"From what we hear, she was nasty to a lot of people," Andrea commented.
"Doesn't surprise me. But chickens come home to roost, you know?"
"That's what they say," Hannah agreed. "Do you think those chickens had any help from Ray?"
"No way!" Earl shook his head emphatically. "All Ray wanted to do was crawl home with his tail between his legs. I seen enough people in my life to know he wasn't the killer type. Besides, he was nowhere near here last night."
"Are you sure?" Hannah asked, not willing to rule out Connie Mac's driver solely on Earl's assessment of his character.
"Sure, I'm sure. After she fired him, I dropped him out at the Quick Stop so's he could catch the bus home."
"Do you know where he lives?" Andrea asked the next question.
"Can't say as I do. He lives with his folks, though. He told me that. Hope they weren't too mad at him for losing his job. From my way of thinking, it was the best thing that ever happened to him. A clean-looking kid like Ray's gonna get another job real fast."
"Clean-looking?" Hannah prompted.
"Dark hair cut short, a real nice smile, and a polite way of talking. He called me 'sir,' and hardly nobody does that. Said he wanted to go to college, but he had to work for a year first."
"He does sound nice," Hannah commented. "What time did you drop him off at the Quick Stop?"
"I got my next call at four-thirty, and that was right after I dropped him off." Earl's eyes narrowed and he stared at Hannah suspiciously. "You gonna go check to make sure Ray got on that bus, even after I told you he couldn't have killed her?"
Hannah hesitated. She didn't want to hurt Earl's feelings, but she wasn't going to lie, either.
Andrea stepped in. "I think we should go out there and check. If Hannah and I can prove that Ray got on that bus, the police won't have to bring him back here to question him.'
Earl thought it over for a minute. "That's a good idea. If the police drag Ray all the way back here, it would just about kill a sensitive kid like him. You girls go check. And tell Sean and Don I sent you."
Hannah stood in Sally's kitchen and watched as Bill and Mike carried in her cookie dough. There were thirty-five bowls, each covered with plastic wrap. The Winter Carnival guests wouldn't have to go hungry for cookies this afternoon.
Mike placed the bowl he was carrying on Sally's stainless-steel counter and turned to Bill. "Is that all?"
"I think so. I'll go back out and check."
"I really appreciate this, Bill," Hannah said, addressing her brother-in-law and pointedly ignoring Mike.
Mike's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything until Bill had gone back out to the cruiser. Then he turned to Hannah with a frown. "Come on, Hannah. I know how hard it is for you to be locked out of your shop, but I was just doing my job."
"Some job!" Hannah muttered, but she had to admit he had a point. Perhaps it was time to lighten up a little and see what information she could weasel out of him.
"I don't like it when you're mad at me. How long am I going to be in the doghouse, anyway?"
The note in Mike's voice made Hannah fight back a grin. He sounded like a petulant little boy who'd just been told he couldn't have dessert until he finished his vegetables.
"Was that a smile?"
"It was the ghost of a smile," Hannah admitted. "And speaking of ghosts. . ."
"I heard all about it from Sheriff Grant. He said he got a call from someone who thought we should put Ezekiel's ghost on our suspect list."
"Sheriff Grant didn't take that seriously, did he?"
"No, not at first. Then I pointed out that the killer could have started the ghost story as a diversion to throw us off the track."
Hannah was impressed. She hadn't thought of that angle. "Then you're going to investigate the ghost?"
"It sounds a little crazy when you put it like that, but yes. If we find the person who started the ghost story, it could lead us to the killer."
Hannah bit back the urge to tell Mike who'd written the ghost story and why, but he'd told her not to interfere with his investigation, so he could figure it out by himself. "Any news about Janie?"
"No. You're not trying to find her, are you?"
"No," Hannah said, and it was the truth. They hadn't even started their search for Janie yet. "Did Doc Knight tell you when Connie Mac was killed?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Mike looked suspicious, and Hannah knew she had to give him a reason that had nothing to do with her investigation. "I have a vested interest. She was killed in my pantry, and something like that doesn't happen every day."
"I guess it can't hurt to tell you. Doc said the murder weapon was a heavy, rounded object, and she was killed between ten and midnight."
"From ten to midnight," Hannah repeated, and then she began to frown. "I just thought of something. Connie Mac must have been in the habit of staying out all night."
Mike looked surprised at her comment. "What makes you think that?"
"Because her husband didn't report her missing when she didn't come back to their room last night."
"You're barking up the wrong tree, Hannah. Mr. MacIntyre got in late, and they have a suite with connecting bedrooms. When he didn't hear any sounds coming from her room, he assumed that she'd already gone to sleep. He didn't know that she wasn't there until we called him this morning."
Hannah didn't say what was running through her mind After the nasty mood Connie Mac had been in that afternoon, she couldn't blame Paul for not wanting to wake her. "Where was Paul MacIntyre last night?"
"Out at the Tri-County Mall, doing a walk-through of the kitchen boutique with the mall manager. After that, they went over all the paperwork to make sure everything was in order. Alan Carpenter was with him, and they both said they didn't get back here until after midnight."
"Then they're both in the clear, right?"
"They will be if their story checks out." Mike reached out and took Hannah's arm. "Did you know that Norman was at the Ezekiel Jordan House last night?"
"He told me. He also told me that he didn't notice anything wrong at The Cookie Jar when he left at nine."
"And you believed him?"
"Of course I did." Hannah pulled back slightly. She didn't like the turn their conversation was taking. "What are you getting at, Mike?"
"Something came up when we did interviews in the area this morning. We found out that Norman had a compelling reason to be angry with Mrs. MacIntyre."
Hannah took a giant step back and stared at Mike in shock. "You think Norman killed Connie Mac?"
"It's possible. I spoke to your mother and she said Mrs. MacIntyre was a royal pain when Norman photographed her. She didn't like any of the old-fashioned costumes, and it took all of your mother's tact to persuade her to wear one of them."
"My mother's tact? My mother doesn't have any tact! She's even worse than I am."
"Maybe, but she said Mrs. MacIntyre made Norman move all his equipment at least six times, and she was very condescending to him. Your mother thought Norman showed remarkable restraint, but she could tell that he was steaming. The way I see it, Norman's the type that suffers in silence. And then, long after the situation is over, he dwells on how ineffectual he was. It preys on his mind, you know. He thinks, I should have done this, I should have done that, but I just stood there and took it like a wimp. He gets more and more frustrated at his own inability to act until. . . wham! The whole thing explodes in an act of violence."
Hannah's mouth dropped open. Mike was spouting pop psychology like a talk-show host. She wanted to tell him to stuff it, but that would do Norman more harm than good. "But it doesn't track, Mike. You said that Connie Mac was killed between ten and midnight, and Norman left the Ezekiel Jordan house at nine."