-30- As Hannah took the turnoff for the Tri-County Mall, she glanced over at her sister and noticed that she was shivering. ?Maybe you should stay in the truck. I can do this alone.?
?It?ll take twice as long to go through the files if I don?t help you.?
?That?s okay. I don?t mind. Look, Andrea . . . what we?re doing isn?t exactly legal. I don?t blame you for being scared.?
Andrea shook her head. ?I?m not scared.?
?Then why are you shaking??
?Because I?m cold. We should have taken my Volvo. It?s got a better heater.?
Hannah wasn?t convinced by her sister?s explanation. ?Are you sure you?re not shivering because you?re scared??
?I?m positive. I?m a little nervous, but I?m not scared. I?m going in, Hannah. At least it?ll be warm in the mall.?
?Okay,? Hannah said, pulling around to the back of the mall and parking by the entrance the employees used. ?Grab the flashlights and let?s go.?
A light snow began to fall as they got out of Hannah?s truck and walked toward the door. Hannah glanced up at the huge flakes that were floating past the old-fashioned street-Iights that were placed at intervals around the building. "It's snowing again."
"I know. Isn't it gorgeous? Nights like this remind me of Christmas Eve. Remember how Dad used to drive us down to see the official Christmas tree in Lake Eden Park, and we'd always just miss Santa Claus? You used to roll down the car window and say, 'There he is! Up there in the sky! I think he just came from our house.' And by the time I looked, he was gone."
"That was Dad's idea. Did you believe me?"
"I did for the first couple of years. After that, I pretended to believe because of Michelle. You were pretty convincing, Hannah. You even described the reindeer."
They arrived at the door and Hannah opened it with the key Janie had marked. She'd never used this entrance before, and she was a bit surprised at how dreary it was.
"It's not very pretty, is it?" Andrea echoed Hannah's sentiments as she surveyed the green-and-beige walls.
"I guess they figure they don't need to decorate just for the employees." Hannah reached out to take her sister's arm. "Come with me. Janie told me how to get up to the second floor."
"But we just take the escalator, don't we?"
"No, they shut them down at night. We have to use the stairs. If we run into anybody, let me do the talking."
"What are you going to say?"
"That Janie sent us out here to pick up some papers from the boutique."
"What if they don't believe you?"
"I'll just show them the keys. That should convince them we're supposed to be here."
"But what if they think you stole the keys?"
Hannah grinned as she started up the stairs. Andrea complained about Tracey asking question after question, and now she was doing the very same thing. "Relax. Janie promised to stay by the phone. I'll just give them her number and she'll confirm it."
The doorway to the second floor was locked, and Hannah used the key to open it. When they stepped out into the deserted mall, Andrea shivered slightly. "It looks different at night," she whispered.
"I know," Hannah whispered back. "I'm glad they've got night-lights. At least we can see where we're going."
Hannah walked forward with Andrea at her heels. Even though she tried to walk quietly, her footsteps echoed in the huge, empty space. Without the sound of music on the speaker system and the crowds of shoppers talking and laughing, every sound was magnified. The heater vents whooshed like surfacing whales, there was a loud ticking sound that appeared to come from the clock that hung on the wall over the cash register in the Fanny Farmer Candy shop, and the hum from a flickering fluorescent tube in the display window of Sammy's Sportswear was deafening. The shadows loomed large, and Hannah couldn't dismiss the possibility that someone could be lurking behind one of the mirrored posts that held up the roof, or pressed flat against the little alcoves that surrounded the entrances to the stores. The setting reminded Hannah of every bad horror movie she'd seen, and it was unnerving.
Andrea glanced behind her more times than Hannah could count as they hurried toward Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutique. Hannah had a compelling urge to do the same, but she didn't. Two pairs of eyes facing in opposite directions were much safer. She wished they had four pairs of eyes so they could cover the area completely. There?s nobody out here except us, she told herself. And she repeated it over and over like a mantra until they arrived at the entrance to the boutique.
Hannah's fingers were shaking slightly as she unlocked the glass door to Connie Mac's store, but once they'd stepped inside and relocked the door behind them, she felt much safer. Although the banks of tiny bulbs the store used for nighttime security didn't give much illumination, her eyes were adjusting to the low level of light. At least they wouldn't bump into a display stand and break something expensive.
