Part 15 (2/2)
”Me,” Hannah said, acting on instinct and jumping off into s.p.a.ce like a cliff diver trusting that he'd hit the water just right and find the coins that the tourists had thrown for him.
It took Mike a moment to recover. Then he looked up from his notebook and stared at her. ”What did you say?”
”Me,” Hannah repeated. She knew she had to tell him the truth, or at least part of it. Herb had heard her fighting with Bradford, and she wasn't about to presume on their friends.h.i.+p by asking him to lie for her. She looked up at Mike, locked eyes with him again, and spoke in a completely steady voice. ”I wanted to kill Bradford Ramsey,” she said.
Another pot of coffee later, and Hannah had told as much of her history with Bradford Ramsey as she wanted to tell. Mike had listened to every word, making no comment throughout her long recital, until she arrived at the conclusion. ”And that's why I wanted to kill him,” she said.
”But you didn't.”
”No. But I wanted to, especially after that crack he made about Mich.e.l.le.”
”Can't say as I blame you,” Mike gave her a little smile. ”As a matter of fact, it might be a good thing I'm already investigating his murder.”
This time it was Hannah who smiled. Mike hadn't come right out and said he wanted to kill Bradford for what he'd done, but Hannah knew that's what he was implying.
”I hope you'll help me out on this one, Hannah,” Mike said, turning to a fresh page in his notebook.
”I will if I can.”
”I'm starting with a blank slate here. I didn't know the victim at all. Any background I get on him has got to come from computer searches or other people. I want you to think back, Hannah. Do you know anyone, from your time in college right up to the present, who might have had a reason to kill Professor Ramsey?”
”Try his ex-wife,” Hannah suggested. ”At least I think she's his ex-wife. He was married when I left college and there's no wife in the picture now.”
Mike made a note in his book. ”Anyone else?”
”You might want to check around at the community college. He started teaching there before Christmas, and he was the type to play around.”
”With students?”
”Students, faculty, whoever,” Hannah said with a shrug. ”It's possible he left a trail of angry women behind him. And if any of those angry women are married, there could be angry husbands, too.”
”I'll check on that. I'm almost positive this is a crime of pa.s.sion and a jealous husband or wife would fit the M.O.”
”How do you figure that?”
”The knife wounds were deep, and Doc Knight said the killer used a lot of force. Whoever did it really wanted Professor Ramsey dead. And although the first stab wound was lethal, the killer stabbed him four more times.” Mike jotted another note to himself in his book and then he looked up. ”Any other suggestions? You knew him a hundred percent better than I did.”
”That's true, but it's been a while and it's not like we kept in touch. And I never knew that much about him personally. You could pull his personnel records from the college and explore his job history. And it wouldn't hurt to find out how he got along with his colleagues and his bosses. That might be important.”
”How about Mich.e.l.le?”
Hannah had all she could do not to gasp. ”What about her?” she asked.
”She's been at Macalester for over two years. She might have heard some rumors about him.”
”You're right.” Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. Mike wanted nothing more than background from Mich.e.l.le. ”I'll ask her in the morning and get back to you.”
Mike snapped his notebook shut and stuck it back in his pocket. Then he reached out to pet Moishe, who had left Mich.e.l.le's bed and come out to join them midway through the interview. ”I guess that's it then.”
”Aren't you going to ask if I'm going to nose around? And then warn me about interfering with an official investigation?”
”Are you going to nose around and interfere with an official investigation?”
”I wouldn't dream of it,” Hannah said quite honestly. She never dreamed about things she was going to do.
”Gotta move, big guy,” Mike said, gently unseating Moishe so that he could stand up. ”Call me if you come up with anything, will you?”
”You'll be the first to know.” Hannah followed Mike to the door.
”There's only one thing I don't get,” Mike said, turning around to face her.
”What's that?”
”If you knew Professor Ramsey that well when you were in college, why did he pretend he didn't know you when he came here for Christmas Eve dinner?”
”He wasn't pretending.”
”What?”
Hannah gave a little shrug, as if she didn't care. ”Bradford didn't remember me,” she said. ”He knew my name because Mich.e.l.le mentioned it, but he had no idea who I was.”
Mike was silent for a moment and then he pulled her into his arms. He gave her a hug and then he kissed her. It was not the sort of kiss you'd give to an old friend, and Hannah felt her knees go weak.
”It's like I said before...” Mike reached out to touch her lips with his finger and then he opened the door and stepped out. ”It's a good thing I'm already investigating his murder!”
Chapter Sixteen.
It was just as her grandmother Ingrid had said. Old habits died hard. Hannah's eyes flew open on the dot of four twenty-nine and she reached out to shut off the alarm before it could ring. When her fingers touched the b.u.t.ton that wasn't pulled out to activate the alarm, she remembered. This was the morning she could sleep in for an extra two hours. Lisa had promised to recruit Marge and Patsy to help her with the baking.
Two more hours in bed was a luxury. Hannah fell back against the soft pillows and gave a contented sigh. She reached out to pet the cat who was purring on the pillow next to hers, and let her eyes flutter closed. Two more hours of sleep was the best present in the world. She felt just like she had on Christmas morning, years ago, when she'd run down the stairs to find a s.h.i.+ny new bicycle under the tree!
The pillow was soft, the sheets were still warm, and sublime comfort was all around her, from the darkened room with the low glimmer of the bulb in the Tiffany lamp her mother had given her to the fluffy quilt kept ready at the foot of the bed, a precaution in case the morning hours brought the damp or the cold. This morning the air was perfect, both in temperature and in humidity. The slight breeze from the screened window was like a caress on her skin, and she was totally relaxed. She was tired, yes. But she wasn't sleepy. Not a bit. Not even a smidgen. And her mind was doing jumping jacks behind her closed eyelids, begging for its morning coffee.
Hannah mumbled a word she'd never use around her young nieces and sat up in bed. Since she couldn't go back to sleep, she might as well get up and start the day. Perhaps she'd have time for a nap in the afternoon. Just because she hadn't napped since she was three years old didn't mean it couldn't happen today.
Once she'd showered and dressed, Hannah hurried down the hallway, being careful to tread quietly as she pa.s.sed the guest room. Mich.e.l.le hadn't gotten much sleep either, and before Delores had left, she'd told Mich.e.l.le to take the morning off and come in at noon.
As she approached the kitchen, Hannah began to frown. The bright lights were on. She must have been so tired last night that she'd forgotten to switch them off.
”Hannah!” Mich.e.l.le gasped, so startled she came very close to knocking over the mug of coffee she was drinking at the kitchen table. ”What are you doing up so early?”
”Woke up. Couldn't sleep,” Hannah explained in the fewest words possible. This was not the time for an involved explanation that would take precious time, not when her throat felt parched and every cell in her body was screaming for caffeine.
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