Blueberry Muffin Murder

"Oh, yes," Hannah breathed settling back for the ride.

When Mike got close to shore, he took the temporary road that had been plowed for the delivery of the ice-fishing houses. That led them to the parking lot and Hannah's truck. He stopped near her rear bumper and reached out to take Hannah's arm before she could open her door.

"What?" Hannah asked, wondering if he was going to make even more of a commitment.

"You're not going to snoop around are you?"

Hannah gave an exasperated sigh. Leave it to Mike to spoil a perfect moment. "I promised you I wouldn't."

"I know, but that's never stopped you before. I tell you what. . . . Don't promise. Never make a promise you know you can't keep."

"Okay, I won't."

"So you are going to snoop around?"

Hannah winced. but she had to tell him the truth. "Probably."

"Okay. Just be very careful. That's all I ask. And call me right away if you need me."

Hannah reached out to touch his cheek. "I will," she said. "And that is a promise."

-25-

"Then Hannah walked into the lobby of the inn, the first VV person she saw was Janie. Her temporary houseguest was standing by the desk talking with Sally, who was manning the phones.

"Hi, Janie," Hannah greeted her. "Did you get a chance to see Paul?"

"No, he's gone. Sally just told me that he's in Minneapolis at corporate headquarters."

"He left at noon yesterday," Sally explained, "right after he came back from his interview with Mike and Bill. He told me he'd be in meetings all afternoon and all day today. I'm saving his room for him. He'll be back in time for the grand opening of the boutique tomorrow."

"Did he leave someone in charge?" Hannah asked her.

"Alan Carpenter, but we can't find him, either. He's probably out at the mall making last-minute arrangements for the opening."

"I really need to find out if I still have a job, and Alan would know." Janie looked a little nervous. "If you have time, could you take me out there?"

Hannah felt the horns of a dilemma poke her squarely in the backside. She wasn't supposed to say anything about Alan's murder, but she had to let Janie know that a trip to the mall wasn't necessary. "Uh. . . forget the mall. Alan's not there."

"Are you sure?" Janie asked.

"Oh, yes." Hannah held her breath, waiting for Janie's next question.

"Where is he?"

"He's: . . um . . . out at the mayor's ice-fishing house."

Sally's eyebrows shot up. "What's he doing out there?"

"Not much," Hannah said, and then she clamped her lips shut.

Sally stared at her for a moment and then began to frown. "You look like I do when I bounce a check and I don't want Dick to find out. Is there something you're not telling us?"

"You could say that," Hannah admitted, sending a silent apology to Mike for having to break another of his rules. "Alan's dead."

"I can't believe it!" Sally gasped after Hannah had told them. "Two of my guests. . . murdered!"

"Do they think it's the same killer?" Janie asked.

"Yes. I shouldn't have told you, but I couldn't see any way around it. Don't say anything to anybody until the sheriff's department officially releases the news."

"I won't," Sally promised.

"Me neither," Janie said. "Poor Alan. Sometimes he was a real pain, but he didn't deserve that."

Alex Matthews appeared at the doorway just then and waved to Janie. "Hi, Janie. I'm so glad you're back!"

"So am I," Janie said, and then she turned to Sally and Hannah. "I'll go talk to her for a minute. Don't worry. I won't say a word about Alan."

After Janie had left, Sally motioned for Hannah to come closer. "You're going to investigate, aren't you?" she asked.

"Of course I am."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"There may be," Hannah said. "The first thing I have to do is find out exactly when Alan was killed. When is the last time you saw him?"

"Last night. I was bartending and he came in with Kurt Howe. It was right before the eleven o'clock news."

"Was there anything odd about him?" Sally looked puzzled and Hannah went on to explain. "Maybe he was more nervous than usual, or angry about something?"

"He was a little uptight, but he told me they'd just come from a press conference and they'd been fielding questions about Connie Mac's death. Alan said they needed to unwind or they'd never get to sleep, and he ordered Chivas neat for both of them."

"How long did they stay in the bar?"

"Until the news was over. Kurt left first. He said he was going up to bed. Alan stayed for another couple of minutes, and then he said he was going to take a walk before he turned in. Before he left, he said he was going to sleep in, and he asked me to save him a prune Danish from the breakfast buffet."

"Did you?"

"Of course I did. I wrapped it up and left it in the kitchen for him, but he never came to get it. I figured he'd gone out to the mall early and had breakfast out there, so I gave it to Earl Flensburg when he came out here for lunch."

"So, as far as you know, he took his walk and then he went up to bed?"

"That's right."

"How about his car? Is it still in the lot?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I haven't been outside all day long. If you want to check, it's a silver Mercedes with tinted windows."

Hannah thanked Sally for the information and headed to the restaurant to see how Andrea was bearing up. She was still chilled and she wanted to warm up before she walked out to the parking lot to look for Alan's car.

The restaurant was only half full, and Hannah spotted t Andrea sitting at a table for two. As she approached, her sister smiled a greeting. The color was back in Andrea's cheeks, and she looked as if she'd fully recovered from her shock.

"You look a lot better," Hannah commented, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"I am." Andrea gestured toward the empty cup on the table. "You were right about the chocolate, Hannah. I had three cups of cocoa and I'm almost myself again."

"Where's Mayor Bascomb?" Hannah asked, noticing the second empty cup on the table.

"He went back out to the lake. Since he can't finish the ice-fishing contest, he's going to award the first-place trophy to the winner."

"He left you here alone?" Hannah was shocked. Mayor Bascomb was always polite to his constituents, and he carried courtesy and consideration to the extreme in an election year.

"I suggested it. All he could talk about was expanding the dump and building a new water filtration system. After fifteen minutes, I was bored to tears. And then, when he started discussing environmentally friendly uses for solid waste, I just had to think of a way to get rid of him."

One of the waitresses approached their table with a tray. Hannah watched as she set down a carafe, a clean cup and saucer, and two chocolate-covered doughnuts. When she'd left, Hannah turned to her sister. "What's this?"

"I figured you'd need a dose of your own medicine."

"Thanks," Hannah smiled. Andrea was right. A cup of hot chocolate was just what she needed.

Andrea took one of the doughnuts and ate it while Hannah drank her hot chocolate. "How about that other doughnut? Don't you want it?"

"Not really. I'm still full from breakfast. Janie made me French toast this morning."

"Can I have it? I'm still hungry and I don't know why. I've eaten like a horse today."

Hannah passed the plate to her sister. If there wasn't a baby in the making, she'd eat the velvet hat from Andrea's wedding, including the fashionable French lace around the brim.

* * *

"Here it is, Hannah," Andrea called out, pointing toward a car that was sandwiched in between a van and a midsize sedan with rental plates.

Hannah was amazed. All Andrea could see was the back end of the cars, and she'd spotted Alan's the moment they walked out to the parking lot. "Are you sure that's his?"

"Of course I am. I'm a real estate agent, and I know a Mercedes when I see one. Only serious buyers drive them."

"Because it means they have the money to buy a house?"

"Not necessarily, but they're expensive and you've got to have good credit to get one. Good credit's more important than money. Did you know that you can put the purchase price of a house on a credit card?"

Hannah shook her head. "You've got to be kidding! Does anybody really do that?"

"Yes. When the Ehrenbergs sold their summer cabin, the purchase price was thirty thousand. My buyers put the whole thing on their credit card."

"Why would they do that?" Hannah was confused. "I thought credit card interest rates were sky high."

"They are."

"Isn't the interest rate on a house loan much less?"

"Absolutely, but they had a really good reason for doing it."

"This I've got to hear," Hannah said, leading Andrea toward the car she thought was Alan's Mercedes.

"It's like this. They got a brand new credit card with a sweetheart rate: eight percent for the first six months. That's really good. And since their credit rating was excellent, they got a credit line of forty thousand."

Hannah whistled "I've never heard of a credit line that high."

"It's pretty high, but between the two of them they made over a hundred thousand a year, and they always paid their bills on time. They just hadn't saved any money, that's all."

"Okay, I'm following you so far."

"The lowest interest rate they could get through a mortgage broker at the time was seven and a half."

"Hold on a second." Hannah stopped in her tracks. "If the mortgage rate was seven and a half and the credit card rate was eight, they were paying more interest by putting it on their credit card."

'No, they weren't. Not in the short run. His father's will was in probate and his inheritance was over forty thousand. The only problem was, he didn't have it yet. He told me the lawyer figured he'd get it in four months or less."

"So why didn't they take out a house loan and pay it off when he got his inheritance?"

"Because the first couple of years are almost all interest. You only pay a tiny bit off on the principal. Four months of mortgage payments added up to more than the four months of interest on the credit card. They made a financially sound decision."

"It still sounds crazy to me. What if something had happened to delay his inheritance?"

"It didn't. He got a check in four months. It was a calculated risk, Hannah. They took it and it paid off."

Hannah just shook her head. "You remind me of Greg Canfield. He's betting on the thing, too."

"I thought you told me he tripled his money on that stock he bought."

"He did, but he could just as easily have lost everything." They'd almost reached the car in question when Hannah had a dire thought. "Do you handle the finances, Andrea?"

"No. Bill takes care of all that, and he's very cautious. Sometimes it bugs me, but we've got a family to consider. Tracey already has a college fund. Bill started it the day we found out that I was pregnant."

"That's good," Hannah said, smiling slightly. Andrea didn't realize it, but Bill would be making another trip to the bank to open another account soon.

"So what did you learn?" Andrea asked, after they'd examined Alan's car and were walking back to the inn.

"Alan didn't drive anywhere this morning."

"How could you tell that?" 'There was snow on the windshield, and it stopped snowing about four this morning. I heard it on KCOW when I was driving out here."

"In that case, I learned something, too."

"Really? What?"

"Alan was killed before four this morning."

"You learned that by looking at his car?" Hannah turned to her sister in surprise.

"No, it was what you said."

Hannah was confused. "What did I say?"

"That it stopped snowing at four this morning. If somebody dragged Alan out there after four, there would have been tracks in the snow."

"That's true"

"Well, there weren't any. When we drove up, there was only one set of footprints leading up to the door."

"Good for you, Andrea. You're incredibly observant and you have a great memory for detail."

Andrea looked slightly uncomfortable. "Actually, no. The only reason I noticed was that I overheard Sara Thompson talking to Patsy Berringer in the caf' the other day. They were gossiping about the mayor's new girlfriend."

"I didn't know he had one," Hannah commented, feeling a wave of contempt for their town's illustrious leader. Mayor Bascomb had come within an eyelash of getting into big trouble for his last affair, and she'd hoped the close call had taught him a lesson.

"They didn't mention who his girlfriend was, and it might not be true. I usually don't put much stock in gossip, but I didn't want to interrupt him if he was. . . uh . . . you know. That's the only reason I noticed, Hannah. It was all because of the gossip I heard. But it helped, didn't it?"

Hannah's grin grew wider. "You bet! It narrows our time frame down to four hours and saves us a whole lot of trouble. This has got to be the first time in history that gossip actually turned out to be good for something."

-26- "You concentrate on the Connie Mac people," Hannah told her sister after they'd reentered the inn and removed their coats and boots. "Most of them will be out at the mall, but you might find a few who stayed here. I'll talk to the maids and whoever was manning the front desk last night."

Andrea pulled her organizer out of her purse and flipped through it. "I've got my list of questions about Connie Mac. DO you want me to ask them anything about Alan?"

"Yes, but you can't say that he's dead."

"I know. I'll just tell them I'm looking for him and I can't seem to find him. I'll ask them if they saw him today."

"They didn't. You know that already."

"I know, but that'll lead me into my next question. They'll tell me about the last time they saw him and they won't even guess that that's what I was really after in the first place."

Hannah gazed at her sister in admiration. "You're really good at this, you know?"

"Do you really think so?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

"That's true. You never say anything you don't mean. Sometimes I wish I had the luxury, but. . ."

"But you're a real estate agent." Hannah finished the sentence for her and they both laughed.

"Sometimes it bothers me a little," Andrea admitted, "but I'd lose a sale if I told a prospective buyer that the roof would probably leak within the first three years or the plumbing might need to be replaced."

"Caveat emptor?'