"Can we turn on the lights?" Andrea asked, sounding hopeful.
"No. One of the security guards might see them."
"But there aren't any security guards at night."
Hannah turned to her sister in surprise. "How do you know that?"
"Bill told me. One of the guys at the department was looking for a second job right after Christmas. He came out here to apply for night security and the mall manager told him they didn't have night guards anymore."
"Well. . . that's good to know," Hannah said, not sure whether that revelation made her feel better or worse. A night guard could catch them going through Alan's files, but thinking that there was a guard in the building had made her feel a bit safer.
"So can we?"
It took a second for Hannah to remember her sister's initial question. "No, we can't turn on the lights. Somebody else could be here working late."
"But there were no other cars in the parking lot."
"That's true, but I don't want to take any chances. One of the other store owners could be pulling up outside right now.
If he walks past here on the way to his store, he'll wonder why the lights are on. And if he calls the sheriff's department to report it, you could get busted by your own husband."
"Good point," Andrea said, giving up the argument.
The two sisters walked past counters and displays, heading for the back room. They were halfway there when Andrea pointed to a display of cast-iron pans. "Look, Han:' nah. Grandma Ingrid had pans like those."
"They're spiders," Hannah told her.
"Where?" Andrea jumped back. "I hate spiders!"
"I'm talking about the pans. They used to call them spiders."
Andrea gave a sigh of relief and stepped back up to the display table. "These prices are insane. Look at this little one. It's sixty-nine dollars and it won't hold more than one egg."
"Cast iron must be popular again. I've got a whole set of Grandma Ingrid's spiders, if you want one."
"You keep them. I don't cook anyway." Andrea moved forward, but she stopped at a display of cut-glass crystal." This vase is just gorgeous. It's got to be Baccarat."
"Sleuth now, shop later," Hannah ordered, pushing her sister forward. "Come on, Andrea. It's almost ten-thirty and I don't want to be out here all night."
"Can we turn on the lights now?" Andrea asked, once they'd entered the back room and closed the door behind them.
"Not yet." Hannah pointed to the bank of windows on the outside wall. "Those windows overlook the front parking lot, and somebody might see the lights from the highway; Come with me. Alan's office is right over here."
When Hannah had opened Alan's office, Andrea gave a disappointed sigh. "He's got a window, too! Does that mean we have to go through his files with flashlights?"
"I'm afraid so," Hannah told her, moving to the file cabinet against the wall. "At least he's got two chairs in here. Sit down behind his desk and I'll bring you some files to go through."
Hannah took the files from the top drawer and gave her sister the contents of the bottom drawer. They positioned their flashlights to serve as lamps and worked in silence for about ten minutes, going through stacks of paperwork. Most of Alan's files contained routine papers relating to the management of Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutiques.
"I think I've got it, Hannah!" Andrea sounded excited as she pointed to a document she'd been reading. "It's Paul MacIntyre's will and it's dated the day before Connie Mac died. It's witnessed and notarized and it says that Paul leaves fifty percent of his estate to Connie Mac and fifty percent . . . Janie!?
"Our Janie?"
"Yes. Jane Ellen Burkholtz. It says so right here. But why would Paul do something like that, unless. . ." Andrea stopped speaking and began to frown. "Do you think that Janie lied to you about having an affair with Paul?"
"I'm almost positive she didn't. There's got to be another explanation."
"But what? People don't just pick names out of a hat and leave them fifty percent of their money."
"No, of course not," Hannah said, and then the light dawned. Alex had told her that Janie's biological father was going to leave her something in his will.
"What is it, Hannah?" Andrea leaned forward to stare at her sister in the glow of the flashlight. "Do you know something I don't know?"
"I think I do."
"What is it?"
Hannah began to frown. She'd promised not to tell anyone that Janie was Alex's daughter, but she'd figured out the identity of Janie's biological father all by herself. "If I tell you, you've got to promise not to tell anybody else. Not even Bill."
"It's that serious?" Andrea gulped when Hannah nodded. "Okay, I promise. Tell me."
"I think Paul MacIntyre is Janie's biological father." Andrea looked shocked for a moment, and then she shook her head vehemently. "You're wrong, Hannah. I used to go to Janie's house all the time when we were kids, and there's no way Isobel would have had an affair. She adored Garland. They did everything together and they went everywhere together, and . . ."
