Banana Cream Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen #21)

Delores laughed good-naturedly, and Hannah realized that her mother would have bristled at the remark from anyone else. Delores really loved Doc and that was proof of it.

As her mother ordered their iced coffees, Hannah thought about rich people in luxury apartments who ordered from restaurants whenever they wanted and didn’t even know how to turn on their expensive, gourmet stoves. In her mother’s case, it was a very good thing if she didn’t turn on her stove. And her daughters would be the first three people to testify to that! Her favorite two entrees, perhaps her only two entrees, were Hawaiian Pot Roast and EZ Lasagna. They were certainly edible, but no one could eat the same thing every other night. Perhaps that was the reason that their father had made lunch and dinner for them every time Delores was gone. And perhaps it was also the reason that Hannah had learned to cook and bake. That meant she ought to be thanking Delores for falling short in the meal preparation department.

As their mother’s new husband, Doc deserved good cuisine when he came home from the hospital. It was a very good thing that her mother and Doc were living in a place where they could order good food by simply picking up the telephone.

Could that be one of the reasons why Doc had purchased the penthouse condo and given it to Delores as a wedding present? Hannah’s mind latched onto the idea, and she gave what she thought was a silent chuckle. As it turned out, it wasn’t so silent.

Norman turned to give her a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?” he asked her.

“Nothing at all,” she responded. “I was just thinking about having a good restaurant a few floors below me and being able to order anything I wanted at almost any time.”

“A few floors below you would be the sub-basement below the parking garage,” Norman pointed out. “I don’t think you’d want to order food from there.”

“Rat-toui,” Michelle said, and everyone laughed except Hannah, who bit her lip in order to maintain a sober expression.

“I don’t know about that,” she said, rising to the challenge. “I think Moishe would love it. Lizard with Mole-A sauce could be good. I might even gopher it.”

Doc groaned and so did everyone else. That made Hannah feel justified that she hadn’t lost her touch. “And then there’s always mouse-sakka if you want to go Greek, or that traditional American standard, ground beef-snake.”

“What’s going on out here?” Delores asked, arriving with a tray of drinks. “I heard you groaning.”

“Hannah’s punning again,” Michelle complained. “Make her stop, Mother!”

“That’s like asking the wind to stop blowing,” Delores said. “It does no good whatsoever. Hannah won’t stop and you know it. It’s much easier if you stop listening.”

Norman took a sip of his coffee and smiled at Delores. “This is really good iced coffee.”

“It’s vanilla mocha,” Delores told him. “They make it fresh when you order it. They have all sorts of flavors.”

“But it has caffeine, doesn’t it?” Hannah asked her.

“Of course, dear. I wouldn’t order anything for you without caffeine. Doc always says that decaffeinated coffee is a waste of good water.”

Hannah laughed and took a big sip of her iced coffee. “It’s really good,” she said, and then she turned to Doc. “How would you go about getting Tori’s business manager’s name if you knew the name of the firm, but not the name of the person who handled her investments?”

“I’d probably call and try to convince them that Tori had referred me,” Doc said. “That might not work, though.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll attempt to contact Tori to make sure that she referred you. If she’s been with them for years, the person who handled her is probably a senior member of the firm by now and only takes select clients. My guess is that they’ll ask you questions about how much money is involved, who handled that money for you in the past, and request a bank reference. And if you can’t answer those questions to their satisfaction, they’re likely to refer you to a junior member of their firm.”

“Oh,” Hannah said with a sigh. “Isn’t there any way around that?”

Doc thought for a moment. “You could go there in person. It’s always more difficult to say no to a person face-to-face. But you’d have to be very convincing.”

Hannah felt gloom settle over her like a shroud. “I can’t go to New York so I guess I’ll just have to wait until Stan Kramer gets back from his convention and try to convince him to give me the name.”

“Sorry, Hannah,” Doc said, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “That does seem like your best bet. Stan knows you and you can be honest with him. I know you want the name right now and I’d call that firm myself to try to get it, but I don’t think I’d have any better luck than you would.”

*

Hannah was silent all the way back to her condo as she attempted to think of a way to get Tori’s business manager’s name. By the time Michelle pulled into the underground garage and parked in Hannah’s designated space, she had to admit that no viable plan had occurred to her.

“Come on, Hannah,” Michelle said, shutting off the engine and opening the driver’s door. “Let’s go up and I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate.”

Hannah nodded and got out the passenger’s side. She was disheartened about the way her investigation was progressing. Very little had gone right so far and she was out of suspects. The only new clue that had materialized was the man with black tennis shoes and silver laces, and she doubted that he was Tori’s killer. All he was doing in Tori’s condo was retrieving a letter or a note that he shouldn’t have written to her in the first place.

“But how did he get in?” Hannah said aloud as she followed Michelle up the covered, outside staircase to her unit on the second floor.