“He said to hang on, he’ll be right there. Who . . .” Lisa stopped in mid-question and gave a little sob. “Who is it, Hannah?”

“Phyllis. Phyllis Bates.”

“Is she . . . uh . . . is she . . . dead?”

Hannah glanced down at the cold, motionless body that had been very alive in a sexy Mrs. Santa costume not even two hours ago. Her eyes swept up to the damage that had been done to Phyllis’s head, and she swallowed hard again. “Yes, Lisa. Phyllis is dead.”

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

When Hannah unlocked the door to her condo, she stepped back three paces and braced herself. Then she leaned forward, pushed open the door, and waited for the feline missile that was about to launch itself in her direction. She waited . . . and waited . . . and then the orange-and-white missile hurtled into her arms.

“Moishe! Where were you?” Hannah asked, carrying her cat in to place him in his favorite spot on the top of the couch.

“Sorry,” her sister Michelle said, rushing out of the guest bedroom. “I was just showing Moishe his new cat toy, and we didn’t hear you unlock the door.”

“Michelle!” Hannah greeted her youngest sister with a big hug. “How did you get here?”

Michelle laughed. “If you’d checked your text messages, you’d know. Mother picked me up at the bus station and dropped me off here two hours ago. I hope you don’t mind that I used the key you gave me and came inside.”

“Why should I mind? That’s why I gave you that key in the first place.” Hannah knew she probably looked a little crazy, but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Seeing Michelle making herself at home in the condo was like basking in the sunshine. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Uh-oh, this sounds like trouble!” Michelle said, hurrying to the kitchen to take the glass of white wine she’d poured in preparation for Hannah’s return from the top shelf in the refrigerator. “Sit down, kick off your boots, and tell me all about it.”

Hannah peeled off her parka, kicked off her boots on the rug by the door, and took a seat on her old couch. “Just for starters, Phyllis Bates is dead.”

“Mayor Bascomb’s new squeeze?”

Hannah nodded. “That’s right. I found her in the ditch behind the Corner Tavern parking lot.”

“Murdered?”

“Oh, yes. As far as I know, people don’t usually bash in their own heads as a preferred method of suicide.”

It was clear that Michelle was attempting to control herself, but it didn’t work. She laughed. “That’s what I love about you, Hannah. You don’t mince words.”

“Well . . . perhaps that was a bit insensitive, but it’s true.”

“Yes, it’s insensitive, but it was funny. And you found her?”

“Who else?” Hannah removed the plastic wrap from the top of the wineglass and took a sip. “I have slaydar, remember?”