"Hold the phone," Hannah interrupted before her sister could protest any further. "I didn't mean to imply that. What I meant was, Janie is adopted."
"Adopted? But. . . are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"If Paul's her real father, who's her real mother?" Andrea gulped and looked a little sick. "Connie Mac?"
"Not Connie Mac. I can't tell you who it is, but it's definitely not her."
"That's a relief!" Andrea said, letting out her breath in a giant whoosh. "Is it someone we know?"
"Yes, and that's all I'm going to say about it. Don't press me, Andrea. I promised I'd never tell and I won't."
Andrea sighed. "Not even one little hint?"
"Absolutely not."
"How about Janie? Does she know?"
"No. Isobel and Garland promised never to tell her. Her birth mother made it a condition of the adoption. She wanted Janie to have a real family with a loving mother and father, and that's exactly what Janie has. Her birth mother never wanted to take the chance of jeopardizing Janie's feelings for Isobel and Garland."
Andrea looked as if she might object, but she thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. I can understand that."
"Good. Now let's get back to Mr. Fifty Percent. That turned out to be Janie and we know that she didn't kill Connie Mac. The only other possibility is Paul, and he's in the clear, too."
"At least we know why Connie Mac was so mad the day she died. It must have been a real shock to find out that Janie got half of her husband's estate. Do you think she knew that Janie was Paul's daughter?"
Hannah shook her head. "I don't think Paul told anyone why he put Janie in his will-not even Alan. Alan might have told Connie Mac if he'd known, and Paul wouldn't have risked that. I think the only thing that Alan told Connie Mac was that he'd drawn up Paul's will and that Janie got fifty percent."
"And Connie Mac assumed that Janie was sleeping with Paul? And that's why she was in his will?"
"It makes sense. What would you think if Bill drew up a will and his lawyer told you that he'd left fifty percent to a woman at work?"
Andrea began to frown. "I see what you mean, and that almost makes me feel sorry for Connie Mac. But if Janie didn't kill her, and Paul didn't kill her, who did?"
"Search me. We're fresh out of suspects, Andrea."
"That's true," Andrea said, and she sounded very discouraged. "We followed all the leads and we did everything right, but we still flunked out. What are we going to do?"
"I don't have a clue. All I know is that I never want to go through another day like today. I'm still locked out of The Cookie Jar, I found another body, one of my oldest friends lied to me, and I struck out on a murder case for the first time. I'm on a losing streak, Andrea. We'd better put back these files and leave before we get busted for breaking and entering."
"Just sit here and rest. I'll do it." Andrea picked up a stack of files and returned them to the file cabinet. When she came back for a second armful, she looked puzzled. "You said a friend lied to you. Which friend?"
"Greg Canfield. He said he tripled his money day-trading, but he lied. I just found out that the company he said he invested in went bankrupt."
"I wonder why he lied about it." Andrea thought for a moment and then she snapped her fingers. "You used to date him, didn't you?"
"I didn't date anyone."
"Yes, you did. I know you had a date for the senior prom."
"That was a setup," Hannah answered truthfully, even though the memory still stung a bit. "Dad promised Cliff Shuman a summer job if he took me to the prom. You were the one with all the dates, even back then."
"But Greg used to come to the house all the time. I remember that."
"That's true, but we weren't dating. Greg and I were just really good friends."
"Do you think you would have dated him if his parents hadn't moved?"
You bet! Hannah wanted to say, but she thought better of it. She tried for a casual tone and said, "Maybe. I liked him and I think he liked me, too."
"Then that's probably why he lied to you. He didn't want to admit he failed, so he made up that story to impress you."
"Maybe. I called to ask him about it, but he wasn't home." Hannah picked up another stack of files and handed them to her sister. "Mrs. Canfield's really upset. She thinks Greg's going through a personal crisis, and she's worried about him."
?What makes her think that?"
"Greg told her he'd be staying with her temporarily, just until Annette found a house in Colorado, but some legal papers came for him from a family law firm in Denver. Mrs. Canfield thinks that they were divorce papers."
"She's probably right. I met Annette and she didn't strike me as the type to stick around when the money got tight."
"I know. I guess Greg just wasn't successful enough for her."
"But he was," Andrea objected. "His store was making money. I know that for a fact."
"Then Greg didn't go broke?"
