Plum Pudding Murder Read online

  Hannah bit her tongue. There was no way she was going to ruin the evening and point out that she’d solved more than a dozen murder cases. If she did that, Mike would be sure to point out that she’d gotten herself into trouble a couple of times, and he’d been the one who had to bail her out. It was best to remain silent and not bring up the subject that was a sore point between them.

  “After you,” Mike said, opening the cabin door and holding it for Hannah.

  “Thanks.” Hannah stepped inside and blinked a couple of times. It was glitter and glitz, glitz and glitter. The inside of the cookie shop was decorated with thousands of miniature Christmas lights and they were all blinking on and off randomly. Wreaths hung behind the serving counter, a large stuffed bear with a plaid Christmas hat was positioned near the area where the line formed, and every time someone walked past, the bear wished them a merry Christmas. Glittering garlands of silver and blue foil were looped in every place possible, electric candles were perched on every windowsill, and two huge Christmas trees sat by the back wall, one in either corner.

  “Look at those trees,” Mike said, as if Hannah could possibly have missed them. They were at least fifteen feet tall and they were decorated with enough ornaments and lights for a half-dozen trees. The lovely angels on top had two-foot wingspans, and their gossamer wings were shimmering in the air currents as if trying to work up the speed for a takeoff.

  Hannah and Mike passed the bear, who wished both of them a merry Christmas, and took their place at the end of the line. The procession of people waiting for sustenance was structured by red velvet ropes attached to giant candy canes on stands. Hannah noticed that Larry had taken his cue from amusement parks and purchased stands that could be arranged and rearranged to accommodate any size crowd.

  The line moved swiftly and soon Hannah and Mike were almost at the front. “See?” he pointed to the empty display case. “No cookies.”

  “You’re right. I wonder how long they’ve been out.”

  “Since six,” replied the girl who’d moved over to wait on them. “Your cookies practically fly out the door, Miss Swensen.”

  “Krista?” Hannah asked. The girl in the elf costume looked a bit like Barbara Donnelly’s granddaughter.

  “It’s me. Grandma dropped me off at work tonight and she said I don’t look like myself.”

  “Your grandma’s right. If you hadn’t spoken to us I never would have recognized you.”

  “Maybe that’s good. The customers aren’t too happy when I tell them we’re out of cookies. Can you talk Mr. Jaeger into ordering more?”

  “I’ll try. Is he here tonight?”

  “He’s here every night. If you keep on going past the toy shop and take a left at Rudolf Lane, you’ll see a woodsy-looking trailer off to the right. It’s all decorated with garlands of Christmas lights and there’s a blue flocked tree out in front. That’s Elf Headquarters. Just ring the bell and Mr. Jaeger will let you in. Now what can I get for you two?”

  “I’ll take a large Holly Jolly,” Mike answered her and then he turned to Hannah. “How about you?”

  “I don’t know. What’s a Holly Jolly?”

  “It’s hot chocolate mixed with coffee that’s flavored with orange,” Krista explained. “It’s got whipped cream on top and it’s really good, Miss Swensen.”

  “Then I’ll have one, too.”

  In less than a minute Hannah and Mike were exiting the building armed with two carryout cups of Holly Jolly. Hannah took a sip of hers and was pleasantly surprised. “This is pretty good,” she said.

  “You’re right. It’s perfect for a cold night like this. The only way you could make it better is to put in a shot of brandy.”

  Hannah was surprised. Mike wasn’t a big drinker. He’d have the occasional beer, or a glass of wine with a fancy dinner, but she’d never seen him drink brandy.

  “Or you could go with an orange liqueur like Grand Marnier. That would bring out the orange in the coffee. Or you could use orange flavored vodka. They’ve got practically every flavor now.”

  He’d mentioned three kinds of liquor in as many seconds and Hannah thought she knew why. “You must have had a rough day,” she guessed.

  “Yeah. That’s one of the reasons I dropped by, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of Norman. It’s just a hunch, that’s all.”