"I know what that means, Hannah. It's 'let the buyer beware.' I guess it's true to a certain extent, but I don't actually lie about anything. If they ask me straight out, I tell them. I just don't volunteer the negative things, that's all: And don't think you're so smart just because you know Latin. I picked up a few phrases in real estate school."

"Like what?" Hannah challenged.

"Like Illegitami non carborundum."

Hannah translated that in a flash. She wasn't certain that the syntax and word order were correct, but the meaning was clear and she stared at her sister in shock. "Do you know what that means?"

"Of course. It's 'Don't let the client grind you down.' Our instructor at school had it stamped on his briefcase and I asked him about it."

"I see," Hannah said hiding a grin. It was obvious that Andrea's teacher hadn't wanted to tell her the literal meaning of illegitami. "Let's get a move on, Andrea. Bill and Mike could be here any minute, and I don't want them to catch us asking questions."

The two sisters parted ways at the bottom of the staircase: Andrea went up, and Hannah headed for Sally's office. When she got there, Alex Matthews was just leaving.

"I'm glad I caught you, Hannah." Alex gave her a big smile. "I cleared it with Sally and if it's all right with you, I'm going to give Janie a ride to your condo and help her pack up her things."

Hannah was puzzled. "That's fine with me, but why?"

"Janie's moving back into her room out here. She spoke to Paul on the phone and he told her that he couldn't get along without her. He even gave her a raise to make up for all the trouble that horrible woman caused her."

"I'm glad to hear it, but I'm going to miss her."

"That's exactly what she said. You're one of her favorite friends, Hannah. Thank you so much for helping her."

"Hannah?" Sally hailed her from the open doorway. "Come in and shut the door. I've got some news for you."

Hannah walked in and took the chair in front of Sally's desk. "I've got news for you, too. We found Alan's car and it's been out there all night. We figure he was killed between midnight and four this morning, give or take half an hour."

"Well, that's one mystery solved. It explains why he never picked up his prune Danish,' Sally said, and she sighed deeply.

"Don't think about that," Hannah advised, and then she started to frown. Whenever someone told her not to think about something, it had quite the opposite effect. Once she knew she shouldn't dwell on something, it took on even more importance in her mind. Rather than try to take back her advice, which was impossible anyway, she decided to enlist Sally's help on the one aspect of Alan's death that they could do something about. "I need your help, Sally. What was Alan wearing when you saw him in the bar last night?"

"A gray suit with a light-blue shirt. He was carrying a black overcoat when he came in and he put it down on an empty barstool. Was that what he was wearing when you found him?"

Hannah shook her head, deciding not to go into detail. Sally didn't need a mental picture of how Alan had looked when they'd pulled him from the icy water. "He must have gone up to his room to change clothes. You said you had news. What is it?"

"I checked with the maid who took care of Alan's room, and his bed hadn't been slept in. Do you think he was killed while he was out on his walk?"

"It's beginning to sound that way. I need a list of your night people, Sally. I have to find out if anyone saw Alan last night."

"They didn't. I already checked. And I talked to Chris. He's the college kid I hired to man the front desk from ten to six. He said Alan walked out the door at a quarter past midnight, and he wasn't back when Chris left at six."

"Didn't he think that was odd?"

"No, he figured that Alan had driven out to the mall. Alan did that sometimes. There were a couple of nights when he left here at ten-thirty or eleven at night and went out to the boutique to work. He told Chris that there were too many distractions during the day and he got his best work done in the middle of the night."

"That makes sense to me," Hannah said. She'd pulled her share of all-nighters at The Cookie Jar with Lisa, especially in December when the parties were plentiful and they'd booked back-to-back catering events.

"I have a piece of good news," Sally said.

"Let's hear it. I could use some good news about now."

"Dick called me a couple of minutes ago and his mother came through the surgery just fine. They've already got her sitting up in bed."

"That's great," Hannah said, "and it must be a huge relief for Dick."

"Oh, it is. He's been worried sick. His mother's not young, you know. When he called, I knew everything was fine before he even told me."

"By the tone of his voice?" Hannah guessed.

"He sounded relaxed for the first time in almost a week. And that reminds me: he wanted to know everything that was happening here."

"You didn't tell him about Alan, did you?"

"Of course not. I could trust him not to say anything. That's not the problem. But he sounded so upbeat, I didn't want to say anything to change that. I told him about Greg Canfield, though. That was all right, wasn't it?"

Hannah shrugged. "Why not? Greg didn't tell me to keep it a secret."

"I mentioned that he made a real killing in the market, and Dick was really glad for him. But I must have gotten the name of the stock wrong. What was it again?"

"Redlines."

"That's what I told him, but Dick pulled Redlines up on his laptop while we were talking and he said it peaked about six months ago. Then the stock started dropping and the company went bankrupt at the end of last month."

Hannah frowned. That certainly didn't match what Greg had told her. "Is Dick sure?"

"Positive. He checked the history of the stock for me. About a week before Redlines hit rock bottom, there were rumors about a new infusion of foreign cash. Some investors bought in on the strength of the rumors, but it never happened and they all lost their shirts."

Hannah's frown grew deeper. She was positive that Greg had told her he'd invested in Redlines.

"You must have gotten the name wrong. Dick said there was no way anybody could have made any money on Redlines unless they bought when it first went public and sold at the peak six months ago."

Hannah thanked Sally for all she'd done and left her office thoroughly puzzled. Greg had told her he'd more than tripled his money on Redlines, and he'd lied to her. Was that because he was too embarrassed to admit that he'd made a bad investment?

There was a pay phone at the end of the hall, and instead of turning off at the entrance to the dining room, where she was supposed to meet Andrea, Hannah kept on walking and dug into the bottom of her purse for change. Sally had done all the legwork for her, and she still had forty-five minutes before she hooked up with her sister. There was no time like the present to talk to Greg about Redlines. She'd call him right now and ask him why he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her the truth.

One of Sally's waitresses headed for Hannah's table with the coffee carafe, but Hannah smiled and waved her away. She'd had four cups already and that was enough, even for her. She picked up a french fry and dipped it into the side of blue cheese dressing she'd ordered. French fries and blue cheese dressing was one of her favorite treats. Sally's french fries were perfect, golden brown and crisp on the outside and made from real, hand-peeled potatoes. Her blue cheese dressing was also made from scratch, with chunks of tasty Roquefort blended with heavy cream. Normally Hannah would have been in hog heaven, but today even the tastiest food had lost its appeal. There were too many questions buzzing in her mind, and her brain felt like a mixer that had gone into warp speed.

As she munched, Hannah tried to concentrate on the most important question. Who had murdered Connie Mac and Alan? She'd eliminated a lot of suspects, but she was no closer to solving the crimes than when she'd started.

The second question concerned Andrea's pregnancy. Was she putting her sister and unborn baby in jeopardy by agreeing to let Andrea help with the murder investigations? Andrea didn't know that she was pregnant, and she'd gotten a little hot under the collar the second time that Hannah had brought it up. That subject was obviously off limits, and other than driving to Lake Eden Neighborhood Pharmacy, buying a home pregnancy test, and forcing Andrea to, use it, Hannah really couldn't confirm what she strongly suspected. She could always come up with an excuse to exclude Andrea from the sleuthing, but she'd be jeopardizing their friendship. And if it turned out that Andrea wasn't pregnant, her sister would never forgive her.

In addition to these problems, there were other questions of lesser importance. Some were minor. Did Mayor Bascomb really have a new girlfriend? How had Alex and Janie become such good friends on such short acquaintance? Was Francine going to get Sally and Dick in trouble by dressing up and pretending to be Ezekiel Jordan's ghost?

A final question, one that was very important, almost overshadowed Hannah's murder investigation. What was going on with Greg Canfield? Something was very wrong, and Hannah would be a lousy friend if she didn't even try to help him.

Greg hadn't been home when she'd called, but she'd spoken to his grandmother. The information that Mrs. Canfield had given her had caused Hannah to worry about Greg even more. Greg had claimed that he was trading stock on-line, but his computer had been broken for over two weeks. He'd said he'd tripled his money on Redlines, but the company had gone bankrupt. He'd also said that he'd paid off his creditors, but his former suppliers wouldn't be leaving urgent messages with his grandmother on a Sunday afternoon if that were true. As if all that weren't enough to handle, Mrs. Canfield was convinced that Annette had left Greg for good. She'd seen the packet of legal papers that had arrived for him last week from a family law firm in Denver.

Even though Greg's financial and personal world was crashing down around his ears, Hannah's immediate concern was for his safety. When he'd left the condo this afternoon, he'd told his grandmother that he was going to gas up his car and come right back. That had been almost three hours ago, and Hannah could understand why Mrs. Canfield was get- ting worried. There had been two murders in Lake Eden already and the killer was still out there. Hannah hoped that she was just borrowing trouble, but she was glad she'd told Mrs. Canfield to leave a message for her at the inn the moment that Greg walked in the door.

-27-

Hannah was staring down at her french fries and wondering if she'd lost the knack of solving mysteries when Alex tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hannah?" Alex held out a key. "Janie asked me to find you and give this back. She's getting settled in upstairs."

"Thanks, Alex." Hannah dropped the key in her purse.

"Do you mind if I join you for a minute?"

'Not at all. Sit down.' Hannah roused herself as Alex sat down in the opposite chair. If they chatted for a while, perhaps Alex would say something to solve one of the minor mysteries that had been plaguing her.

"I've only got a minute before I go back to work, but I wanted to tell you that I met your cat. He's a real darling."

Hannah smiled, feeling the way she imagined a proud mother would feel. She wouldn't have described Moishe as a darling, but he'd obviously been on his best behavior around Alex.

"He led me straight to the cupboard where you keep his food so that I could fill his bowl," Alex told her. "I think he's even smarter than Tarzan Five."

"Tarzan Five?"

"He was my grandmother's cat. She named all of her male cats Tarzan. I know it's a little strange, but her name was Jane and she used to get a huge kick out of picking them up and saying, You Tarzan, me Jane."

Hannah laughed. "Sounds like your grandmother had a good sense of humor."

"She did. If I had the time, I could tell you stories that would make you roll on the floor. I was nineteen when she died. That was over twenty-five years ago, but I still miss her. And every time I adopt a male cat, I name him Tarzan. I have Tarzan Eight right now, and my tabby is Jane Three."

After Alex had left, Hannah went back to staring at her french fries. She hadn't learned anything helpful and she was at loose ends. Andrea was upstairs talking to the Connie Mac people, Bill and Mike were running their own investigation, Lisa was spending the rest of her day with her father, and Sally and Alex were working. She felt like a single woman at a couples party, with no one to talk to and nothing to do. All she could do was sit here and wait for the information to come to her, and Hannah had never been good at waiting.

Just to keep her mind sharp, she pulled out her notebook and paged through it. She found Alex's page and sighed as she retrieved one of the ballpoint pens from the bottom of her purse and wrote down what she'd learned. It wasn't much. Alex's cats were named Tarzan and Jane, her grandmother had started the tradition, and she'd died when Alex was nineteen. Nothing interesting there. Perhaps Alex was exactly as she appeared, an outgoing woman who made friends easily. "Hannah?" The sound of her name pulled Hannah out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see that Andrea had taken the opposite chair. "Sorry, Andrea. I didn't even see you come in. Are you through already?"

"Yes, and I've got something for you."

Hannah perked up immediately. "What is it?"

"I couldn't talk to the Connie Mac people. They're all out at the boutique, getting ready for the opening. But I talked to the writer who's doing Connie Mac's biography, and he told me that he saw Alan last night."

"Great," Hannah said, and she began to smile. "Good job, Andrea. What time?"

"Twelve-thirty. He didn't talk to Alan. He just saw him out the window, walking down to the lakeshore."

"He's sure it was Alan?"

"Oh, yes. He recognized him by his hat. Alan always wore one of those Russian fur hats when he went out for a walk."

"They're called ushankas, but other people wear them, too."

"I know, but. . ." Andrea stopped and stared at Hannah's : plate of french fries. "Are you going to eat those?"

Hannah shook her head and pushed the plate to Andrea. "But what?"

"But Alan always wore it. . . . is there any ketchup?"

"Yes, here." Hannah picked up the squeeze bottle of ketchup and passed it over. "Alan always what?"

