Apple Turnover Murder

Chapter Nine

The phone rang at precisely twelve-thirty, just as Hannah had made the rounds of the tables with the coffee carafe. Michelle answered and a moment later she motioned to Hannah. “It’s Marge Beeseman,” she said as Hannah took the receiver.

“Herb says you don’t have your purple dress anymore,” Marge stated, wasting no time on preliminaries.

“That’s right. After I…um…retired as Herb’s assistant, I didn’t think I’d need it again.”

“Can you get it back?” Marge got straight to the point.

“No.” Hannah didn’t bother to explain that she’d stuck it in a bag and given it to a group of Jordan High students who’d come to her door asking for used clothing and household items for their class rummage sale.

“Well, don’t worry. Patsy will take over for me at the library this afternoon so Jack and I can go look for dresses at Helping Hands. That’s where we got that lovely purple dress, you know.”

“I know,” Hannah said, and left it at that.

“We’ll do things the same as we did the last time. We’ll pick out several dresses in your size and bring them over to you around three this afternoon. You can try them on, choose the one you want, and we’ll take the others back to the thrift shop.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Marge. I really appreciate it.”

“And I really appreciate how you’re helping Herb. He was just beside himself when Mary Kate’s mother called and said she had the flu.”

Hannah said goodbye and hung up the phone. There was a smile on her face when she turned back to Michelle. “Marge and Jack are going shopping at Helping Hands for me.”

“To pick out a magician’s assistant dress?”

“That’s right. I don’t know what time Lisa will get back so can you stay until I try them on?”

“I can stay for the rest of the day if you need me.”

“Great. I hope they can find something nice this time. That purple dress I wore at the fair was a horror.”

“What happened to it?” Florence Evans asked. She was sitting at the counter waiting for the box of Cinnamon Crisps Michelle was packing for Florence’s checkers at the Red Owl. It was clear that Florence had been listening to what they’d been saying. She wasn’t the type to make a pretence of politely ignoring their conversation.

“That dress is history,” Hannah told her. “I donated it to the Jordan High rummage sale.”

“Was it really that bad?” Michelle asked.

“It was worse. Some redheads can wear purple and other redheads can’t. I’m the kind of redhead that can’t.”

“Hannah’s right,” Bertie Straub said, leaning over to join their conversation. “You should have come down to the Cut ’n Curl before you went onstage with Herb. I’ve got a rinse that’s guaranteed to tone down the color in your hair.”

“That’s good to know,” Hannah said, wondering if it was the same rinse that gave several of Bertie’s regular silver-haired customers blue hair. “Thanks for the offer, Bertie, but I won’t have to worry about wearing that awful purple dress ever again!”

“Samantha Summerfield is a fascinating speaker,” Lisa said, stepping quickly to the walk-in cooler with the bowl of Molasses Cookie dough that she’d just mixed. “She told us all about a day in the life of a Hollywood star. It’s not all glamour, you know. When she’s shooting a movie or a television show, the car picks her up at five in the morning so she can get to the studio and be in makeup at six.”

“That doesn’t sound bad to someone who gets up at four-thirty and drives herself to work,” Hannah said.

“You’re right!” Lisa said, giggling a little. “I completely forgot that we do that every day!”

Hannah turned to smile at her young partner. Lisa had talked nonstop ever since she’d returned to The Cookie Jar. Hannah had heard all about the delicious luncheon, what a wonderful time she’d had talking to Delores, and the tidbits of information she’d learned about her favorite movie star.

“You really should have gone, Hannah. I just know you would have enjoyed yourself.”

“Wrong. But I’m very glad you did. What time is it, Lisa?”

“Five minutes to three.”

“Oh, good. Your dad and Marge should be here soon.”

Lisa turned to Hannah in confusion. “Why are Dad and Marge coming here?”

“They’re picking out a dress for me at Helping Hands.”

“A dress,” Lisa repeated, not looking in the least bit enlightened. “I thought you got all your dresses at Beau Monde because Claire gave you a discount.”

“I do.”

“Then why are Marge and Dad going dress shopping for you at the thrift store?”

“Because it seemed silly to pay good money for a dress I’m going to wear only once.”

“Only once?”

Hannah stared at Lisa for a moment. Her partner looked thoroughly confused. “I thought Herb must have told you. Mary Kate got the flu and I’m filling in for her as his assistant at the talent show tonight.”

“Oh! That’s really nice of you, Hannah. I wonder why Herb didn’t call to tell me. I always carry my cell phone when I’m not here at the shop.”

“Is it charged?” Hannah asked. It was a logical question, especially from someone who couldn’t even count the number of times she’d forgotten to charge her cell phone.

“I know it was charged. I just took it out of the charger this morning.”

“Is it turned on?” Hannah asked a second logical question, especially from someone who frequently forgot to turn on her cell phone.

“Yes, I always leave it on. I never know when I might get a call from Dad and…oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“I just remembered. I turned off my cell phone when we got to the school. There was a sign up asking people not to answer their cell phones during the luncheon or the speech. I completely forgot to turn it back on and check for messages when I got back here.”

There was a knock at the back door and Lisa went to open it. Marge and Jack were standing there, right on time. She gave both of them a hug and took the three plastic-covered bags her father was carrying. “Come in and try some of Hannah’s Zucchini Cookies,” she said. “They’re really good.”

