Apple Turnover Murder (Hannah Swensen, #13)(67)

“I didn’t wake you, did I, Hannah?”

It was Norman and Hannah had half a notion to hang up. He’d left her high and dry at Casino Night. But perhaps his cell phone summons had been a dental emergency. Right now, as she sprawled over the back of the couch holding the phone with the cord that was far too short and petting a cat who was purring louder than an outboard motor, some Lake Edenite with a numbed mouth had been relieved of his pain from a tooth that had broken off in an auto accident. “It’s okay. I’m still up,” she said.

“Good. I wasn’t sure if I should call, but I decided that I could leave the information on the answer machine if you didn’t pick up.”

“What information?”

“The name of the student that Professor Ramsey flunked. There was only one, and it was spectacular. A second-year student named Kyle Williamson flunked out of his Introduction to Poetry class.”

“Hold on,” Hannah said, setting the phone back down on the end table and walking around the couch to sit down and pick it up again. “What made this student’s failure so spectacular?”

“He got three percent correct on the midterm, and two percent on the final. His poetry project was late, and it received a “U” for “unsatisfactory.” There was also a note in his file that said he cut over three-quarters of the class sessions.”

“That is spectacular,” Hannah agreed. “Is this student still in school?”

“Yes. He’s got a three-point eight grade average. Professor Ramsey’s course is the only one he hasn’t completely aced.”

“But why? I mean … was there some sort of personal issue?”

“I don’t know, but I think we ought to find out. Do you want me to go out to the college tomorrow and talk to him?”

“That would be great. Do you think you can get him to tell you where he was on Wednesday night?”

“I’ll try. I’m really curious about him, especially since this sort of thing didn’t happen in any of his other classes. I want to find out what Professor Ramsey did or said to turn him off so completely.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

There was a long silence before Norman spoke again. “I think I might do better alone. From what I’ve read of his academic records and college application, he sounds like a loner. I can identify with that. You don’t mind if I go by myself, do you?”

“No. Of course not,” Hannah said. “Good luck tomorrow, and let me know what you find out.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” There was another long silence, and then Norman cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “Goodnight, Hannah. I do love you, you know.”

“I know,” Hannah said And then she hung up the phone. But she didn’t know, not really.

“Norman?” Michelle asked, coming into the living room in her robe and slippers.

“Yes. He’s going to go out and interview a student who flunked out of Bradford’s Introduction to Poetry class.”

“But Bradford never flunked anyone.” Michelle looked puzzled. “He was very proud of that fact. He said that poetry should be accessible to everyone and it was a reflection on him if any of his students didn’t develop an appreciation for the genre by the end of his introductory course.”

“Well, this student flunked,” Hannah said. “Norman looked up his grades on the computer.”

“What’s his name?”

“Kyle Williamson.”

Michelle sat down on the couch next to Hannah. “Kyle Williamson. That’s vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“Norman’s going out to talk to him tomorrow. Maybe he’ll come back with something that’ll jog your mem …” Hannah stopped speaking as the phone rang again.

“Do you want me to get it?” Michelle asked.

“I’m closer,” Hannah said, reaching out for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah.”

It was Mike. Hannah gave a fleeting thought to other women and how they seemed to receive calls at normal hours of the day and night. Someday, when she had a few minutes, she’d have to figure out why her boyfriends always called her in the hour before and the hour after the witching hour. “Hi, Mike,” she said, deciding not to address the issue right now.

“Will you be up for another forty-five minutes or so? I’m driving back from Fergus Falls, and I should be there by midnight. I just met with Professor Ramsey’s first wife and I wanted to run a couple of things past you.”

“I’ll put the coffee on,” Hannah said, not even considering the option of refusal. For the first time since they’d met, over two years ago, they were fairly close to working together. She wasn’t about to throw a wrench into the works.

“Let me guess,” Michelle said, after Hannah had hung up the phone. “Mike’s coming over.”

“Right. You can go to bed if you want to. I had a nap at the shop today, so I’m fine.”

“So am I. I had sleep instead of food during my lunch hour. Mother’s got a great four-poster up on the second floor and it’s very comfortable. I just hope she doesn’t sell it before we catch Bradford’s killer.”