“Did you happen to notice if she stayed in the lobby for the entire intermission?”
“Yes, I did. Her outfit was so striking, I couldn’t help but glance at her every few minutes. It was a white lace suit and she looked marvelous. I asked her about it, and she said it was entirely handmade. I’m sure it must have cost a fortune!”
“Thank you, Mother,” Hannah said, now convinced that Stephanie had told them the truth. There was no way a clotheshorse like Stephanie Bascomb would stab Bradford while she was wearing an expensive white lace suit!
“Why did you want to know about Stephanie, dear?”
“I just needed to check her alibi.”
“Her…alibi? Then you must think she had some reason to kill Professor Ramsey! And the only reason I can think of that would make her do something like this is…” Delores gave a little chuckle. “Never mind, dear. I get the picture. Ricky-Ticky’s had his share of flirtations and I can’t say I blame Stephanie one bit.”
It was almost eleven by the time Hannah unlocked the door to her condo. Even though it was late, Moishe hurtled into her arms and she nuzzled him as she carried him in to the couch and gave him a salmon-shaped treat.
“Oh, good. You’re home,” Michelle said, coming out of the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Not really. I just had some at Mother’s.”
“That can turn you off coffee for life!” Michelle laughed, and then she must have realized what Hannah said because she asked, “What were you doing at Mother’s?”
“Finding out about your friend Tim Pearson. He didn’t get the job.”
“Oh, no! Does he know?”
“Professor Sidwell from the English department called to tell him on Wednesday afternoon. Bradford didn’t keep his promise about the recommendation.”
“That’s just awful, Hannah! Tim really wanted that job. He was going to get married this fall and Judy was already looking for a job here. I just don’t understand why Bradford didn’t recommend Tim when he said he would.”
“Professor Sidwell said he changed his mind and recommended Tiffany Barkley instead.”
Michelle looked dazed. “That’s ridiculous! Tiffany doesn’t have even half the qualifications that Tim does. I’ll bet Tim was steaming when he heard that, especially after he did all that work. He probably wanted to strangle Bradford.”
Hannah watched as Michelle’s mind replayed her own words, and their effect was reflected on her face. “No! I refuse to believe it!” she said. “He might have wanted to and I can’t blame him, but there’s no way Tim would actually kill Bradford!”
Hannah just sat there, waiting for Michelle to calm down. It took a minute or two before her breathing returned to normal and she leaned back in her chair again.
“You need to know where he was on Wednesday night…right?” Michelle asked.
“That would be helpful.”
“Okay, I’ll find out. But I’m almost certain that Tim didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Hannah took the steno pad that she used as a murder book out of her purse and flipped to the suspect page. “I’ll write your initials next to Tim’s name,” she said. “That means you’re going to investigate his alibi if he has one.”
“Right.” Michelle leaned closer as Hannah wrote the name of another suspect on her list. “Stephanie Bascomb?” she asked.
“Yes.” Hannah added her own initials next to Stephanie’s name. And then she crossed Stephanie off her list.
“Why did you cross her off?” Michelle asked.
“Her alibi checks out. Mother saw her in the lobby during the talent show intermission.”
“But…why did you write her down in the first place if you were going to just cross her out?”
“So I could feel as if I accomplished something tonight.”
Michelle gave a little laugh. “I must be tired, because that makes perfect sense to me.”
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
“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
“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
