by Joanne Fluke
"That's what I thought," Andrea said with a sigh, "but Mother didn't seem all that eager. And then, when I suggested that she take Tracey after the program and keep her overnight, she said she'd have to let me know, that she might have other plans."
Hannah frowned. That wasn't like their mother at all. Delores loved to keep Tracey overnight and her granddaughter always came first. "What other plans did Mother have? Did you ask?"
"Of course I did, but she told me it was none of my business. And then she said I should remember that she had a life of her own."
Hannah's mouth dropped open. "Mother has a life?"
"That's what she said. Do you think it's a man?"
"Mother?! Not a chance."
"But you'll find out for sure, won't you? You're so good at investigating, Hannah."
"I'll try," Hannah said reluctantly, mentally adding it to her list of things to do, right behind solving the murder and clearing Bill, and just ahead of trying to run a business and get her stubborn cat to eat his new food. "I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything."
"Good. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Hannah bit back the urge to say, Stop giving me things to do, and glanced down at her steno pad. "You can help with the murder investigation. Think of some excuse for calling Doc Knight and see if you can get him to tell you whether Sheriff Grant was dead when the killer put him in the Dumpster."
"Yuck!"
"I know, but I don't want to ask Mike for any favors and Bill can't find out this time."
Andrea sighed. "You're right. I'll do it today. I'm not quite as queasy as I was yesterday. I'll get all the results of the autopsy while I'm at it."
"Do you think Doc'll tell you?"
"Of course. I'm a real estate agent. We're trained to get information."
Hannah thanked her sister and hung up the phone. She'd just finished filling Moishe's food and water bowls and was stuffing her steno pad into her purse when the phone rang again. She grabbed it and sat down in the chair again, pulling out her notebook. "That was fast! What did Doc say?"
"What was fast?"
Hannah groaned as she recognized her mother's voice. "Sorry, Mother. I thought it was Andrea. She promised to get back to me."
"Is there something wrong with the new baby?"
"Not that I know of. Why?"
"You mentioned Doc."
"Right," Hannah began to smile. Perhaps she could use her mother's worry about Andrea to her advantage. "Andrea called a couple of minutes ago."
"But it's not even six-thirty yet!"
"I know. She was having trouble sleeping. I told her to call Doc and maybe he could give her something."
"That was a good idea. The poor dear is probably worried sick about Bill."
"Actually, no." Hannah took a deep breath and prepared to drive in the nail. "Andrea's worried about you."
"About me? Why would she worry about me?"
"She said you didn't jump at the chance to keep Tracey next Saturday night. And when she asked you why, you told her that you had a life."
"Oh." Delores was silent for a long moment. "Well… I suppose I could change my plans and keep Tracey if it's that important to her."
"What plans are those, Mother?"
"None of your business, dear. I may be your mother, but I'm entitled to some privacy when it comes to my personal life."
Hannah gave it up as a bad job. Her mother was almost as stubborn as Moishe. When Delores decided to keep a secret, no one could pry it out of her. "Okay, Mother. We won't discuss it any further."
"Good. You're the daughter with the most sense, Hannah. Except when it comes to men, that is. How you could date that awful Mike Kingston is beyond me!"
Hannah didn't rise to the bait. It was just too early in the morning to fight. "I've got to get to work, Mother. Is there anything specific you wanted?"
"Yes. Thank you for reminding me, dear. I called to tell you that Sheriff Grant's funeral is on Sunday at Jordan High at two o'clock."
"It's at the school?”
"Yes, in the auditorium. It's the only place that's large enough. He was very well liked and they expect a huge turnout. You're going, aren't you?"
Hannah sighed. She hated funerals. "I don't know, Mother."
"Well, you have to go. The killer always shows up at the graveside."
"What?"
"That's the way it happens in the movies. By the way, all the businesses in town are closing at noon on Saturday as a sign of respect."
"They are?" Hannah was surprised. This was the first she'd heard about it.
"They will when they read the notice in the paper. Carrie and I wrote it up and Rod promised to publish it today."
