"Thanks, Alex." Hannah dropped the key in her purse.
"Do you mind if I join you for a minute?"
'Not at all. Sit down.' Hannah roused herself as Alex sat down in the opposite chair. If they chatted for a while, perhaps Alex would say something to solve one of the minor mysteries that had been plaguing her.
"I've only got a minute before I go back to work, but I wanted to tell you that I met your cat. He's a real darling."
Hannah smiled, feeling the way she imagined a proud mother would feel. She wouldn't have described Moishe as a darling, but he'd obviously been on his best behavior around Alex.
"He led me straight to the cupboard where you keep his food so that I could fill his bowl," Alex told her. "I think he's even smarter than Tarzan Five."
"Tarzan Five?"
"He was my grandmother's cat. She named all of her male cats Tarzan. I know it's a little strange, but her name was Jane and she used to get a huge kick out of picking them up and saying, You Tarzan, me Jane."
Hannah laughed. "Sounds like your grandmother had a good sense of humor."
"She did. If I had the time, I could tell you stories that would make you roll on the floor. I was nineteen when she died. That was over twenty-five years ago, but I still miss her. And every time I adopt a male cat, I name him Tarzan. I have Tarzan Eight right now, and my tabby is Jane Three."
After Alex had left, Hannah went back to staring at her french fries. She hadn't learned anything helpful and she was at loose ends. Andrea was upstairs talking to the Connie Mac people, Bill and Mike were running their own investigation, Lisa was spending the rest of her day with her father, and Sally and Alex were working. She felt like a single woman at a couples party, with no one to talk to and nothing to do. All she could do was sit here and wait for the information to come to her, and Hannah had never been good at waiting.
Just to keep her mind sharp, she pulled out her notebook and paged through it. She found Alex's page and sighed as she retrieved one of the ballpoint pens from the bottom of her purse and wrote down what she'd learned. It wasn't much. Alex's cats were named Tarzan and Jane, her grandmother had started the tradition, and she'd died when Alex was nineteen. Nothing interesting there. Perhaps Alex was exactly as she appeared, an outgoing woman who made friends easily. "Hannah?" The sound of her name pulled Hannah out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see that Andrea had taken the opposite chair. "Sorry, Andrea. I didn't even see you come in. Are you through already?"
"Yes, and I've got something for you."
Hannah perked up immediately. "What is it?"
"I couldn't talk to the Connie Mac people. They're all out at the boutique, getting ready for the opening. But I talked to the writer who's doing Connie Mac's biography, and he told me that he saw Alan last night."
"Great," Hannah said, and she began to smile. "Good job, Andrea. What time?"
"Twelve-thirty. He didn't talk to Alan. He just saw him out the window, walking down to the lakeshore."
"He's sure it was Alan?"
"Oh, yes. He recognized him by his hat. Alan always wore one of those Russian fur hats when he went out for a walk."
"They're called ushankas, but other people wear them, too."
"I know, but. . ." Andrea stopped and stared at Hannah's : plate of french fries. "Are you going to eat those?"
Hannah shook her head and pushed the plate to Andrea. "But what?"
"But Alan always wore it. . . . is there any ketchup?"
"Yes, here." Hannah picked up the squeeze bottle of ketchup and passed it over. "Alan always what?"
"He wore his Russian hat with the earflaps down. The writer said it looks really silly that way and most people just let their ears get cold, but Alan always pulled the flaps down and they looked like dog ears."
"Okay," Hannah said, picking up her pen to write down what Andrea had told her. She was about to flip to a new page when a name caught her eye. Jane. Alex's grandmother had been named Jane. "Hold on a second. I've got to check something."
With rising excitement Hannah found the section of notes she'd taken on the story that Jack Herman had told her. Janie's birth mother had named her in honor of her grandmother, who had died recently. Alex said her grandmother had died over twenty-five years ago. And Janie was twenty-five.
"What did you find?" Andrea asked, catching her sister's excitement.
"I'm not sure." Hannah pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'll be right back. I've got to talk to somebody and it can't wait."
"Do you need me?"
"Not this time. It'll only take a second or two and they might clear the table if both of us leave. Stay here and eat the french fries." Hannah picked up the side of blue cheese dressing and handed it to her sister. "Try dipping them in that. It's a lot better than ketchup."
"I. . . I don't know what you mean."
"I asked you a simple question," Hannah stated, giving Alex her fiercest stare. They were standing outside the service entrance to the kitchen, sheltered from the wind by two large metal Dumpsters. "Is Janie Burkholtz your daughter?"
Alex swallowed hard. And then tears came to her eyes. Hannah could see them well up, and she felt like a rat for harassing her. "Look, Alex. I really need to know. And I promise you, I won't tell anyone."
"But I . . . " Alex sighed and a single tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek. "I was so careful all these years. I never wanted Janie to know. Who told you?"
"That's not important."
"Yes, it is. I've never told anybody except Isobel and Garland. And I finally told Janie's biological father, but I know he wouldn't tell anyone."
Hannah reached out to take her arm. "It's okay, Alex. Nobody told me. I just guessed."
"But how?"
"I just wondered how you and Janie could be so close when you'd just met for the first time. That's all. Are you going to tell Janie that you're her mother?"
"No! I can't tell her, Hannah. It wouldn't be fair to Isobel and Garland. They're her real parents. They loved her, and they raised her, and they gave her a wonderful home. It might change the way she thinks of them, and that wouldn't be right. You won't tell her, will you?"
"I promise I won't," Hannah assured her. "Is that why you took the job as Sally's assistant, so that you could see her?"
"Yes. Isobel called to tell me that Janie would be here.
We've kept in touch over the years. She said she had a bad feeling about going away on the cruise. She was afraid that something might happen to Janie while they were away, and she wanted someone here to look after her. She also thought that I should meet Janie. I never have, you know. They've sent me pictures and videotapes, but that's not the same thing."
"No, it's not."
"And then, when I finally met Janie, it was. . . just wonderful. She's so bright and pretty and lovely. And she seemed to like me, too. It's been the best week of my life."
Hannah smiled. "We love Janie, too. How about her father? Was he angry that you hadn't told him before?"
"No. Of course he was shocked, but he's a very nice man and he said he understood why I did things the way I did. And since he's never had any other children, he promised that he'd look out for Janie anonymously and provide for her in his will. He also promised that he'd never tell her unless Isobel, Garland, and I all agreed that it was the right thing to do."
"Thank you for telling me," Hannah said, reaching in her pocket to pullout a tissue. She handed it to Alex and waited until the older woman had composed herself. "You don't have to worry, Alex. Your secret is safe with me. Now let's go back in. It's freezing out here."
When they reentered the kitchen, Alex went off to take inventory of the supplies that had been delivered that morning, and Hannah headed toward the swinging door to the f restaurant. As she passed by the bank of deep fryers, where Sally was standing, a thought popped into her mind that chilled her more than the icy wind that had blown across the tops of the Dumpsters. Was it possible that Alex had caught a glimpse of Janie when she'd come back to the inn on Saturday night? If she'd noticed Janie's tears and the bruise on her arm, and if she'd suspected that Connie Mac had caused them, then Alex had possessed the perfect motive for driving to The Cookie Jar and killing Connie Mac.