"He wore his Russian hat with the earflaps down. The writer said it looks really silly that way and most people just let their ears get cold, but Alan always pulled the flaps down and they looked like dog ears."

"Okay," Hannah said, picking up her pen to write down what Andrea had told her. She was about to flip to a new page when a name caught her eye. Jane. Alex's grandmother had been named Jane. "Hold on a second. I've got to check something."

With rising excitement Hannah found the section of notes she'd taken on the story that Jack Herman had told her. Janie's birth mother had named her in honor of her grandmother, who had died recently. Alex said her grandmother had died over twenty-five years ago. And Janie was twenty-five.

"What did you find?" Andrea asked, catching her sister's excitement.

"I'm not sure." Hannah pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'll be right back. I've got to talk to somebody and it can't wait."

"Do you need me?"

"Not this time. It'll only take a second or two and they might clear the table if both of us leave. Stay here and eat the french fries." Hannah picked up the side of blue cheese dressing and handed it to her sister. "Try dipping them in that. It's a lot better than ketchup."

"I. . . I don't know what you mean."

"I asked you a simple question," Hannah stated, giving Alex her fiercest stare. They were standing outside the service entrance to the kitchen, sheltered from the wind by two large metal Dumpsters. "Is Janie Burkholtz your daughter?"

Alex swallowed hard. And then tears came to her eyes. Hannah could see them well up, and she felt like a rat for harassing her. "Look, Alex. I really need to know. And I promise you, I won't tell anyone."

"But I . . . " Alex sighed and a single tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek. "I was so careful all these years. I never wanted Janie to know. Who told you?"

"That's not important."

"Yes, it is. I've never told anybody except Isobel and Garland. And I finally told Janie's biological father, but I know he wouldn't tell anyone."

Hannah reached out to take her arm. "It's okay, Alex. Nobody told me. I just guessed."

"But how?"

"I just wondered how you and Janie could be so close when you'd just met for the first time. That's all. Are you going to tell Janie that you're her mother?"

"No! I can't tell her, Hannah. It wouldn't be fair to Isobel and Garland. They're her real parents. They loved her, and they raised her, and they gave her a wonderful home. It might change the way she thinks of them, and that wouldn't be right. You won't tell her, will you?"

"I promise I won't," Hannah assured her. "Is that why you took the job as Sally's assistant, so that you could see her?"

"Yes. Isobel called to tell me that Janie would be here.

We've kept in touch over the years. She said she had a bad feeling about going away on the cruise. She was afraid that something might happen to Janie while they were away, and she wanted someone here to look after her. She also thought that I should meet Janie. I never have, you know. They've sent me pictures and videotapes, but that's not the same thing."

"No, it's not."

"And then, when I finally met Janie, it was. . . just wonderful. She's so bright and pretty and lovely. And she seemed to like me, too. It's been the best week of my life."

Hannah smiled. "We love Janie, too. How about her father? Was he angry that you hadn't told him before?"

"No. Of course he was shocked, but he's a very nice man and he said he understood why I did things the way I did. And since he's never had any other children, he promised that he'd look out for Janie anonymously and provide for her in his will. He also promised that he'd never tell her unless Isobel, Garland, and I all agreed that it was the right thing to do."

"Thank you for telling me," Hannah said, reaching in her pocket to pullout a tissue. She handed it to Alex and waited until the older woman had composed herself. "You don't have to worry, Alex. Your secret is safe with me. Now let's go back in. It's freezing out here."

When they reentered the kitchen, Alex went off to take inventory of the supplies that had been delivered that morning, and Hannah headed toward the swinging door to the f restaurant. As she passed by the bank of deep fryers, where Sally was standing, a thought popped into her mind that chilled her more than the icy wind that had blown across the tops of the Dumpsters. Was it possible that Alex had caught a glimpse of Janie when she'd come back to the inn on Saturday night? If she'd noticed Janie's tears and the bruise on her arm, and if she'd suspected that Connie Mac had caused them, then Alex had possessed the perfect motive for driving to The Cookie Jar and killing Connie Mac.

"Hannah?" Sally pulled up one of the metal baskets filled with golden french fries and hooked it in place to drain. "You look grim. What's the matter?"

Hannah glanced around her, but none of the kitchen workers were close enough to hear. "Where was Alex on Friday night?"

"In the bar with me. She served the hot appetizers and filled in for my waitresses when they took their breaks."

"She was there all night?"

"We closed at one and Alex didn't leave until one-thirty. I tried to get her to take a break around ten, but she said she was okay and she made me take one, instead." Sally paused and her eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you suspect Alex!"

"Not really, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't check everybody out."

"I guess that's true," Sally said but she still looked puzzled. "I don't understand how Alex ended up on your suspect list. What possible reason could she have for killing Connie Mac?"

Hannah thought fast. She couldn't tell Sally the real reason, and she had to think of another. "She's mentioned several times that she didn't like Connie Mac."

"Who did? And before you ask, I have an alibi, too." Sally tipped the fryer basket and flipped the hot french fries out onto a plate. "You're going back to the restaurant, aren't you?"

"Yes. Andrea's waiting for me."

"Then take her these." Sally put the plate on a tray, added a dish of blue cheese dressing, and handed it to Hannah. "I made a double order so you could share."

Hannah stopped at the counter, sprinkled on salt, and balanced the tray in one hand as she went through the swinging door. The trip to their table only took a few seconds, but Hannah managed to snitch two fries on the way. When she set the tray down in front of her sister, Andrea was frowning.

"You took two of my french fries," Andrea accused her. "I saw you."

"No, I didn't. Sally made a double order so we could share."

"Are you sure?"

"That's what she said. I don't blame you for sending mine back. They're a lot better when they're hot."

"I didn't send them back. But you're right, they're better when they're hot. And they're delicious with this blue cheese dressing." Andrea took a french fry, dipped it in the dressing, and popped it into her mouth. "Get out your notebook and I'll tell you more about that writer."

Hannah pulled out her notebook and picked up her pen. "Are you trying to keep me busy so you can hog all the french fries?"

"Of course I am," Andrea admitted with a grin.

"That's what I thought. You always were a sneaky kid." Hannah grabbed a french fry with her left hand, dipped it, and popped it in her mouth. "See? It won't work. I can write and eat at the same time. Now, tell me what else that writer said."

"He said he saw someone follow Alan down to the shore."

"What?" Hannah stared at her sister in total amazement.

"Why didn't you tell me that right away?"

"You didn't give me the chance."

"Yes, I did. You should have said that first, instead of telling me about the ushankas with the dog ears."

"Flaps that only look like dog ears," Andrea corrected her.

Hannah sighed. There were times when her sister could be just as exasperating as their mother. Andrea told stories in her own way, and it didn't work to rush her. "Go on. I'm listening."

"The person who followed Alan was dressed all in black and he skulked through the trees."

"The writer said skulked?"

"Of course he did. He's a writer and they use words like that. If you keep interrupting me, I'll never get to the end."

"All right. Go on."

"Every time Alan turned around, this person in black ducked behind a tree. The writer lost sight of them when they got down to the shore. He said there's a little hill and they disappeared behind it. He watched for another few minutes, but they didn't reappear, so he gave up and went to bed."

"That's great, Andrea." Hannah wrote it all down. "Did you ask if he could describe the man in more detail?"

"Yes, and he couldn't. He only saw him from the back."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. He had breakfast the next morning and he mentioned it to Larry Kruger. Larry told him he was going to count it as another ghost sighting and put it in his next story."

"That figures." Hannah wrote down the additional information, and then she looked up with a frown. "Eat up, Andrea. There's somebody we have to see."

"I did. I'm finished."

Hannah glanced at the plate of french fries. It was perfectly bare. Andrea had eaten every one. "You ate them all?"

"I was hungry." Andrea wiped her hands on a napkin and pushed back her chair. "I'm ready. Who are we going to see?"

"Ezekiel Jordan's ghost," Hannah told her, walking forward.

"But you don't believe in ghosts!" Andrea reached out to grab Hannah's arm. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll see. Follow me." Hannah was smiling as she led the way out of the restaurant. Even if her sister begged, she wasn't going to explain until they got all the way up to Francine's room. Andrea's curiosity might just kill her, but she deserved worse for snitching Hannah's share of the french fries.

-28-

"I know why you won't tell me where we're going," Andrea said, following Hannah up the stairs. "You're mad because I ate all the french fries. But it's not like I did it deliberately. Once I got started, I just couldn't stop eating."

Hannah glanced back at her sister. Andrea did look very contrite. "It's okay. I understand."

"That's good, because I sure don't!" Andrea replied with a frown. "I've never gone on food binges like this before. What's gotten into me, anyway?"

Several succinct answers occurred to Hannah, but she wisely let them pass. She just waited until they'd reached the top of the staircase, and then she pulled Andrea over to the side of the hall. "Let me tell you about the ghost."

As Andrea listened to the Hannah's story, she started to smile. By the time Hannah had finished, she was laughing.

"And it's all your fault," Hannah concluded.

"My fault? What did I do?"

"You told Sally that ghosts sell, and that's what gave Francine the idea. Come on. Let's go talk to Francine. I want to know if she's the one that writer saw last night."

* * *

"It wasn't me," Francine insisted after Hannah had asked the question. "I never appear outside. His imagination must have been working overtime."

Hannah shot Andrea a warning glance. Both of them were convinced that the writer hadn't been imagining things. He'd seen someone following Alan, and that someone had been the killer.

"Do you want to see my ghost costume?" Francine smiled when they nodded and she walked over to pull the curtains. "It only works when the light's dim. Wait right here. I'll be right back."

In less time than they expected, Francine reappeared. She was wearing an old-fashioned black coat, black pants, and a black hat pulled down over her eyes. "It's a little too light in here. Try to imagine how I'd look at night and I'll demonstrate my ghost walk."

Hannah and Andrea watched as Francine demonstrated her special walk. She scooted along with her knees bent and bobbed up every few feet. By squinching her eyes half-shut, Hannah could get the full effect.

"That's wonderful!" Andrea clapped her hands. "It looks like you're floating."

"That's the general idea. I let people see me and then I duck down the back stairs. They're off limits for the guests because they don't meet the building code, but Sally gave me a key."

"How do you get back to your room?" Hannah asked.

"That's simple. I lock the stairwell door behind me and take off my ghost outfit on the landing. It's a couple of sizes too large and I wear it over my regular clothes. Then I stuff it in Danny's diaper bag, go down the back stairs, and come up the main staircase while everybody's still milling around. I'm always carrying the diaper bag anyway, so no one thinks it's suspicious."

"Is it working?" Andrea asked.

"Like a charm. People have been calling in from all over, and last night Sally told me she was all booked up until the end of March. You've just got to come see one of my appearances. I haven't had this much fun in ages."

"Just let us know when," Hannah said. "We'll come."

"And I'll scream," Andrea added. "My drama teacher at Jordan High said I had the best bloodcurdling scream he'd ever heard."

"What's next?" Andrea asked as they left Francine's room.

"I'm not sure," Hannah said, glancing at her watch as they walked toward the stairs. "We still have to talk to the rest of the Connie Mac people, but Sally said they never come back for dinner until eight."

"We could eat dinner. We probably won't have time later."

"You're hungry again?"

"Not really, but you have to eat. I'll just keep you company."

"Okay," Hannah agreed, starting down the stairs. "Since you ate all my fries, I get to pick the place."

"The Corner Tavern?" Andrea guessed, wrinkling her nose.

"You bet. I need brain food and I'm in the mood for a thick slab of steak."

"But fish is supposed to be brain food," Andrea objected. "At least that's what everybody says."

"I know, but I'm having a steak, blood rare, with an order of garlic bread. You can have a double order of fish. Then you'll be smart enough for both of us."

The Corner Tavern was crowded, but they managed to find a booth in the back. Hannah ordered the thickest porter- house they had, and Andrea ordered the fish.

"You want your steak cooked the usual way?" the waitress asked Hannah.

"Slap it on the grill, give it thirty seconds on one side, and flip it over for another thirty seconds."

"I know, I know," the waitress said with a grin. "If it doesn't moo when you cut into it, it's overdone."

When their waitress had left, Hannah plopped her huge shoulder bag on the table and pulled out her steno pad. "We might as well be constructive while we're waiting. Let's go over the notes."