"Okay, Mother," Hannah said. With Delores and Carrie spearheading the effort, any business in Lake Eden that didn't close at noon on Saturday would be roundly criticized.
"Andrea should go the funeral," Delores went on. "It's right for Bill to stay away since he's a suspect, but the family should be represented."
"So Andrea's going with you?" Hannah asked, glancing up at her apple-shaped clock. The hands were moving inexorably forward and if she wanted to finish most of the baking before Lisa came in, she'd have to leave in less than five minutes.
"She can't go with me dear. The Regency Romance Club is doing something special. We're all arriving together and we're going to sit behind Nettie in a show of support."
"That's nice, Mother." Hannah said warily. She had the feeling she knew what was coming next.
"That's why I want you to take Andrea. Call her the minute you get to work and tell her you think she should go with you."
Hannah was about to say she still wasn't sure she'd be attending Sheriff Grant's funeral, but before she could even open her mouth, Delores said goodbye and hung up.
"She did it again," Hannah said to Moishe, who was staring at the phone with his ears back. He always seemed to know when his least favorite person called. Delores liked to be the one who ended the conversation and hung up first, and she usually succeeded. It was par for the course for the woman who always wanted the last word.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Sunday morning rolled around, Hannah was frustrated beyond belief. She tried the rest of the tips on the list and Moishe hadn't even sampled his new food. She planned to call Doctor Bob in the morning to see if he had any new suggestions, but for the present, she was stumped. And since she didn't feel like fighting with her stubborn four-footed roommate this morning, she caved in again.
Moishe gave a sound that was half purr, half grateful mew as Hannah filled his bowl with his regular crunchies. But instead of gobbling them up as he usually did, he came over to rub against her ankles.
"You're welcome," Hannah said, pouring her second cup of coffee. "You can go ahead and eat. I'll just sit at the kitchen table and wake up."
As Moishe crunched happily, Hannah's thoughts turned to Sheriff Grant's murder. For the most part she was getting nowhere fast, but one of her questions had been answered. Although Doc Knight had refused to give Andrea a copy of the autopsy report, he answered her question off-the-record. The blow Sheriff Grant suffered to the back of his skull killed him almost instantly.
Hannah's suspect list was growing, although she doubted that any of them had murdered Sheriff Grant. There was Nettie, who had no alibi, and Luanne, who didn't have one either. Then there was Bill, but Hannah refused to add him to her suspect list. It would have been great if they'd been able to track down Bill's second call, but Hannah called every roofing company in the county and found that none of them used telemarketers. Andrea and Tracey drove all over to look for anyone either getting a new roof or having their old roof repaired, and Herb had kept a sharp eye out for roofing trucks on his rounds. They all did their best, but the roofer who may or may not have been working in the Lake Eden area was still anonymous.
After another bracing sip of coffee, Hannah stood up and stretched. It was time to start the day. The Cookie Jar wasn't open on Sunda
ys, but she decided to go in anyway to take inventory of their supplies. Since it was a relatively clean job that shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, she dressed in something appropriate for a funeral, and wore an apron over it just in case.
"You might know it!" Hannah muttered from the top of the stepstool, as the phone in the kitchen of The Cookie Jar began to ring. She waited through three rings, juggling a canister of cocoa in one hand and a bag of flaked coconut in the other, then set them back on the shelf and climbed down. It was almost impossible for her to ignore a ringing phone. It could be an emergency, something she needed to respond to right away. It could be Bill, saying that Andrea had gone to the hospital to have the new baby. It could be Norman, calling from the dental convention, trying the shop because he'd been unable to reach her at her condo. It could be Mike, saying that he'd caught the murderer and Bill was free to come back to work. And it could be a salesman, which was much more likely, even on a Sunday.
Hannah hurried across the floor and grabbed the phone. "The Cookie Jar. Hannah speaking."
"Oh, Hannah! I'm so glad I caught you!"
Hannah gripped the phone a little tighter. It was Andrea and she sounded frazzled. "What's wrong, Andrea?"
