Apple Turnover Murder (Hannah Swensen, #13)(65)

Several slaps and two brushes with the palm of her hand, and she arrived at the door. Her finger was poised to ring the bell, when her logical mind spoke again.

You’re not thinking this through, Hannah. Doc could be there with your mother. What if they’re on the couch, and …

“Shut up!” Hannah yelled. But before she could press the doorbell, the porch light went on, and the door opened.

“Hannah?’ Delores stared at her daughter in complete confusion. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one, Mother.”

“But I heard you tell someone to be quiet.”

Hannah smiled. Delores wouldn’t use the phrase shut up even to repeat what her daughter had actually said. There was no way she wanted to tell her mother that she’d been having an argument with herself, so she settled for the first excuse that popped into her mind. “I was just talking on my cell phone.”

“And you told the person on the other end of the line to … to be quiet?”

“Yes. It was a telemarketer. Is it okay if I come in for a couple of minutes?”

“Of course.” Delores stepped back so Hannah could enter, and then she led her into the living room. “Would you like coffee?” she asked.

“Only if it’s made.”

“It is. Doc just left a few minutes ago and I still have half a pot. Just sit for a minute and I’ll get it.”

Hannah sat. And then she had a completely silent, no-holds-barred conversation with her logical mind. By the time Delores came in with a tray from the kitchen, Hannah had thoroughly cowed the logical part of her brain and elicited a promise never to interfere in her life again … unless she called on it, of course.

“Have a cookie, dear,” Delores said, serving Hannah’s coffee and cookie. “Florence is carrying a new brand at the Red Owl and I think they’re better than the cookies I used to buy.”

“They look good,” Hannah said, looking down at the perfectly round, perfectly baked cookie. “Oatmeal-cranberry?”

“Yes, but with coconut. They’re nice and moist, and chewy. You don’t make anything like that, do you, dear?”

“No.” Hannah took a sip of her coffee. It was time to address the reason she’d come to her mother’s house. “Did Nancy call you?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid it’s bad news for poor Mr. Pearson.”

“He didn’t get the job?”

“No, dear. Nancy talked to John Sidwell. He’s the head of the English department. He was quite forthcoming when she asked him about the meeting of the selection committee.”

Hannah took another sip of her coffee. It wasn’t very good and she made a mental note to get her mother some from the Cookie Jar. “What did Professor Sidwell tell Nancy about it?”

“He said he was upset at the way things had gone, because the other four members of the committee were swayed by Professor Ramsey’s recommendation.”

“But I thought he was recommending Tim Pearson.”

“That’s what John thought, but Professor Ramsey changed his mind at the last minute. He told the committee that he’d found a much better candidate and that he thought they should hire his other research assistant, Tiffany Barkley.”

Let me guess, Hannah thought. Tiffany Barkley is young, gorgeous, and willing to get personal with her boss. “So they hired Tiffany instead of Tim?” Hannah asked.

“That’s right. Professor Sidwell was the only one to vote for Mr. Pearson. Nancy said he was really upset. He told her that he thought the committee had been swayed entirely by Professor Ramsey’s recommendation, and he didn’t think that recommendation was based entirely on academic qualifications.”

“I understand,” Hannah said. It was clear to her that Professor Sidwell had known Bradford quite well.

“Try the cookie, dear. Tell me what you think.”

Hannah took another swallow of coffee and bit into the cookie. It wasn’t wonderful, but she did admire the texture. The oatmeal cranberry cookies they baked at The Cookie Jar were crisp and they didn’t have coconut. This cookie was soft. Perhaps their customers would like a cookie with a texture like this.

“I like the texture a lot,” she said. “I think I’ll try to make something that’s as soft and chewy as this.”

“Wonderful! I’ll be happy to taste test them for you. Will you try to bake them tonight?”

“Perhaps,” Hannah said. She’d gotten very little sleep, but she wasn’t all that tired.

“Nancy told me that the results of the selection committee were made public late Wednesday afternoon,” Delores said, answering the question Hannah had been about to ask. “Professor Sidwell told Nancy that he called Mr. Pearson personally to give him the news and tell him that he didn’t agree with the decision of the committee.”

“Did he tell Tim that Professor Ramsey had changed his mind and recommended Tiffany Barkley for the job?”

“Yes. Nancy mentioned that specifically.” Delores took a sip of coffee and looked at Hannah over the rim of the cup. “Does this help, dear?”

“Very much, Mother.”

“Does this mean that Mr. Pearson is a suspect in Professor Ramsey’s murder?”

“Oh, yes.” Hannah took her steno pad out of her purse and retrieved a pen from the outside pocket. She made a note, and then she looked up at her mother. “Is it all right if I call Nancy to see if she has any other information?”