“Mush.”
“What?”
“They turn into mush. And then they fall off the vine and onto the ground.”
Michelle cracked up and so did Hannah. It seemed to take forever for them to stop laughing. Perhaps their hilarity was due to the fact they’d worked all day and conducted two interviews. And now that they were back at the condo, they could relax and have a good time. Hannah wasn’t sure exactly why her comment was so funny and she didn’t try to analyze it. It simply felt good to laugh.
“Do we have room for three crockpots in the bottom of the refrigerator?” Michelle asked when they’d finally stopped laughing. “Just the crocks with their covers.”
“I think so. It’s a really big refrigerator. I didn’t measure when I bought it and it barely fit into the space when it was delivered. They had to cut a hole in the ceiling to vent it.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t measure.”
“I know. It was stupid of me, but I’d never bought a refrigerator before, and I just assumed that anything I bought would fit into the space.”
Hannah opened the refrigerator and did a little housekeeping, throwing out a severely wrinkled apple, three senior potatoes that had surpassed their life span, a bag of carrots that had reached and exceeded its golden years, and a package of blue cheese that wasn’t bleu cheese. When she was through, she turned to Michelle. “Yes, there’s room for three crocks now.”
Michelle got out three of Hannah’s crockpots and sprayed the crocks with Pam. “Will you help me peel the potatoes?”
“Sure.” Hannah chose a paring knife and handed one to Michelle. With both of them working, the potatoes were peeled in record time. “Do you put them in whole?” she asked.
“No. They have to be cut in half lengthwise. That way they cook a little faster and they’ll get done when everything else is done.”
“That makes sense. What else do you have to do before we can fill the crocks?”
“Open the soup cans. That’s it. I need two cans of condensed cream of mushroom, one can of condensed tomato, and one can of condensed celery for each crock. We have to mix them together, along with the package of pork gravy. I could have just used three cans of condensed golden mushroom soup and one can of condensed celery soup, but Florence didn’t have the golden mushroom soup in stock.”
Once the soup cans were open and mixed together, Hannah watched Michelle assemble the first crock. “I think I’ve got it. You do the second crock and I’ll do the third.”
“Okay. That’ll save time,” Michelle agreed. “Just ask if you have any questions. Lisa says this is a very forgiving recipe. Even if you don’t assemble it exactly right, it still turns out to be delicious.”
“I wonder if you could do it with chicken breasts,” Hannah said as she assembled the ingredients in her crock.
“I don’t know why not. If you have any doubts, ask Aunt Nancy. It was her recipe in the first place.”
“I’ll ask and then I’m going to try it. I think I’ll add some Hungarian paprika. That should be really tasty. And maybe I’ll use a can of condensed cream of chicken soup for one of the cans of condensed mushroom soup.”
“That’s the nice thing about this recipe,” Michelle said, putting the lid on one of the crocks and carrying it to the refrigerator. “You know it works and you can start playing around by switching ingredients. I do that with muffins all the time.”
“And I do it with cookies to come up with new varieties for my customers.” Hannah put the lid on her crock and put it on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, right next to Michelle’s.
“Will you hold the door open?” Michelle asked, picking up the last crock and carrying it to the open refrigerator. When that was safely stowed away, she went to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.
“We have eighteen pork chops,” Hannah said.
“And they’re double thick,” Michelle pointed out. “I think that should be enough to feed everyone, even Mike.”
Chapter Twenty-two
S
traw-ber-ry fi-elds for-ev-er
. She was running effortlessly through an endless expanse of strawberry fields, her diaphanous white gown streaming out behind her and her bare feet stroking the sun-warmed earth in perfect time to the Beatles song.
It was a sun-dappled summer afternoon with flitting butterflies decorating the fragrant, strawberry-scented air. The sunshine was warm on her shoulders, caressing her bare arms as she ran. Her feet kissed the ripe berries and they sent up waves of delightfully aromatic perfume as she crushed them beneath her toes.
