Apple Turnover Murder

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hannah had just said goodnight to Michelle and was heading down the hall toward her bedroom when the phone rang. She glanced at her watch. It was ten past eleven. No one who knew her schedule would call her this late. That meant it was an emergency, a telemarketer working much too late, or a wrong number. She thought about letting the answer machine get it, but her curiosity won out. It could be important. Maybe.

She leaned over the back of the couch to reach the phone and plucked it from its cradle. “Hello?” she said, petting Moishe with her free hand.

“I didn’t wake you, did I, Hannah?”

It was Norman and Hannah had half a notion to hang up. He’d left her high and dry at Casino Night. But perhaps his cell phone summons had been a dental emergency. Right now, as she sprawled over the back of the couch holding the phone with the cord that was far too short and petting a cat who was purring louder than an outboard motor, some Lake Edenite with a numbed mouth had been relieved of his pain from a tooth that had broken off in an auto accident. “It’s okay. I’m still up,” she said.

“Good. I wasn’t sure if I should call, but I decided that I could leave the information on the answer machine if you didn’t pick up.”

“What information?”

“The name of the student that Professor Ramsey flunked. There was only one, and it was spectacular. A second-year student named Kyle Williamson flunked out of his Introduction to Poetry class.”

“Hold on,” Hannah said, setting the phone back down on the end table and walking around the couch to sit down and pick it up again. “What made this student’s failure so spectacular?”

“He got three percent correct on the midterm, and two percent on the final. His poetry project was late, and it received a “U” for “unsatisfactory.” There was also a note in his file that said he cut over three-quarters of the class sessions.”

“That is spectacular,” Hannah agreed. “Is this student still in school?”

“Yes. He’s got a three-point eight grade average. Professor Ramsey’s course is the only one he hasn’t completely aced.”

“But why? I mean…was there some sort of personal issue?”

“I don’t know, but I think we ought to find out. Do you want me to go out to the college tomorrow and talk to him?”

“That would be great. Do you think you can get him to tell you where he was on Wednesday night?”

“I’ll try. I’m really curious about him, especially since this sort of thing didn’t happen in any of his other classes. I want to find out what Professor Ramsey did or said to turn him off so completely.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

There was a long silence before Norman spoke again. “I think I might do better alone. From what I’ve read of his academic records and college application, he sounds like a loner. I can identify with that. You don’t mind if I go by myself, do you?”

“No. Of course not,” Hannah said. “Good luck tomorrow, and let me know what you find out.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” There was another long silence, and then Norman cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “Goodnight, Hannah. I do love you, you know.”

“I know,” Hannah said And then she hung up the phone. But she didn’t know, not really.

“Norman?” Michelle asked, coming into the living room in her robe and slippers.

“Yes. He’s going to go out and interview a student who flunked out of Bradford’s Introduction to Poetry class.”

“But Bradford never flunked anyone.” Michelle looked puzzled. “He was very proud of that fact. He said that poetry should be accessible to everyone and it was a reflection on him if any of his students didn’t develop an appreciation for the genre by the end of his introductory course.”

“Well, this student flunked,” Hannah said. “Norman looked up his grades on the computer.”

“What’s his name?”

“Kyle Williamson.”

Michelle sat down on the couch next to Hannah. “Kyle Williamson. That’s vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“Norman’s going out to talk to him tomorrow. Maybe he’ll come back with something that’ll jog your mem…” Hannah stopped speaking as the phone rang again.

“Do you want me to get it?” Michelle asked.

“I’m closer,” Hannah said, reaching out for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah.”

It was Mike. Hannah gave a fleeting thought to other women and how they seemed to receive calls at normal hours of the day and night. Someday, when she had a few minutes, she’d have to figure out why her boyfriends always called her in the hour before and the hour after the witching hour. “Hi, Mike,” she said, deciding not to address the issue right now.

“Will you be up for another forty-five minutes or so? I’m driving back from Fergus Falls, and I should be there by midnight. I just met with Professor Ramsey’s first wife and I wanted to run a couple of things past you.”

“I’ll put the coffee on,” Hannah said, not even considering the option of refusal. For the first time since they’d met, over two years ago, they were fairly close to working together. She wasn’t about to throw a wrench into the works.

“Let me guess,” Michelle said, after Hannah had hung up the phone. “Mike’s coming over.”

“Right. You can go to bed if you want to. I had a nap at the shop today, so I’m fine.”

“So am I. I had sleep instead of food during my lunch hour. Mother’s got a great four-poster up on the second floor and it’s very comfortable. I just hope she doesn’t sell it before we catch Bradford’s killer.”

“We’re narrowing the field,” Hannah told her. “When Mother cleared Stephanie Bascomb, she cleared the mayor, too. They were together all through intermission, and they sat together when they went back inside the auditorium.”

