Apple Turnover Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Thanks, Hannah.” Mike made a final note in his book and put down the pen. “That was very good. You covered almost everything without being asked.”

  “That must be due to the practice I’m getting. How many dead bodies have I found anyway?”

  “I think this makes it over a dozen, but who’s counting?”

  Hannah refilled their coffee mugs and passed the platter of goodies again. This time Mike took an Aggression Cookie. “How did he die? Do you know yet?” she asked, before he could take a bite.

  “I’m sorry, but that information…” Mike stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to give you the official party line. You’ll find out anyway. Professor Ramsey was stabbed.”

  “Stabbed? But I didn’t see a knife!”

  “That’s because the killer pulled it out and took it with him.”

  Hannah felt a sudden chill and she cupped her hands around her mug of coffee. How close had she come to surprising the killer and putting herself in mortal danger?

  “What’s the matter?” Mike asked.

  “I was just wondering how close I came to…” Hannah stopped and swallowed hard.

  “Interrupting the killer?” Mike waited until Hannah nodded and then he went on. “Did you see anyone backstage?”

  “No. Not a soul.”

  “Did you hear footsteps? Breathing? Anything that might have indicated another human presence somewhere in the vicinity?”

  Hannah thought about that for a moment, and then she shook her head. “No. I think I would have known if someone were there.”

  “How would you know if you didn’t see or hear them?”

  “This might sound a little crazy, but I would have gotten that creepy feeling I get when I’m supposed to be alone and I’m not.”

  “Okay. I’ll buy that.”

  “You will?” Hannah was surprised. “It’s not exactly scientific.”

  “Maybe not, but I get it, too. And it could be scientific.”

  “How?”

  Mike grinned and Hannah thought he looked a little sheepish. “It’s like a change in atmosphere, or in air pressure, or something like that.”

  “You mean…you can feel that there’s another body in the space?”

  “Yes. It’s like there’s a certain amount of air in the room. That’s what you expect when you first walk in. But then you realize there’s less air than you expected because somebody else who’s not supposed to be there is breathing some of it.”

  “That’s it!” Hannah stared at him in amazement. “That’s exactly what I mean, but I never thought to say it that way.”

  There was a moment when both of them were silent, eyes locked together, minds merged as one. And then both of them broke the connection. Hannah’s gaze dropped to her coffee mug, and Mike’s to his notebook.

  “Only a couple more questions and we’re through,” Mike told her. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to kill Professor Ramsey?”

  “Me,” Hannah said, acting on instinct and jumping off into space 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 friendship 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 Michelle.”

  “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 passion 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 Michelle?”

  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 Michelle. “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 Michelle’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 Michelle 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 button 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 shiny 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 passed the guest room. Michelle hadn’t gotten much sleep either, and before Delores had left, she’d told Michelle 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!” Michelle 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.

  Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee, carried it over to the table, and sat down in a chair. She took the first lifesaving sip, gave a sigh of utter contentment, and took another. The body was beginning to function again and the brain wasn’t far behind. Another few sips and there should be a full lexicon of words at her disposal.

  “I couldn’t sleep, either,” Michelle admitted. “I kept thinking about that last fight I had with him. I told him I hoped he’d choke on a mango and die!”

  “It must run in the family.”

  “You told him you hoped he’d choke on a mango?” Michelle asked incredulously.

  “I said a cantaloupe, but it’s close enough. I assume he was still in the habit of eating fruit for breakfast?”

  “Right.” Michelle drew a deep breath. “And speaking of breakfast, I made some.”

  “I thought I smelled something good, and I didn’t think it was leftover baking smells from last night.”

  “I baked Breakfast in a Muffin, and I think they’re cool enough to eat. Do you want one?”

  “Of course I want one. Is this another one of your creations?”

  “Yes.” Michelle went over to the counter and brought back two muffins on a plate. “It’s for people on the go, like you and me. It’s got bacon and egg and cheese on top. I tried one and they’re good.”

  “It sounds good,” Hannah said, breaking open a muffin, slathering it with butter, and taking a bite. She chewed, swallowed, and smiled. “It is good, and it’s a great idea for the coffee shop. A lot of people feel guilty eating cookies for breakfast, but they’d gobble these right up.”

  Michelle was silent as Hannah ate her muffin. Her forehead was furrowed and Hannah could tell she was thinking about something that was bothering her deeply. “What’s the matter, Michelle?” she asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about that book you found in Bradford’s office, the one with the poetry he said he wrote.”

