“There is no ‘H’ in Finkelston,” Scott said. “Remember her from the other day? Miss I’ll-take-legal-action? Looks like she took a half gainer instead.”
“My God,” Hannah whispered, stunned. “How weird. I—I don’t know how to react.”
“Well, please don’t act sad, or I’ll throw up,” Scott said.
Hannah frowned at him.
“Call me a coldhearted SOB, but she was kind of a jerk. Remember how she treated you?”
Hannah anxiously scanned the article. “They don’t say if it was suicide or not.”
Scott leaned back in the chair. “No, they don’t give you much to go on. You look pale. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know about this,” Hannah murmured. “There’s something wrong. I have the strangest feeling—”
A knock on the door interrupted her. “I need help up front!” Cheryl called in a shrill voice.
“That’s really bizarre,” Hannah said, stealing one last glance at the article. She sighed, gave him back the newspaper, then reached for the doorknob. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I still have ten minutes left on my break.”
Hannah emerged from the back room to find about a dozen customers waiting for service. A couple of men were arguing who had been in line first, while another woman moved up to the counter, asking loudly if there was a section for the Beatles.
“I can help whoever is next,” Hannah announced, stepping up to her register. “The Beatles are on the top shelf in the far-right corner of the store.”
Three other people started yelling questions at her—all at once. Hannah weathered the onslaught of customers. In about five minutes, the line had dwindled down to one person: a very handsome black man in his early thirties. He set his video on the counter and smiled at Hannah. “I was watching you,” he said. “You got through that rush pretty well. Talk about grace under fire.”
“Thanks,” Hannah said. “I juggle, too. Can I have your name, please?”
“I just opened up an account here yesterday,” he said. “Tollman is the last name. Craig.”
With his chiseled features, Tollman, Craig looked like a model out of
Hannah pulled up his account, then punched in the code for his video.
“I just moved up here from Phoenix last week,” he said, taking out his money. “Maybe you can help me. Could you recommend a nice restaurant around here?”
Shrugging, Hannah gave him his change. “I don’t get out much, but I know the Pink Door is nice.”
“Well, would you care to go with me sometime?” he asked. “For dinner?”
“You mean, like on a date?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. I’d like to treat you to dinner.”
Hannah felt herself blushing. “Oh, well, thank you.” She glanced down at the counter. “But I’m afraid I can’t.”
“We can make it for lunch—if dinner’s too much too soon. Or if you’re totally date-a-phobic, I’d love to meet you for coffee sometime.”
Hannah shoved his video in a bag. Her face still felt hot. She managed to smile at him. “Thanks anyway,” she said. “I’m very flattered, but no.”
“Maybe some other time?”
She shrugged. “I can’t make any promises. But it was a very nice offer.” She handed him the bag.
He glanced at his receipt. “Are you working Thursday?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, I might see you when I bring the movie back. Hey, you know, I never got your name.”
“I’m Hannah,” she said.
“You’ve got a terrific smile, Hannah. You know that?”
As he strolled out of the store, Craig Tollman glanced over his shoulder at her. Hannah met his gaze, and he grinned.
Through the front window, Hannah watched him walk away.
She took her break at three o’clock on Mondays. Alphabet Soup Day Care was a short walk from the video store, and at three-fifteen, they had snack-time. Parents were welcome to join in. Hannah was there every Monday afternoon for Guy—usually with some kind of special treat.
At five minutes to three, Hannah went to the store’s break room, where she fetched her coat and purse. She noticed Scott’s newspaper on the desk.
Nearly an hour had passed since Scott had shown her the article about Cindy Finkelston’s death. Hannah hadn’t given her any thought since then. She’d been too busy with customers. Now she felt a little guilty for not caring more. Of course, Scott had a point: Cindy wasn’t a very nice person. Had she really taken her own life, or was it an accident?
Hannah tried to shrug it off. Maybe there would be an update about it in tomorrow’s paper.
She stopped by the mall’s food court and bought a couple of fruit shakes to go. The banana shake was Guy’s favorite.
As she walked the five blocks to Alphabet Soup Day Care, Hannah gazed up at some of the taller apartment buildings along the way. She stopped in front of one, figuring it was as tall as Cindy Finkelston’s building. She could almost see Cindy falling from one of those windows near the top story. Then, like a dream, the images in her mind took a strange turn. She pictured Mia Farrow and John Cassevetes walking along the street below to discover a throng of onlookers and police. Hannah remembered how Mia reacted when she saw the bloody corpse on the pavement.
The bag with the fruit shakes slipped from her grasp, and hit the sidewalk with a splat. A dark stain bloomed on the brown paper bag.
It dawned on Hannah that the videotape of
This person had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure she saw the tape. It had even been cued to that scene. Hannah tried to make some sense out of it all. She’d found the video in her apartment on Thursday night. Cindy Finkelston had taken that fateful fall yesterday morning, Sunday. Why would someone choose to forecast Cindy’s death for her? She barely knew the woman.
There had to be some connection to the
Ever since the second break-in three nights before, Hannah had been sleeping on the sofa—with a hammer on the floor beside her. Even after changing the locks, she didn’t feel safe.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her every move. She was constantly looking over her shoulder. She didn’t let Guy out of her sight, and they’d spent most of the weekend inside—with the door locked.
This morning, she’d told Joyce that someone had tried to break in, and warned her to be on her guard.
“It’s those darn crack-heads ruining the neighborhood,” Joyce had lamented. “Well, don’t worry about Guy while he’s with me. I keep pepper spray and one of those electric-shock zap’m things in my purse. I’m armed and dangerous, hon. No one’s gonna tangle with this grandma.”
Just the same, on her way to work, Hannah had a hard time convincing herself that Guy was safe. After a few hours in the store, she’d almost felt as if things were back to normal. But then she’d learned that over the weekend, someone had been there asking questions about her. And now this incident right out of
Frowning, Hannah bent down and picked up the soggy bag. She tossed it in a dumpster beside of one the apartment buildings, then took a Kleenex from her purse and wiped off her hands.
The sudden screech of car tires made Hannah swivel around. A white Taurus was stopped halfway down the street. Hannah felt her heart skip a beat, and she started moving away.
