Part 1 (2/2)
”That's exactly what I told Father Coultas. If G.o.d gave Dad Alzheimer's, He's got to understand when Dad forgets what church he belongs to.” Lisa walked to the oven, switched off the timer, and pulled out a tray of Chocolate Chip Crunches. ”I'll bring these in as soon as they're cool.”
”Thanks.” Hannah went back through the swinging door again and unlocked the street door to the coffee shop. She flipped the ”Closed” sign in the window to ”Open,” and checked the cash register to make sure there was plenty of change. She'd just finished setting out small baskets of sugar packets and artificial sweeteners when a late-model dark green Volvo pulled up in the spot by the front door.
Hannah frowned as the driver's door opened and her middle sister, Andrea, slid out of the driver's seat. Andrea looked perfectly gorgeous in a green tweed jacket with politically correct fake fur around the collar. Her blond hair was swept up in a s.h.i.+ning knot on the top of her head and she could have stepped from the pages of a glamour magazine. Even though Hannah's friends insisted that she was pretty enough, just being in the same town with Andrea always made Hannah feel hopelessly frumpy and unsophisticated.
Andrea had married Bill Todd, a Winnetka County deputy sheriff, right after she'd graduated from high school. They had one daughter, Tracey, who had turned four last month. Bill was a good father on his hours away from the sheriff's station, but Andrea had never been cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. When Tracey was only six months old, Andrea had decided that they'd needed two incomes and she'd gone to work as an agent at Lake Eden Realty.
The bell on the door tinkled and Andrea blew in with a chill blast of autumn wind, hauling Tracey behind her by the hand. ”Thank G.o.d you're here, Hannah! I've got a property to show and I'm late for my appointment at the Cut 'n Curl.”
”It's only eight, Andrea.” Hannah boosted Tracey up onto a stool at the counter and went to the refrigerator to get her a gla.s.s of milk. ”Bertie doesn't open until nine.”
”I know, but she said she'd come in early for me. I'm showing the old Peterson farm this morning. If I sell it, I can order new carpeting for the master bedroom.”
”The Peterson farm?” Hannah turned to stare at her sister in shock. ”Who'd want to buy that old wreck?”
”It's not a wreck, Hannah. It's a fixer-upper. And my buyer, Mr. Harris, has the funds to make it into a real showplace.”
”But why?” Hannah was honestly puzzled. The Peterson place had been vacant for twenty years. She'd ridden her bicycle out there as a child and it was just an old two-story farmhouse on several acres of overgrown farmland that adjoined the Cozy Cow Dairy. ”Your buyer must be crazy if he wants it. The land's practically worthless. Old man Peterson tried to farm it for years and the only things he could grow were rocks.”
Andrea straightened the collar of her jacket. ”The client knows that, Hannah, and he doesn't care. He's only interested in the farmhouse. It's still structurally sound and it has a nice view of the lake.”
”It's sitting smack-dab in the middle of a hollow, Andrea. You can only see the lake from the top of the roof. What does your buyer plan to do, climb up on a ladder every time he wants to enjoy the view?”
”Not exactly, but it amounts to the same thing. He told me that he's going to put on a third story and convert the property to a hobby farm.”
”A hobby farm?”
”That's a second home in the country for city people who want to be farmers without doing any of the work. He'll hire a local farmer to take care of his animals and keep up the land.”
”I see,” Hannah said, holding back a grin. By her own definition, Andrea was a hobby wife and a hobby mother. Her sister hired a local woman to come in to clean and cook the meals, and she paid baby-sitters and day-care workers to take care of Tracey.
”You'll watch Tracey for me, won't you, Hannah?” Andrea looked anxious. ”I know she's a bother, but it's only for an hour. Kiddie Korner opens at nine.”
Hannah thought about giving her sister a piece of her mind. She was running a business and her shop wasn't a day-care center. But one glance at Tracey's hopeful face changed her mind. ”Go ahead, Andrea. Tracey can work for me until it's time for her to go to preschool.”
”Thanks, Hannah.” Andrea turned and started toward the door. ”I knew I could count on you.”
”Can I really work, Aunt Hannah?” Tracey asked in her soft little voice, and Hannah gave her a rea.s.suring smile.
”Yes, you can. I need someone to be my official taster. Lisa just baked a batch of Chocolate Chip Crunches and I need to know if they're good enough to serve to my customers.”
”Did you say chocolate chocolate?” Andrea turned back at the door to frown at Hannah. ”Tracey can't have chocolate. It makes her hyperactive.”