  “What’s just a hunch?”

  “Norman’s mother. I think she could be shoplifting.”

  “What?!”

  “I told you, it’s just a hunch. I’ve been thinking about it all day and it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

  Hannah planted her heels on the walkway and stopped. “Hold on a minute. What makes you think Carrie’s shoplifting? And start from the beginning.”

  “Last night was the third time I followed her home from the mall. She was out there on Sunday night, and last week on Monday and Tuesday nights, too.”

  “You’re following Carrie?” Hannah was amazed. Surely Carrie wasn’t shoplifting! But shoplifting could be a disease…at least that was what she’d learned in psychology class. Some people who shoplifted did it because they couldn’t afford some item they wanted. But other people who shoplifted really couldn’t help themselves. They were addicted to the thrill and excitement. There were multistep programs to help addictive shoplifters that were modeled after the programs for alcoholics.

  “I’m not following Carrie on purpose,” Mike tried to explain. “It’s just that she leaves the mall when it closes and so do I. Mall Security is shorthanded and I’m taking a couple of shifts until they find somebody to hire full-time.”

  “Lots of people like to shop at the mall until it closes. It’s the only place where you can walk for miles in the winter without a coat and boots. What makes you think that Carrie’s shoplifting?”

  “I told you it’s just a hunch, but every time I see her loading her trunk with packages, she looks guilty.”

  Hannah had to admit that Mike’s hunches were usually right. But she still wasn’t willing to believe that Norman’s mother had a problem with shoplifting. “Those packages she loads in her trunk…can you tell what stores they’re from?”

  “Last night it was The Glass Slipper. It’s an upscale shoe store. It was a really big bag, Hannah. She must have had six pairs of shoes in there.”

  “Did you check with The Glass Slipper to see if she bought anything?”

  Mike gave her a look that would have withered the hardiest tree in the forest. “Of course I did! I’m not a rookie, you know.”

  “I know that. What did they tell you?”

  “That she bought six pairs of shoes and put them on a credit card. The card was good. They checked.”

  “Then she didn’t shoplift.”

  “Not from The Glass Slipper. She had some other packages in the trunk, but I didn’t get close enough to notice the store names.”

  “Okay.” Hannah drew a deep breath. “You don’t know anything for sure, so let it go, at least until a store reports lost inventory. They do that, don’t they?”

  “Every Friday. You’re right, Hannah. I can’t jump to conclusions. I just didn’t like the look on her face when she spotted me. It was like she was afraid I’d question her or something, and she’s never looked at me like that before.”

  “I understand,” Hannah said taking his arm and giving it a little squeeze. “Perhaps it was nothing. You must have been tired after working at the station all day and then putting in a shift at the mall.”

  “I was. But I wasn’t imagining that look.”

  “Okay. Let’s drop it for now and think about something really important.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Shall we ride Santa’s Magic Sleigh first, or go talk to Larry about his cookie order?”

  “Let’s go talk to Larry,” Mike decided. “I’ve got a couple of questions for him.”

  “What questions?”

  “It’s about the sign I saw on the checkout booth we passed on
our way in.”

  “What sign?”

  “The one that said, We sell below cost and make it up on volume.”

  Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “But…but…” she sputtered. “That’s impossible!”

  “I know it is. I want to find out if that’s Larry’s idea of a joke, or if he really believes it.”

  As she walked down the snowy path with Mike, Hannah just shook her head. Although she’d been dreading it, she now hoped her mother would invite her to small business class again. Larry Jaeger’s sign was bad business whether it was a joke, or not. That meant she had something to contribute to the bad business practices segment of the class. The more she thought about it, the funnier it became and Hannah chuckled all the way to Elf Headquarters. She could hardly wait to tell Miss Whiting about this!

  HOLLY JOLLY COFFEE

  1 cup strong coffee, steaming hot

  1 packet hot cocoa mix (the kind that makes one cup)

  1/4 teaspoon orange extract***

  Mix everything up together and top with sweetened whipped cream.