"Are you ever going to replace that?" Andrea asked her.

"Sure, when it gets full. I've got a whole bag full of new steno pads at home."

"Not that. I was talking about your purse. It's really a disgrace, Hannah. You've had it forever and it's completely out of style. Why don't you let me buy you a new purse for your birthday?"

"No way. I love this purse. It's just the right size for everything I need and it's perfect for me. That's why I've had it so long. This purse is like a friend. You don't ditch a friend because she gets old."

Andrea sighed. "If you won't give it up, maybe you should think about having it reconditioned. You could always have the leather dyed a darker color. Then the scratches won't show as much."

"Those scratches are like battle scars. They're badges of honor. This purse and I have gone through the wars together."

"And it looks like it," Andrea muttered, and then she started to grin. "We're doing it again, Hannah. We're squabbling like kids over your stupid purse."

"My purse isn't stupid," Hannah retorted, and then she laughed. "You'd better take that back or I'll tell Mother."

Several patrons at neighboring booths turned to stare at them as they both burst into laughter. One even asked them what was so funny, and that made them laugh even harder. When they finally sobered enough to speak, Andrea leaned closer. "Have you ever wondered why we call her 'Mother'?"

"Because she gave birth to us?"

"I'm serious, Hannah. We've always called her 'Mother' and never 'Mom.' "

"That's true," Hannah said, and she thought about it for a moment. "I think it's because she's always been so perfect."

"Perfect?" Andrea looked puzzled.

"I mean her appearance was perfect. She never slouched around in old clothes like the other moms, and she even had a special outfit she wore when she worked in the garden. I never saw her without her makeup, and her aprons always looked like they were brand-new. It was almost like she was starring as the mother in a television show."

"You're right," Andrea said, wincing slightly, "and I think I inherited it from her. I've got outfits for everything, too."

"Relax. That doesn't mean you're like Mother," Hannah reassured her.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Mother would never ride on a snowmobile with me. She knows better. Now stop worrying about it and get ready to eat. Here comes our food."

Hannah's steak was cooked perfectly, and she ate in silence for several minutes. When she glanced over at Andrea, she was only slightly surprised to see that her sister had eaten most of her fish and all of her green salad.

"What?" Andrea asked, noticing Hannah's interest in her plate.

"Nothing. I just thought you weren't hungry, that's all."

"I wasn't, but I like the way they do fish here. And that garlic bread smells so good."

"Here," Hannah said, shoving the basket closer to her sister.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

Hannah was puzzled. "But I thought you said it smelled good."

"It does, but I can't have it. Do you know that ingested garlic seeps out through your pores for hours after you've eaten it? It even makes the sheets on your bed smell like garlic."

"So?"

"That wouldn't be fair to Bill. It'd be different if he ate it, too. Then neither one of us would mind. But Bill's not here, and it wouldn't be fair for me to eat it without him. You don't have to worry about things like that because you live alone."

Hannah's lips twitched with amusement. Andrea had some strange ideas. "Just take a piece home to Bill and then there won't be a problem."

"That's a good idea," Andrea said, reaching for the basket. "Don't let me forget, okay?"

"I won't. Can you talk and eat at the same time?"

"Sure. I'm almost through anyway."

"Good. I want to go through my list of suspects again and make sure we didn't miss anybody." Hannah flipped through her notebook with her left hand and forked her salad with her right. "Here's Janie. We eliminated her. And here's Norman, but Mike decided that he couldn't have hit himself over the head. And here's Ray, Connie Mac's driver."

"I eliminated him," Andrea said proudly. "He was nowhere near Lake Eden at the time."

"Right. We eliminated Paul because he was with Alan, and Alan's eliminated because he didn't kill himself. And here's the man who got half."

"Huh?" Andrea looked thoroughly puzzled.

"The man Connie Mac and Alan were fighting about when Sally heard them in the bar. He got half of something and Connie Mac was really mad about it."

"I remember now. There were just too many suspects, Hannah. I had trouble keeping them all straight."

"Tell me about it." Hannah flipped the page. "Here's Kurt Howe, but I cleared him. And here's Alex, but I cleared her, too. Then there's Larry Kruger. We still have to question him."

"No, we don't. I ran into him in the hall and we talked for a couple of minutes. He said he was alone when Connie Mac and Alan were killed, but he had an alibi for the night that Norman was bashed on the head."

"What was it?"

Andrea started to grin. "He was interviewing Lake Eden's foremost authority on Ezekiel Jordan's life to get more information for his ghost stories. Can you guess who that is?"

Hannah sighed. Andrea was doing it again. She loved to tell stories her way, and now she wanted to playa guessing game. "It's got to be someone from the historical society. Am I right?"

"You're right. But who?"

"Someone who read the letters that Delores has. She said there was a lot of information in . . ." Hannah stopped speaking as the light dawned. "Larry Kruger was interviewing Mother?"

"That's what he said."

"She should be home by now. Call her to substantiate his alibi."

"I think you should call her. You're older."

"What does older have to do with it? Besides, you're the one with the phone."

The two sisters locked eyes; Andrea caved in first. "All right. I'll call her. But I'm not happy about it."

Hannah poured another cup of coffee from the carafe the waitress had brought and listened to the one-sided conversation as Andrea spoke to their mother. It was clear that Delores was confirming Larry Kruger's alibi. But then Andrea assumed a devilish expression, and that made Hannah go on full alert.

"She's right here, Mother," Andrea said with a grin. "We're having dinner together. Hold on a second and I'll hand her the phone."

Hannah shot her sister a look of betrayal as she took the phone, but she knew she might as well get it over with. "Hello, Mother."

"Is it true, Hannah?" Delores asked.

"What, Mother?"

"That you found another body?"

Hannah glanced at her sister. Andrea's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and Hannah gave her a dirty look. "It's true, Mother. I did find another body. His name is Alan Carpenter and he was Connie Mac's lawyer."

"Oh, Hannah!" Delores sighed so loudly, Hannah came close to holding the phone away from her ear. "I do wish you'd stop looking for trouble."

"I wasn't looking for trouble, Mother."

"Perhaps not, but you certainly seem to attract it. You've got to make an effort, dear."

Hannah glanced at Andrea again. Her sister was really enjoying this. "I will, Mother. I'll make a real effort to stop finding dead bodies, I promise."

"Well, I should hope so! You're destroying your reputation, you know."

"It'll be all right, Mother. I haven't noticed any small children cringing when they meet me on the street."

"Don't be sarcastic. It's not becoming. Tell me the truth, Hannah. Are you working with the sheriff's department again?"

"No, Mother."

"How about your sister? She has a child to think of, you know. You're not. . ."

"I'm not leading Andrea into any trouble, Mother," Hannah interrupted, hoping to nip that idea in the bud.

"I just feel it's my duty to warn you, dear. People are starting to talk. It won't be long before they start to avoid you. You'll be an outcast in Lake Eden."

"You're right, Mother." Hannah winked at Andrea. "I hate to cut this short, but I've got to go. People are starting to leave to avoid me, and I don't want to hurt the Comer Tavern's business. You have a nice evening, now."

Andrea took the phone and clicked it off. "Larry Kruger's in the clear. When Norman was attacked, he was eating coconut cake in Mother's kitchen. I'm sorry I handed the phone to you, but if I'd told Mother, she would have given me a lecture."

"That's okay. I forgive you," Hannah said good-naturedly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think Mr. Fifty Percent is the only suspect we have left."

"You're right."

"We've got to find out who he is. Connie Mac knew, but she's dead. And Alan knew, but he's not talking now, either. Paul would know, but he won't be back until tomorrow."

"Wait a second." Andrea looked thoughtful. "If we could get into Alan's files, we might be able to tell who Mr. Fifty Percent is without asking anybody. All we have to do is look for a contract that gives someone fifty percent."

"But his files would be in his office. And his office is in Minneapolis."

"That's his permanent office, but I'll bet he's got another office here."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because Alan lived in Minneapolis and the roads were really bad last night. If he had driven all the way there, he would have stayed over and come back this morning."

"You've got a point," Hannah said, grabbing her note- book and flipping through it. "Alan and Kurt left the banquet at eight forty-five. We saw them leave. But Sally told me they walked into the bar at the inn at eleven. There's no way they could have driven to Minneapolis, held a press conference, and gotten back here by eleven. You're right, Andrea. Alan must have a local office."

"So am I a genius, or what?" Andrea asked, preening a bit.

"Absolutely. It must have been the fish."

-29-

Hannah glanced at her watch in the dim light of the bar, and then she nudged Andrea. "Twenty minutes to show time. Where's Janie?"

"She's collecting the key from Sally and she's supposed to meet us in the lobby in five minutes. Let's leave now, Hannah. I'm getting nervous just sitting here."

"What do you have to be nervous about?"

"I'm out of practice. I haven't screamed in years." Hannah almost laughed, assuming that her sister was joking, but Andrea did look very nervous. "Don't worry. Screaming is like riding a bicycle. Once you learn how, you never forget."

"Did you just make that up?"

"Yes," Hannah admitted, "but don't forget that you've got Janie to help you. You said she was the second-best screamer in your drama class."

Hannah left money to pay for their half-finished Cokes, and they left the bar for the lobby. She'd used Andrea's cell phone to make three calls on their way back to the inn. The first had been to Janie, who'd confirmed that Alan had used a small room in the back of the boutique as his office. He was the only one who'd had a key, but Janie was sure that his key ring was still in his room. Janie had worked with Alan long enough to learn his habits, and she knew he never took all of his keys when he went out on his walks. He just slipped his room key off the ring and carried it in his jacket pocket.

Hannah's second call had been to Sally to ask if she could go up to Alan's room to retrieve his keys. Sally had been willing, but she'd told Hannah that Bill and Mike had stationed Rick Murphy outside Alan's door and that no one was allowed inside. This had prompted Hannah's third call; to Sally's mother, Francine. They had to create a diversion to lure Rick away from his post so that Hannah could get in. Ezekiel's ghost would do the trick, and Francine had agreed to make a special appearance.

"I hope this works," Andrea said, entering the lobby and perching on the arm of an overstuffed chair.

"It will. If you and Janie scream loud enough, Rick will come running. You've got to keep him with you long enough for me to dash in Alan's room, find the keys, and get back out."

"If I have to, I'll faint," Andrea declared. "I used to be the best fake fainter in drama class, too."

"Whatever it takes. Janie thinks Alan's keys are in his top dresser drawer. She says that's where he usually kept them."

"How does she know that?"

"He sent her up to get them last week, when he forgot them. He told her they were in his top dresser drawer, under his handkerchiefs."

"I'm here," Janie called out, hurrying across the lobby and thrusting two keys into Hannah's hand. "The key with the tag is for Alan's room and the other one is for mine. My room is right next-door to his."

Hannah nodded, dropping the keys into her pocket. "I'd better get up there right now. Bring Andrea to your room I when it's over. If I'm lucky, I'll be there with Alan's keys."

The waiting was tense, and Hannah paced the floor of r Janie's room. It was now five minutes to showtime, and for someone who wasn't in the actual performance, she had a bad case of stage fright. The butterflies in her stomach felt as big as buzzards, and she hoped she wouldn't blow it. She was taking a big risk. If Mike found out that she'd gone into Alan's room after he'd declared it off limits, he'd lock her up for the rest of her natural life. Come to think about it, her natural lifespan might not be so natural if Mike got really mad at her.

Three minutes to show time. Hannah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She wanted to be with Francine so that she could control what time the ghost appeared at the end of the hall. She also wanted to be with Andrea and Janie, to tell them when to scream and how loud. She wanted to be with Bill and Mike to keep them away from the second floor, and she wanted to be outside Alan's door with Rick, encouraging him to abandon his post and investigate the source of the commotion. Hannah wanted to be everywhere, but she was stuck here, where she also wanted to be, so that she could sneak into Alan's room and grab the keys. At times like this, she wished she could split like an amoeba and be everywhere at once.

One minute to show time. Hannah took out Alan's key and grasped it tightly, peering through the peephole in Janie's door. She counted down the seconds, as nervous as an astronaut on a first launch, and held her breath while she waited for the action. And then she heard the sweetest sound in the world.

