Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(41)

"I meant the other horse, Secretariat," Andrea said. When they just stared at her, she started to laugh. "I made a joke! Barbara Donnelly's been Sheriff Grant's secretary for years and she knows everything that goes on at the station. That's why I said Secretariat, get it?"

"Brilliant," Hannah said with a grin. Andrea's joke was good considering that it came from a hugely pregnant wife whose husband was suspected of murder. "Barbara should be able to tell us about past elections, but she might not know what Sheriff Grant was intending for this year. We have to find out if any deputy was working on a big case, one that Sheriff Grant could have planned to use to win the race against Bill."

Bill sighed so deeply it came out as a groan. "This suspension is just about killing me! If I could just go to the station and talk to the other guys, I could find out in two seconds flat. But that's not allowed."

"It's okay, honey," Andrea spoke softly, reacting to the tone of frustration in her husband's voice. "You're doing a lot to help."

"Maybe. I just wish I could do more. At least I'm here to make sure you get your proper rest and nutrition. And I'm getting some things done around the house. That reminds me… I threw out a whole box of old fashion magazines I found in the attic. You must have stuck them up there and forgotten about them. That's one job that's done."

"You finished cleaning out the attic?" Andrea's voice shook slightly and Hannah wondered what else her sister had squirreled away up there.

"I sure did. It wasn't hard once I carried down all those bags of old clothes."

Andrea gasped. "But I was saving those for Tracey to play dress up!"

"She never could have used that many. There must have been dozens of them. I called my dad and he came to get them. Mom's going to use them for quilts."

Andrea tipped her head up and looked toward the ceiling, and Hannah suspected she was asking for divine intervention to keep her from killing Bill. Perhaps this would be a good time to leave. "I'd better be going," Hannah said, getting to her feet. "I've got to get up early tomorrow."

"Me, too." Bill also rose to his feet. "I'm going to repaint this room tomorrow."

"Oh?" Hannah asked, since Andrea seemed incapable of speech.

"Dad promised to run down to the hardware store to pick up the paint for me. I thought I'd get a really bright yellow to lighten the place up a little. Enamel would be good. That way we can just wash the walls when they get dirty."

Hannah glanced at Andrea, who still looked as if she was contemplating homicide with husbandly intent, and took charge. "You can't paint this week."

"Why not?"

"The KCOW weatherman said it might rain and everyone knows that enamel never dries completely if you use it when the humidity's high."

"Really?" Bill frowned slightly. "I never heard that."

"Well, it's true. If you don't believe me, just come down to The Cookie Jar and touch the windowsill in my kitchen. I painted it right before a thunderstorm two years ago and it still feels tacky."

Andrea shot Hannah a grateful glance and then she turned to Bill. "Will you get your jacket and walk Hannah out to her truck? With a killer on the loose, I don't think she should take any chances."

The moment Bill had left to get his jacket, Andrea motioned Hannah closer. "Thanks, Hannah. That bit with the enamel was brilliant."

"Thanks. It was also true."

"Whatever. All I know is we've got to clear Bill, and fast. Being home with my feet up is bad enough, but with Bill here doing pet projects around the house and babying me, it's murder."

Hannah knew what she had to do and she took Andrea's warning seriously. It might not be murder yet, but if Bill spent many more hours as a househusband, it would be.



Hannah spent a few more moments talking to Bill and then she climbed into her truck. She started the engine, flicked on the lights, and noticed something she hadn't seen when she drove up.

"Bill?" Hannah called out, after she'd lowered her window.

"Yeah, Hannah."

"When did you break your taillight?"

"Oh, that," Bill said, shrugging it off as inconsequential. "It must have happened on Monday night. It was broken Tuesday morning when I went to work. I had to drive through the vehicle checkpoint at the station and they wrote me a repair ticket."

Hannah was surprised. "They have a vehicle checkpoint at the sheriff's station?"

"Sure. We're training civilian volunteers to run all the vehicle checkpoints. It'll free sworn officers up for other duty. For practice, we set up a checkpoint at the station and the volunteers stop all cars coming and going from the parking lot."

Hannah nodded, waiting for Bill to catch on. She wasn't disappointed.

"Hold on a second!" Bill sounded very excited. "The checkpoint was operating on Monday night when I left the sheriff's station. The taillight wasn't broken then. That means it happened after six on Monday night, because they ticketed me at seven the next morning."

"That's right," Hannah said, smiling like a proud parent. Bill was getting the hang of logical thinking.

"Andrea told me about the math you did on the telemarketing calls. If I can find the person who hit my car and it happened at the right time, it could be my alibi!"