Chapter Eight
“What would you like to drink, Mike?” Hannah held her breath as she waited for his answer. She really didn’t want to share the exquisite champagne Norman had given her, but she was a good hostess.
“That lemonade Norman has looks good. Do you have any more?”
“I sure do. I’ll get you a glass and be right back.”
Hannah was smiling as she went off to the kitchen. She felt a slight bit guilty for not telling Mike about the special champagne that Norman had brought, but she told herself that since he hadn’t asked for a bottle of his favorite beer when he knew she always had some in her refrigerator, that probably meant he was going back in to work and didn’t want to drink anything alcoholic. And that meant he would have refused the champagne even if she had offered it.
Rationalization, her mind chided her, but she ignored it as she filled a glass with ice and poured pink lemonade for Mike. She gave the timer a quick glance as she passed by on her way to the living room. Twenty minutes to go before the dessert came out of the oven. It should cool for at least ten minutes, so they would have a full half-hour to enjoy their salad, hotdish, and garlic bread.
“What did you have to tell me?” Mike asked Norman as Hannah set down his lemonade.
“Nothing until after dinner. I’m hungry.”
“That’s fine with me. I’m hungry and that hotdish smells great.”
Mike turned to give Hannah one of his devilishly handsome grins as she set his favorite hot sauce on the table. He’d once told her that her hair was exactly the same color as Slap Ya Mama hot sauce, and she still wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.
Hannah took a deep breath and did her best not to react to the grin that always made her a bit weak in the knees. She was Norman’s date for the evening, not his. But even though her mind was clear on her priorities, she still felt a rush of tingly sensation that ran all the way down to her toes. She busied herself dishing up the salad in the hope that it would distract her, but she still felt tingly as she ladled out the hotdish, passed the freshly grated parmesan cheese, and made sure both men had a piece of garlic bread.
“It’s a feast,” Mike said, grinning at her again. Hannah felt a second rush of sensation, but that ended quite abruptly when Mike reached for the bottle of hot sauce and shook it on without even tasting his hotdish first. Too bad you didn’t use jalapenos instead of green chilies, her mind commented and this time Hannah didn’t argue back. No internal dialogue was needed. She agreed perfectly.
Midway through the meal, the timer sounded and Hannah got up to take the Easy Fruit Pie out of the oven. She was just about to return to the living room when she heard Norman respond to something Mike had said.
“No way, Mike.” Norman sounded very emphatic. “Remember the time we were discussing a case at the table and how angry Hannah got at us?”
There was a moment of silence. Mike was obviously attempting to remember. “Oh, yeah. I remember now. It was something about how many pounds of pressure it would take to break a tooth. Hannah got pretty hot about that one.”
“Which is why we should wait for that kind of discussion until after dinner.”
“Right. If we talk about it now, she might not give us dessert. I could use something sweet after this meal. Boy, that hotdish was spicy!”
That’s because you used half a bottle of hot sauce on it, Hannah’s mind answered him. Maybe it’ll teach you to taste it first to see if it needs more spice.
Hannah was smiling as she carried in the dessert. Some people added salt without tasting and then complained because it was too salty. Mike did the same thing with hot sauce. Nothing would change him. He’d once told her that his father had done the same thing, and Hannah figured it must be a combination of both environment and genetics.
“Do you want some hot sauce, Mike?” Hannah asked him, smiling wickedly.
“On dessert? Are you kidding?!”
Mike looked shocked and Hannah laughed. “Of course I am. Unless, of course, we’re talking about those Jalapeno Brownies I made for you.”
“Oh, man! Those were so good!” Mike smacked his lips. “Do you suppose maybe this dessert would . . . ?”
“No!” Hannah cut off the question she knew was coming.
“There’s no chocolate in here so it wouldn’t be the same thing.” She paused for a second, glanced down the hallway, and warned, “Feet up!”
Both men were old hands at this game. They plucked their dessert dishes and coffee cups off the table almost simultaneously, and tucked their feet up just as the cats appeared. Hannah was a second late, but she managed to secure the coffee carafe and her own dessert dish in the nick of time.
Two rings around the table and the cats disappeared down the hallway again. Hannah heard a thud followed by a yowl and she knew that Moishe hadn’t managed to avoid the laundry hamper in her bedroom. There was a thump and a squeak of springs, and then another thump and a louder squeak of springs, as Cuddles and then Moishe landed on her mattress.