“I didn’t know the mayor was a suspect!”

“Of course he was. Even though Stephanie insisted her relationship with Bradford was all business, the mayor must have noticed that his wife was spending quite a bit of time at the college.”

“But maybe he assumed it was payback time, and he was okay with that.”

Hannah shook her head. “Not a chance! The mayor’s very territorial. What’s good for the gander is definitely not good for the goose.”

“That’s not exactly fair,” Michelle pointed out.

“Who said life was fair?”

“No one, I guess.” Michelle looked thoughtful. “If you suspected the mayor, why didn’t you write his name on your suspect list?”

“Because I’m saving him for tomorrow. That way I can get up in the morning and write him down when I have my first cup of coffee. And then I can cross him out before I leave for work. That means I’ve accomplished something before I even leave the house.”

“Neat trick,” Michelle complimented her. “The next time I make out a To Do list, I’m going to write down something I’ve already done so I can cross it out and feel good.”

“That’s my girl!” Hannah said.

Michelle laughed and got up, heading down the hall toward the guest room. But before she got there, she turned back.

“Don’t bother setting your alarm,” she told Hannah. “Lisa said you should sleep in tomorrow morning. Herb’s got an early meeting with Mayor Bascomb, and she’s going to work early with Marge and Patsy. They’re going to take care of everything so that you can concentrate on the murder case.”

“That is so sweet,” Hannah said, and she meant every word of it. “Just when I think there aren’t enough hours in the day, Lisa takes over the work and I’ve got more time for other things. Do you know anything about Herb’s meeting with the mayor?”

“Yes. Lisa and I talked about it and had a good laugh. You know about Lover’s Lane, don’t you?”

“Yes, if you’re talking about the gravel road by the apple orchard just outside the city limits.”

“That’s it. Well, ever since Mayor Bascomb asked Herb to start patrolling there, the high school students have stopped using it as a parking spot. Herb found out that they’re all going to Spring Brook Cemetery now and parking on that winding road that divides the old cemetery from the new cemetery. The mayor figures it’s only a matter of time before they start getting out of their cars and spreading out blankets by the brook, and…well, you know. So Herb and the mayor are working out a schedule for him to patrol there.”

“They’re teenagers who want to be alone. If Herb patrols their new spot, they’ll just go somewhere else.”

“You know that, I know that, Lisa knows that, and Herb knows that. But Mayor Bascomb seems to have forgotten.”

Hannah bit her tongue. She knew the mayor occasionally frequented the Blue Moon Motel outside of town and no longer needed the dubious comfort of a blanket and a warm night, or the darkened interior of a second-hand car. “I’d better heat the oven,” she said.

“You’re going to bake?”

“Yes, but not cookies. Mike probably didn’t have time to stop for anything to eat and I’ll put in a Too Easy Hotdish.”

“A what?”

“Too Easy Hotdish. My friend, Mary Blain, used to make it in college. It’s the kind of thing you can throw together with whatever you have in the refrigerator.”

“I’ll turn on the oven.” Michelle walked into the kitchen, with Hannah following close behind. “What temperature do you want?”

“I need a hot oven. Make it four hundred.”

Michelle turned on the oven and set the temperature. “I’ll help you get it in the oven before I go to bed. What do you want me to do”

“Spray my cake pan with Pam. Then look in the freezer and see if I have a package of Tater Tots. If I don’t, any kind of frozen potato will do.”

While Michelle prepared the pan and checked the freezer, Hannah went to the pantry and took out a can of cream of mushroom soup and one of cream of celery soup. She carried them to the counter where Michelle had placed the package of potato nuggets. “Is there any meat in the refrigerator?” she asked. “I could probably make this with canned tuna or canned chicken, but I think fresh meat would be better.”

“Here’s a pound of hamburger,” Michelle said, her voice muffled since her head was in the refrigerator. “And I’ve got some sausage left from those pancakes I made.”

“That’ll be perfect. I need about a pound and a half. Did you have any leftover shredded cheese?”

“Right here. I’ll bring it.”

The two sisters worked quickly, layering everything evenly in the cake pan. Less than five minutes had passed when Hannah slipped the pan into the oven.

“How long does it bake?” Michelle asked her.

“Thirty-five to forty minutes, just until the potatoes are crisp.”

“I can see why your friend called it Too Easy Hotdish.”

“We finished just in time. There’s Mike,” Hannah said, reacting to Moishe’s sudden dash toward the front door.

“How can you tell? The doorbell didn’t ring.”

“It’s my early cat warning,” Hannah explained. “The doorbell should ring right about…” But she didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because she was interrupted by the peal of the doorbell.

“I’ll go let him in,” Michelle said, heading for the door. “You get his coffee. I’m just going to say hello, and then I’m going straight to bed.”