phone call and how Boyd had blackened Danielle’s eye immediately after he’d hung up. When Hannah had told her the whole story, Andrea said, “Danielle’s right. The phone call could be the key to Boyd’s murder. Who do you know with a speech impediment?”
“There’s Freddy Sawyer, but he’s the wrong sex.” Hannah named the mildly retarded man who did odd jobs around town. “And Lydia Gradin has a slight lisp, but she doesn’t slur her words. How about you? Do you know anyone/”
Andrea thought about it as Hannah backed out of the parking spot. “There’s Mrs. Knudson. She’s been slurring her words since she had that stroke.”
“Mrs. Knudson is eighty and Danielle said the woman sounded young,” Hannah reminded her. “She also said that the woman was rude. Can you imagine Reverend Knudson’s grandmother being rude?”
“No, she’s always very polite. There’s Loretta Richardson. She still has her Southern drawl, but Danielle would know her voice. And Helen Barthel stutters every once in a while when she gets nervous, but she doesn’t slur her words.”
“Anyone else?” Hannah drove around the hospital and down the snow-covered drive.
“I don’t think so. It’s got to be somebody we don’t know. Is Danielle sure the call was local?”
“She’s sure.” Hannah braked at the stop sign, looked both ways, and pulled out onto Old Lake Road. “It could be someone who came to town for the bake-off. Most of them checked in on Tuesday morning. Do you have time to run out to the Lake Eden Inn?”
“I’ve got nothing but time. Tracey doesn’t get out of preschool until four, and today’s my day off. I’d still be in bed if it wasn’t for Lucy Richards. That witch called at the crack of dawn this morning!”
“Witch?”
“Witch with a ‘b’. Now that I’m a mother, I have to watch my language. It’s like Tracey’s teacher says, Little pitchers have big ears.”
“I’m not a little pitcher, I’m a big one. You won’t corrupt me.” Hannah grinned as she turned off on the road that led around the lake. “And I agree with you completely abut Lucy Richards. She came in the shop this morning and tried to pump me for information about Boyd’s murder.”
Andrea looked surprised. “How did she find out that you were there?”
“She said one of her sources told her. I kept telling her that I didn’t know anything and I couldn’t tell her if I did, but it still took me ten minutes to get rid of her. And that’s not the half of it. When she finally left, she skinned out without paying for her cookies and coffee.”
“Lucy’s the rudest person I’ve ever met.” Andrea’s voice was hard, and Hannah knew she was still angry about the early-morning phone call. “If she slurred her words, I’d suspect that she was the woman who called Boyd.”
“But she doesn’t slur her words.”
“I know.”
Hannah turned right at the reflective sign that said “Lake Eden Inn,” and followed the gravel road that led through a large stand of oak. Their branches were black and stark against the leaden sky and they looked as dead as doornails. Of course they weren’t. New green leaves would begin to pop out with the first breath of spring. They always did. She emerged from the oaks, drove around a curve, and the huge, rustic summer home that sally and Dick Laughlin had converted to a lakeside hotel came into view.
“The inn’s just gorgeous,” Andrea commented. “Every time I drive out here, I’m impressed.”
“Me too. Sally and Dick spent a lot of time and money renovating this place.”
Hannah pulled into the parking lot and began tot roll for a space. It was filled with the guests’ cars, and the only one she recognized was Dick’s old VW bus. It was parked at the end of the back row, and Hannah pulled in beside it, making her own space. That was one advantage to owning a four-wheel-drive vehicle in the winter. The Suburban could make its own space in the unplowed
“There’s Freddy Sawyer, but he’s the wrong sex.” Hannah named the mildly retarded man who did odd jobs around town. “And Lydia Gradin has a slight lisp, but she doesn’t slur her words. How about you? Do you know anyone/”
Andrea thought about it as Hannah backed out of the parking spot. “There’s Mrs. Knudson. She’s been slurring her words since she had that stroke.”
“Mrs. Knudson is eighty and Danielle said the woman sounded young,” Hannah reminded her. “She also said that the woman was rude. Can you imagine Reverend Knudson’s grandmother being rude?”
“No, she’s always very polite. There’s Loretta Richardson. She still has her Southern drawl, but Danielle would know her voice. And Helen Barthel stutters every once in a while when she gets nervous, but she doesn’t slur her words.”
“Anyone else?” Hannah drove around the hospital and down the snow-covered drive.
“I don’t think so. It’s got to be somebody we don’t know. Is Danielle sure the call was local?”
“She’s sure.” Hannah braked at the stop sign, looked both ways, and pulled out onto Old Lake Road. “It could be someone who came to town for the bake-off. Most of them checked in on Tuesday morning. Do you have time to run out to the Lake Eden Inn?”
“I’ve got nothing but time. Tracey doesn’t get out of preschool until four, and today’s my day off. I’d still be in bed if it wasn’t for Lucy Richards. That witch called at the crack of dawn this morning!”
“Witch?”
“Witch with a ‘b’. Now that I’m a mother, I have to watch my language. It’s like Tracey’s teacher says, Little pitchers have big ears.”
“I’m not a little pitcher, I’m a big one. You won’t corrupt me.” Hannah grinned as she turned off on the road that led around the lake. “And I agree with you completely abut Lucy Richards. She came in the shop this morning and tried to pump me for information about Boyd’s murder.”
Andrea looked surprised. “How did she find out that you were there?”
“She said one of her sources told her. I kept telling her that I didn’t know anything and I couldn’t tell her if I did, but it still took me ten minutes to get rid of her. And that’s not the half of it. When she finally left, she skinned out without paying for her cookies and coffee.”
“Lucy’s the rudest person I’ve ever met.” Andrea’s voice was hard, and Hannah knew she was still angry about the early-morning phone call. “If she slurred her words, I’d suspect that she was the woman who called Boyd.”
“But she doesn’t slur her words.”
“I know.”
Hannah turned right at the reflective sign that said “Lake Eden Inn,” and followed the gravel road that led through a large stand of oak. Their branches were black and stark against the leaden sky and they looked as dead as doornails. Of course they weren’t. New green leaves would begin to pop out with the first breath of spring. They always did. She emerged from the oaks, drove around a curve, and the huge, rustic summer home that sally and Dick Laughlin had converted to a lakeside hotel came into view.
“The inn’s just gorgeous,” Andrea commented. “Every time I drive out here, I’m impressed.”
“Me too. Sally and Dick spent a lot of time and money renovating this place.”
Hannah pulled into the parking lot and began tot roll for a space. It was filled with the guests’ cars, and the only one she recognized was Dick’s old VW bus. It was parked at the end of the back row, and Hannah pulled in beside it, making her own space. That was one advantage to owning a four-wheel-drive vehicle in the winter. The Suburban could make its own space in the unplowed
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