Strawberry Shortcake Murder by Joanne Fluke Page A

Memorial Hospital was on Old Lake Road, five miles from The Cookie Jar and well outside the downtown area. It had been built on a rise that overlooked the frozen surface of the lake, and it was Doc Knight’s pride and joy. The V-shaped cinder-block building had been painted a cheerful shade of yellow, and it was completely surrounded by small pines that had been planted so that each of the two dozen rooms would look out on perpetual greenery and a view of Eden Lake.
    Hannah drove around to the back of the building and entered the parking lot. There weren’t many cars this time of the day, and she pulled up next to Doc Knight’s new Explorer. There were posts with electrical outlets on the far row for the nurses and the staff, but Hannah decided that she didn’t need to plug in her truck. They wouldn’t be staying more than an hour and probably less.
    “Ready?” Hannah turned to her sister.
    Andrea nodded and removed the quilt. “I hate hospitals.”
    “Me too.” Hannah waited for Andrea to get out and locked up her truck. They fell into step together and when they reached the front of the hospital, Hannah pulled open the heavy glass door, and they stepped into the foyer. They stomped off their boots, wiping them on the mat, then went through the set of double doors that led into the large lobby.
    Visiting hours were posted on a sign above the reception desk. They were from two to four and seven to nine. It was almost noon, and the desk was deserted. Hannah didn’t bother to press the buzzer for assistance. How hard could it be to find Danielle’s room? It would be the only one with a uniformed sheriff’s deputy stationed outside.
    The hospital corridor smelled like disinfectant and cauliflower. At least Hannah hoped that it was cauliflower. The mixture made her wrinkle up her nose and wish for the soothing aromas of vanilla and chocolate.
    “It smells bad in here,” Andrea spoke in a hushed voice.
    “I know.” Hannah wondered if anyone had ever done a study of which smells made sick patients sicker. She’d be willing to bet that cauliflower would be right up near the top of the list.
    “I think it’s the food,” Andrea commented, as they neared a food cart and she spotted a lunch tray. “You brought Danielle some cookies, didn’t you? Nobody should have to eat food like that.”
    “Of course I did.” Hannah held up the bag she was carrying, filled to the brim with Cocoa Snaps, Pecan Crisps, and Chocolate Chip Crunches.
    “This food is all white.” Andrea made a face. “I knew it would be bad, but not this bad.”
    Hannah stared down at the tray. Andrea was right. The food had no color. There was a glop of vanilla pudding in a little plastic cup, an entrée of poached fish with some sort of white cream sauce on top, a scoop of mashed potatoes, a compartment filled with limp-looking steamed cauliflower, and a piece of white bread with a pat of butter. Hannah would have passed on lunch even if she’d been hungry. And from the look of the barely touched trays, so had most of the patients at Lake Eden Memorial.
    “That must be Danielle’s room.” Andrea pointed toward the far end of the hallway. “There’s Rick.”
    Hannah recognized the tall, lanky figure of Cyril Murphy’s oldest son. “How long do you think you can keep him talking?”
    “As long as you need. All I have to do is ask about his new baby. It’s their first.”
    Hannah stepped forward with her cookies, a smile pasted on her face. Rick reported directly to Mike, and if he suspected that this was any more than a friendly visit, he’d mention it. Hannah didn’t even want to think of what Mike would say if he realized that the Swensen sisters were on a mission to prove him wrong and catch Boyd’s real killer in the bargain.
    APRICOT BREAD PUDDING
Do not preheat oven yet. The bread pudding must settle for 30 minutes before baking.
8 slices of white bread (either homemade or “store bought”)
1/2 cup melted butter (1 stick, 1/4