In less than five minutes, Hannah had finished her second pancake. She was about to tell Michelle that she liked the molasses best when she thought of something she had to do. She got up to take a new spiral stenographer’s pad from her kitchen drawer, grabbed the pen she’d found on the floor of her bedroom, and flipped to the first page.

“Is that your murder book?” Michelle asked.

“Yes.” Hannah wrote the name Phyllis Bates on the first page. “Do you remember Phyllis Bates from school, Michelle?”

“Vaguely. She was the head cheerleader for the basketball team, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“And for football, too?”

“That’s right. And don’t forget baseball.”

“She was the blonde with a ponytail?”

“That’s right. I know you were still in grade school, but do you remember your impression of her?”

“I do remember. Phyllis Bates was a bimbo.”

“A bimbo?” Hannah repeated Michelle’s words in the form of a question.

“Yes. And that was before I even knew what the word bimbo meant. Andrea called her that, so I did too. Andrea hated Phyllis Bates.”

“How do you know that?”

“She told me so.”

“But why?”

“Because Andrea knew I was too scared to tell anyone else.”

“Not that. I mean . . . do you know why Andrea hated Phyllis?”

“Yes. It’s because Andrea had a crush on Ryan Edwards, the football player that Phyllis was dating at the time.”

“Good heavens! How old was Andrea then?”

Michelle shrugged. “Maybe seventh grade? I know Andrea was still in junior high because I had Mrs. Carlson in third grade, and she was Ryan’s aunt. Andrea threatened to kill me if I ever mentioned anything about it in school. She would have, too. Andrea was scary when she was mad, and that would have made her really mad.”

Hannah looked down at her steno pad. She supposed she should write down Andrea’s name as a suspect, but all that was a long time ago and she was sure that Andrea hadn’t harbored a grudge against Phyllis for over ten years.

“I do know somebody that hated Phyllis, though.”

“Who?” Hannah was surprised. Michelle had been back in Lake Eden less than twenty-four hours, and she’d already heard more gossip than Hannah had.

“Mayor Bascomb, that’s who. Mother told me all about it. And the mayor’s got a really good motive.”

Hannah picked up her pen again. “Tell me.”

“Okay. Mother took me to Beau Monde to buy me a new jacket before she dropped me off here. She said my old jacket was disreputable.”

“That sounds like Mother.”

“I know. The new one she bought me is a nice jacket, though. And she got me a new pair of jeans, too.”

“That’s nice. Now tell me how you know that Mayor Bascomb had a motive.”