Mike took a cookie and bit into it. Then he sipped his coffee. “I have it,” he said at last. “What do you want to know?”
“The time of death,” Hannah said, hoping that her voice was as strong as she wanted it to be.
“Doc says between noon and five p.m.”
“What time did you get to my condo?”
“A little after three. The door was standing open so I knew right away that something was wrong.”
“And you noticed that Moishe was missing?”
Mike nodded. “At first I figured that he was under the bed, but when I looked, he wasn’t there. And since the closet was open, I could see that he wasn’t hiding in there either.”
Hannah shivered slightly, imagining the scene when Mike had arrived at her condo. “Did you look for Moishe?”
“Not right then. I couldn’t. I called Lonnie and when he got there, I sent him out to search for Moishe.”
“You didn’t go with him?”
“I couldn’t. I had to stay with . . .” Mike hesitated, and Hannah knew he was searching for words that would have less emotional impact than using Ross’s name. “I positioned myself at your bedroom doorway,” he continued, “and I called Doc from there. He got there in less than twenty minutes and your mother came, too.”
“But you didn’t let Mother come upstairs, did you?”
“No. Doc told her to stay outside and help Lonnie search for Moishe.”
Hannah thought about Mike standing guard at her bedroom doorway, waiting there for Lonnie and Doc to arrive. She had been in his position before, staying at the scene of a murder and waiting for Mike to arrive. She knew exactly how difficult it was to stay there, not touching anything that might turn out to be evidence, and doing nothing but thinking about what had happened to the victim.
“Don’t you ever wish you did something else like working at a desk job instead of what you do now?” she asked him.
“Sometimes. Murder scenes are always bad and some are worse than others. But after the coroner and the crime scene guys get there, I can start my real work.”
“Catching the murderer?”
“Yes. There’s real satisfaction when I solve a case and catch a killer.”
Hannah thought about that and she gave a little nod of agreement. “I understand perfectly. And I really hope we’re successful this time.”
“We will be. I won’t stop working until I get him. Or her.”
“Do you think the killer could be a woman?”
“Maybe. I never rule anything out.” Mike took another cookie and devoured it. “What else do you want to know from me, Hannah?”
“I’d like to know why my closet doors were open. I distinctly remember closing them before I left for work.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. One door was stuck and it wouldn’t close until I pulled out one of Moishe’s mouse toys that had gotten stuck in the track. I tossed it to him and he ran out to the living room to hide it there.”
“You don’t suppose Moishe could have . . .” Mike stopped speaking in mid-thought. “No, of course he couldn’t have pulled all those clothes and boxes out into the bedroom.”
“I knew what you were thinking and you’re right. Moishe couldn’t have done it, not if there were boxes pulled out on the floor. I had things that were packed in boxes, but the boxes were all on the top closet shelf.”
“Okay. If you’re sure you closed the closet doors, then either the victim or his killer was looking for something hidden in your closet. You didn’t leave any boxes of clothes on the bedroom floor, did you?”
“No. I always put things away when I leave the bedroom in the morning.”
“Then whoever it was assumed that something was hidden in your closet or in one of your dresser drawers. And whoever it was didn’t take the time to put anything back.” Mike frowned slightly. “You didn’t notice the mess on the carpet, Hannah?”
“I don’t remember if I did or not. The only thing I remember clearly was the bed. And . . . him. That’s all.”
“You’re sure?”
Even though she didn’t want to relive those painful moments, Hannah thought back to her first sight of the bedroom. “If I saw the things on the floor, my mind didn’t process it.”
“All right. Is there anything that you normally keep in your bedroom that either Ross or the killer might have wanted?”
“The money!” Hannah gasped, the answer hitting her squarely in her solar plexus. “I think someone was searching for the money! Remember when Doug told us he didn’t think Ross believed him when he claimed that he never kept the large amount of money that Ross wanted in the bank safe? That’s when Ross accused Doug of giving the money to me.”
“Exactly.” Mike reached out to give her a little pat on the back. “That was the first thing that occurred to me. It could have been the money, but it also could have been something else.”
“Like what?”
“Like something Ross left behind in your bedroom, something he needed to take with him when he left.”
“That makes sense,” Hannah said. “It could even be something he hid in my bedroom on purpose and he planned to come back for it later.”
“That’s possible, too. Did you clean out your closet, or reorganize it, or anything like that after Ross left?”
“No. I didn’t have the heart or the time to do that. And don’t forget that, at least at first, I expected him to come back any day. I just closed his side of the closet and didn’t even open it while he was gone, and then, when I realized that he probably wasn’t coming back, I felt so betrayed, I didn’t want to see anything that reminded me of him.”
“That’s understandable, Hannah. It was a very painful time for you. I felt that way on a smaller scale when my wife was killed. I didn’t want to look at her clothes and remember. It was over six months before I was able to pack them up and give them to charity.”
Mike looked so sad that Hannah knew she had to change the subject. “Do you think that I should go back to the condo and look to see if I notice anything that’s missing?”
“Eventually, yes. Right now your condo is still off-limits to everyone. The crime scene team is lifting fingerprints and it’s going to take them a while.”
Hannah gave a little groan. Her condo would be an absolute mess when the crime scene people got through. She’d gone through this once before when Connie Mac was killed in her walk-in cooler and she’d needed to run countless loads of baking pans, cookie sheets, and mixing bowls through her industrial dishwasher to make sure they were free of fingerprint powder.
“I know they leave a mess,” Mike said, accurately reading her thoughts. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that. They have to be thorough, and they may find something that’ll help to catch the killer.”
“I know. It’s okay, Mike. Do you have a crime scene photo of my closet, one that doesn’t show . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and took a deep, calming breath. “. . . that doesn’t show . . . him?”
“Yes, I’ve got one,” Mike said. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a photo, and handed it to her. “Here. It doesn’t show anything else, Hannah. I won’t give you those.”
“You don’t have to. I remember.” Hannah took the photo from Mike and studied it. “The boxes on the floor were on the top shelf when I left for work in the morning. Whoever did this pulled them down, took off the lids, and dumped them out. Then they pawed through the contents and just left them on the floor. Ross must have done it. It couldn’t have been the killer.”
“Why not?”
“Because Ross was . . . shot, wasn’t he?” Hannah paused to take another deep breath. “And then the killer would have wanted to get out of my condo right after he shot him. He wouldn’t have taken the time to take down those boxes and dump them out. He’d be much more concerned about getting away before anyone realized that the noise they’d heard was a gunshot and they called the police.”
“Yes, Hannah, he was shot. You make a good point about the noise, but everything changes if the killer used a silencer.”
“Did he?”
Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s no way to tell by just looking.”