Two bloodcurdling, high-pitched screams rent the air. A man yelled out, the screaming went on, and Hannah heard footsteps pounding down the hallway. It took a five full seconds, but then she saw Rick Murphy, the youngest deputy on the force, rushing past Janie's door on his way toward the source of the screaming.

Hannah opened the door and stepped out. There was a crowd milling around at the end of the hallway, and she could see someone down on the carpet. It was probably Andrea in a fake faint, but she didn't have time to confirm it. With fingers that shook slightly, Hannah sidled up to Alan's door and inserted the key in the lock. A second later, she was inside with the door closed securely behind her.

The clock was ticking. Rick could be back any second. She had to find Alan's key ring and get out. Hannah raced for the dresser and pulled out the top drawer, feeling frantically under the stack of clean handkerchiefs. No keys. Had Mike and Bill already taken them, or. . .

Hannah raced for the black coat that was draped over a chair. Sally had mentioned that Alan had been wearing a black coat when he'd come back from press conference. She thrust her hand into the pocket, drew out a clean hand- kerchief, one black leather glove. . . and the key ring!

The commotion in the hallway had decreased in volume as Hannah tossed Alan's coat back onto the chair. She sped for the door, opening it a crack to glance out. Rick was still at the end of the hallway, leaning over a woman's body. As Hannah slipped out and sidled back to Janie's room, she realized that there was a big hole in her master plan. If Mile and Bill ever realized that Alan's keys were missing, she'd need an alibi.

Her mind racing, Hannah considered the alternatives. Several people had seen her with Andrea earlier, and they might mention that she hadn't been at her sister's side. She had to convince everyone in the crowd surrounding Andrea that she'd been there when the ghost had appeared.

Hannah ran into Janie's room and filled a glass with water. Then she ran back out, shouting to the people at the end of the hall. "It's all right! I'm coming!"

Several people stepped back as she approached, and Hannah caught her first glimpse of Andrea. Her sister was stretched out on the floor, completely motionless. Not even her eyelids were quivering, and for one brief moment, Hannah wondered if Andrea truly had fainted. Then she remembered the time that her sister had played a comatose woman in a perfectly dreadful play written by Jordan High's drama teacher. Andrea was acting, and she was great at it.

"Stand back," Hannah ordered, holding her glass of water aloft. "I'll bring her out of it."

Andrea still didn't move a muscle, and Hannah figured that an Academy Award was in order. Of course, Andrea probably expected a cold washcloth on her brow, or a dose of pretend smelling salts. With a silent apology to her sister, Hannah upended the glass and doused Andrea's face with the water.

Andrea gasped and then started to sputter as she saw Hannah bending over her. Her eyes were blazing, and Hannah knew she had to say something before Andrea ruined her best performance. "I'm sorry, Andrea. It was the only way we could think of to bring you back to consciousness."

"I . . . I fainted?" Andrea asked, slipping right back into character like a trooper. "What happened? I don't remember a thing."

Janie leaned over her solicitously. "We saw the ghost and you screamed. And then you crumpled to the floor and passed out."

"And I ran to Janie's room for water." Hannah added her bit to the story.

"Just rest for a minute," Rick Murphy advised. "I'll go get a chair."

Andrea shook her head. "I think I'd rather lie down. I hate to trouble you, but could you help me to Janie's room?"

"Sure. No problem." Rick took her arm and helped her up. "Just lean on me."

Andrea smiled up at him and her lower lip quivered slightly. "Thanks, Rick. I'm so glad you were here and not another deputy. You won't tell Bill, will you? This is so embarrassing."

"Well . . ."

"Please? I really did think I saw the ghost. I swear there was something down there at the end of the hall, but it was probably just my imagination. You know how Bill is. If he finds out I thought I saw a ghost and fainted, he'll tease me about it for the rest of my life. Can't it be our secret?"

Rick grinned. "Okay, as long as you're sure you're not hurt. As far as I know, it's not a crime to think you saw a ghost."

* * *

The moment Janie's door had closed behind them, Andrea turned to glare at Hannah. "What got into you, Hannah? You didn't have to actually douse me with water!"

"Yes, I did. Rick was standing right there. He would have known something was fishy if I hadn't."

"Well. . . maybe, but you didn't have to enjoy it. And don't bother to deny it. I know you did. It's just like the water fights we used to have at the lake. I always got soaked, and half the time, you didn't have a drop ' "

"Here, Andrea," Janie interrupted, tossing her a towel. "You'd better wipe your face. You can wear one of my sweaters. It'll be too big, but at least it'll be dry. And I've got a hair dryer you can use."

Andrea did not look in good humor, and Hannah knew it was time to mend fences. "You're an incredible actress, Andrea. I really thought you'd fainted."

"You did?" Andrea looked slightly appeased. "You're not just saying that?"

"No. And your screaming was perfect. I knew it was coming, but I jumped anyway. I really thought somebody was getting murdered out there."

Andrea gave a little smile. "I told you I'd do my part. Did you get the keys?"

"Yes, thanks to you." Hannah held them up for her sister's inspection. "They weren't in the drawer and I had to search for them. If you hadn't pretended to faint, Rick might have caught me."

"Well, all's well that ends well. Do I have time to dry my hair?"

"Absolutely. It's cold out there and I don't want you to go out with a wet head."

After Andrea had retreated to the bathroom, the phone rang. Janie answered it and then held it out to Hannah. "It's Sally, for you."

"Hello?" Hannah answered.

'Hi, Hannah," Sally sounded amused. "I heard it went really well. Did you get the keys?"

"Sure did."

"Great. I'm filling in on the switchboard, and your neighbor, Mrs. Canfield, is on the line for you. Do you want me to put her through?"

"Yes, please." Hannah crossed her fingers as she waited for Sally to put through the call. She'd told Mrs. Canfield to call her when Greg came home.

"Hannah?" Mrs. Canfield's voice was shaking slightly. "Greg still isn't home and I'm worried sick. Do you think I should call the sheriff?"

"I don't think that's necessary, Mrs. Canfield. I'm sure he'll be home soon."

"I hope so! I'm just so nervous and I. . . . I wanted to talk to someone about it. Could you come down to see me when you get home?"

Hannah came very close to groaning out loud. She'd been looking forward to curling up with Moishe and watching some mindless television, but she couldn't let Mrs. Canfield down. "Sure, but I have to make a trip to the mall first. It might be pretty late."

"That's all right. I'm so worried about Greg, I won't be able to sleep a wink."

"Okay, Mrs. Canfield. The minute I get home, I'll come straight to your place."

"You're a darling, Hannah," Mrs. Canfield said, and she sounded relieved. "I'll see you later, then."

"What's up?" Janie asked when Hannah had hung up the phone.

"My neighbor's worried about her grandson. He's going through a rough time and she just wants to talk." Hannah picked up the key ring and handed it to Janie. "Do you know which one of these keys is for the boutique?"

One by one, Hannah and Janie examined the keys on Alan's key ring. Janie compared them with hers, and they marked the ones Hannah would need with a felt-tipped pen.

Janie had just finished sketching the layout of the boutique when Andrea emerged from the bathroom.

Hannah glanced up at her sister and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Janie's sweater was miles too big for Andrea, but she'd rolled up the sleeves and belted it in with the long scarf she'd been wearing around her neck. Her hair was pulled up in a loose knot at the top of her head and she looked fabulous.

"What?" Andrea asked, taking in Hannah's startled expression.

"How did you do that? You look gorgeous."

"No, I don't. You're just trying to make me feel better."

"I'm serious, Andrea. You look great."

"Well. . . I always make an effort. Aren't you going to comb your hair before we go?"

Hannah reached up to pat her hair. It felt all right to her. "Why should I?"

"Somebody might see you."

"Who? The mall's closed and all we're doing is breaking into Alan's office."

"But we could run into someone."

"I hope not," Hannah said. "And if we do, I don't think anybody at the sheriff's department is going to care if my hair isn't perfect for my mug shot."

-30-

As Hannah took the turnoff for the Tri-County Mall, she glanced over at her sister and noticed that she was shivering. 'Maybe you should stay in the truck. I can do this alone.'

'It'll take twice as long to go through the files if I don't help you.'

'That's okay. I don't mind. Look, Andrea . . . what we're doing isn't exactly legal. I don't blame you for being scared.'

Andrea shook her head. 'I'm not scared.'

'Then why are you shaking?'

'Because I'm cold. We should have taken my Volvo. It's got a better heater.'

Hannah wasn't convinced by her sister's explanation. 'Are you sure you're not shivering because you're scared?'

'I'm positive. I'm a little nervous, but I'm not scared. I'm going in, Hannah. At least it'll be warm in the mall.'

'Okay,' Hannah said, pulling around to the back of the mall and parking by the entrance the employees used. 'Grab the flashlights and let's go.'

A light snow began to fall as they got out of Hannah's truck and walked toward the door. Hannah glanced up at the huge flakes that were floating past the old-fashioned street-Iights that were placed at intervals around the building. "It's snowing again."

"I know. Isn't it gorgeous? Nights like this remind me of Christmas Eve. Remember how Dad used to drive us down to see the official Christmas tree in Lake Eden Park, and we'd always just miss Santa Claus? You used to roll down the car window and say, 'There he is! Up there in the sky! I think he just came from our house.' And by the time I looked, he was gone."

"That was Dad's idea. Did you believe me?"

"I did for the first couple of years. After that, I pretended to believe because of Michelle. You were pretty convincing, Hannah. You even described the reindeer."

They arrived at the door and Hannah opened it with the key Janie had marked. She'd never used this entrance before, and she was a bit surprised at how dreary it was.

"It's not very pretty, is it?" Andrea echoed Hannah's sentiments as she surveyed the green-and-beige walls.

"I guess they figure they don't need to decorate just for the employees." Hannah reached out to take her sister's arm. "Come with me. Janie told me how to get up to the second floor."

"But we just take the escalator, don't we?"

"No, they shut them down at night. We have to use the stairs. If we run into anybody, let me do the talking."

"What are you going to say?"

"That Janie sent us out here to pick up some papers from the boutique."

"What if they don't believe you?"

"I'll just show them the keys. That should convince them we're supposed to be here."

"But what if they think you stole the keys?"

Hannah grinned as she started up the stairs. Andrea complained about Tracey asking question after question, and now she was doing the very same thing. "Relax. Janie promised to stay by the phone. I'll just give them her number and she'll confirm it."

The doorway to the second floor was locked, and Hannah used the key to open it. When they stepped out into the deserted mall, Andrea shivered slightly. "It looks different at night," she whispered.

"I know," Hannah whispered back. "I'm glad they've got night-lights. At least we can see where we're going."

Hannah walked forward with Andrea at her heels. Even though she tried to walk quietly, her footsteps echoed in the huge, empty space. Without the sound of music on the speaker system and the crowds of shoppers talking and laughing, every sound was magnified. The heater vents whooshed like surfacing whales, there was a loud ticking sound that appeared to come from the clock that hung on the wall over the cash register in the Fanny Farmer Candy shop, and the hum from a flickering fluorescent tube in the display window of Sammy's Sportswear was deafening. The shadows loomed large, and Hannah couldn't dismiss the possibility that someone could be lurking behind one of the mirrored posts that held up the roof, or pressed flat against the little alcoves that surrounded the entrances to the stores. The setting reminded Hannah of every bad horror movie she'd seen, and it was unnerving.

Andrea glanced behind her more times than Hannah could count as they hurried toward Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique. Hannah had a compelling urge to do the same, but she didn't. Two pairs of eyes facing in opposite directions were much safer. She wished they had four pairs of eyes so they could cover the area completely. There's nobody out here except us, she told herself. And she repeated it over and over like a mantra until they arrived at the entrance to the boutique.

Hannah's fingers were shaking slightly as she unlocked the glass door to Connie Mac's store, but once they'd stepped inside and relocked the door behind them, she felt much safer. Although the banks of tiny bulbs the store used for nighttime security didn't give much illumination, her eyes were adjusting to the low level of light. At least they wouldn't bump into a display stand and break something expensive.

"Can we turn on the lights?" Andrea asked, sounding hopeful.

"No. One of the security guards might see them."

"But there aren't any security guards at night."

Hannah turned to her sister in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"Bill told me. One of the guys at the department was looking for a second job right after Christmas. He came out here to apply for night security and the mall manager told him they didn't have night guards anymore."

