“It’s very nice of you to help them, Mother,” Hannah said before her mother could go into even greater detail. “Did you happen to talk to Becky to ask her if Tori seemed upset about anything, or if she mentioned any appointments she had that night?”
“Of course I did, dear. Becky met Tori in her office at Jordan High and they talked about the props for about ten minutes. Then Tori said she had to rush home because she had a couple of evening appointments at her studio. She didn’t mention any names and Becky didn’t ask. I did ask Becky if Tori seemed nervous or anything like that, and Becky said that Tori was in a good mood and she appeared perfectly normal.”
“Are there any names written in that space for the evening?” Andrea asked.
“Tricia Barthel is listed for six o’clock. Tori wrote in the time. Tricia has the lead in the play the Lake Eden Players are performing at Thanksgiving. And there’s one more name,” Delores said with a sigh. “But I don’t think it’ll be of any immediate help.”
“Why do you say that, Mother?” Andrea asked.
“Because the last name listed is M. Dumont.”
The two sisters exchanged puzzled glances and Andrea was the first to speak the thought that had crossed their minds. “I’ve never heard of a Dumont family around here.”
“Neither have I,” Delores admitted, “and that’s why I told you that I didn’t think it would help us. But it’s right here in Tori’s handwriting and she had beautiful penmanship. It’s M. Dumont. There’s no mistaking it. And there’s even a time in front of the name. M. Dumont was due to arrive at Tori’s condo at seven forty-five on the night that she was murdered.”
*
When Hannah returned to The Cookie Jar through the back kitchen door, she hung her coat on a hook and headed straight to the kitchen coffeepot to pour herself a decent cup of coffee. Delores had served them herbal tea and Hannah had dutifully sipped it, but she needed something to jolt her into high gear so that she could bake more cookies for Lisa’s remaining afternoon performances.
As she sat down at the stainless steel workstation and took her first sip of strong coffee, Hannah realized that she heard no buzz of voices or friendly chatter drifting in from the coffee shop. Usually, she could hear voices, laughter, and the clinking of coffee cups and spoons. She got up and walked closer to the swinging restaurant-style door, but the coffee shop was silent, as if all the customers had left and the chairs and tables were completely deserted. Had Lisa closed early for some reason? Surely her partner would have called or left her a note if there had been some sort of emergency.
Hannah looked around the kitchen. There was no note on the counter by the phone, nothing at all to explain the silence. She was about to open the swinging door to look when she heard Lisa’s voice.
“There Delores stood, in front of her downstairs neighbor’s door, panting a bit from the exertion of her headlong rush down the narrow staircase. She was here and quite suddenly, she wasn’t sure what she should do.”
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. Lisa was giving another performance, telling the story of the murder. All of their customers were perfectly silent, no coughing, no clearing of throats, not even the rustling of clothing as people moved in their chairs. Everyone there was so enthralled by Lisa’s rendition of Delores finding the murder victim that they didn’t want to miss a word.
“Delores knew she had to do something. But what? She considered her options. She knew that Victoria Bascomb gave acting lessons in her condo. Could the screams, the sharp bangs, and the crash she’d heard be part of a very realistic rehearsal? She would feel very foolish if she pulled Victoria away from her rehearsal because she’d overreacted. But wasn’t that better than doing nothing if something was dreadfully wrong?”
“I would have knocked,” a male voice said and Hannah recognized Gus York’s nasal twang.
“I’m with you, Gus! Better to feel foolish than to ignore a friend in distress.” The female voice was forceful and Hannah began to smile. Grandma Knudson had been the first customer in the door this morning when Lisa had opened the coffee shop for business and she was still here.
“That’s exactly what Delores did, Grandma,” Lisa said. “She raised her hand and knocked as loudly as she could. But there was no answer.”
Hannah heard several gasps from the audience even though she was sure that everyone there had heard about Tori Bascomb’s murder. Lisa knew exactly how to get the audience involved. Tori Bascomb had been right. Lisa had real acting potential.
“Delores knocked again. And again. Someone must be there. The sounds she’d heard had come from Victoria Bascomb’s condo. Was there a reason why her friend wasn’t answering the door? Should she use the key that Victoria had given her for emergencies?”
“Yes,” several voices chorused.
“No way,” a male voice objected, and Hannah recognized Mike’s official tone. “She should call the authorities immediately.”
“And that’s exactly what Delores did,” Lisa continued the story. “She called the sheriff’s office for help. She spoke to you, Mike.”
But before she could continue telling the story, Mike’s voice broke in.
“She spoke to me, but she didn’t listen to my advice. She asked me to stay on the line and she told me she was going in. And then she stopped listening to me. And that’s when Lonnie and I rolled.”
Hannah’s lips lifted in a smile. There was nothing that Mike hated more than someone refusing to listen to him.
“Delores knew what Mike would tell her, so she put the cell phone in her pocket and used her key to unlock the door.”
There were several more gasps and Hannah knew that Lisa had them on the edges of their chairs. Since she’d heard Lisa’s story once this morning, she ceased to listen and headed for the recipe book to bake more cookies for the crowd that was bound to grow larger and larger as the day wore on.