Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1)(43)

The phone rang and Hannah reached out to answer it. “Hi, Bill. It’s about time.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Who else could it be? Mother never calls me this late and Andrea told me she was going to bed an hour ago. Did you find out anything new about Ron?”

“Not a thing.” Bill sounded depressed. “Ron had no known enemies, he didn’t owe any large amounts of money, and there were no deposits to his bank account that couldn’t be explained. I’ve got zilch.”

Hannah was quick to commiserate, “Me, too. I talked to the manager at the casino and I think we have to eliminate the bouncer as a suspect. His name is Alfred Redbird and you should check with the hospital. His wife had a baby that morning. If he was with her the whole time, he couldn’t have shot Ron.”

“Okay.” Bill sounded even more discouraged. “I’m fresh out of leads, Hannah. If we had a motive, we’d have something to go on, but we don’t even have that.”

Hannah’s eyes were drawn to the television screen. Klute was still playing and that gave her an idea. “Maybe we do have a motive. What if Ron saw something that morning, something that could incriminate his killer in some way? That might be why he was shot.”

“And Ron was murdered before he could implicate his killer in another crime?” Bill was silent for a long moment and Hannah knew he was thinking it over. “You could be right. But how do we find out what Ron saw?”

“I’ll go back to my source, the one with the pink lipstick. She can tell me if anything unusual happened that morning.”

“Okay.” There was another long silence and then Bill sighed. “Maybe you’d better warn her to be careful. If you’re right and she saw what Ron saw, the killer might come after her.”

“He won’t. I’m the only one who knows who she is and she’s sure that no one spotted her with Ron. If the killer wanted to murder her, he would have done it by now.”

“Maybe.”

Bill didn’t sound convinced and Hannah frowned. For Danielle’s sake she certainly hoped that she was right.

“You’ve been a big help, Hannah. By the way, did you know that your mother saw Ron pulling away from Norman’s dental office right before she went in for her appointment?”

“Norman told me about it. I questioned him, but he said that Ron was only in his chair for twenty minutes. He gave Ron a shot of Xylocaine for his cracked tooth and Ron was supposed to come back to get it fixed. I’ll get back to you as soon as I talk to my source. I’m sure she’ll be at the Woodleys’ party. And if you want to talk to Norman, he’ll be there, too.”

“Andrea told me that you were going to the party with Norman. Is it serious?”

“Serious? With Norman?”

“I was just teasing you, Hannah. I’ll see you at the party and we can compare notes.”

Hannah hung up and flicked off the television. She scooped up Moishe, carried him into the bedroom, and deposited him on the pillow she’d designated as his on the first night he’d spent in her condo. Then she went back for her wineglass and flicked off the lights, taking a seat in the old wing chair she’d placed in front of her bedroom window. The snow was still falling and it created lovely halos around the old-fashioned streetlights that lined the brick walkways between the units. It was a perfect winter scene, worthy of Currier and Ives. According to her college art professor, people who lived in warm climates loved winter scenes with their glittering expanses of unbroken snow and yellow light spilling out from the windows of snug, cozy homes. Minnesotans who bought scenic art usually avoided winter scenes. Hannah didn’t find that surprising. Minnesota winters were long. Why would they want to buy a painting that would constantly remind them of the bone-chilling cold, the heavy snow that had to be shoveled, and the necessity of dressing up in survival gear to do nothing more than take out the garbage?

Hannah had finished the last of her wine and was about to rouse herself to climb in under the covers when she noticed that one of the cars in the visitors’ parking lot was idling, its exhaust pipe sending up plumes of white against the dark night sky. Its headlights were off and that was odd, unless someone was taking a very long time to say goodbye to his date. She could see only one occupant, a bulky figure behind the wheel that she assumed was a man. As she watched, she saw a reflection glinting off two round lenses in front of his face. Binoculars? Or eyeglasses? Hannah couldn’t tell at this distance, but the fact that no one else was in the car made her nervous.

Hannah stared at the car, memorizing its shape. It was a small compact in a dark color, but it was parked too far away to identify the manufacturer. The roof looked lighter than the body, and Hannah assumed that it was covered with snow. This car had been parked for a while and the driver appeared to be watching her building.

There were only four units in her building. Phil and Sue Plotnik lived below her and there was no earthly reason why anyone would sit in a parked car to watch their place. Phil was home tonight. She’d seen his car in the garage when she’d driven in and she’d heard their new baby fussing softly as she’d climbed the stairs to her unit. Hannah’s other neighbors were equally unremarkable. Mrs. Canfield, an elderly widow, had the bottom unit next to the Plotniks. She lived on her husband’s retirement money and gave piano lessons during the week. Above her were Marguerite and Clara Hollenbeck, two middle-aged unmarried sisters who were very active at Redeemer Lutheran Church. As far as Hannah knew, there wasn’t a breath of gossip about them, except for the time they’d washed the altar cloths with a red blouse of Clara’s and they’d come out pink.