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
“This is Del Woodley’s den,” Carrie announced.
“Should we be in here?” Bill looked very uneasy. “I mean, it’s not off-limits to the guests, is it?”
Carrie shook her head. “I asked him and he said it was perfectly all right.”
Hannah exchanged an amused glance with Andrea. Norman’s mother was a lot like Delores. Not only had Carrie waltzed into Lake Eden’s only formal affair with her camera, she’d even asked their host if they could use one of his private rooms to take pictures.
“Stand over by the fireplace with Bill.” Delores motioned to Andrea. “We’ll do yours first, just in case Bill gets called away.”
Hannah watched as her sister posed with Bill. Then Carrie decided that the two couples should stand together, and Hannah and Norman joined them. They arranged themselves obediently—Hannah and Andrea in front, Norman and Bill in back, while Carrie clicked away. Then she took another series with the four of them lined up in a row like soldiers, the “girls” in the center flanked by the two “boys.”
“Let’s take a few on the couch,” Delores suggested. “That always looks nice.”
Hannah suffered through more photos, wondering how soon Norman’s mother would run out of film. As soon as this ordeal was over, she had to pull Bill aside and bring him up to speed. Bill was tracing Ron’s movements on the morning of the murder and he didn’t know that Ron had gone into the dairy at six-fifteen and seen Max Turner in his office. It might not relate to Ron’s murder at all, but it was a new piece of information and Bill could ask Max about his early-morning meeting.
“You look distracted, dear.” Delores waggled a finger at her. “Concentrate on looking pretty and say cheese.”
“Gorgonzola,” Hannah muttered under her breath, and Andrea started to giggle.
“You’re moving, Andrea,” Delores warned. “Carrie can’t focus if you’re moving.”
Hannah rolled her eyes just as Norman’s mother snapped the picture. Didn’t Delores know that most cameras were auto-focus these days? If she had to endure another minute of flashes and admonitions about smiling from her mother, she was going to explode in sheer frustration.
“We’d better take that one again.” Delores turned to Carrie. “I think Hannah squinted.”
Just as Hannah was about to rebel, Norman stood and held up his hands. “That’s enough, Mother. Sit on the couch with Mrs. Swensen and I’ll take a couple of you.”
“Turnabout’s fair play,” Hannah murmured to Andrea as they stood off to the side and watched Norman take pictures of their mothers. “Let’s tell Mother her lipstick’s on crooked.”
Andrea looked horrified at the thought. “Don’t! Then she’ll have to get out her mirror and fix it, and that’ll take even longer.”
Hannah was about to point out that they’d taken enough pictures to paper the entire back wall in her shop, when she heard a low beeping noise. She turned to Bill and asked, “Is that your pager?”
Bill retrieved his pager from his pocket. He glanced at the display and frowned. “I’ve got to call in.”