"Well. . . that's good to know," Hannah said, not sure whether that revelation made her feel better or worse. A night guard could catch them going through Alan's files, but thinking that there was a guard in the building had made her feel a bit safer.

"So can we?"

It took a second for Hannah to remember her sister's initial question. "No, we can't turn on the lights. Somebody else could be here working late."

"But there were no other cars in the parking lot."

"That's true, but I don't want to take any chances. One of the other store owners could be pulling up outside right now.

If he walks past here on the way to his store, he'll wonder why the lights are on. And if he calls the sheriff's department to report it, you could get busted by your own husband."

"Good point," Andrea said, giving up the argument.

The two sisters walked past counters and displays, heading for the back room. They were halfway there when Andrea pointed to a display of cast-iron pans. "Look, Han:' nah. Grandma Ingrid had pans like those."

"They're spiders," Hannah told her.

"Where?" Andrea jumped back. "I hate spiders!"

"I'm talking about the pans. They used to call them spiders."

Andrea gave a sigh of relief and stepped back up to the display table. "These prices are insane. Look at this little one. It's sixty-nine dollars and it won't hold more than one egg."

"Cast iron must be popular again. I've got a whole set of Grandma Ingrid's spiders, if you want one."

"You keep them. I don't cook anyway." Andrea moved forward, but she stopped at a display of cut-glass crystal." This vase is just gorgeous. It's got to be Baccarat."

"Sleuth now, shop later," Hannah ordered, pushing her sister forward. "Come on, Andrea. It's almost ten-thirty and I don't want to be out here all night."

"Can we turn on the lights now?" Andrea asked, once they'd entered the back room and closed the door behind them.

"Not yet." Hannah pointed to the bank of windows on the outside wall. "Those windows overlook the front parking lot, and somebody might see the lights from the highway; Come with me. Alan's office is right over here."

When Hannah had opened Alan's office, Andrea gave a disappointed sigh. "He's got a window, too! Does that mean we have to go through his files with flashlights?"

"I'm afraid so," Hannah told her, moving to the file cabinet against the wall. "At least he's got two chairs in here. Sit down behind his desk and I'll bring you some files to go through."

Hannah took the files from the top drawer and gave her sister the contents of the bottom drawer. They positioned their flashlights to serve as lamps and worked in silence for about ten minutes, going through stacks of paperwork. Most of Alan's files contained routine papers relating to the management of Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutiques.

"I think I've got it, Hannah!" Andrea sounded excited as she pointed to a document she'd been reading. "It's Paul MacIntyre's will and it's dated the day before Connie Mac died. It's witnessed and notarized and it says that Paul leaves fifty percent of his estate to Connie Mac and fifty percent . . . Janie!'

"Our Janie?"

"Yes. Jane Ellen Burkholtz. It says so right here. But why would Paul do something like that, unless. . ." Andrea stopped speaking and began to frown. "Do you think that Janie lied to you about having an affair with Paul?"

"I'm almost positive she didn't. There's got to be another explanation."

"But what? People don't just pick names out of a hat and leave them fifty percent of their money."

"No, of course not," Hannah said, and then the light dawned. Alex had told her that Janie's biological father was going to leave her something in his will.

"What is it, Hannah?" Andrea leaned forward to stare at her sister in the glow of the flashlight. "Do you know something I don't know?"

"I think I do."

"What is it?"

Hannah began to frown. She'd promised not to tell anyone that Janie was Alex's daughter, but she'd figured out the identity of Janie's biological father all by herself. "If I tell you, you've got to promise not to tell anybody else. Not even Bill."

"It's that serious?" Andrea gulped when Hannah nodded. "Okay, I promise. Tell me."

"I think Paul MacIntyre is Janie's biological father." Andrea looked shocked for a moment, and then she shook her head vehemently. "You're wrong, Hannah. I used to go to Janie's house all the time when we were kids, and there's no way Isobel would have had an affair. She adored Garland. They did everything together and they went everywhere together, and . . ."

"Hold the phone," Hannah interrupted before her sister could protest any further. "I didn't mean to imply that. What I meant was, Janie is adopted."

"Adopted? But. . . are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"If Paul's her real father, who's her real mother?" Andrea gulped and looked a little sick. "Connie Mac?"

"Not Connie Mac. I can't tell you who it is, but it's definitely not her."

"That's a relief!" Andrea said, letting out her breath in a giant whoosh. "Is it someone we know?"

"Yes, and that's all I'm going to say about it. Don't press me, Andrea. I promised I'd never tell and I won't."

Andrea sighed. "Not even one little hint?"

"Absolutely not."

"How about Janie? Does she know?"

"No. Isobel and Garland promised never to tell her. Her birth mother made it a condition of the adoption. She wanted Janie to have a real family with a loving mother and father, and that's exactly what Janie has. Her birth mother never wanted to take the chance of jeopardizing Janie's feelings for Isobel and Garland."

Andrea looked as if she might object, but she thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. I can understand that."

"Good. Now let's get back to Mr. Fifty Percent. That turned out to be Janie and we know that she didn't kill Connie Mac. The only other possibility is Paul, and he's in the clear, too."

"At least we know why Connie Mac was so mad the day she died. It must have been a real shock to find out that Janie got half of her husband's estate. Do you think she knew that Janie was Paul's daughter?"

Hannah shook her head. "I don't think Paul told anyone why he put Janie in his will-not even Alan. Alan might have told Connie Mac if he'd known, and Paul wouldn't have risked that. I think the only thing that Alan told Connie Mac was that he'd drawn up Paul's will and that Janie got fifty percent."

"And Connie Mac assumed that Janie was sleeping with Paul? And that's why she was in his will?"

"It makes sense. What would you think if Bill drew up a will and his lawyer told you that he'd left fifty percent to a woman at work?"

Andrea began to frown. "I see what you mean, and that almost makes me feel sorry for Connie Mac. But if Janie didn't kill her, and Paul didn't kill her, who did?"

"Search me. We're fresh out of suspects, Andrea."

"That's true," Andrea said, and she sounded very discouraged. "We followed all the leads and we did everything right, but we still flunked out. What are we going to do?"

"I don't have a clue. All I know is that I never want to go through another day like today. I'm still locked out of The Cookie Jar, I found another body, one of my oldest friends lied to me, and I struck out on a murder case for the first time. I'm on a losing streak, Andrea. We'd better put back these files and leave before we get busted for breaking and entering."

"Just sit here and rest. I'll do it." Andrea picked up a stack of files and returned them to the file cabinet. When she came back for a second armful, she looked puzzled. "You said a friend lied to you. Which friend?"

"Greg Canfield. He said he tripled his money day-trading, but he lied. I just found out that the company he said he invested in went bankrupt."

"I wonder why he lied about it." Andrea thought for a moment and then she snapped her fingers. "You used to date him, didn't you?"

"I didn't date anyone."

"Yes, you did. I know you had a date for the senior prom."

"That was a setup," Hannah answered truthfully, even though the memory still stung a bit. "Dad promised Cliff Shuman a summer job if he took me to the prom. You were the one with all the dates, even back then."

"But Greg used to come to the house all the time. I remember that."

"That's true, but we weren't dating. Greg and I were just really good friends."

"Do you think you would have dated him if his parents hadn't moved?"

You bet! Hannah wanted to say, but she thought better of it. She tried for a casual tone and said, "Maybe. I liked him and I think he liked me, too."

"Then that's probably why he lied to you. He didn't want to admit he failed, so he made up that story to impress you."

"Maybe. I called to ask him about it, but he wasn't home." Hannah picked up another stack of files and handed them to her sister. "Mrs. Canfield's really upset. She thinks Greg's going through a personal crisis, and she's worried about him."

'What makes her think that?"

"Greg told her he'd be staying with her temporarily, just until Annette found a house in Colorado, but some legal papers came for him from a family law firm in Denver. Mrs. Canfield thinks that they were divorce papers."

"She's probably right. I met Annette and she didn't strike me as the type to stick around when the money got tight."

"I know. I guess Greg just wasn't successful enough for her."

"But he was," Andrea objected. "His store was making money. I know that for a fact."

"Then Greg didn't go broke?"

'No. His store had record sales in December. One of his clerks told me that they outsold all the other stores in the mall. That's why I don't understand why Greg lost his lease. It just doesn't make sense."

"Why not?"

"Because the mall charges rent, but they also take a small percentage of the profits from each store. Why would the mall refuse to renew Greg's lease if his store was making extra money for them?"

"I don't know," Hannah said and she began to frown. "That's like cutting off your nose to spite your face, unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

"Unless the mall manager had bigger fish to fry. Didn't Rhea Robinson tell us that Connie Mac wouldn't sign a lease in a mall with a competing store?"

"Yes, but Greg's store was an import business."

"Didn't you tell me that you bought a cookie jar at Greg's closeout sale?"

"I bought two. They were half price. And I bought a set of everyday dishes, too. They're really cute, Hannah. They've got blue cornflowers around the border."

"So Greg carried a lot of kitchen things?"

"Yes, he did. He had glassware, and flatware, and. . ." Andrea stopped speaking and she drew in her breath sharply. "I see where you're going and I think you're right. I'm going to look for the lease that Connie Mac signed."

It took a few moments, but Andrea found the right file folder. She handed it to Hannah and they flipped through it together.

"I'll take the lease," Andrea offered, pulling the legal document out of the file. "I'm more familiar with leases than you are. You look at the correspondence."

They worked in silence for several minutes. The only sound was the rustle of pages turning. Finally Andrea handed the lease back to Hannah. "There's nothing about competing stores in here. It's all standard boilerplate."

"But this isn't," Hannah said, holding up a sheaf of pages that were stapled together at the corner. "Here's a letter that Alan wrote to the mall manager. It says that Connie Mac agrees to open one of her kitchen boutiques at the mall, but there's a condition. She wants the mall manager to cancel Greg's lease when it comes up for renewal and give his space to her kitchen boutique."

"And the mall manager agreed?"

"Oh, yes. Alan drew up a four-page contract. The mall manager signed it, and so did Connie Mac and Alan."

"So Connie Mac and Alan put Greg out of business?"

"I'm no lawyer, but it sure looks that way to me."

Andrea thought about that for a moment, and then she reached for Hannah's notebook. "Do you want me to add Greg to our suspect list and write down what we've learned?"

"Definitely. People have killed for less. I don't believe Greg would murder anybody, but I have to check it out. I promised Mrs. Canfield that I'd come down for coffee when I got home and I'm going to take this letter with me. If Greg's there, I'll ask him about. . ."

Hannah stopped speaking abruptly and Andrea glanced up at her. "What?"

"I heard something. Douse your flashlight. Quick!"

Andrea clicked off her flashlight and so did Hannah. The room was plunged into near-darkness. The only illumination came from a distant streetlight that glowed faintly through the window.

"What did you hear?" Andrea asked.

"A car. I think it drove around the building and parked in back."

Both sisters listened intently. All was quiet for almost a minute, and then they heard the faint sound of a door clanging closed.

"The stairwell door," Hannah said, reaching in her pocket for the keys to her truck and dropping them into Andrea's purse. "I just put my keys in your purse. Take it and crawl under the desk."

"Why?"

"Because it could be someone from the sheriff's department. I'll stick with my original story about how Janie sent me out here to pick up something. Maybe I can convince them to call her to confirm it, but they might haul me in to the station for questioning, anyway. If that happens, just wait until they're gone and drive my truck back to the inn."

"But I can back up your story. It's probably someone I know, and they'll believe me."

Hannah grabbed her sister's arm. "No, Andrea. Get under the desk. Please!"

"But why?"

"Because maybe it's not a deputy."

"Oh," Andrea said, and she sounded a little sick. "Do you think it could be the . . . the killer?"

"If it is, there's no way he's going to get you. Get under there, Andrea. Now!"

"But with two of us, we'll have him outnumbered. I won't let you face him alone."

"Get under there now, and don't make a sound!" Hannah ordered, pulling her sister around the desk.

"But I can help you. Why should I hide under the desk like a coward?"

"Because I won't let you jeopardize the life of my new niece or nephew," Hannah declared, shoving her sister under the desk and rolling the desk chair back into place.

"But I'm not. . ."

