seen Boyd being very solicitous of Danielle when they’d attended public functions.
“Maryann doesn’t know, does she?” Mike asked.
“No.” Hannah knew exactly what he meant. “She wouldn’t believe that her brother was a wife beater unless you showed her proof. And if you did that, she’d tell everyone that Danielle had done something to bring it on.”
“It’s a sick world.”
“Not all of it.” Hannah shook her head. “There are some really good people out there. You’re at a disadvantage because you’re a cop. You don’t get to deal with the good ones very often.”
Mike turned to look at her, then started to smile. “You’re just what I need, Hannah. You’re an optimist.”
“Maybe.” Hannah smiled back. “Right now I’m optimistic that there’s one of those candy bars left.”
Mike glanced down at the sack on the table and crunched it down with his hand. “You were too optimistic. I just ate the last one.”
“Oh, well.” Hannah sighed, and then she had an idea. “Why don’t we finish this tape and drive out to the Corner Tavern? They’ve got great steak and eggs, and they’re open all night. I’ll even pay for your breakfast for saving me from that hungry bear.”
“Sounds good. I haven’t been treated to breakfast by a beautiful woman in years. If you keep this up, you might make an optimist out of me yet.”
* * *
“You’re right.” Mike cut off a slice of his steak and eyed it with satisfaction. “They do a great steak here. It’s cooked just the way I ordered it.”
Hannah glanced down at the hunk of meat on his fork and snapped her mouth shut. How anyone could eat well-done beef was beyond her. Her steak was blood rare, just the way she liked it. She’d given her order the standard way, Thirty seconds on one side, thirty seconds on the other side and slap it on the plate. If you can’t do that, bring it to me raw with a book of matches.
“We need to talk, Mike,” Hannah told him, dipping the corner of her toast into the egg yolk on her plate. “I know some things about your case.”
Mike swallowed and his eyebrows shot up. “More than you told me in the squad car?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to accuse me of meddling.”
Mike thought about it for a minute. “Okay. I won’t mention the word. What is it?”
“It’s not it. It’s a whole series of things. Let’s finish breakfasts before our eggs get cold, and I’ll tell you everything I think you should know.”
Mike dropped his fork and stared at her. “You’ll tell me everything you think I should know?”
“Right. Some of it’s confidential and doesn’t have anything to do with the murders. You’ll just have to trust me on that. Is it a deal?”
Mike picked up his fork and stabbed another piece of steak with more force than he needed. He thought about it for a moment as he chewed and swallowed, then sighed. “Okay, Hannah. I can’t say I like it, but it’s a deal.”
Chapter Twenty-two
When the alarm clock went off at six the next morning, Hannah rolled over and shut it off. She performed that act by feel, not even bothering to open her eyes. Then she rolled over again, pulled up the covers to her chin, and went back to sleep.
A bit later, Hannah became aware of something tapping her cheek. She happened to be dreaming of homicidal woodpeckers at the time, a huge flock of redheaded birds who were swarming around Lucy’s garage, pecking at the door to get inside. She startled awake, her arms flailing to ward off their needle-sharp beaks and managed to upend Moishe, who had been trying to wake her by batting at her face. He yowled at her rude response to his efforts, leaped to the table by the side of the bed, and stood there staring at her accusingly.
“Sorry, Moishe,” Hannah mumbled, sitting upright. She glanced at the clock and made a face. Six-thirty. She’d overslept. Someone ought to pass a law to make mornings illegal.
Twenty minutes later, Hannah was sitting at the kitchen table, showered, dressed, and on her second cup of coffee. Moishe had forgiven her for strong-arming him the moment after she’d filled his food bowl. Now he was crunching his breakfast and purring loudly.
Hannah glanced out the window. It was ten minutes to seven, and the sky was as dark as night. They were closing in on the shortest day of the year. On December 21, the sun would shine for less than nine hours, and most Lake Eden residents would drive to and from work with their headlights on.
Sitting here thinking about day and night in the northern hemisphere wouldn’t accomplish much. Hannah drank the rest of her coffee and pushed back her chair. It was time to get to work, figure out what she wanted to bake on camera tonight, and call Andrea to cue her in on what she’d told Mike last night at the Corner Tavern.
Hannah got into her parka, grabbed her car keys and her garbage, and groaned as the phone rang. Delores. Should she answer it, or pretend she’d already left? Of course it could be Mike. Or Bill. Or any of a hundred other people. Hannah stood there and listened as the answering machine picked up.
The outgoing message played, and she heard her mother’s voice. “Hannah? Pick up if you’re still there. I’ve got something important to tell you about The Gulls.”
Hannah raced for the phone. The Gulls were Jordan High’s basketball team, and there was a chance that Delores might have heard something about the player who used steroids.
“I’m here, Mother.” Hannah shrugged out of her parka and tossed it over the back of a chair. Delores didn’t know to have a short conversation. If she wore her coat for the entire call, she’d drop from heat exhaustion. “What about The Gulls?”
“It’s what Mason Kimball did. Isn’t he a wonderful man?”
“I guess so.” Hannah collected her coffee cup from the sink and filled it with the last from the carafe. It would take a while to get any pertinent facts from her mother. “What did Mason do?”
“I know you don’t have much time, so I’ll make it fast,” Delores promised.
“Thanks, Mother,” Hannah said, instead of Oh, sure. Fat chance.
“Carrie and I drove out to the inn for the party last night, and while we were there, we ran into Mason. Sally certainly does a nice buffet, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. What about Mason?”
“He was talking about The Gulls and how upset the boys were, now they’d lost their coach. Gil Surma is filling in temporarily, but he admits he doesn’t know that much about basketball. You know Gil, don’t you, dear?”
Hannah took a big gulp of her coffee. “Yes, I know him. What else did Mason say?”
“He told us that he arranged for a professional basketball coach to take over until the school could hire someone new.”
“Really?” Hannah was surprised. “I didn’t know the school had a budget for things like that.”
“They don’t. That’s why I said that Mason was such a nice man. He’s paying for the coach out of his own pocket.”
“That’s very generous.” Hannah thought about it for a moment, then she began to frown. “Why would Mason do something like that?”
“Because he has a real interest in Jordan High’s basketball program. His son plays for The Gulls. You know Craig Kimball, don’t you, dear?”
It took Hannah a moment, but then she placed him. Craig had come into The Cookie Jar a couple of times to pick up cookies for the team. “Sure, I know him. He seems like a good kid.”
“He is. Mason said Craig took Coach Watson’s death hard. And he’s very concerned about the college recruiters that are coming to watch the game with the Little Falls Flyers next weekend. Craig was afraid that Gil might make strategic mistakes, and that’s why Mason hired a professional coach to take over the team.”
Hannah started to smile. She finally had most of the picture. “Craig’s up for an athletic scholarship, and Mason wants him to look good on the court?”
“That’s what I said, dear.”
Hannah started to grin. Delores hadn’t said that, but she might have if Hannah had given her another twenty minutes or so. “Is Craig a good player?”
“He is now. Craig sat on the bench for most of last year, but he’s improved a lot since then. This year he’s
