Read Online Hanging Hannah by Evan Marshall - Free Book Online

picked up an advance reading copy of Relevant Gods , a novel by Carol Freund that she had sold for a high advance last fall to Holly Griffin, executive editor at Corsair Publishing. The book’s official publication date was in two weeks, and Corsair would be throwing Carol a lavish publication party on Thursday. Jane remembered that she was scheduled to have lunch with Holly, whom Jane could barely tolerate, tomorrow, and that at this lunch Holly would give Jane details of the party.
    Jane studied the front of the reading copy, which bore a less expensively printed version of the book’s jacket. In the background was a detail from Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam panel on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel—the hand of God not quite reaching Adam’s. The novel’s title ran across the top in lettering meant to look old like the painting, and Carol’s name was at the bottom in the same type. Jane felt that this jacket was just all right, not especially imaginative—that hand image, in Jane’s opinion, had become a visual cliché—but she didn’t hate it, and Holly and her colleagues at Corsair adored it, so Jane hadn’t made a fuss, especially since Carol herself liked it.
    Shaking her head, Jane swiveled in her chair and tossed the reading copy onto the cluttered credenza behind her. As she turned back to her desk, there was a soft knock on her door and Daniel popped his head in. When he had ascertained that she was not on the phone, he slipped into the room and quietly closed the door.
    â€œJane,” he said, a perplexed expression on his face, “ Doris is here.”
    She frowned. “My knitting Doris? Doris Conway?”
    He made a shushing gesture with one finger. “Yes.”
    Doris had never come to Jane’s office before. “Why is she here?” Jane whispered.
    â€œNo idea. She wants to talk to you.”
    Jane shrugged. “Okay.” She got up and went to the door, following Daniel into the reception area. Doris stood near Daniel’s desk. It seemed to Jane that she looked more stooped than usual, more frail.
    â€œHello, Doris,” Jane said brightly. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
    Doris didn’t return Jane’s smile—not that Doris smiled much anyway. She looked quite serious; Jane even wondered if she was upset about something. Perhaps what had happened at the inn.
    â€œJane, can I talk to you?”
    â€œOf course. Come on in. Coffee?”
    â€œNo.”
    Jane showed the older woman into her office and shot Daniel a baffled look before closing the door. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating her visitor’s chair, and sat behind the desk. What could Doris possibly need to talk to her about that couldn’t wait until their next knitting club meeting? Jane noticed that Doris was pale and that her hands were shaking ever so slightly. Jane had never seen her like this. “Doris, what’s wrong? Is it about what happened at Louise’s yesterday?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe’re all upset about that, of course.”
    â€œIt’s more than that.” Doris met Jane’s gaze. She seemed to be trying to decide where to begin. “Jane,” she said at last, “you know I volunteer at the Senior Center on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
    Jane nodded. The Shady Hills Senior Center was an upscale nursing home on Cranmore Avenue, on the west side of town. What could this possibly have to do with the girl found hanging behind Hydrangea House? “Yes . . .”
    â€œDid you know that my nephew Arthur works there, too?”
    Jane shook her head, frowning slightly. “I didn’t even know you had a nephew, Doris.”
    â€œWell, I do. He’s my younger sister Marge’s boy. I’ve told you about Marge, I’m sure I have. She passed away six years ago. Pancreatic cancer.”
    Jane nodded sympathetically.
    â€œArthur—Arthur Sullivan is