“Yes, but Doc found something else. He said that he found particles of foreign matter in Chef Duquesne’s body.”
Michelle looked interested. “But you didn’t ask him what that meant because you didn’t want to know in case it was something that might be too . . . uh . . . too . . .”
It was obvious that Michelle was searching for a word that wouldn’t alienate their mother, and Hannah quickly provided it. “Something that might be too graphic? Right, Mother?”
“Exactly right, dear. But I know how important this investigation is to you, and I decided that I would set aside my sensibilities for the moment and find out exactly what Doc meant.”
Hannah realized that she was holding her breath and she forced herself to breathe normally. Delores would tell them . . . eventually. But first she wanted to be praised for what she would probably describe as going the extra mile for a greater cause.
“Thank you, Mother,” Hannah said, hoping that she sounded properly grateful.
“Yes, thank you, Mother.” Michelle echoed Hannah’s words. And then she added, “That was very selfless of you.”
“Thank you. As you know, I’m happy to do anything I can for my daughters.”
“Right. Get to the point, Mother. What did Doc tell you?” Andrea was clearly impatient, but after another warning glance from Hannah, she mitigated her words. “I hope that Doc’s explanation wasn’t too unpleasant for you to hear.”
“Actually, it wasn’t unpleasant at all,” Delores answered. “I was expecting something much worse.”
“Thank you for helping us, Mother,” Michelle said. “We do appreciate it.”
Delores paused to take another sip of coffee, and Hannah knew their mother was heightening the suspense. She also knew that Michelle had inherited her acting ability from their mother. If Lisa ever tired of telling murder stories at The Cookie Jar, Delores would be perfectly capable of taking over for her.
“Doc found fibers in Chef Duquesne’s throat. He explained to me that this is not unusual. Most people aspirate their share of foreign material like animal dander, dust, various pollens, and small, airborne particles. Doc says that people don’t even realize they’re inhaling these particles and, usually, it doesn’t bother them to the point where it makes them uncomfortable.”
Almost in tandem, both Hannah and Michelle cleared their throats. Inhaling any amount of foreign matter was not a comforting thought. “So which airborne particles did Doc find?” Hannah managed to ask.
“He recovered some lint.”
“Do you mean lint like the kind that’s found in a clothes dryer?” Andrea asked.
“No, dear. This lint was from a dishtowel. It was just a couple of miniscule threads. And Doc told me that a dishtowel was found on the floor of the walk-in cooler.”
“Did Chef Duquesne carry it into the cooler with him?” Michelle asked.
“Perhaps he did. The police found it and sent it to their crime lab for analysis, but there didn’t appear to be any blood spots or foreign material on it.”
“Chef Duquesne was stabbed with the knife he was using to cut Hannah’s wedding cake,” Michelle recounted. “He could have carried the dish towel in there to wipe off the knife.”
“That’s possible, too,” Delores agreed. “But that’s not the interesting part.”
Hannah leaned forward and attempted to curb her impatience. “Please tell us the interesting part, Mother.”
“Of course, dear. But first, I have a little favor to ask of you, Hannah.”
Delores smiled. It was a smug smile, the smile of someone who knew an important secret that they didn’t know. Hannah had the urge to grab her mother and shake the information out of her, but of course she didn’t. Her mother had her over a barrel and there wasn’t any way out of it. “What’s the little favor, Mother?”
“I need you to write a short biography for your wedding page.”
“What wedding page?”
“The one that Tracey and I started for you. It was her idea. She’s very technologically-minded, you know, especially for a second-grader. But then, I guess all the children are like that now.”
“Who’s going to look at this wedding page?” Hannah asked.
“All the guests we invited to the wedding. There’s a section for your biography, and Ross’s biography, and there’s also a section for your gift registry. Ross has already agreed to write his biography for me.”
Hannah sighed and caved in. It was the only way that Delores would tell them what Doc had discovered. “What sorts of things do you want me to write?”
“Just tell us how you met Ross and when he proposed to you, and when you accepted. That’s about all. You’ll do it, won’t you, dear?”
“Yes, Mother. Now please tell us what . . .”
“There’s one other thing, dear,” Delores interrupted her.