Her toes . . . strawberries . . . Moishe!
Hannah sat up in bed, startling the cat who was licking her feet with his rough tongue. “Cut that out, Moishe! I was having the most wonderful dream and . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and rubbed her eyes to wake up.
Sunlight was streaming through her bedroom window. Or was that a part of her dream? It must be because she could still smell the strawberries, even though the lovely summer afternoon and the strawberry fields had disappeared.
There was only one way to tell if she was still dreaming and Hannah reached down for her slippers. She pulled them on and sighed as she stood up. She was awake. There was her alarm clock and it was ten after eight. And there was Moishe, staring up at her from his perch on her pillow. “Why do you always take
my
pillow? I bought you your own pillow and it’s exactly like mine. Tonight I’m going to take your pillow and see how you like it.”
The scent of strawberries was still in the air. If it was not a dream, the residual effect was lasting a long time. Hannah slipped on her robe and padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. With each step she took, the strawberry scent intensified.
“Good morning, Sleepyhead.” Michelle greeted her the way Hannah had greeted her when Michelle was in grade school. “Sit down and I’ll pour a cup of coffee for you.” She indicated a pan of muffins sitting on a wire rack on the counter. “These muffins should be cool enough to eat in about ten minutes.”
“They smell great!” Hannah said, a bit surprised that she could vocalize before her first sip of morning coffee.
“I hope they’re as good as they smell. I just threw them together when I got up. I’ve never made strawberry muffins before.”
Hannah watched as her sister filled a mug with coffee and carried it to the kitchen table. “Thanks,” she managed to say.
“You’re welcome. You don’t have to talk before you’ve had your first cup. I know how difficult that is.”
Hannah gave a nod and picked up the mug. She brought it to her lips and sipped the wonderfully restorative morning brew. “Good,” she said, lifting the mug for another sip.
“What time would you like to see the judge’s widow?” Michelle asked after Hannah had finished her first cup of coffee and had refilled the mug.
“How about ten? We have a good chance of catching her at home then. And she should be up and awake.”
“You’re not going to call first?”
“No. I almost always get more information when I surprise suspects.”
“Then Mrs. Colfax is a suspect?”
“Yes, until I clear her. Family members are always suspect until their alibis are checked out. Emotions run high in families.” Hannah glanced over at her sister’s strawberry muffins. “Do you think those muffins are cool yet?”
“Probably. I’ll get one for you, but be careful when you take off the cupcake paper. It could still be hot in the center.”
Hannah watched as Michelle plucked a muffin out of the pan and brought it over to her. There was softened butter and a knife on the kitchen table. Hannah felt the cobwebs in her mind begin to dissipate as she peeled off the fluted paper cup and took her first bite without benefit of butter.
“
Mmmph
,” she said in a sound that was partly a sigh and partly a sound of pleasure. “These are great, Michelle!” She glanced over at the wire racks on the counter. “You made two dozen?”
“Yes. I thought that if I made a double batch, we could take some to Mrs. Colfax. Most people bring things when they pay condolence calls.”
Hannah smiled. Michelle was turning into a good investigator if she’d figured out the reason that Hannah would give for seeking out the judge’s widow. “That’s just perfect. Thanks for baking them, Michelle.”
“My pleasure. I love to bake in the morning. There’s something magical about the sweet scents that fill the kitchen when you’re sitting at the table, drinking coffee and waiting for whatever you baked to come out of the oven.”
“Exactly right,” Hannah said, agreeing with her sister wholeheartedly. “Judge Colfax’s clerk gave me Nora Colfax’s home address and it’s less than a half hour from here. Let’s get on the road by nine-fifteen, just to be on the safe side.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Michelle said, and then she chuckled softly.
Hannah was puzzled by the chuckle. As far as she knew, she hadn’t said anything humorous. “Why are you laughing?”
“I was thinking that leaving early was a good idea, because it’s harvest season and we might run into a Minnesota traffic jam.”
