by Joanne Fluke
"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."
&nbs
p; "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?"
