Apple Turnover Murder (Hannah Swensen, #13)(38)

There was that maddening smile again, and this time Hannah blew up. “If you hurt Michelle, you’ll live to regret it!” she warned him. “Or better yet, you won’t live to regret it!”

Hannah paced the dressing room floor for several minutes before she was calm enough to change into her street clothes. Her friends and relatives were waiting for her to join them, but she was so angry at Bradford, she couldn’t seem to pull herself together. Thank goodness she had the luxury of time! The Amazing Herb had been the last act before a fifteen-minute intermission and everyone was milling around in the lobby of the Jordan High auditorium, drinking Silver Joe’s coffee from the freshly-ground beans that Hannah’s friend Pat had provided, and eating the apple turnovers that the assembly line at The Cookie Jar had made from Marge’s recipe.

If she hurried, she’d be able to join her sisters and De-lores in the lobby. There was only one more thing to do. Hannah made a knot in the bottom of the opaque plastic bag that covered the despised purple dress and carried it to the long pole that served as a temporary closet for costumes.

There were several items of clothing hanging on the pole. Hannah recognized the satin cape that the head majorette from the Little Falls Flyers had worn. Nestled next to it was a long pink scarf left there by a member of Kenny Kowalski’s All-Girl Accordion Band. The last item was a red and white shawl and she hadn’t seen any of tonight’s performers wearing that. Hannah hung the purple dress on the very end of the pole, draped the shawl over it, and hoped that no one would discover it until The Amazing Herb had retired.

She had just gathered up the rest of her things and was ready to leave when she had a dreadful thought. What if Bradford was waiting for her outside the dressing room door? It wasn’t that she was afraid of him. She knew how to defend herself. It was just that she wished to avoid any more confrontations with the man who’d made her last months at college a misery.

Hannah glanced up at the speakers mounted above the dressing room door. Right now the only sound they emitted was muted crowd noise from the lobby, but once intermission was over, she’d hear Bradford Ramsey welcome the audience back and introduce Perry, who would give a little talk about the Winnetka County Children’s Home. All Hannah had to do was wait until she heard Bradford’s voice and then hurry out of the dressing room while he was occupied onstage.

It seemed to take forever, but at last Hannah heard people begin to take their seats. Several more minutes passed, and she heard coughing, low murmuring, and rustling as those same people moved restlessly in their seats, impatient for the second half of the show to begin.

A few minutes more, and Hannah was just as impatient as the audience. Why wasn’t the show beginning? There must be some sort of delay. It was silly for her to hide out in the dressing room, hoping to avoid Bradford.

Hannah picked up her things, pulled open the door, and made her way past the obstacles backstage. She was about to turn toward the door that led to the hallway and the audience beyond, when she glanced onstage and saw Bradford Ramsey sitting in a tall director’s chair.

The stage lights were dimmed for intermission and there was very little illumination onstage. Hannah took a tentative step toward the chair. Yes, it was definitely Bradford. He must have fallen asleep, because he’d dropped a half-eaten apple turnover on the stage floor.

“Wake up! They’re waiting for you to start the show!” she ordered in her loudest whisper, but it had no effect on the sleeping professor. Hannah took a step closer and gave his shoulder a little shake. “Bradford? What’s wrong with you?”

There was no answer and she gave him another shake, much harder than the first. How could he sleep when the audience was waiting? But instead of jumping to his feet as she expected, Bradford tumbled sideways and his head hit the floor with a solid thump.

Uh-oh! Hannah didn’t need the little voice in her head to warn her that all was not well, and she fumbled in her purse for the little flashlight on her keychain. She flicked it on and aimed it directly at his face. Even accounting for the blue LED light that made everyone look ghastly, there was no doubt in Hannah’s mind. She’d wished him ill, but not quite this ill. Bradford Ramsey was stone cold dead.





Chapter Twelve


“You can go home, Hannah.” Mike walked over to the chair where she was sitting and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll come by later to take your statement.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, pushing back her chair so that she could stand up. Except that she couldn’t stand up. Her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her upright.

“Take my arm,” Mike said, and he lifted her to her feet. “You don’t look good, Hannah.”

Hannah pretended outrage. “That’s something you should never say to a lady!”

“You’re right. And I’m glad to see your mouth’s all right, even if your legs are still shaky.” Mike gave her a little hug. “All the same, I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive. Is Norman here?”

“No. Something came up and he’s not coming back until tomorrow.”

“Too bad. You could use some help. I’d better have someone take you home.”

“Michelle can drive my truck if you can find her. She said she was coming to the show.”

“She’s here. I spotted her a couple of minutes ago. I’ll have someone send her back here to you.”