Blueberry Muffin Murder (30 page)

"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.

"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."