There were eight head-in parking spots that were earmarked for visitors, and Hannah had her pick of all eight of them. Since her mother hadn’t raised a fool, she took the one closest to the front door. Grabbing the sample box of toffee she’d prepared before she’d left her condo, and armed with three bags of day-old cookies that would be speedily devoured by anyone on duty inside, she made a hasty exit from her truck and hurried to the front door.

Hannah pushed open the first door and stepped into the enclosure that served as a cloakroom. It was narrow, more like a hallway than a room, and it contained a rack for boots and a series of hooks for hanging parkas and scarves. The door to the inside of the sheriff’s station was at the end, and the enclosure also served as a buffer between the frigid winter air and the deputy who manned the front desk.

Hannah couldn’t help grinning as she slipped out of her boots and hung her parka on a hook. The county board had spent thousands of dollars to research the energy-saving inner door and outer door plan, something any Minnesotan who had an enclosed front or back porch could have told them for free.

Just as Hannah was reaching for the inner door to let herself in, it opened and Bill appeared. “Come on in, Hannah. I was in the office and I saw you pull up.”

“Hi, Bill,” Hannah greeted him, handing over the plate of toffee.

“What’s this?”

“English Toffee. I made it last night. And I brought cookies, too. Do you have time for coffee? I need to talk to you about something.”

“I’ve got nothing but time. It’s been dead as a doornail all night.” Bill stopped and frowned slightly. “I wonder what that means anyway.”

“What what means?”

“‘Dead as a doornail.’ I’ve been saying it all my life and I don’t know what it means.”

“It dates back to the thirteen hundreds. Shakespeare even used it in Henry IV. Most scholars think it came from clinching a nail.”

“What’s that?”

“Driving in a long nail and hammering the end over on the inside, so it can’t be removed. That’s what they used to do before they had screws to lend extra strength to things like doors. The doornails were called ‘dead’ because they were bent and they couldn’t be pulled out and used again.” Hannah stopped talking when she noticed that Bill was staring at her in amazement. “What?” Hannah said.

“I was just wondering how you know all that.”

Hannah shrugged. “I read it somewhere and it just stuck in my mind. Things do that sometimes.”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it. Go on down to my office and I’ll get you some coffee from the break room. It’s fresher than what’s in the vending machine.”

“But is it better?” Hannah asked, and then she headed for his office. She’d find out soon enough.