It took a second for Hannah to remember her sister's initial question. "No, we can't turn on the lights. Somebody else could be here working late."
"But there were no other cars in the parking lot."
"That's true, but I don't want to take any chances. One of the other store owners could be pulling up outside right now.
If he walks past here on the way to his store, he'll wonder why the lights are on. And if he calls the sheriff's department to report it, you could get busted by your own husband."
"Good point," Andrea said, giving up the argument.
The two sisters walked past counters and displays, heading for the back room. They were halfway there when Andrea pointed to a display of cast-iron pans. "Look, Han:' nah. Grandma Ingrid had pans like those."
"They're spiders," Hannah told her.
"Where?" Andrea jumped back. "I hate spiders!"
"I'm talking about the pans. They used to call them spiders."
Andrea gave a sigh of relief and stepped back up to the display table. "These prices are insane. Look at this little one. It's sixty-nine dollars and it won't hold more than one egg."
"Cast iron must be popular again. I've got a whole set of Grandma Ingrid's spiders, if you want one."
"You keep them. I don't cook anyway." Andrea moved forward, but she stopped at a display of cut-glass crystal." This vase is just gorgeous. It's got to be Baccarat."
"Sleuth now, shop later," Hannah ordered, pushing her sister forward. "Come on, Andrea. It's almost ten-thirty and I don't want to be out here all night."
"Can we turn on the lights now?" Andrea asked, once they'd entered the back room and closed the door behind them.
"Not yet." Hannah pointed to the bank of windows on the outside wall. "Those windows overlook the front parking lot, and somebody might see the lights from the highway; Come with me. Alan's office is right over here."
When Hannah had opened Alan's office, Andrea gave a disappointed sigh. "He's got a window, too! Does that mean we have to go through his files with flashlights?"
"I'm afraid so," Hannah told her, moving to the file cabinet against the wall. "At least he's got two chairs in here. Sit down behind his desk and I'll bring you some files to go through."
Hannah took the files from the top drawer and gave her sister the contents of the bottom drawer. They positioned their flashlights to serve as lamps and worked in silence for about ten minutes, going through stacks of paperwork. Most of Alan's files contained routine papers relating to the management of Connie Mac's Kitchen Boutiques.
"I think I've got it, Hannah!" Andrea sounded excited as she pointed to a document she'd been reading. "It's Paul MacIntyre's will and it's dated the day before Connie Mac died. It's witnessed and notarized and it says that Paul leaves fifty percent of his estate to Connie Mac and fifty percent . . . Janie!'
"Our Janie?"
"Yes. Jane Ellen Burkholtz. It says so right here. But why would Paul do something like that, unless. . ." Andrea stopped speaking and began to frown. "Do you think that Janie lied to you about having an affair with Paul?"
"I'm almost positive she didn't. There's got to be another explanation."
"But what? People don't just pick names out of a hat and leave them fifty percent of their money."
"No, of course not," Hannah said, and then the light dawned. Alex had told her that Janie's biological father was going to leave her something in his will.
"What is it, Hannah?" Andrea leaned forward to stare at her sister in the glow of the flashlight. "Do you know something I don't know?"
"I think I do."
"What is it?"
Hannah began to frown. She'd promised not to tell anyone that Janie was Alex's daughter, but she'd figured out the identity of Janie's biological father all by herself. "If I tell you, you've got to promise not to tell anybody else. Not even Bill."
"It's that serious?" Andrea gulped when Hannah nodded. "Okay, I promise. Tell me."
"I think Paul MacIntyre is Janie's biological father." Andrea looked shocked for a moment, and then she shook her head vehemently. "You're wrong, Hannah. I used to go to Janie's house all the time when we were kids, and there's no way Isobel would have had an affair. She adored Garland. They did everything together and they went everywhere together, and . . ."
"Hold the phone," Hannah interrupted before her sister could protest any further. "I didn't mean to imply that. What I meant was, Janie is adopted."
"Adopted? But. . . are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"If Paul's her real father, who's her real mother?" Andrea gulped and looked a little sick. "Connie Mac?"
"Not Connie Mac. I can't tell you who it is, but it's definitely not her."
"That's a relief!" Andrea said, letting out her breath in a giant whoosh. "Is it someone we know?"
"Yes, and that's all I'm going to say about it. Don't press me, Andrea. I promised I'd never tell and I won't."
Andrea sighed. "Not even one little hint?"
"Absolutely not."
"How about Janie? Does she know?"
"No. Isobel and Garland promised never to tell her. Her birth mother made it a condition of the adoption. She wanted Janie to have a real family with a loving mother and father, and that's exactly what Janie has. Her birth mother never wanted to take the chance of jeopardizing Janie's feelings for Isobel and Garland."
Andrea looked as if she might object, but she thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. I can understand that."
"Good. Now let's get back to Mr. Fifty Percent. That turned out to be Janie and we know that she didn't kill Connie Mac. The only other possibility is Paul, and he's in the clear, too."
"At least we know why Connie Mac was so mad the day she died. It must have been a real shock to find out that Janie got half of her husband's estate. Do you think she knew that Janie was Paul's daughter?"
Hannah shook her head. "I don't think Paul told anyone why he put Janie in his will-not even Alan. Alan might have told Connie Mac if he'd known, and Paul wouldn't have risked that. I think the only thing that Alan told Connie Mac was that he'd drawn up Paul's will and that Janie got fifty percent."
"And Connie Mac assumed that Janie was sleeping with Paul? And that's why she was in his will?"
"It makes sense. What would you think if Bill drew up a will and his lawyer told you that he'd left fifty percent to a woman at work?"
Andrea began to frown. "I see what you mean, and that almost makes me feel sorry for Connie Mac. But if Janie didn't kill her, and Paul didn't kill her, who did?"
"Search me. We're fresh out of suspects, Andrea."
"That's true," Andrea said, and she sounded very discouraged. "We followed all the leads and we did everything right, but we still flunked out. What are we going to do?"
"I don't have a clue. All I know is that I never want to go through another day like today. I'm still locked out of The Cookie Jar, I found another body, one of my oldest friends lied to me, and I struck out on a murder case for the first time. I'm on a losing streak, Andrea. We'd better put back these files and leave before we get busted for breaking and entering."
"Just sit here and rest. I'll do it." Andrea picked up a stack of files and returned them to the file cabinet. When she came back for a second armful, she looked puzzled. "You said a friend lied to you. Which friend?"
"Greg Canfield. He said he tripled his money day-trading, but he lied. I just found out that the company he said he invested in went bankrupt."
"I wonder why he lied about it." Andrea thought for a moment and then she snapped her fingers. "You used to date him, didn't you?"
"I didn't date anyone."
"Yes, you did. I know you had a date for the senior prom."
"That was a setup," Hannah answered truthfully, even though the memory still stung a bit. "Dad promised Cliff Shuman a summer job if he took me to the prom. You were the one with all the dates, even back then."