Contents (62)
- Outstanding praise for Joanne Fluke’s delectable Hannah Swensen mysteries!
- Books by Joanne Fluke
- CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE MURDER
- Joanne Fluke
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Regency Ginger Crisps
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Pecan Chews
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Black and Whites
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chocolate-Covered Cherry Delights
- Chapter Twenty
- Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Epilogue
- Lovely Lemon Bar Cookies
- Index of Cookie Recipes
- Chapter One
- BROWN SUGAR DROPS
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- MERRY BERRY COOKIES
- Chapter Four
- IBBY’S METAPHYSICAL ENGLISH TOFFEE
- Chapter Five
- BUTTER-SCOTCHIES
- Chapter Six
- CANDY CANE COOKIES
- CHOCOLATE PECAN ROLL
- Chapter Seven
- CHOCOLATE MINT SOFTIES
- Chapter Eight
- FUDGE-AROONS
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- THREE-WAY FUDGE
- Index of Recipes
- Baking Conversion Chart
Coach Watson looked sad. “It’s a terrible loss for The Gulls. Ron came to every practice and he was a real inspiration.”
“Do you suppose it was some kind of sports vendetta?” Al Percy asked, his dark bushy eyebrows almost meeting in a frown. “After all, Ron was The Gull’s star player for three years in a row.”
Father Coultas shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense, Al. Everybody liked Ron, even the boys on the opposing teams.”
“You’re right, Father.” Coach Watson was quick to agree. “Ron was popular because he played fair.”
Al continued to frown and Hannah could see that he wasn’t ready to give up his sports vendetta theory quite yet. “Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with high school sports. From what I heard, it was an execution-style killing and that sure smacks of bent-nose types to me.”
“Bent-nose?” Bonnie Surma bristled and Hannah remembered that her maiden name had been Pennelli. “Are you talking about the Mafia?”
Al nodded. “It’s not impossible, Bonnie. Everybody knows that they run the sports books and they could have recruited Ron to pick up bets with his milk orders. If Ron’s take came up short, they might have put out a hit on him.”
“You’re crazy, Al.” Marge Beeseman obviously didn’t believe in mincing words. “Ron was one of ours and he never would have done something like that. Besides, my Herbie says that Mafia hit men always shoot their victims in the back of the head. Or they use that wire thing to choke them like they did in The Godfather.”
As Hannah watched, Danielle’s naturally pale face turned a shade of sickly gray. The polite smile on her face crumpled and she looked as if she were struggling not to burst into tears. She turned to her husband, whispered a few words, and then she left the group. Hannah watched her as she pushed her way through the crowded room and headed out into the hallway that led to the ladies’ room.
This was her chance and Hannah wasn’t about to waste it. She set off after Danielle as fast as she could. Once she’d gained the hallway, Hannah headed straight for the ladies’ room with only one purpose in mind. She had to find out exactly what Danielle knew about Ron’s murder.
Chapter Seven
As Hannah approached the door to the ladies’ room, she heard the sound of muffled sobbing. Maybe it wasn’t fair of her to take advantage of Danielle in her grief, but playing fair wasn’t as important as helping Bill solve Ron’s murder.
Hannah pushed open the door and found Danielle standing in front of the long mirror above the sinks. She was dabbing at her eyes with a soggy tissue and she looked helpless and frightened. As Hannah stepped into the pink-tiled room, she felt like Simon Legree confronting Little Eliza.
“Danielle?” Hannah remembered the old flies-and-honey maxim and she put every ounce of sympathy she could muster into her voice. “What’s wrong?”