"Just shut up and do what I say!" Hannah hissed, interrupting her sister's denial. .'Believe me, Andrea. If I say you're pregnant, you're pregnant!"

-31-

Hannah's heart was racing as she slipped out of the back! room. She moved quickly, hurrying down the center aisle toward the display windows at the front of the store. The lighting inside the boutique was dim, but someone passing by the windows could still glance in and spot her. Rather than take that risk, she ducked down behind a display of fine china.

The mall was so quiet, she could hear the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Hannah hoped that it was just another store owner, intending to restock his shelves before the doors opened on Monday, but she didn't hold out much hope. Since it was almost eleven on a Sunday night, that was about as unlikely as Moishe suddenly sprouting wings and zooming off into the wild blue yonder.

The sound of the footsteps was increasing in volume as the person approached, clunking against the decorative tiles that lined the floor of the mall. Hannah was convinced that they belonged to a man. The stride was positive and energetic, and no effort was taken to step softly. Perhaps she was doing women a disservice by even thinking it, but Hannah doubted that any woman alone, entering a deserted mall this late at night, would tread so boldly.

Her heart in her throat, Hannah willed the stranger to walk on by, but the sound ceased abruptly in front of the door. She risked a glance, peeking up over a platter that probably cost more than she earned in a week, and she gasped as she recognized the person standing in front of Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique.

It was Greg Canfield. Relief washed over Hannah in a giant wave. Greg was all right. All her dire thoughts had turned out to be baseless. She was just getting to her feet, preparing to call out and offer to let Greg in, when she had an unsettling thought. What was Greg doing out here on a Sunday night? And how had he gotten in?

Hannah ducked back down and thought about it for a second. Greg had kept his keys to the back door of the mall. That much was clear. And she'd told Mrs. Canfield that she was coming out to the mall. Perhaps Greg had driven out here wanting to talk to her about the losses he'd taken in the stock market and the fact that Annette was divorcing him. Hannah had almost convinced herself that this was the case when she heard a sound that shot holes in her newly formed theory.

That sound was a key in the lock, turning the tumblers. It was followed by a click, and then Hannah heard the heavy glass door opening. Greg must have kept the key to his store, and no one had bothered to change the locks when Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique had taken over the space.

Hannah moved slightly and peeked out again, this time from behind a serving bowl. Greg was relocking the door behind him. But why would he do that? And why hadn't he called out to her if he'd guessed she was here?

Greg bent over to pick something up, and Hannah almost gasped out loud when she saw that it was a baseball bat. Had Greg come out to the boutique to vandalize the store that had put him out of business?

Like lightning, an image popped into Hannah's mind ' one that made her shiver. It was Connie Mac's skull, crushed by an object that Doc Knight had thought was a baseball bat. Alan Carpenter's skull had also been crushed in the very same way. And there had been a splinter from a baseball bat in Norman's ski cap.

As Hannah watched, Greg began to walk up the aisle, holding the bat like a club. He paused near the center of the store, and an awful smile crossed his face. It was the smile of someone who'd slipped off the edge into madness, a cross between a grin and a leer, which made Hannah's mouth go suddenly dry and her heart pound frantically in her chest. She'd never thought to see a smile like that on the face of one of her friends. But she had to stop thinking of Greg as a friend. He was the killer. He'd injured Norman and murdered Connie Mac and Alan.

The chilling smile seemed frozen on Greg's face as he started forward again. He was humming something under his breath, and as Hannah listened, he began to chant a phrase in a high-pitched, childish voice. "Come out, Hannah. Come out, come out, wherever you are."

There was a singsong lilt to Greg's voice that made Hannah's blood run cold. Greg was insane, dangerously insane.

"Red Rover, Red Rover, send Hannah over," Greg called out. And then he laughed, an eerie sort of giggle. "You're it, Hannah. I'm going to tag you. You can't get in free this time."

Hannah swallowed hard. All the games they'd played in the vacant lot at the end of the block were mixed up together in Greg's deranged mind. But this was no game. Greg had come out here with the intention of making her his next victim.

"I know where you're hiding. You can't fool me, Hannah Banana." Greg moved forward again, toward the back of the store. "You're in the office. I saw your flashlight and I'm going to get you."

Hannah gasped. Andrea was in the office. She couldn't let Greg go back there! With an inventiveness born of desperation, Hannah scuttled to the next display table, the one that held the heavy crystal vase that Andrea had admired. She grabbed it and pegged it toward the far wall as hard as she could. The expensive vase shattered with a satisfying crash, and Greg whirled around toward the spot where the vase had landed. "So that's where you are, you naughty girl! Clumsy Hannah. Now see what you've done?"

Greg stalked past the display table where Hannah was hiding. She held her breath, preparing to run, but he didn't stop. He was wiggling the bat, the same way a power hitter might wiggle it before he hit a homerun, as he strode toward the place he thought she was hiding.

Hannah knew she had to warn her sister to stay hidden. Greg didn't know that Andrea was here, and if she stayed under the desk, she'd be safe. Hannah took a deep breath and called out at the top of her lungs. "You can't catch me, Greg Canfield!"

The moment the words had left her mouth, Hannah crouched low and scooted toward another display table. Greg whirled toward the place she'd been, but Hannah was already across the aisle, crouched low behind a table holding a silver service.

"Where are you, Hannah? Come out, come out!" Greg stalked forward, his bat at the ready.

"Why did you murder them, Greg?" Hannah asked.

Greg turned again toward the sound of her voice, but Hannah had moved behind another display table. She had to keep calling out and moving, leading Greg away from Andrea.

"They took everything!" Greg surprised Hannah by answering her. "Annette left. me when she found out about Redlines, and it was all Connie Mac and Alan's fault!"

"Did they deserve to die?" Hannah asked, scooting to an other position the moment the question had left her mouth.

"They did a bad thing. I had to punish them." Greg's voice had grown softer, and Hannah wasn't sure whether that made him more dangerous or less dangerous. "You understand, don't you, Hannah? They deserved the ultimate punishment."

"Do I deserve to die?" Hannah asked, moving crab-fashion to another counter.

"I'm sorry I have to kill you, Hannah, but I don't have a choice. The minute Grandma told me you'd gone to the mall, I knew you were going to find out. And I can't let you tell anyone what I did."

"They'll find out." Hannah moved again, crouching low.

"No, they won't. They'll think it's the ghost. They're so stupid, they believe in ghosts!" Greg laughed again as he moved in Hannah's direction. And then he started to chant, "Starlight, moonlight, hope to see the ghost tonight. Starlight, moonlight. . ." Greg stopped and gave another chilling laugh. "Remember that, Hannah? Remember the game we used to play? You were always the ghost. Now I'm the ghost and I get to scare you!"

Greg's back was turned and this was her chance. Hannah inched her way to the display of cast-iron skillets. She reached up and grabbed the biggest one, the same size Grandma Ingrid had used to fry chicken, and ducked back down again. And then she called out again to the madman who'd once been her friend. "I never thought you'd hurt me, Greg."

"I won't hurt you," Greg responded, moving toward the display of cast-iron cookware. "You deserve it for sticking your nose in where it didn't belong, but you won't feel a thing. Remember how good I am with a bat? I never miss the ball. I didn't hurt them, either. I made sure of that. I'm not a bad person."

As Greg lunged for the spot where he thought she was hiding, Hannah darted to the counter directly behind him and stood up. But before she could swing the heavy spider, Andrea popped up from the counter directly in front of Greg. She was holding a fire extinguisher in her hand, and as Hannah watched in total shock, her sister pulled the handle and foam spewed out, directly into Greg's face.

The next few seconds passed with what seemed like the speed of lightning. Greg hollered and dropped the bat, reaching up instinctively to cover his eyes. And while he was momentarily incapacitated, Hannah swung the frying pan, connecting solidly with his head. Greg didn't even whimper. He just crashed to the floor like a bale of hay that had been thrown down from the back of a truck. On his way down, he took out a Thanksgiving serving platter and several champagne glasses with silver rims, but Hannah didn't give a second thought to the damage. She just stepped over her former friend to hug her sister tightly.

"I did good, huh?" Andrea asked, looking a bit shocked at her own bravery.

"You were great," Hannah said, not about to spoil the moment by correcting her sister's grammar. "I think he's out cold, but I'll sit on him to make sure he doesn't try to get up again. You'd better call the sheriff's station."

"They're already on the way and they've got Greg's whole confession on tape. I held up my cell phone so the dispatcher could hear, and she patched the call through to Mike and Bill."

"Good for you!" Hannah declared, plunking herself down on Greg's back. She was careful to keep the frying pan at the ready, just in case. "Flip on the lights and see if you can find something we can use to tie him up."

After Andrea had raced off to the front counter, Hannah reached down and took Greg's wrist. His pulse felt steady, and now that the lights were on, she could see no sign of blood. She'd swung the frying pan as hard as she could, but she'd been a lot gentler on Greg that he'd been on Connie Mac and Alan.

Andrea came back at a run and handed Hannah a roll of red satin gift ribbon. The words "Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique" were stamped along the length of the roll in gold. "How about this? It was all I could find."

"It'll do,' Hannah told her, not missing the irony as she bound Greg's hands and feet with an unending reminder of the store that had replaced his. Then she stood up and stared down at Greg. She thought she'd known him, but she hadn't. People could change a lot in twenty years. And Greg hadn't known her, either. He'd assumed that once he called out for her, she'd simply present herself like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Are you okay?" Andrea asked, catching Hannah's pensive mood.

"Yes, thanks to you. Where did you get that fire extinguisher?"

"It was hanging on the wall in the back room, right next to the door."

"And you just spotted it hanging there?"

Andrea shook her head. "I knew where it was supposed to be. It's a legal requirement for every retail establishment in the county."

"And you knew that because you're a real estate agent?"

"That's right. Can I ask you a question, Hannah?"

"Sure."

"I thought you were going to take Greg's head off when you hit him with that frying pan. How did you learn to swing like that?"

"In Little League, I guess."

"But Dad took me to all your games, and you always struck out."

"That's true, but Greg's head is a lot bigger than a baseball. And I guess I just wasn't motivated enough back then."

Andrea nodded and then cocked her head to the side. "I hear sirens out on the highway."

"Me, too. It must be Mike and Bill."

"What are we going to tell them, Hannah?"

"As little as possible."

"You're right." Andrea looked thoughtful. "I'll take care of Bill. You take care of Mike."

The noise of the siren was louder now. It sounded as though more than one patrol car had responded, and that was good. Mike and Bill wouldn't ask too many questions if other officers were present. Hannah heard them pull into the parking lot, and she turned to her sister. "You go down and let them in. I'll stay here and watch Greg."

"They can get in. They've got a passkey."

"Is that something else you know because you're a real estate agent?"

"No, the dispatcher told me."

The sirens made a dying bleep and then the back door banged. Hannah could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs, and much sooner than she thought possible, the glass door banged open and a total of six deputies rushed in, Bill and Mike in the lead.

"We're okay!" Hannah shouted out. "We've got him tied up back here."

"You take Mike, I'll take Bill," Andrea reminded her, and then she rushed out to throw herself into her husband's arms.

After the four other deputies had carried Greg off, Hannah turned to Mike. He didn't look happy, and Hannah knew she had to say something. "I'm sorry, Mike. I know I shouldn't have come out here without telling you, but one thing led to another and . . . are you mad at me?"

"Mad isn't the word." Hannah sighed. A hunk of granite was more yielding than Mike was being right now. "You've got to believe me, Mike. I didn't know that Greg was the killer. I'm as shocked as you are."

"Well. . . at least no one got hurt. Why did you come out here, anyway?"

"Andrea and I were looking for clues. I know we shouldn't have done it without telling you, but I figured that I could save you some time by doing some of the legwork. I was only trying to help you."

"Some help! You almost got yourself killed!"

"But I didn't know that was going to happen. Do you really think I would have brought Andrea out here with me if I'd thought it was dangerous?"

"No. I guess not." Hannah stared up into his face. His frown lines had smoothed out, and she could tell that he was relenting somewhat. "We were going to come straight to you and Bill with anything we found."

'You're sure about that?'

"Oh, yes. Absolutely."

"All right. I believe you," Mike said and pulled her into his arms. "You don't leave me a whole lot of choice, Hannah. I've got to figure out some way to keep you safe."

