Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder (Hannah Swensen #1)(67)

Hannah wasn’t about to tell Andrea how Moishe acted when he was hunting. She doubted that any small rodent or flightless bird would describe him as sweet. “I need to talk to you about Mr. Harris, Andrea. You said he was waiting at the Peterson property when you got there on Wednesday morning?”

“That’s right. I met him at nine-thirty, but he said he was there a lot earlier than that.” Andrea thought about it for a moment, and then her eyes widened. “Do you think he might have seen something?”

Hannah shrugged. “That depends on what time he got there. He didn’t tell you if he knew Max or Ron, did he?”

“No. He said he didn’t know anyone in—” Andrea stopped and stared at Hannah as the light dawned. “Do you think Mr. Harris killed Max and Ron?”

“The time frame works, but Mr. Harris doesn’t have a motive as far as we know. I’d certainly like to talk to him about it. You don’t happen to have his home phone number, do you?”

“Of course I do. I’m a real estate agent. I always carry my clients’ numbers with me. Just hand me my purse. I don’t want to disturb Moishe.”

Hannah walked over to get the purse from the chair near the door and handed it to Andrea. When her sister had opened it, Hannah admired the way the interior was organized. Andrea’s makeup was in a see-through pouch so that she could easily find the item she wanted, her keys were clipped to a leather strap, and her wallet was neatly stowed away in a leather holder on the side. There was even an inside pouch for the glasses that Andrea needed for reading, but refused to wear.

Andrea reached inside another pouch and drew out a small address book. She flipped to the proper page and handed it to Hannah. “Here it is. You’re not going to call him now, are you?”

“There’s no time like the present.”

“But it’s almost midnight. What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something.” Hannah grabbed the phone. “Relax, Andrea. I won’t mention your name.”

As she punched out the number, Hannah considered her options. Mr. Harris would be more likely to give her information if she had some sort of credential. She could say that she was a reporter with the Lake Eden Journal, but that might backfire. If Mr. Harris had anything to hide, he’d simply hang up on someone who said they worked for the town newspaper. As her call was connected, Hannah made a snap decision. Mr. Harris wouldn’t dare to hang up on the police.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end of the line sounded groggy, as if she’d awakened him, and Hannah did her best to sound official. “Mr. Harris? I’m sorry if I woke you, but this is Miss Swensen from the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Station. We’re investigating a crime that occurred at the Cozy Cow Dairy on Wednesday morning, sometime between six-fifteen and eight. We need to know if you happened to observe anything that could relate to the crime. I understand that you were in the area at that time?”

“Yes, I was. What happened?”

Hannah smiled. Mr. Harris sounded cooperative. “I can’t give you the details, but I need to know the time that you arrived in Lake Eden and what you saw while you were there.”

“Let me see. I got to Lake Eden about a quarter to seven and drove straight out to the Peterson farm. I did see one thing that was odd, but I’m not sure if it’s helpful.”

“Tell me anyway, Mr. Harris.” Hannah maintained her professional voice.

“As I approached the dairy, a car pulled out of the driveway. The driver was in a real hurry. He skidded over the centerline, and I had to swerve to avoid him.”

“You said he, Mr. Harris. The driver was a man?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t actually see him. The sun visor was down.”

“Very good.” Hannah grabbed the notebook and pen that were sitting on the coffee table and made a note. “Could you describe the car?”

“It was a small black compact with a rental sticker on the window. The sticker was white with red lettering, but I didn’t see the name of the company. I always use Hertz, myself. My company gets a special rate from them.”

“Then you don’t own a car, Mr. Harris?” Hannah winked at Andrea. Her question had nothing to do with the investigation, but she wanted to find out if he’d told Andrea the truth.

“I have a vintage Jaguar, but I prefer not to drive it out of the city. I’m certainly glad I didn’t drive it on Wednesday! That other driver came very close to hitting me. I just wish that Marshal Beeseman had been there to give him a ticket.”

Hannah’s eyebrows rose and she jotted another note. “You’re acquainted with Marshal Beeseman?”

“Yes. He saw my car parked in front of the Peterson place and drove up to ask me what I was doing there.”

Hannah wrote down Herb’s name. “What time was this, Mr. Harris?”

“A minute or so past eight. I was listening to the radio and the eight o’clock news had just started.”

“You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Harris.” Hannah turned to wink at Andrea before she asked her final question. “Perhaps this has nothing to do with our case, but could you tell me why you decided not to buy the Peterson property?”

For a moment Hannah thought that Mr. Harris would refuse to answer, but then he cleared his throat. “My fiancée said she wanted to live in the country, but she broke off our engagement on Tuesday night. That’s why I came to Lake Eden so early. I couldn’t sleep and I decided that driving might make me feel better. I suppose I should have told Mrs. Todd the reason that I passed on the house, but I really didn’t want to discuss it.”