Hannah nodded, but she gave Tracey a conspiratorial wink. ”I'll remember that, Andrea.”
”I'll see you later, Tracey,” Andrea said and blew her daughter a kiss. ”Don't be any trouble for your aunt Hannah, okay?”
Tracey waited until the door had closed behind her mother and then she turned to Hannah. ”What's hyperactive, Aunt Hannah?”
”It's another word for what kids do when they're having fun.” Hannah came out from behind the counter and lifted Tracey off the stool. ”Come on, honey. Let's go in the back and see if those Chocolate Chip Crunches are cool enough for you to sample.”
Lisa was just slipping another tray of cookies into the oven when Hannah and Tracey came in. She gave Tracey a hug, handed her a cookie from the tray that was cooling on the rack, and turned to Hannah with a frown. ”Ron hasn't come in yet. Do you suppose he's out sick?”
”Not unless it came on suddenly.” Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight-fifteen and Ron was almost forty-five minutes late. ”I saw him two hours ago when I drove past the dairy, and he looked just fine to me.”
”I saw him, too, Aunt Hannah.” Tracey tugged on Hannah's arm.
”You did? When was that, Tracey?”
”The cow truck went by when I was waiting outside the realty office. Mr. LaSalle waved at me and he gave me a funny smile. And then Andrea came out with her papers and we came to see you.”
”Andrea?” Hannah looked down at her niece in surprise.
”She doesn't like me to call her Mommy anymore because it's a label and she hates labels,” Tracey did her best to explain. ”I'm supposed to call her Andrea, just like everybody else.”
Hannah sighed. Perhaps it was time to have a talk with her sister about the responsibilities of motherhood. ”Are you sure you saw the Cozy Cow truck, Tracey?”
”Yes, Aunt Hannah.” Tracey's blond head bobbed up and down confidently. ”It turned at your corner and went into the alley. And then I heard it make a loud bang, just like Daddy's car. I knew it came from the cow truck because there weren't any other cars.”
Hannah knew exactly what Tracey meant. Bill's old Ford was on its last legs and it backfired every time he eased up on the gas. ”Ron's probably out there tinkering with his truck. I'll go and see.”
”Can I come with, Aunt Hannah?”
”Stay with me, Tracey,” Lisa spoke up before Hannah could answer. ”You can help me listen for the bell and wait on any customers that come into the coffee shop.”
Tracey looked pleased. ”Can I bring them their cookies, Lisa? Just like a real waitress?”
”Absolutely, but it's got to be our secret. We wouldn't want your dad to bust us for violating the child-labor laws.”
”What does 'bust' mean, Lisa? And why would my daddy do it?”
Hannah grinned as she slipped into her jacket and listened to Lisa's explanation. Tracey questioned everything, and it drove Andrea to distraction. Hannah had attempted to tell her sister that an inquiring mind was a sign of intelligence, but Andrea just didn't have the necessary patience to deal with her bright four-year-old.
As Hannah pulled open the door and stepped out, she was greeted by a strong gust of wind that nearly threw her off balance. She pushed the door shut behind her, s.h.i.+elded her eyes from the blowing wind, and walked forward to peer down the alley. Ron's delivery truck was parked sideways near the mouth of the alley, blocking the access in both directions. The driver's door was partially open and Ron's legs were dangling out.
Hannah moved forward, a.s.suming that Ron was stretched out on the seat to work on the wiring that ran under the dash. She didn't want to startle him and cause him to b.u.mp his head, so she stopped several feet from the truck and called out. ”Hi, Ron. Do you want me to phone for a tow truck?”
Ron didn't answer. The wind was whistling down the alley, rattling the lids on the metal Dumpsters, and perhaps he hadn't heard her. Hannah walked closer, called out again, and moved around the door to glance inside the truck.
The sight that greeted Hannah made her jump back and swallow hard. Ron LaSalle, Lake Eden's local football hero, was lying faceup on the seat of his delivery truck. His white hat was on the floorboards, the orders on his clipboard were rattling in the wind, and one of Hannah's cookie bags was open on the seat. Chocolate Chip Crunches were scattered everywhere, and Hannah's eyes widened as she realized that he was still holding one of her cookies in his hand.
Then Hannah's eyes moved up and she saw it: the ugly hole, ringed with powder burns in the very center of Ron's Cozy Cow delivery s.h.i.+rt. Ron LaSalle had been shot dead.
<script>