?No. His store had record sales in December. One of his clerks told me that they outsold all the other stores in the mall. That's why I don't understand why Greg lost his lease. It just doesn't make sense."
"Why not?"
"Because the mall charges rent, but they also take a small percentage of the profits from each store. Why would the mall refuse to renew Greg's lease if his store was making extra money for them?"
"I don't know," Hannah said and she began to frown. "That's like cutting off your nose to spite your face, unless . . ."
"Unless what?"
"Unless the mall manager had bigger fish to fry. Didn't Rhea Robinson tell us that Connie Mac wouldn't sign a lease in a mall with a competing store?"
"Yes, but Greg's store was an import business."
"Didn't you tell me that you bought a cookie jar at Greg's closeout sale?"
"I bought two. They were half price. And I bought a set of everyday dishes, too. They're really cute, Hannah. They've got blue cornflowers around the border."
"So Greg carried a lot of kitchen things?"
"Yes, he did. He had glassware, and flatware, and. . ." Andrea stopped speaking and she drew in her breath sharply. "I see where you're going and I think you're right. I'm going to look for the lease that Connie Mac signed."
It took a few moments, but Andrea found the right file folder. She handed it to Hannah and they flipped through it together.
"I'll take the lease," Andrea offered, pulling the legal document out of the file. "I'm more familiar with leases than you are. You look at the correspondence."
They worked in silence for several minutes. The only sound was the rustle of pages turning. Finally Andrea handed the lease back to Hannah. "There's nothing about competing stores in here. It's all standard boilerplate."
"But this isn't," Hannah said, holding up a sheaf of pages that were stapled together at the corner. "Here's a letter that Alan wrote to the mall manager. It says that Connie Mac agrees to open one of her kitchen boutiques at the mall, but there's a condition. She wants the mall manager to cancel Greg's lease when it comes up for renewal and give his space to her kitchen boutique."
"And the mall manager agreed?"
"Oh, yes. Alan drew up a four-page contract. The mall manager signed it, and so did Connie Mac and Alan."
"So Connie Mac and Alan put Greg out of business?"
"I'm no lawyer, but it sure looks that way to me."
Andrea thought about that for a moment, and then she reached for Hannah's notebook. "Do you want me to add Greg to our suspect list and write down what we've learned?"
"Definitely. People have killed for less. I don't believe Greg would murder anybody, but I have to check it out. I promised Mrs. Canfield that I'd come down for coffee when I got home and I'm going to take this letter with me. If Greg's there, I'll ask him about. . ."
Hannah stopped speaking abruptly and Andrea glanced up at her. "What?"
"I heard something. Douse your flashlight. Quick!"
Andrea clicked off her flashlight and so did Hannah. The room was plunged into near-darkness. The only illumination came from a distant streetlight that glowed faintly through the window.
"What did you hear?" Andrea asked.
"A car. I think it drove around the building and parked in back."
Both sisters listened intently. All was quiet for almost a minute, and then they heard the faint sound of a door clanging closed.
"The stairwell door," Hannah said, reaching in her pocket for the keys to her truck and dropping them into Andrea's purse. "I just put my keys in your purse. Take it and crawl under the desk."
"Why?"
"Because it could be someone from the sheriff's department. I'll stick with my original story about how Janie sent me out here to pick up something. Maybe I can convince them to call her to confirm it, but they might haul me in to the station for questioning, anyway. If that happens, just wait until they're gone and drive my truck back to the inn."
"But I can back up your story. It's probably someone I know, and they'll believe me."
Hannah grabbed her sister's arm. "No, Andrea. Get under the desk. Please!"
"But why?"
"Because maybe it's not a deputy."
"Oh," Andrea said, and she sounded a little sick. "Do you think it could be the . . . the killer?"
"If it is, there's no way he's going to get you. Get under there, Andrea. Now!"
"But with two of us, we'll have him outnumbered. I won't let you face him alone."
"Get under there now, and don't make a sound!" Hannah ordered, pulling her sister around the desk.
"But I can help you. Why should I hide under the desk like a coward?"
"Because I won't let you jeopardize the life of my new niece or nephew," Hannah declared, shoving her sister under the desk and rolling the desk chair back into place.
"But I'm not. . ."
"Just shut up and do what I say!" Hannah hissed, interrupting her sister's denial. .'Believe me, Andrea. If I say you're pregnant, you're pregnant!"