  Chapter Six

  “Who is it?” a male voice called out when Mike rang the bell.

  “Mike Kingston and Hannah Swensen,” Mike replied.

  “Hold on. I’m coming.”

  A moment later, Larry Jaeger opened the door. It was clear he’d been sitting on the couch watching football, because there was a half-empty beer bottle on the coffee table, along with a bag of chips and a container of onion dip.

  As Hannah moved closer to the giant flat screen television, she spotted familiar purple and gold uniforms. She glanced up at the rectangle at the top of the screen to see who the Vikings were playing, and read that the opponent was LA. No punctuation was present, and that meant the team could be Louisiana or Los Angeles. Rather than hazard a guess and risk exposing her pigskin naivety, Hannah settled for her favorite football ambiguity. “How about those Vikings,” she commented, giving a little shrug.

  “They’re doing it again,” Larry replied, leading them over to the chairs directly across from the couch. “They were ahead at the end of the half, but now they’re blowing it. I’ll just kill the sound so we can talk.”

  Hannah watched Larry as he hunted for the control. If she had to describe him in one word, that word would be “average.” Everything about him was average, from his hair, a color midway between light and dark, his medium build, and his standard height. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, a plaid shirt, and a pair of pull-on deerskin boots.

  Although Larry looked ordinary, Hannah knew he wasn’t. You couldn’t live in Lake Eden without hearing stories about the budding businessman who had devised unique ways of raising money. Larry had been a wheeler dealer even back in high school.

  And now he was at it again. Larry’s Christmas tree lot was packed with customers and it certainly looked to be a successful business. The sign Mike had noticed bothered her a bit, but perhaps Mr. Medium, as Hannah had come to think of him, possessed a weird sense of humor.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Hannah,” Larry said in his medium-volume, medium-pitched voice. He hit the mute button, killing the sound, and turned to her. “I was planning on calling you in the morning. The girls at the cookie shop tell me we need to increase our order.”

  “That’s great,” Hannah said, giving him a smile. It seemed that Larry was on top of the cookie problem. “How many dozen extra would you like?”

  “Let’s see…we go through an average of six dozen an hour in the afternoons and it’ll probably be more in the evenings. Let’s say an extra thirty-six dozen. That ought to cover it.”

  It was a big order and Hannah was pleased. “We can do thirty-six dozen. Do you want any particular kind?”

  “Actually, I do. I noticed we don’t have anything with white chocolate.”

  Hannah thought fast. “I just tested a new recipe for White Chocolate Pumpkin Dreams and they were excellent. They’re a soft cookie and they’re very moist. Would you like to try those?”

  “They sound fine. Could you deliver five dozen of those every day?” When Hannah nodded, he went on. “And we don’t have a ginger cookie. Do you have anything like that?”

  “I could give you five dozen Frosted Ginger Cookies.”

  “Sounds great. How about something with marshmallows? Kids love marshmallows.”

  “They certainly do,” Hannah agreed, her sole point of reference being her niece Tracey. Tracey adored marshmallows and the last time she had come down to The Cookie Jar to spend the afternoon, they’d come up with a brownie that Tracey loved. “How about five pans of Fudge-Mallow Cookie Bars? You can get two dozen brownies from each pan. That’ll be another ten dozen.”

  “Good!”

  Larry was silent for several moments and Hannah wondered if he’d added wrong. “That’s only twenty dozen extra,” she reminded him.

  “I know. I’m just considering something else. We get a big rush of customers right after the dinner hour. How about some kind of wonderful Christmas dessert, something so good it’ll make them leave their own dinner tables and come to the Crazy Elf for dessert?”

  “That’s a good idea,” Hannah said, and then she was silent. She wasn’t about to suggest something like mincemeat pie or fruitcake at this point, not until Larry had given her a clue to what he considered wonderful.

  “I’m thinking of something they wouldn’t make at home. And something that’s not available at local grocery stores. We might even need something that people around here haven’t tasted before.”

