Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(33)

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 Sundays, 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."