  “Yes?” Hannah took another sip of her coffee.

  “Well, I think there’s a precedence for using someone else’s work…in academia, I mean.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Bradford used Tim Pearson’s work.”

  Hannah got up to refill her coffee mug. “Who’s Tim Pearson?” she asked as she carried it back to the table.

  “He’s Bradford’s research assistant, and he brought me home after the jazz concert on Sunday night. All the full professors have research assistants. Bradford brought Tim with him from Macalester because they were working on a project together.”

  “What kind of a project?” Hannah asked, even though she wasn’t sure how important that was.

  “Bradford said it was a study of seventeenth-century roots in eighteenth-century English poetry. He told me all about it. He said that it had turned into a really hot topic, and he had to publish fast before some other professor from another college beat him to it.”

  “Did he make it?”

  “Yes, and it’s a real coup for Macalester to have one of their professors lead the field on such an important topic. Bradford told me he was sure he’d be department head next year.”

  “Was it publish or perish?”

  “I think so. But the thing is, I don’t think Bradford wrote any of that paper. I’m pretty sure Tim wrote the whole thing.”

  “Did Tim get his name on it, too?”

  “No. We talked about that when he brought me home on Sunday night. He told me he didn’t expect any kind of credit.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s almost never done. The professor takes full credit, and the research assistant just does his job.”

  Hannah bristled slightly. Inequity always disturbed her. Perhaps it was a good thing that she hadn’t stayed in academia. “That really doesn’t seem fair to me.”

  “I feel exactly the same way, but Tim told me it was a barter thing, that there was a job as an assistant professor at the community college and Bradford was going to recommend him for it. That was his payment for all the work he did on the project. Tim said the job was a sure thing and he was really looking forward to teaching in Lake Eden.”

  “So Bradford recommended him and Tim got the job?”

  Michelle stared at Hannah for a moment, and then she began to frown. “I don’t know. I think Tim said the selection committee was supposed to meet yesterday morning.”

  Both sisters were quiet for a long, tense moment and then Michelle spoke. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I’m almost certain I am. Do you know anybody at the college who’d know if Tim really did get the job?”

  “Someone besides Tim, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not really, unless…” Michelle paused, and then she smiled. “Let’s ask Mother to ask her friend, Nancy.”

  “Good idea! Dr. Nancy might know, and if she doesn’t, she can find out.”

  “I’ll ask Mother to call her and get right back to you. But even if Tim didn’t get the job, he’s really not the kind to…” Michelle stopped speaking and gave a little sigh. “I keep forgetting.”

  “What?” Hannah ask
ed her.

  “I keep forgetting what you told me after you caught Larry Jaeger’s killer. That almost everyone is capable of murder under just the right circumstances.”

  When Hannah and Michelle got to The Cookie Jar, they found Lisa hard at work with Marge and Patsy. The first baker’s rack was already filled with baked cookies, and more were coming out of the ovens.

  “You should have slept a lot later, Hannah,” Lisa chided her. “We’ve got everything under control here.”

  “But I had to get here before you opened so I could tell you about finding the body, and you could embellish it to thrill our customers.”

  Lisa laughed as she handed Hannah a cup of coffee from the kitchen coffee pot. “I was going to make the whole thing up, but it’s better if part of it’s true. Herb wants to talk to you first, though. He’s in the coffee shop having a cup of coffee. Just go on in and I’ll join you in a couple of minutes.”

  Hannah took a deep breath and pushed through the swinging door to the coffee shop. The first sight that met her eyes was a reflection of the eastern sky in the plate glass window of Lake Eden Realty across the street. The sky was a dim blue glow that was only slightly lighter than the darkness that framed the window. Hannah knew that the blue glow would soon lighten to violet, and then to pink. A few moments later it would take on a yellow tone, and finally it would graduate to a golden expanse of brilliance as the sun rose.

  “Hannah?” a voice called her from the back table.

  “Hello, Herb.” Hannah carried her coffee cup to the table and sat down. “I hope you didn’t have a bad night because of me.”

  “I sure wish I hadn’t overheard that conversation,” Herb said. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not going to say a word about it to anybody, and that includes Lisa and the authorities.”

  Hannah reached out to pat his hand. “Thanks, Herb. I already told Mike all about it, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone else. It’s…well…it’s embarrassing.”

  “We’ve all got embarrassing things in our past,” Herb said, giving her hand a little squeeze. “There are a couple of things that happened to me way back when that I’d rather Lisa wouldn’t know about.”