“You need a new innerspring,” Norman said.
“I know. I just haven’t gotten around to buying one yet. Actually, I need a whole new bed.”
“Get one of those airbeds,” Mike suggested. “They’re supposed to be really comfortable.”
Hannah looked at him in disbelief. “An air bed? With a cat?”
“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” Mike set his coffee cup back on the table and lowered his feet. “They’re on the bed now. We ought to be safe.”
Norman shook his head. “Better give it a minute or two. Cuddles was really wound up. Her eyes had that crazed kitty look.”
“But Moishe looked a little tired,” Mike said. “He might not want to chase her again.”
“That won’t stop Cuddles,” Hannah explained. “She’s an expert at getting him to chase her. I figure we’ve got about another ten, maybe fifteen seconds before . . . Feet up!”
Mike made a heroic effort and just barely managed to grab his coffee mug and dessert dish. His left foot almost got into a head-on crash with Cuddles, but she missed it, quite literally, by a whisker.
“Whew! That was close!” Mike glanced at the two cats, who were now splayed out on the rug, breathing hard. “I bow to your expertise,” he said to Hannah and Norman. “Is that it for this run?”
Norman snapped his fingers and Cuddles looked at him. “That’s it,” he said. “Her eyes are normal again. Kitty Crazies are over for now.”
Hannah glanced at their dessert bowls. Despite the two interruptions, both men had managed to finish their desserts. She dished up another helping for each of them and topped it with scoops from the carton of vanilla ice cream she’d rescued from the table.
For several minutes there was only the sound of spoons clinking against glass dessert bowls and an occasional sigh of contentment. When they were finished and the men had helped Hannah clear the table, they carried a fresh pot of coffee into the living room and Hannah declared that dinner was over.
“Okay,” Mike said, turning to Norman. “I know you went to consult with Doc about Barbara’s teeth. Tell me what you learned.”
To Hannah’s eyes, Norman looked sad and she hoped it wasn’t bad news. “Five broken teeth, one sheared off at the gum line. Doc and I had to do surgery to extract it.”
“Will she be all right?” Hannah was more concerned about Barbara than she was about the teeth.
“She’ll recover. The good part is that I took X-rays of Barbara’s teeth less than a month ago and that made it simple to extract them. The other good news is that I’ll be able to fill in the gaps with bridges just as soon as her gums heal.”
Mike looked confused. “I’m glad for Barbara, but why did you need to tell me this?”
“Because Barbara’s dental injuries weren’t entirely consistent with her fall. When we finished treating Barbara, Doc Knight and I went back to the Albion to examine the area where she landed.”
“And you found . . . ?” Hannah held her breath, waiting for Norman’s answer.
“We found nothing on the ground where she landed to account for the full extent of her dental injuries. The ground was soft and there was only one rock large enough to break a tooth.”
Hannah frowned. “If Barbara didn’t break her teeth when she landed, how did they get broken?”
“I know where you’re going with this,” Mike said. “You and Doc think that Barbara suffered a blow to the face right there on the roof.”
“More than one blow, if we’re right. Neither one of us believes that the dental trauma could have been accomplished by one blow.”
“How many blows?” Hannah asked, and just asking made her feel slightly sick. The thought of someone hitting Barbara in the face was horrible.
“We believe that there were at least three blows. That’s consistent with her facial damage and bruising, and also consistent with her dental trauma.”
“You mean . . .” Hannah stopped and took a deep breath. “You mean someone attacked Barbara while she was on the roof?”
“That’s exactly what we think. Everything stacks up that way. It was a big party and people were all over the hotel. It would have been relatively easy for someone to follow Barbara up to the rooftop garden without being noticed.”
“That’s true,” Mike said. “When we interviewed the guests, only one person remembers seeing Barbara and that was in one of the two-bedroom condos.”
“There’s only one elevator that goes up to the penthouse,” Hannah added. “Did anyone in the lobby see her getting into that?”
Mike shook his head, and then he turned to Norman. “Okay. I’m buying that theory except for one thing. We don’t think Barbara fell. We found some scuff marks at the point where she left the roof. But the trajectory of a fall puts her at a different spot than the one where she landed.”
“Then the person who attacked her also pushed her off the roof?” Hannah asked.
“No. That doesn’t add up either. The crime scene boys think Barbara jumped off the roof all by herself and now we know the reason why.”