan, and only then discovered that someone had eaten the last piece of American cheese in the refrigerator. Since everything else had been ready, Hannah had sliced a block of chilled cream cheese and used that as a substitute. The resulting sandwich had been so delicious, she'd never made traditional grilled cheese sandwiches again.
"You should make cooking mistakes more often." Janie smiled at her. "You always end up with something fabulous."
"Not always. Remember the time I put tomato soup in my tuna hotdish? It was so awful, we couldn't eat it and we had to go out for pizza."
Janie made a face. "I wish you hadn't reminded me. But everyone's entitled to one flop, and you've more than made up for it."
"I need to ask you about something, Janie." Hannah turned her mind back to the problem at hand. "I ran into Kurt Howe at the library today, and he told me that the television station has a lot of Connie Mac shows that haven't aired yet."
"Kurt's right. We taped the shows in June and Connie Mac did four shows a day, every other day."
"Four shows a day?" Hannah was surprised. "Isn't that an awful lot of work?"
"Yes, but not for her. The staff did all the setup work before she even got to the studio. All she had to do was assemble pre-measured ingredients while she talked to her guests, stick pans in the oven, and take out the ones we'd already baked."
"So she didn't actually cook the dinners?"
"No, we did it all in advance. That's why she worked every second day. We needed that extra day to get everything ready for her."
Hannah did a little mental arithmetic. "She did sixty shows in a month?"
"That's right. When we were all through, her producer picked out the best shows and the station put those on the schedule. They kept the rest as a backlog. I'm sure they have enough for at least a year, maybe two."
"Is that normal?" Hannah asked. "I mean . . . it's almost as if the television station expected Connie Mac to die and they prepared for it ahead of time."
"There's nothing unusual in what they did, Hannah. Taping ahead is standard business practice for any show that's so dependent on its star. They can't do it with shows that deal with current events, but cooking shows are timeless."
"Okay, if you say so." But Hannah decided she'd check it out anyway. "Was Connie Mac one of those difficult stars?"
"Only with her own staff, and she was never difficult when one of television executives was on the set. Then she was all sweetness and light."
Janie's eyes were drooping, and that prompted Hannah to glance at her watch. "It's almost eleven and Norman's late. I wonder what's keeping him."
"Maybe his car wouldn't start?" Janie suggested. "It's really cold out there tonight."
"That's possible, but I'm sure he would have called." The moment the words were out of Hannah's mouth, the phone ring. She grinned at Janie as she reached out to answer it. "I guess you were right. That's probably him now."
But the voice that greeted her wasn't Norman's, and Hannah felt a prickle of fear. "Luanne? Is there something wrong?"
"Yes. .I called to tell you that I'm here at the hospital with Norman."
"The hospital?" The prickle of fear expanded into a knot in Hannah's stomach. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, but Norman's got a bad bump on his head. Doctor Knight says he could have a concussion."
"Was it a traffic accident?"
"No, Norman got mugged on the way out to his car."
For a moment, Hannah was speechless. As far as she knew, there'd never been a mugging in Lake Eden before. "Where did it happen?"
"In the parking lot outside the Ezekiel Jordan house. We had a late portrait sitting. When I left, Norman told me he was going to reload his cameras, and then he was going to drive out to your place. That's why I called you."
"Hold on a second." Hannah shook her head to clear it. "If you left, how did you find out that Norman was mugged?"
"I went back. Norman gave me a little stuffed giraffe for Susie and I left it in my makeup kit. I was all the way out to the highway when I remembered. I went back to get it and I found Norman facedown in the snow next to his car. It was really scary, Hannah."
"I'll bet it was. Did you see the mugger?"
"No, I didn't see anybody. Norman thinks I scared him off, because it happened right before I got there. I didn't want to leave Norman there and go call for an ambulance, so I helped him to my car and took him straight out to the emergency room."