“Two cars behind a tractor?”
“Right.” Michelle refilled their coffee cups and grabbed a muffin for herself. She peeled off the paper and bit into it. “I think these worked well. I’ll add them to the recipe file on my laptop.”
“Make a copy for me,” Hannah said, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. “I’m awake now and I’m going to take a quick shower and get dressed.”
“Okay. But don’t you want another muffin?”
“Yes, when I get back. You’ve heard of the carrot on a stick in front of the donkey, haven’t you?”
“Incentive,” Michelle said. “That should work for both of us. I’ll shower and dress, too. Our muffins will be right here waiting for us when we’re ready.”
At thirteen minutes before ten, Hannah pulled up in front of a modest house on the fifteen hundred block of Elmwood Street. The house was covered in pale blue stucco with white shutters on the sides of the windows and a white metal awning over the front door to protect the caller from the elements. There were still some late-blooming chrysanthemums in the window boxes and snowball bushes stood sentinel on the sides of the red brick walkway that led up to the front steps.
“Nice little house,” Michelle said. “It’s quite a contrast to the ex-Mrs. Colfax’s mansion.”
“The house and the flowers are well-kept,” Hannah noted. “Those snowball bushes have been trimmed recently. If you let them go, they’ll take over your whole yard.”
“Snowballs are hydrangeas, aren’t they?”
“Some are, some aren’t. There are a lot of different types of hydrangeas. These look like the Japanese variety to me, and the soil must have a lot of aluminum because the blooms have a blue tint. The color depends on the acidity. It’s late summer so these are already turning a bit green. I don’t think they’re the other type of snowball bush. Those are viburnum bushes, and I actually like them better because they have huge white blooms. But I’m no expert.”
“You sound like an expert to me.”
“But I’m not. It’s just that I had to research hydrangeas and viburnums when Norman and I designed our dream house for that newspaper contest we won. Part of the planning included the landscaping around the house.”
The two sisters walked up to the front door and Hannah rang the bell.
A moment or two later, the door opened to reveal a pleasantly plump woman dressed in a navy blue suit, white blouse, and dress shoes. Her hair was carefully styled and it was a beautiful shade of gray. Hannah judged her to be at least ten years younger than Judge Colfax.
“Mrs. Colfax?” Hannah asked her.
“Yes.”
“I’m Hannah Swensen and this is my sister Michelle. I knew your husband and we’re both terribly sorry for your loss.”
“Hannah Swensen. Oh, my! Do come in, my dears. My husband’s clerk called me and said you might drop by.”
“That’s kind of you, Mrs. Colfax,” Hannah said, beckoning to Michelle and then following the older woman to a small kitchen in the rear of the house.
“Sit down and have a cup of coffee with me.”
“Are you sure you have time?” Hannah asked her. It was obvious that the judge’s widow was dressed to go out.
“I have plenty of time. My appointment isn’t until noon.” She poured three cups of coffee and carried them to the table. “Cream or sugar?”
Hannah shook her head. “Just black for us.”
“These are for you, Mrs. Colfax.” Michelle handed her the box of muffins. “I baked strawberry muffins this morning.”
“You girls are so talented!” Mrs. Colfax lifted the lid and peeked inside. “Oh, my! They smell just marvelous.” She turned to Hannah. “My husband called me right before . . .” she stopped and cleared her throat. “He’d just eaten one of the brownies your lawyer brought for him. He said you’d probably baked them because you owned a bakery. Was he right?”
“Yes. They were my Double Fudge Brownies.”
“Well, he really enoyed them and he said he had to call to tell me how wonderful they were. Thank you, my dear, for giving him that pleasure. He was a wonderful man!”
Hannah felt tears come to her eyes. It was clear that Mrs. Colfax had loved her husband. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated the sentiment.
“Seth called this morning and told me you’d been to see him last night. He told me not to worry, that you were a nice person and you were determined to catch my husband’s . . .” Mrs. Colfax stopped speaking and cleared her throat again. “Geoffrey’s killer.”
