“Isn’t that the craziest story you’ve ever heard?” Burke was joviality personified as he beamed at Mike. “I don’t know where she gets her ideas, but I think she ought to try writing a movie script.” He pulled up his coat sleeve and made a big show of checking his watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to miss my plane.”

“You can’t leave!” Hannah protested, glancing over at Mike. “Tell him he can’t leave, Mike.”

Mike shook his head. “Sorry, Hannah. It’s an interesting theory, but I don’t have enough evidence to hold Burke.” Mike turned to the actor and said, “You’re free to go.”

Burke gave a little wave and put his car in reverse. He was about to back out of the parking spot when Hannah grabbed the prop gun and aimed at him. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.

“Hannah! Where did you get that revolver?” Mike looked shocked.

“From the sewing machine at Granny’s Attic.” Hannah answered, and then she turned to Burke again. “I’m a good shot, so don’t fool around with me. Get out of the car with your hands up, or I’ll shoot.”

“No, you won’t,” Burke said with a nasty laugh. “That gun doesn’t have a firing pin.”

“Gotcha!” Hannah said. And then she watched as the smug look on Burke’s face disappeared. “The only way you could know that is if you hid the prop gun in the sewing machine right after you switched revolvers. And you know what that means!”

Burke stepped on the gas, but Mike was quicker and his squad car shot back to block Burke’s exit. At the same time, a second squad car arrived with Lonnie Murphy at the wheel and his brother, Rick, riding shotgun. Literally. Rick had his department-issued twelve-gauge pointed at the driver’s side window of Burke’s yellow Toyota.

“Read him his rights and take him in,” Mike told his deputies and he stood by to watch them do it. It was only after they’d cuffed Burke, loaded him into the backseat of the squad car, and were pulling away that he walked over to Hannah’s cookie truck and leaned down to talk to her through the open window.

“Did you know all along that the revolver I had was the prop gun?” she asked.

“Sure I did. Your mother told me all about it.”

“I don’t understand. If you knew how Burke killed Dean and you knew that we’d found the prop gun, why did you wait to arrest him?”

“I wanted a little extra insurance, and we got it. Burke admitted in front of both of us that he knew the gun in the sewing machine didn’t have a firing pin.”

“And you were afraid that without that admission, Burke might convince a jury that he was innocent?”