"Uh-oh! Just hang on a second, okay?"
Hannah listened to the sound of the open line. She heard soft footsteps and then a bang and a click as a door closed and locked. "Andrea?"
"It's okay. I'm here now." Andrea's voice was not much more than a whisper.
"Where's here?"
"In the bathroom."
"Why are you whispering?"
"Because Bill just came back to the bedroom and I don't want him to hear what I'm saying. Hold on again, Hannah. He's knocking on the door."
Hannah held on. What else could she do? She heard Andrea say something to Bill, but her words were muffled. Then she heard what sounded like running water. "Andrea?"
"I'm still here. I just told Bill you called me and I had to take the phone in here, because I had to… you know. Can you come over early, Hannah? Please?"
Hannah glanced toward the open pantry. She'd just started the inventory and if she stopped now, she'd have to come in early tomorrow morning to finish. On the other hand, she could bring Andrea here and her sister could write things down as Hannah counted them. "I could come early. But why?"
"Bill's cleaning out my closet. I'm trying to be understanding, but he keeps asking me why I'm keeping certain things and I just want to kill him!" There was a whoosh as Andrea took a deep breath and let out again. "It's terrible, Hannah. He actually said I should throw away that wonderful pair of red clogs I bought at the mall last summer."
Hannah remembered the clogs. Andrea had taken advantage of a giant shoe sale and paid only five dollars for them. "But you told me that they hurt your feet when you wore them. You said they practically crippled you."
"I know, but it's just a matter of getting used to them, that's all."
"You mean you have to break them in?"
"Not exactly. Clogs are wood. They don't break in. But my feet will adapt."
Hannah wanted to say that feet shouldn't have to adapt to shoes; shoes should adapt to feet. Andrea was crazy if she thought otherwise, but Hannah resisted the urge to tell her so. It wasn't a warm, supporting comment to make to a sister who was beginning to resemble the Goodyear blimp.
"So can you pick me up early, Hannah? I just don't know how much more of this closet cleaning I can handle."
"Sure," Hannah said, not wanting to deny Andrea anything at this stage of her pregnancy. "Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"
"I can be ready in less time than that. Just hurry, Hannah. He's driving me nuts and I'm afraid I'll say something I'll regret later. I do love him, you know."
"I know."
Hannah hung up to the sound of a toilet flushing. Andrea was obviously pulling out all the stops to convince Bill that she'd had to take the phone in the bathroom.
"There's Mother," Andrea said, nudging Hannah as they walked into the lobby of the Jordan High auditorium. Even though they arrived a half-hour early, the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club was already there in full force.
Hannah glanced in the direction of Andrea's gaze and caught her mother's gesture. "Uh-oh. She wants us to come over."
"We might as well do it," Andrea said with a sigh, taking a step in her mother's direction. "She probably wants to criticize your outfit."
"What's wrong with my outfit?" Hannah looked down at her navy blue dress and shoes.
"Nothing, but Mother'll find something. Do you want me to head her off at the pass?"
"That would be great. Do you think you can?"
"Of course. Just watch."
Hannah watched as Andrea sailed up to their mother and whispered something in her ear. Delores looked surprised for a moment and then she smiled from ear to ear, an unusual expression at a funeral. There was another volley of whispered conversation and then the two parted, and Andrea came back to Hannah's side.
"It's so crowded, I thought I was going to get bowled over before I got back here. Mother says hi. Let's go talk to some other people before she remembers what she wanted to talk to us about in the first place."
Hannah glanced out over the crowd and spotted Beatrice Koester. "There's Beatrice and Ted. I want to ask him about his mother's cupcakes."
"The ones with the secret ingredient?"
"Right. Just stick behind me and I'll run interference." Hannah led the way across the crowded lobby, clearing a path for her sister. Beatrice looked as she always did, neat as a pin in a charcoal gray dress with a white collar. Ted, however, was tugging at the sleeves of his suit and Hannah was sure he'd rather be wearing his coveralls and towing a car on his flatbed.
