Key Lime Pie Murder by Joanne Fluke

smile. “I heard. Congratulations!”
    â€œAnd did you hear about the new artwork I’m going to hang over my couch in the living room?” Mike asked, taking the stool next to Norman’s.
    â€œI heard that you bought Norman’s photograph, if that’s what you mean,” Hannah said. “Coffee for both of you?”
    Hannah busied herself behind the counter, filling mugs and delivering their cookie orders. Once that was done, she took up a position behind the counter, midway between them, and waited to see what would happen.
    For a moment all they did was crunch their cookies and sip their coffee. Mike had two Chocolate Highlander Cookie Bars, and Hannah was glad. The endorphins in the chocolate might take the edge off his tendency to challenge Norman.
    Norman had ordered two Peanut Butter Melts. No help there. Hannah didn’t think that peanut butter had endorphins, but it probably wouldn’t make much difference. Like oil and water, Norman and Mike needed an emulsifier to mix, and that emulsifier was friendship. They truly did like each other. But both of them had a tendency to play one-upmanship whenever she was around. And when they started that particular game, Hannah felt obliged to referee.
    The tension grew right along with the silence until, at last, Mike cleared his throat. “Did you hear how much I paid for your picture?” he asked, dipping his paddle into the waters first.
    â€œAndrea told me it was five hundred dollars. Did you really pay that much?”
    â€œYou bet I did.”
    Hannah turned to Norman. “And you charged him that much?”
    â€œI didn’t charge him. That’s the price the judges set. All the photographs get auctioned off on the final day of the fair, and the money goes to charity. If you want to buy an entry before that, you have to pay the price the judges set.”
    Hannah turned to Mike. “Why didn’t you wait for the auction? You might have gotten it cheaper.”
    Mike shook his head. “It’s a silent auction and you only get one bid. Somebody could have outbid me and then I would have lost you.”
    â€œThen you would have lost a photograph of me,” Hannah corrected him, “a photograph that your friend Norman took. I’m sure he would have made you a copy if you’d asked him.”
    â€œI didn’t want to ask. You really look good in that picture, Hannah. You’ve got this…I don’t know…kind of dreamy expression on your face. I know you were thinking about me.”
    Norman shook his head. “No, she wasn’t. She was thinking about me.”
    Uh-oh! Hannah thought, Let the games begin. She had to stop them both in their tracks and there was only one way to do it.
    â€œWrong!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t thinking of either of you. I was remembering how Grandma Ingrid’s chocolate cashew pie tasted and wondering if I could make it.”
    â€œIt must have been really good,” Mike said, and Hannah could tell he didn’t completely believe her.
    â€œIt was. Unfortunately, she didn’t write down the recipe and I’m still trying to recreate it.”
    â€œLet us know when you get it,” Norman said, giving her a look that told Hannah he hadn’t bought her explanation either.
    Hannah mentally kicked herself as she wiped down the already immaculate counter. What on earth had possessed her to rave about a pie her grandmother had never baked? Was there such a thing as a chocolate cashew pie? Hannah had never heard of one, but now that she’d stuck her foot in her mouth, she’d better come up with a recipe.
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    â€œDid you buy it?” Lisa asked when Hannah came back from Beau Monde.
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œAre you going to wear it to the fair tonight?”
    Hannah shook her head. “No. I’m going out there at seven to watch Michelle in the bathing suit competition, but nobody’s going to pay