“But do you really want to talk about it?”
“Of course I don’t, but I’ve always told you exactly what happened when I found a murder victim. This time I didn’t find Ross first, but I was there later and I can describe the murder scene for you.”
“You mean you actually saw him?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone tried to keep me back, but I barged past them.”
Lisa shivered. “It must have been awful!”
“It was.”
“Are you absolutely sure you want to tell me about it?” Lisa asked, and when Hannah nodded, she asked another question. “Do you think it might help you to talk about it?”
“Maybe,” Hannah said, even though she really didn’t believe that describing what she’d found in her master bedroom would help her in the slightest.
“Okay then.” Lisa gave a little sigh. “What happened when you got home to the condo, Hannah?”
With Lisa listening attentively, Hannah described how Norman had found Moishe under the stairs and how frightened he’d been, how Delores had tried to keep her from going up the stairs, and what she’d found when she’d pushed past everyone who wanted to stop her. That was when a completely unexpected event happened.
“What is it?” Lisa asked, noticing the startled expression on Hannah’s face.
“I didn’t think describing things to you would help, but . . . it did! I always thought that was psychological nonsense, but talking to you about what I saw is . . .” Hannah stopped speaking, not sure how to describe what she was feeling.
“Is it defusing it for you?” Lisa suggested.
“Yes. Everyone kept trying to get me to talk about it last night, but I didn’t want to.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
Hannah decided to change the subject by asking the question that was uppermost in her mind. “When are you going to start telling the story?”
“I usually start about ten in the morning. Do you want me to give you a heads-up so you can put in ear plugs or something?”
Hannah laughed. “No, I’ll be all right. I’ll be busy baking so we can keep up with everyone who comes in to hear you.”
“Are you really sure that you want me to do this, Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Is there anything else I can do . . . ?”
“I don’t think there’s . . . wait! There is one thing you can do.”
“What’s that?”
“When Grandma Knudson comes in, let her listen to your story once and then ask her if she’ll come back to the kitchen. There’s something I want to ask her.”
*
Hannah had just finished filling the bakers rack with freshly-baked Butterscotch Chocolate Bar Cookies when she heard an authoritative knock on the back kitchen door. She rolled the bakers rack back into place by the wall, went to the door, and stopped with her hand on the knob to open it. She’d recognized the knock and she was sure it was Mike, but she looked through the peephole anyway. She was right. Mike was standing there outside the back door.
“Come in, Mike,” she said loudly enough so that he could hear it, and only then did she unlock the door and open it.
“Good girl!” Mike said, entering the kitchen and stomping the snow off his boots on the shag rug that Hannah kept there for that purpose. “I’m really glad you’re using the peephole.”
Hannah had all she could do not to laugh. When Mike had said, Good girl! it had been in the same tone of voice he would use to train a young puppy to sit or heel. “I think looking through the peephole is becoming a habit with me,” she told him.
“That’s excellent,” he said and this time it wasn’t in his puppy training voice. “Just keep doing it every time and it’ll become second nature to you.”
“I’m surprised to see you, Mike,” Hannah said, heading to the kitchen coffeepot to pour him a cup. She set it down in front of him and took her own seat at the work station. “Since I wasn’t the one who discovered Ross’s body and you and Lonnie were, you don’t really need my statement, do you?”
“No, and that’s not why I’m here.”
Hannah waited while Mike took a sip of his coffee. “You don’t have any cookies to go with this, do you, Hannah?”
Hannah’s sense of humor kicked in and she began to laugh. “Of course I do. This is a bakery, remember?”
“I know that, but you only got here twenty-five minutes ago. You didn’t have time to bake yet, did you?”
Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall. Mike was right. She’d walked in the door with Michelle exactly twenty-five minutes ago. “How do you know when I got here?”
“I was parked at the other end of the alley.”
“You’re surveilling me?”
Mike shook his head. “No, of course not. I just wanted to give you time to get settled before I came in.”
Hannah noticed that Mike still looked uncomfortable. “Why did you want me settled in?” she asked him. “Is there something you want to tell me about the murder case?”
“No, I just need to assure you that I’ll do everything in my power to catch whoever did this to Ross.”
Hannah was surprised that Mike thought she needed reassurance on that point. “I know you will, Mike. You’re a very good detective.”
“Thanks, but this is a little different. This time we won’t be comparing notes like we usually do.”
You mean you won’t be pumping me for information? Hannah’s suspicious mind prompted her, but Hannah bit back the urge to ask that question.
“I mean that this time, of course, you won’t be . . . uh . . . actively involved.”
“I won’t?”
Mike began to frown. “No, you won’t. You’re too close to this situation, Hannah. You can’t be objective.”
“No, but I’ve never been objective,” Hannah retorted, feeling her ire begin to rise. “I wouldn’t get involved at all if I didn’t care about the victim.”
“But Ross hurt you. He betrayed you, Hannah. The guy was a liar and louse!”
Hannah began to smile. “And you’re claiming that you’re objective after saying something like that?”
“Well . . . no. Not entirely. But I know how to curb my emotions and conduct myself in a rational manner.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You’re not trained to do anything like that. Besides . . .” Mike looked as if he wished he hadn’t started this conversation, but he continued it anyway. “You don’t owe Ross anything, Hannah. Ross treated you like dirt. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d killed him yourself!”
“Does that mean that I’m a suspect?” Hannah asked, even though she knew she wasn’t.
“No! Not at all! You were with Norman and he’s corroborated that. It’s just that you don’t have to help to catch Ross’s killer. There’s no reason for you to do that for him.”
“Well, I’m going to investigate anyway and I’m not doing it for Ross. I’m doing it for me!”
Mike stared at her for a moment and then he gave a resigned sigh. “I knew nothing I could say would do any good,” he said in such a sorrowful tone that Hannah came close to feeling a bit sorry for him. “I wish you wouldn’t get involved, Hannah. I just wish you’d . . . go on vacation or something. Go somewhere else and try to forget you ever met the guy.”
Hannah knew that Mike was only trying to help her, but she held firm. “Thanks, Mike, but I have to stay here. I can’t go off to Aruba, or somewhere when I don’t know who killed Ross and why he was murdered. I have to help you find out and I have to do it for myself.”
Mike thought about that for a moment and then he sighed again. “All right. I guess there’s nothing I can say to change your mind.”
“That’s right. So are we going to work together? Or will I be forced to leave you in the dust?”
The silence between them was much longer this time, but finally Mike nodded. “My dad used to say that if you can’t beat ’em, you might as well join ’em.”
“Your father was a wise man,” Hannah said, getting up from her stool to freshen Mike’s coffee and fill a plate with cookies. “Here you go,” she said, setting the plate in front of him. “I don’t suppose you have the autopsy report in yet.”