“No. And no one was in the hallway, either. Sally’s housekeeper said she was almost positive they didn’t leave their room. Her room is right across from theirs, and she’s a light sleeper. The night maintenance guy was supposed to oil their door because it squeaked when it opened and shut, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. She told Sally that she’s sure she would have heard their door if it opened or closed during the night.”
“You’ve convinced me!” Hannah said, giving Ross a little hug. “You did a super job following up on everything and I really appreciate it. I’ll take Helene Stone off my suspect list. And thanks to you, I can now narrow the time of death by a half hour since Dick said there was no one in the kitchen and no one in the walk-in cooler when he got the hors d’oeuvres.”
“One other thing,” Ross said, “I remembered what you said about the bottle of red wine and the glasses on the kitchen counter when you went in the next morning. I asked Dick if he noticed them on the counter, and he said no, he doesn’t usually go in the kitchen when no one’s there, and he had to look around for a plate. He found a clean one on the kitchen counter and he’s sure he would have noticed if there’d been an open bottle of wine and glasses.”
“Interesting,” Hannah said. “It took some time to open the bottle and pour two glasses.”
“And Chef Duquesne’s glass was half empty,” Michelle pointed out. “That means he’d taken time to drink half a glass of wine.”
“To sip half a glass of wine,” Hannah corrected her. “I don’t think Chef Duquesne would have tossed back a half a glass of red wine. It’s just not in character for him.”
“You’re right,” Ross said. “And that means we can tentatively shorten the time of death by another fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Right,” Hannah agreed. “And Dick said he didn’t meet anyone coming down from the second floor or anyone walking in the halls. That could add another five or ten minutes. Thanks to you, Ross, we can shorten Doc’s time of death by a whole hour. And that means Chef Duquesne was killed between one and three in the morning.”
Hannah smiled in her sleep. She was on a lovely beach with Ross and it was their honeymoon. The sun was warm, the gentle sea breeze caressed her skin, and she knew she’d never been this happy before in her life. She was with the man she loved. Her husband. And everything was so perfect, she had trouble believing that it was real.
They were relaxing together in a tropical paradise. Jamaica, Aruba, she wasn’t sure exactly where, but it was delightful and she intended to enjoy every moment with her new husband. She was so happy and so relaxed that her eyes had fluttered closed, and now both of them were napping on the sparkling white sand of the beach.
The sun was so warm. The breeze held a hint of moisture from the azure-blue sea. She sighed as she breathed in the unique and wonderful scent of the tropics. Cinnamon, rich and pungent. Nutmeg that added depth to the mixture. A hint of cardamom, a smidgen of allspice, perhaps even a trace of ginger to carry her away in her tropical dream.
The fruits on the breeze were redolent with a ripe and mouthwatering scent. So wonderful. So unusual. There were some she could not identify, a mystery of the island. But there was one scent in particular that was marvelously aromatic, tauntingly addictive, and both irresistible and awe-inspiring. It was a scent that made her want to jump up and search it out so that she could taste it.
Did her love smell it? Hannah reached out to touch his hand. It was warm, loving, and . . . furry!
“Moishe!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes to find him snuggled into the pillow beside her.
“Rrrowww!” Moishe yowled and jumped down to the floor. He raced across the bedroom rug and launched himself up to the top of her dresser where he stared at her accusingly.
“Sorry,” Hannah apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was dreaming about Ross and a tropical island, and he had fur on his hand.”
Moishe was still staring. Obviously, her explanation hadn’t registered with him. “I said I was sorry.”
As she watched, Moishe gave the kitty equivalent of a shrug. He stared at her for a moment, and then he settled himself between the lamp and her hairbrush, and began to take his morning bath.
Hannah felt better, now that Moishe was purring. She gave a little sigh of relief and went on with her explanation. “You see, Ross and I were on a tropical beach and we fell asleep. I was smelling the most marvelous aroma and . . .” She aborted her explanation in mid-thought and sniffed the air again. The scent was still there!
“Michelle’s baking,” she stated the obvious to her feline roommate. “And it smells incredibly wonderful. Let’s go find out what it is.”
Hannah reached for her slippers at the same time that Moishe jumped down from the dresser. She pulled on her slippers, he padded over to watch her put on her comfortable old robe, the one she’d found at the Helping Hands thrift store, and cat and cat-lover walked down the hallway and through the living room to the kitchen.
“What is it?” Hannah asked, almost causing Michelle, who was standing by the oven, to drop the pan she’d just taken from the interior.