Plum Pudding Murder. Joanne Fluke

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СКАЧАТЬ to the hallway. Her mother was waiting and Hannah had just about reached her when she caught sight of a vaguely familiar figure racing toward them from the other end of the hall.

      The man glanced at his watch as he sped forward. It was clear he didn’t notice Delores and Hannah standing there, and he struck Hannah’s arm as he ran past, knocking her notebook from her hand and sending it flying across the hallway. He stopped and turned back, and then he retrieved her notebook and handed it back to her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m late for class, but that’s no excuse. I should have been more careful. Are you all right?”

      Hannah stared up at him and her breath caught in her throat. She must be imagining things. It couldn’t be. She opened her mouth to assure him that she was fine, but no words came out.

      “Don’t worry. She’s fine,” Delores said, stepping into the breach. And then she turned to Hannah. “Aren’t you, dear?”

      It was like pulling teeth, but Hannah managed to croak out one word. “Fine,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound at all like hers.

      “As long as you’re okay, I’d better go,” the man said. “My students are probably waiting for me.”

      “What do you teach?” Delores asked, picking up the conversational ball since Hannah was perfectly silent.

      “Poetry, but I’m part of a team that’s here from Macalester. We’re putting together an intercollegiate event called the Christmas Follies.”

      “That sounds wonderful!” Delores exclaimed. “Will the show be open to the public?”

      “Yes, and it’s also being televised. It should be quite a production with talent from five different colleges.” The man turned to Hannah. “Excuse me, but you look so familiar. Have we met before?”

      As she looked up into the dark blue eyes she’d once described as marvelous and soul-searching, Hannah wanted to die. She prayed that the floor beneath her feet would disappear, dropping her all the way down to the basement so that she could hide in the darkest corner. It was achingly clear that he didn’t remember. And he should!

      “Hannah?” Delores prompted, and even without looking, Hannah knew her mother was regarding her curiously.

      “Yes, we’ve met,” Hannah said in a voice that was amazingly steady considering the circumstances. Then she took her mother’s arm and pulled her down the hall, not looking back to see if he had continued on his way.

      “Hannah!” Delores chided her in a whisper that seemed far too loud to Hannah. “You were rude to that nice young professor.”

      “Yes,” Hannah admitted. There was no arguing with her mother’s assessment.

      “I don’t understand.”

      “I know you don’t, Mother.”

      Mother and daughter walked on until Delores stopped at a classroom door. “This is it,” she said, glancing at her watch. “We have one minute before we’re late. Who was that man, Hannah?”

      “Someone I once thought I knew. Let’s go in, Mother.”

      “Not quite yet.” Delores grabbed Hannah’s arm. “Why did you act as if you could hardly wait to get away from him?”

      “You don’t want to know.”

      “But I do! Was he the man you told me about, the reason you left college?”

      Hannah drew a deep breath. A small part of her wanted to confide in her mother, but no good would be served by recounting the story of her failed and foolish romance. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said firmly, opening the door and ushering her mother into the classroom.

      Time had never passed so slowly. Some said that at the instant of a man’s death, his whole life passed before his eyes. This was just the opposite. Hannah had never seen the minute hand move so slowly. After watching the clock for what seemed like three hours and was actually four minutes, Hannah took notes just for something to do as Miss Kimberly Whiting, CPA, droned on and on about profit and loss statements, the proper way to invoice, and the essentials of sales tax record-keeping. The information was dispensed fast and heavy with no break for questions until the dot of seven twenty-five when Miss Whiting stopped speaking and picked up the folder she’d placed on the podium.

      “It’s time for bad business practices,” she said, and even those class members who’d been dozing sat up straight in their chairs. “Tonight’s example concerns a large screen television dealership.”

      Hannah listened as their teacher went on to describe the four-man partnership. Three invested equal amounts of money and the fourth invested his time and expertise by actually running the business. There were handouts showing profit and loss statements, tax returns, copies of bank statements, and payroll rosters. Their assignment was to figure out how the dealership had managed to stay in business for more than five months despite selling television sets for less than cost.

      As they filed out of class, Hannah found herself dreading the ride home. Delores was bound to ask more questions about Bradford Ramsey and she’d been perfectly honest when she’d said that she didn’t want to talk about it.

      They’d descended the staircase and were walking past the classrooms on the first floor when Hannah spotted someone she thought she knew. “Is that Dr. Love?” she asked her mother.

      “Yes, but she’s Dr. Schmidt out here,” Delores said, poking her head in the open door and waving.

      “Hello, Delores!” Dr. Love sounded very glad to see them. “And Hannah. I haven’t seen you since your mother’s book launch party. How have you been?”

      “Just fine, Dr. Schmidt.”

      “Call me Nancy.” Dr. Love gave her a warm smile and then she turned to Delores. “I’ve been meaning to call you. I’m redecorating my office here on campus and I was wondering if you could find me an old-fashioned glass-door bookcase.”

      “This is your lucky day!” Delores said with a laugh. “My assistant, Luanne, just came back from an estate sale at the home of a prominent lawyer in St. Paul. She bought a pair of gorgeous bookcases in walnut with leaded glass doors on each shelf.”

      “The type of doors that pull up and then slide in?”

      “That’s right. Would you like to drop by to see them?”

      “I would. They sound perfect. How about tomorrow around noon? I have to run out to the station at ten to do some voice-overs, but I should be through in a couple of hours.”

      “I’ll have the coffee pot on for you,” Delores said, turning to go. “Black with two sugars?”

      “Perfect.” Dr. Love turned to Hannah. “It was good to see you again, Hannah.”

      “Nice to see you, too,” Hannah said, and then she followed her mother down the hall to the exit.

      Once they stepped out of the building, the cold hit them so hard it took their breath away. While they were in class, an icy wind had begun to blow from the north. Both Hannah and her mother held their gloved hands over their mouths and noses as they walked directly СКАЧАТЬ