“That’s true, Mrs. Colfax.”
“Nora. Please call me Nora, both of you.” She turned and smiled at Michelle and then she turned back to Hannah. It wasn’t much of a smile, but it was there nonetheless. “My heart goes out to you, Hannah. It must have been terrible, being the one to find Geoffrey like that.”
Hannah nodded. It
had
been terrible, but she wasn’t about to describe the scene to Judge Colfax’s widow. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt your husband?”
“Oh, my yes! I’m sure quite a few people did. There are all the criminals he put behind bars, his ex-wife, Sheila, who despised him, and his former mistress. I’m not really sure how she felt about Geoffrey. He left her for me, you know. I loved Geoffrey very much, but there are those who felt quite the opposite.”
“How about his son? Did Seth resent the fact that his father left the family?”
“I imagine he did at first. Seth was eleven and that’s a difficult time in a young boy’s life. And I’m sure Sheila filled his head with all sorts of nonsense about Geoffrey. He didn’t leave Sheila for me, you know. I didn’t even know Geoffrey then. He left Sheila because he could no longer stand living with her. He was wracked with guilt about leaving Seth behind. He tried his best to win custody of Seth, but the judge was old-fashioned and thought that children should stay with their mothers. The best Geoffrey could get was joint custody and Sheila didn’t live up to her bargain with that.”
“But Seth developed a good relationship with your husband as he grew older?”
“Oh, my yes! In the past three years they’ve been practically inseparable. When Geoffrey worked as an interim judge, they had lunch together at least once a week. Seth just loves my meatloaf and he came to the house for Sunday dinner every week, and he always brought me little gifts like flowers and candy. He is a very thoughtful person and Geoffrey was so proud of him. He graduates from law school in June, you know.”
“He told us. That’s wonderful, Nora.”
“Geoffrey certainly thought so. He said that his son had come into his own at last.”
The moisture was building again in Nora’s eyes and Hannah hurried with her next question. If Nora could concentrate on giving information that could assist in the murder investigation, it might help her deal with her grief.
“Have a muffin, Nora.” Michelle pushed the box closer. “I’d really like to know what you think of them.”
“Why . . . thank you. I think I will. Just sitting here smelling them is wonderful, but it isn’t quite enough.” Nora reached for a muffin, peeled off the paper, and tasted it. “Oh, my! These are delicious, Michelle! I wish I could bake like this. Would you girls like to have one with your coffee? Heaven knows, I don’t need all of them!”
“Thanks, but we already had two apiece for breakfast,” Hannah told her.
Nora smiled. “Well, I know that I’ll enjoy them. My sister’s coming in to help with all the arrangements and she loves strawberries. She’s bound to love these muffins, too.”
Hannah glanced down at her list of questions. She already knew that Judge Colfax had called his wife only minutes before he was killed. Nora had mentioned that. And Mike would be sure to pull the record of calls made from the judge’s chambers. She was almost positive that Nora was telling the truth, but it couldn’t hurt to check. There were times when intuition was the mother of disaster and Hannah wasn’t about to assume anything when it came to investigating a murder.
The most difficult question was next and Hannah knew she had to phrase it carefully. If Nora took offense at the inference, she might refuse to answer any more questions. “I imagine your nephew was very upset,” Hannah said, hoping that she sounded sympathetic.
“Chad?” Nora looked shocked. “I doubt he cares, one way or the other. Geoffrey didn’t like Chad and I’m sure that Chad felt the same way, especially after the tongue-lashing Geoffrey gave him for pursuing the case against you in spite of his advice.”
Hannah was surprised at this news. “Judge Colfax tried to talk Chad out of prosecuting me?”
“Several times. Geoffrey met with him privately and he told Chad that the charges were ridiculous, that no judge worth his salt would consent to even hear the case. But Chad wouldn’t listen. He was always stubborn, even as a child.”