  Hannah thought of several desserts that fit Larry’s description, but she wasn’t about to name them. They were overworked as it was at The Cookie Jar and there was no way they were going to bake cranberry tarts or miniature chocolate meringue pies. She’d wait for him to come up with something and then see if they had time to do it.

  Larry thought for a moment and then he leaned forward in excitement. “How about plum pudding? They have it in England and I think it’s a traditional Christmas dessert.”

  “It may be traditional, but nobody’s going to order it twice,” Mike said, entering the conversation for the first time. “I had it at a fancy restaurant in Minneapolis. It tasted like fruitcake, but what really got to me was there wasn’t a single plum in it.”

  “No plums in plum pudding?” Larry asked, turning to Hannah for confirmation.

  “Mike’s right. The traditional recipe has citron and some other dried and candied fruit, but no plums.”

  “Then why do they call it plum pudding?”

  Hannah shrugged. “Maybe it’s because it’s wrapped up in cloth and steamed. Somebody probably thought it came out shaped like a plum.”

  “Well, I guess plum pudding won’t work.” Larry looked disappointed.

  “Don’t give up quite yet,” Hannah told him, her mind working a million miles a minute. She still had to come up with a spectacular dessert for Claire and Reverend Knudson’s wedding dinner and she might be able to kill two birds with one stone. “I think I can create my own recipe for plum pudding and I’ll make sure there are real plums inside. You probably don’t want to flambé it if you’re going to serve individual slices, though.”

  “Right,” Larry agreed.

  “Do the girls in the cookie shop have a microwave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I think it’ll be better if it’s heated. I’ll try it and see.”

  Larry still looked slightly worried. “I hate fruitcake. It’s not going to taste like fruitcake, is it?”

  “Absolutely not. There won’t be any citron or dried fruit in it except maybe a few golden raisins. Do you want me to try to bake a sample and bring it to you so you can taste it?”

  “Yes.”

  Both men spoke at once and Hannah laughed. “I’ll work on it at the The Cookie Jar tomorrow and bring you something with your afternoon cookie delivery. How’s that?”

  “That’s great,” Larry said.

  Hannah turned to Mike. “And you
can stop in around noon to try your sample. In the meantime, I’ll give you extra sugar cookies, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine. Your sugar cookies are always a big hit.” Larry stood up to walk them to the door, but Mike stayed in his chair.

  “One more thing,” Mike said. “I noticed you don’t have any Christmas decorations in here.”

  “That’s right. I get enough of all that every time I open the door. I don’t know how Courtney can stand it.”

  “Courtney?”

  “My fiancée. She heads up the sales staff in the toy shop and she has to listen to all those animated toys with the squeaky recorded voices every day.”

  “That must be tough,” Mike said.

  “It is. She complains about it all the time, but she won’t shut them off. She says it’s good for business.” Larry stood up and gestured toward the door. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have a business meeting in five minutes and it’s important.”

  Mike and Hannah rose from their seats. They followed Larry toward the door and once they’d reached it, Mike stopped and turned back to Larry. “I noticed your sign by the checkout booth, the one about selling below cost and making it up on volume. You were kidding, weren’t you?”

  “Of course I was kidding! You can’t sell below cost and make a profit regardless of the number of units you deal. Everybody knows that.”

  “Then why do you have the sign?” Hannah asked, hoping for an addition to her story for Miss Whiting.

  “When I was still in junior high a guy on a TV commercial said that he was selling below cost and making it up on volume. I think it was some spokesman for a mattresses store. I thought it was funny and I signed up for a shop class so I could make up a professional-looking sign. That’s the original out by the checkout booth. It’s turned into a tradition for L. J. Enterprises. That sign has hung by the door in every business I’ve ever started.”

  It was a clear winter night and the stars were sparkling as if they were made of multifaceted ice crystals. The moon was up, a silvery ball overhead casting blue shadows on the snow below them. The music was pleasant at this altitude. The melodies floated up to embrace them for brief moments and then dispersed in the dark frigid air.