Hannah looked up to study his expression. He didn't look angry, but there was no telling what was running through is mind. "You're not going to lock me up, are you?"

"No, I've got something else in mind."

"What is it?"

"We'll start by having dinner at the inn tomorrow night. Right after that, I'm going to show you what to do in a clinch."

Hannah wasn't sure what to say. Was Mike talking about self-defense classes again? Or did he have something else in mind? She was still trying to think of a response when Mike bent down and kissed her, and then she stopped thinking altogether.

Several minutes later, or perhaps it was longer, Mike released her. "I have to get back to work, Hannah."

"But why? You've got Greg's confession. The case is closed."

"There's still a ton of paperwork to do." Mike turned her around and marched her toward the door, where Andrea and Bill were waiting for them. "And I really ought to make you do it, since you seem to be angling for my job."

-32- Hannah glanced at her reflection in the mirror that hung above the bar at the Lake Eden Inn. Mike had gone off to check on their reservations, and she was feeling very sophisticated tonight. She was wearing her new green silk dress, the one that Claire Rodgers had selected for this very special night. Hannah had dashed next door to Beau Monde Fashions on her prelunch break, and even though Claire had given her a discount, she'd still spent a small fortune on just the right outfit.

The dress really was beautiful, and Hannah knew it looked good on her. The deep green brought out the color of her eyes, and it made her hair look more auburn than red. Since she'd always believed that her hair could double as a beacon to warn sailors away from dangerous rocks, this was a minor miracle.

Even Moishe had seemed impressed with Hannah's new look. He'd curled up in the middle of her bed as she'd dressed, and when she was finished, he'd followed her down the hallway, purring and rubbing up against her expensive real-silk nylons.

How could nylons be silk? Hannah thought about that inconsistency for a moment before turning her mind to other, more pressing matters. Even though it had been late, she'd gone to see Mrs. Canfield the previous evening, to tell her that Greg was in jail for the murders of Connie Mac and Alan Carpenter. Fearing that she'd be forced to deal with hysteria, tears, or perhaps even worse, Hannah had been relieved to find that her elderly neighbor had taken it in stride. Mrs. Canfield would be all right. Minnesota women were tough.

Thinking about Greg had depressed Hannah, and after she had fed Moishe and crawled into bed, she'd turned her thoughts to the clinch that Mike had mentioned. By the time she'd dropped off to sleep, she'd managed to convince herself that Mike had simply chosen a unique way to tell her that he'd planned a romantic evening. Hannah wasn't averse to a bit more romance in her life. There was only one thing that bothered her about the evening that Mike had planned, and that was . . . .

Norman. And there he was, in the doorway with Carrie and Delores. Hannah sighed and a wave of guilt washed over her. Why hadn't Norman taken their mothers to the Corner Tavern?

'Hi, Hannah. You look really pretty.' Norman came over to take her hand. 'I didn't know you'd be here tonight. How about joining us?'

'Uh . . .well, actually . . .'

'Hi, Norman.' Mike chose that moment to return. 'What are you doing out here?'

'I got roped into taking the mothers out to dinner. They're celebrating tonight, but they won't tell me why.'

'Really?' Hannah's curiosity was aroused. 'I spoke to Mother this morning, and she didn't mention anything about a celebration. It's not Carrie's birthday, is it?'

'No, that's in June. How about your mother?'

'Not until September fifteenth. I wonder what . . .'

'Hi, Mike. Are we late?' Bill interrupted Hannah's speculations as he rushed up with Andrea.

'You're fine. Sally's setting up for us right now,' Mike answered, and then he turned to Hannah to explain. 'Bill told me that he was taking Andrea out for dinner tonight, and I thought we'd make it a foursome. That's all right with you, isn't it?'

'Of course,' Hannah said. What else could she say when Bill and Andrea were standing right next to her?

'Hey, Norman,' Mike said, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. 'There's no reason why you should be stuck with the mothers alone. Do you think they'd like it if we all sat together.'

You've got to be kidding! Hannah thought with a sigh, her dreams of a romantic candlelight dinner with Mike vanishing into thin air.

'They'd love it, but are you sure we won't be intruding?' Norman looked a little worried.

'Not at all.' Mike thumped Norman on the back again. 'We're practically all family anyway.'

'Okay. I'll go tell them. And I'll find Sally and say that we need a table for seven.'

Hannah struggled to keep the pleasant smile on her face. At least Mike had said that he considered himself a part of her family. But he'd also implied that he considered Norman and Carrie a part of his family. Since Norman was supposed to be his rival, Mike was obviously unclear on the concept!

Once Norman had left, Bill and Mike began to chat about police business, and Andrea hoisted herself up on the stool next to Hannah. 'How did you know?' she hissed.

'Know what?'

'That I was pregnant. I went to see Doc Knight this morning and he confirmed it.'

'I was at first, but that's only because it was such a shock. You should have seen Bill's face when I told him. He was really happy and that's why we came out here for dinner.'

'That's nice,' Hannah said, but part of her wished that Bill had chosen another restaurant.

'I'm really sorry we horned in on your party. I know you wanted to be alone with Mike, but Bill didn't tell me until it was a done deal. I tried to call you to give you a heads-up, but you'd already left."

"That's okay."

"You look really nice, Hannah. I love that dress. Did you get it at . . . oh-oh! Here comes Mother!"

Hannah swiveled around and her eyes widened as she caught her first glimpse of Delores. Their mother was wearing a gold lam' pantsuit, and she looked like a brunette Barbie dressed for the Oscars. "She got her hair streaked again?"

"Bertie did it this morning. There's something a little unnatural about having a mother who looks younger than we do."

"Only in this light," Hannah pointed out. "But she does look good, and she really knows how to make an entrance. And that reminds me, do you know what Mother and Carrie are celebrating tonight?"

"No, I haven't heard anything about it."

"I have a feeling we'll find out," Hannah said. standing up with her sister to greet their mother and Carrie.

The dinner that night was festive, and to her surprise, Hannah found that she was enjoying herself. She was seated between Norman and Mike, and they seemed to be vying with each other to see that she had everything her heart de- sired. When dessert time rolled around. Hannah decided that it was time to make an announcement. "I contributed six pans of Multiple-Choice Bar Cookies to Sally's dessert buffet tonight. It's a new recipe and I need your opinion."

"Whatever they are, they can't be better than your blueberry muffins," Bill said with a grin. "They were the best I ever tasted."

Hannah turned to give him a long, level look. "How do you know? I thought the containers were being dusted for prints."

"They were, but they came out clean," Mike explained. "And since the muffins were two days old already, we. . . uh.. ."

"You shared them around at the station?" Hannah finished the sentence for him.

"That's right. We didn't think you'd want them back. You're not upset, are you?"

"Not really." Hannah did her best to be gracious. "I'm glad they didn't go to waste. Is there more coffee in that carafe?"

Both Mike and Norman made a grab for the carafe at the same moment, and Hannah almost laughed out loud. This was the first time in her whole life that two men were knocking themselves out to please her. Mike got to the carafe first and filled Hannah's cup. Then he leaned forward to talk to Norman. "Are you all right after that knock on the head?"

"I'm fine, but if Lake Eden gets any more dangerous, I'm going to take karate classes."

"Karate won't do you much good unless your assailant is a two-by-four or a stack of cinder blocks. I'll tell you what, Norman. I promised to teach Hannah some self-defense moves, and I'll give you some tips, too."

"Thanks, Mike." Norman looked properly grateful. "Just let me know when, and I'll be there."

"How about tonight? I have to teach Hannah what to do in a clinch, and my apartment complex has a gym."

"That sounds great. I'll take the mothers home and then I'll drive out to your place. I really appreciate this, Mike. Ever since I met Hannah, I'm never sure when I'm going to run into trouble."

Hannah made a study of the coffee in her cup as her two Lotharios discussed precisely when and where to meet. This evening was definitely not turning out the way she'd hoped it would.

"Andrea, dear?" Delores reached across the table to tap Andrea's arm. "You didn't have any of the champagne I ordered."

As Hannah watched, Andrea's face turned a shade of pink that matched the dress she was wearing. "I'm sure it was delicious, Mother. I just didn't feel like drinking tonight."

"But why, dear? You're not driving, are you?"

Andrea's cheeks turned even pinker as she shook her head.

"Then why don't you have a glass?"

'No, Mother. Thank you, but I'm. . . I'm. . ."

"Pregnant." Hannah supplied the word that appeared to be frozen on her sister's lips.

"Really?" Delores looked stunned for a moment, and then she rushed around the table to hug Andrea. "That's wonderful, dear! When did you find out?"

"Today. But Hannah knew it yesterday."

Delores turned to give Hannah a sharp look. Hannah just shrugged. "Call me psychic."

For a few moments, everyone spoke at once, congratulating Andrea and Bill. Hannah sat back with a smile on her face and enjoyed her sister's time in the spotlight. Andrea looked happy, and that was what counted. And Bill seemed absolutely delighted.

"Hannah has some good news, too," Delores said when the commotion had died down a bit. "Tell them, dear."

"Tell them what?" Hannah asked, staring at her mother in total consternation.

"About the book. You're going to write it, aren't you?"

"Oh, that book." Hannah sighed deeply. Her mother had obviously spoken to Kurt Howe, who'd spilled the beans. Now she had to explain it to the rest of her extended family, and every one of them was staring at her curiously. "Kurt Howe came into the cookie shop this morning and asked me to write a cookbook. I told him I'd think about it."

"But you have to do it," Delores insisted.

"Only if I can work in some of our old family recipes and stories about Lake Eden," Hannah stipulated. "As Andrea would say, it's not a done deal yet."

Another round of congratulations followed Hannah's un- planned announcement, and then Delores clinked her spoon against the side of her champagne flute. When she was sure that all eyes were on her, she said, "Carrie and I have an announcement, too."

Hannah took a deep breath and held it. If Delores and Carrie had cooked up something together, it couldn't be good.

'I'm going into the antique business with Carrie,' Delores declared. 'Everyone who toured the Ezekiel Jordan House urged us to open an antique shop. And since Launne Hanks has shown such an interest, we're hiring her to help us buy stock and run the store.'

'That's great, Mother!' Andrea reached out to pat her mother's hand.

'It certainly is,' Hannah added, giving a big sigh of relief. Opening an antique store would keep her mother busy and out of her hair.

'That's not all,' Delores said, pausing for dramatic effect. 'Carrie and I signed the lease this afternoon, and you'll never guess where we're locating.'

Hannah was almost afraid to ask, but she did. 'Where?'

'Right next to you, dear.'

'You mean . . . on the same block?' Hannah asked, hoping that she'd misunderstood.

'Right next to you, dear. Carrie and I are turning the Ezekiel Jordan House into an antique shop. I've been feeling guilty because I don't spend enough time with you, and now I'll be able to zip over and have coffee with you every morning. Isn't that wonderful, dear?'

Somehow Hannah managed to keep the smile on her face. 'Wonderful,' she said.

MULTIPLE-CHOICE BAR COOKIES

Preheat oven to 350'F, rack in the middle position

' cup butter (one stick) 1 can sweetened condensed milk (14 oz.)

Column A (1 ' cups) Graham cracker crumbs Vanilla wafer crumbs Chocolate wafer crumbs Animal cracker crumbs Sugar cookie crumbs

Column B (2 cups) Chocolate chips Butterscotch chips Peanut butter chips Raisins (regular or golden) M&M's (without nuts)

Column C (2 cups) Flaked coconut (5 oz.) Rice Krispies Miniature Marshmallows (2 ' cups) Frosted cornflakes (crumbled)

Column D (1 cup) chopped walnuts chopped pecans chopped peanuts chopped cashews

Melt the butter and pour it into a 9-by-13-inch cake pan. Tip the pan to coat the bottom.

1. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column A over the melted butter. 2. Drizzle sweetened condensed milk over the crumbs. 3. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column B on top. 4. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column C on top of that. 5. Evenly sprinkle one ingredient from Column D over the very top.

Press everything down with the palms of your hands. Bake at 350'F for 30 minutes. Cool thoroughly on a wire rack and cut into brownie-sized bars.

(Tracey loves to help me bake these ' she gets to choose the ingredients.) '