Chapters (41)
- Cover
- CREAM PUFF MURDER
- Books by Joanne Fluke
- CREAM PUFF MURDER
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments:
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Index of Recipes
- Baking Conversion Chart
- Copyright
Without another word, both sisters picked up their winter parkas and slid over to the edge of the booth so they could peer out at the other diners. It was Saturday, and Bertanelli’s was packed with customers. It was also November in Minnesota, and that meant the coatrack by the door was also packed, and they’d had to stash their bulky outerwear in their booth. Andrea was sharing her side with her husband, Bill Todd, the Winnetka County sheriff. Hannah’s lunch date was her sometimes boyfriend, Bill’s chief detective, Mike Kingston. This was obviously a working lunch because the men hadn’t even noticed the porcine projectile that had landed on Hannah’s head. They were too busy discussing a bungled bank robbery that had taken place in a neighboring town that morning.
The interior at Bertanelli’s was comfort itself, with carved wooden booths and tables, plastered walls with fake brick peeking through, and Italian scenes painted by the Jordan High senior art class. The candles on the tables were stuck in wine bottles that had been dripped with various candle colors, a tribute to the crafts movement of the fifties. All in all, it was a nice, relaxing place to have lunch, but not today.
“Uh-oh,” Andrea said, beginning to frown.
“You said it,” Hannah added, spotting Bridget Murphy, who had just righted herself after running smack-dab into the waitress who’d been carrying the pizza that had provided Hannah’s unexpected slice of sausage.
Both women watched as Bridget, who was known for her fiery Irish temper, veered off toward the big round booth in the corner where Ronni Ward was holding court. Ronni was flanked by four of Lake Eden’s most successful males. Mayor Bascomb and bank president Doug Greerson were seated on her left. Al Percy of Lake Eden Realty, and Bert Kuehn, co-owner of Bertanelli’s, were seated on her right.
Everyone had thought that Ronni was gone for good last winter when she got engaged and moved in with her fiancé to help him run his fitness center in Elk River. But Ronni and the man she’d promised to marry had broken it off, and, as Hannah and Andrea’s grandmother had been fond of saying, the bad penny had turned up in Lake Eden again. Bill, who was a soft touch for a sob story, had rehired Ronni as the fitness instructor at the sheriff’s department, and the word on the Lake Eden gossip hotline was that Ronni was flirting heavily, or perhaps even more, with the deputies at the sheriff’s station, regardless of their marital status.