Marge and Jack came in and took seats at the workstation. Lisa dished up some cookies, and Hannah filled two mugs with coffee from the kitchen pot.

“What kind of cookies did you say these were?” Marge asked, taking one from the plate.

“Zucchini Cookies,” Hannah answered. “It’s Rose’s recipe from last year’s Christmas cookie exchange.”

“Vegetable cookies,” Jack said, shaking his head. “What’ll they think of next?”

“I used to make Carrot Cookie Bars for the kids when they were growing up,” Marge said. “It was one way to get them to eat vegetables.”

Jack took a bite of his cookie. “Here’s another way. These are really good!”

Marge took a sip of her coffee and gave a little sigh. “We could only find three dresses in your size, Hannah.”

“That’s right,” Jack said. “We looked through all the racks, but that was it. It must be a very popular size. They’re nice dresses, though. I like the blue one the best, but the others are nice, too. Are you going to try them on…my dear?”

“Yes,” Hannah answered, not reacting to the term of affection. Jack always called women my dear when he forgot their given names. Sometimes he came right out and asked her to tell him her name, which was fine with her, but today he turned to Marge.

“I hope you like the dresses, Hannah,” Marge said quickly.

“So do I, Hannah,” Jack said, latching on to the name that Marge had provided. “Why don’t you try them on while we’re eating our cookies?”

While Lisa took a few minutes to talk to her father and mother-in-law, Hannah retrieved the three bags from the hook by the back door and carried them into the small bathroom off the kitchen. There was barely room enough to turn around, but somehow she managed to remove the plastic covering and take the first dress from its hanger.

The dress was made of white lace with a full skirt, a fitted bodice with a scoop neckline, and long sleeves that ended in points at the wrist. Hannah couldn’t quite decide whether it had been a wedding dress or a prom dress, but it was definitely the type of gown you’d wear to a formal event. She unzipped it, stepped into it, and pulled the dress up to zip it again.

It must have been a wedding dress, Hannah decided after one glance in the small mirror. She spotted three small pearl buttons in strategic spots on the back of the dress that had been sewn there for the purpose of attaching a train. Of course the buttons could be removed, but now that she examined the dress critically, she realized that it was all wrong for her. The scoop neck dipped too low, the sleeves were too tight, the lace ruffle below the waist made her hips look enormous, and the style was so outdated that even a non-fashion follower like her knew it. The overall impression was of a woman trying to make do with a dress she’d worn a decade earlier, and although it did fit in the waist, she really didn’t want to have to worry about the low neckline every time she bent over to retrieve scarves, or flowers, or other paraphernalia from the low, square table that held The Amazing Herb’s magic props.

The white dress went back on the hanger and Hannah slipped the plastic back in place. The dress wouldn’t do at all. She went on to the second dress, took off the plastic, and removed it from the hanger. It was a gorgeous color, a cross between an ice blue and a light turquoise. She slipped it over her head, and it whispered down the length of her body, settling easily on her shoulders.

“Yes!” Hannah said, glancing in the mirror. The material gleamed with a satiny finish and the skirt spanned almost a full circle. The neckline was flattering, dipping down to just the right spot, and the darts in the bodice were perfectly placed. The three-quarter sleeves were less constraining than long sleeves, especially important when she handed The Amazing Herb his props, and the skirt ended just below the knees, ensuring that she wouldn’t trip on it when she got into the Cabinet of Death. Jack was right. This was the perfect dress. All that remained was to zip it up to make sure it fit her properly.

Hannah reached behind her to grasp the tab of the zipper and pull it up. It slid easily to a point an inch or two below her waistline, but there it stopped. What was wrong? It simply wouldn’t go up any farther, even though she tugged a little harder than was wise.

Imitating a contortionist in the tight confines of the bathroom was difficult, but Hannah managed to reach behind her with both hands, grasp the sides of the dress, and attempt to draw it closed. After two attempts, she realized that it was impossible. The dress was at least three inches too small in the waist. But how could that be? The label was still attached to the dress and the number it listed was her size. This was impossible. The dress should fit her perfectly.

It took only a moment to lower the zipper and step out of the dress. Hannah picked it up and turned it inside out to examine the seams. The mystery was solved. The owner of the dress must have lost weight, because the gown had been altered. There were deep darts that extended above and below the waistline, effectively reducing the number on the printed tag by at least two dress sizes.

There was only one dress left. Hannah found herself holding her breath as she returned the blue dress to the hanger and covered it with the plastic. This was her last chance, and her fingers were shaking slightly as she pulled off the plastic to reveal the dress inside.

One glance and the hanger dropped from her nerveless fingers. Fate was cruel. It had played a trick much too heinous to believe. It was the purple dress, the same purple dress she’d worn at the Tri-County Fair and had handed over to the Jordan High students to sell at their rummage sale!

Hannah shut her eyes. Surely she must be dreaming. This simply couldn’t be happening to her. But when she opened her eyes again, the purple dress was still there, pooled in a heap of bilious color at her feet.

There was no benevolence. There was no kindness. There wasn’t even a modicum of mercy. She had to wear the purple dress. There was simply no help for it.

Hannah stood there for a long moment before she picked up the dark lavender horror. And then her mouth opened and she whimpered like a condemned felon awaiting punishment from a cruel magistrate.

“It’s back,” she whimpered, staring down at the dress in total disgust. “I must have done something really awful to deserve this, because…it’s baaack!”