Chapter Twenty-Three
“Thanks for dinner, Hannah,” Mike said, finishing his last forkful of Too Easy Hotdish. “It was great!Sometimes I feel like a freeloader because you always feed me. I’m going to have to take you out to dinner more often so I can pay you back.”
“It’s not about paybacks,” Hannah said, although she certainly wouldn’t mind going out to dinner more often. She reached out to refill Mike’s coffee cup from the carafe on the table and passed the plate of cookies left from the previous night.
Mike ate one cookie, took another to put down on a napkin, and pulled his notebook from his pocket. “I just finished meeting with Stacey Ramsey, Professor’s Ramsey’s first ex-wife. It turns out she had a very good reason to murder him.”
Hannah could barely believe her ears. She remembered Stacey as a tall, sylph-like girl with long brown hair, far too quiet and shy to ever commit murder. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Her parents were so impressed with Bradford, they wrote him into their will. He was to get half their estate, and Stacey would get the other half.”
“They must have been impressed!”
“It gets worse. Stacey’s parents were killed in an auto accident on Tuesday morning, and they never got around to changing their will after Bradford and Stacey divorced.”
“You’re telling me that Bradford was still in his first ex-in-law’s will?”
“That’s right. Bradford was all set to inherit half of Stacey’s parents’ assets. And according to the family lawyer, that amounted to several million dollars.”
“Several million which should have been Stacey’s alone.”
“Exactly.”
“Did Bradford know that Stacey’s parents had left him half of everything?”
“Yes. The family lawyer spoke to him on the phone Tuesday night. Bradford was supposed to drive to Fergus Falls on Thursday to sign all the documents.”
“But he was dead on Wednesday night, so the documents were never signed?”
“Right. You’re quick, Hannah.”
“Thank you. So what happens to the house and the land now?”
“Everything goes to Stacey since Professor Ramsey is dead. There was a provision in the will stating that if, at the time the will was formally read, either of the two beneficiaries had preceded the other in death, the living beneficiary would inherit the entire estate.”
“Do you think Stacey killed Bradford so that she could keep everything for herself?”
“That would be the logical conclusion, but it didn’t happen. Stacey has an iron clad alibi. She was riding in the backseat when her parents were killed, and she broke her shoulder. She didn’t get out of the hospital until this morning.”
“How about a new husband, or a boyfriend, or someone who wanted Bradford out of the picture?”
“Good thought, but there isn’t anybody.” Mike picked up his other cookie and took a bite. “How about you? Did you get anywhere?”
“Yes, and no. We discovered that Stephanie and Mayor Bascomb were suspects, but we cleared both of them.”
“Who’s we?”
“I don’t think you want to know that.”
Mike looked as if he might object, but then he shrugged. “Okay. Tell me why Mayor Bascomb and his wife were suspects.”
“Well … it’s like …” Hannah stopped and threw up her hands. “Actually, it’s better if you don’t know that, either.”
“But they both have alibis?”
“Oh yes,” Hannah said, happy that she could answer at least one of Mike’s questions. “Mother saw both of them in the lobby during intermission at the talent show. They were there for the whole time, and then they went back to their seats together.”
“Okay. How about any other suspects?”
“Norman’s checking into any students that Bradford flunked.”
“That’s really unlikely as a motive. Anything else?”
“Nothing important. Michelle knows one of Bradford’s research assistants, so she’s going to talk to him to see if he knows anything. How about you?”
“I talked to a couple of people who’d been at the luncheon on Wednesday afternoon. One of them said she saw Professor Ramsey getting into Samantha Summerfield’s car right after the luncheon was over.”
“Really?”
“I checked it out and her driver said he took them to Professor Ramsey’s apartment building. Then he waited in the parking lot for them to come out.”
Hannah didn’t ask. She just stared at Mike knowingly.
“Ten minutes,” Mike answered her unspoken question.
“Ten minutes?”
“That’s right. And when Miss Summerfield got back to the car, she wasn’t happy.”
“The driver could tell?”
“Anyone in the vicinity could tell. When Professor Ramsey turned to leave, Miss Summerfield rolled down her window and yelled, “Just stuff it, Brad! And if you even think about upstaging me tonight, I’ll bury you!”
“Do you think she was angry enough to kill him?”
“Possibly, but she didn’t have the opportunity. The driver said he waited for her at the back of the auditorium, and the moment the curtain came down on the first act, they hurried back out to the car. It wasn’t quite fast enough, because there were dozens of fans waiting for her. She got into the car, rolled down the window, and signed autographs for at least twenty minutes. I checked that out, and it’s true. And then the driver took Miss Summerfield back to Minneapolis.”
“I guess that clears her.”
Mike gave her a knowing grin. “But you still want to know what Professor Ramsey did to make her so mad, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Hannah admitted.
“Well, so did I, so I called and asked her.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she thought they were going to talk about the talent show, but Professor Ramsey told her he’d admired her from afar ever since he’d first seen her on television, and he’d written a poem for her. He read it aloud, and then he … well … you can probably guess what he tried to do.”
“I can guess.”
“She told me that it might have worked on a na?ve college freshman, but she wasn’t impressed with his line. She told him to get lost and marched right out of there.”
“Good for her!” Hannah said, wishing she’d done the same. But this was no time to indulge in regrets and recriminations. “Do you have any other suspects?”
“No, but I’m heading to Macalester in the morning to check out things there. Stella Parks is going to meet me on campus.”
Hannah remembered the Minneapolis detective with fondness. “Tell her hello from me,” she said.
“I will. Anything else I should know?”
“I don’t think so. If I think of anything, I’ll call.”
Mike stood up and headed to the door with Hannah following close behind. When he got there, he turned and asked, “How’s Norman?”
Hannah was ready to give her standard just fine answer, but Mike was Norman’s friend and she could tell he really wanted to know. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “Sometimes he seems just fine, but other times I know there’s something bothering him.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I wish he could tell me what it was.”
“Me, too,” Mike said. “Then maybe we could do something to help.”
They stood there quietly, looking at each other, until Hannah dropped her eyes. “Goodnight, Mike,” she said.
“Goodnight, Hannah.” Mike pulled open the door, but he didn’t step out immediately. First he touched her cheek very gently, with the tip of his finger. “Take care,” he said, giving her a smile. And then he turned and walked down the stairs.