"I'm glad you're here, Ted," Hannah said, once she'd greeted Beatrice and made sure that Andrea had engaged her in conversation.
"Why's that?" Ted frowned slightly and his heavy eyebrows almost touched.
"I've been trying to figure out that recipe for your mother's cupcakes."
"Beatrice has been working on it at home and I've never had so many bad cupcakes shoved down my throat. I finally had to tell her to knock it off."
"Oh," Hannah said, biting back a smile at the mental image Ted's words had created. Beatrice was a small woman, barely five feet tall, while Ted topped six feet and looked as if could eat a whole cow for breakfast. "I thought it might help if you could describe your mother's cupcakes for me."
"Chocolate. And when you bit in, it wasn't all air. You know what I mean?"
"I think so. They were heavy?"
"I'll say!" Ted gave a little grin, exposing one silver-capped tooth. Hannah remembered Norman saying he'd like to recap it in something that looked like real tooth enamel. "A tin of her cupcakes probably weighed as much as an air filter."
Hannah had the insane urge to laugh, but she asked another question instead. "What else do you remember about them?"
"The frosting. Best fudge frosting I ever ate. My mother was some cook!"
"I'll bet she was," Hannah said, wondering if she'd ever have a child who'd say that about her. "Was there anything really unusual about the cupcakes? Something you haven't mentioned?"
Ted thought for a moment and then he nodded. "Yeah. The paper cups were gold foil and she had them sent from a place in Chicago."
Before Hannah could even think about asking another question, the doors to the auditorium opened and people began filing inside. The Koesters got in line with the other mourners, but Andrea grabbed Hannah's hand and tugged her around to the side door so that they could avoid the crowd.
Someone, undoubtedly Digger Gibson, Lake Eden's funeral director, had arranged for soft organ music to play over the auditorium speaker system. Hannah recognized "Largo." Digger had played the same piece at her father's funeral and it brought back depressing memories. "I hate funerals," she sighed.
"Me, too," Andrea echoed the sentiment and motioned Hannah into the back row of seats on the left si
de of the auditorium. "You take the second seat and I'll take the aisle. That way we'll have this row to ourselves."
Hannah moved sideways to take the second seat. "Only until someone asks us to stand up so they can squeeze past us."
"That won't happen." Andrea sat down in the aisle seat and pointed to the seatback, which was only an inch shy of touching her stomach. "Since I'm so big, no one can squeeze past me. And there's no way they'll have the nerve to ask me to get up and move out into the aisle."
Hannah bit back a grin as she put her purse down on the empty seat next to her. It seemed that pregnancy had some perks. She was about to say that when Sean and Don, the twins who ran the gas station and convenience store out on the highway, came in the side door and took the seats directly in front of them.
"Hi, Andrea. Hannah," either Sean or Don greeted them. Hannah couldn't tell them apart since they were wearing suits instead of their Quick Stop shirts with the names embroidered over the pockets.
"Hi, Sean," Hannah said, deciding that guessing was worth it since she had a fifty percent change of getting it right.
"I'm Don. He's Sean."
"You win some and you lose some," Hannah muttered under her breath. "Sorry, guys. You know I can't tell you apart. Who's minding the store?"
"We're closed," the other twin said, the one whose name, Hannah now knew, was Sean. "We figured we should come to the service to prove we weren't mad at Sheriff Grant."
"Mad?" Hannah's ears perked up.
Don nodded. "He told us we couldn't sell those little cordial chocolates anymore. Sean explained that we never sold them to kids, but Sheriff Grant said it didn't matter, that if they had one drop of alcohol in them, we needed a liquor license.
"And they were our best selling candy," Sean complained.
"I don't think we would have minded so much," Don went on, "but he walked over to the shelf, loaded them all up in a box, and confiscated them."
"And we could have returned them for credit,” Sean added.
"Is that legal?" Hannah asked, glancing over at Andrea.
"I don't know." Andrea gave a little shrug and then her eyes narrowed. "I bet you guys were really mad."
