Kurt's guarded expression disappeared. "I'd like to help Janie, but the last time I saw her was in the late afternoon. Our rooms are right next to each other, and I saw her leaving. Janie told me that Mrs. MacIntyre was having her portrait taken and she had to follow the limo to town."
"Your room is right next to Janie's?"
"That's right."
"And you were in your room last night?"
"That's what I said."
"Didn't you hear Janie when she came back to pack up her things?"
"No."
Hannah was puzzled. "But you must have heard something. Dresser drawers slamming, hangers rattling, suitcases bumping on the floor. . ."
"Uh . . ." Kurt began to look nervous. "Look, Miss Swensen. I was in my room last night, but I left around nine. I drove to Minneapolis to meet a friend, and I stayed overnight."
"Can your friend vouch for you?"
"Yes, but I don't want to bring my friend into it. If my boss finds out where I was last night, he'll fire me."
Hannah took one look at the stubborn set of Kurt's chin and decided it was time to play hardball. "The way I see it, you're in a lose-lose situation here. I know about the fight you had with Connie Mac and how she threatened to call your boss in the morning to have you fired. If I tell the police about that and I also tell them that you weren't in your room past nine last night, you'll be a murder suspect. How long do you think your job will last when you're suspected of killing Savory's biggest celebrity author?"
"I. . . I didn't think about that." Kurt's face turned pale.
"It doesn't have to be as bad as it sounds," Hannah told him. "I'm the only one who knows you weren't in your room last night, and I won't tell as long as you get your alibi to vouch for you. My lips are sealed if your story checks out."
"Okay." Kurt gave a resigned sigh. "I spent the night with Marcia, and her father owns Savory Press. She works there part-time, and he's death on intraoffice romance. He told Marcia that if she dated anyone on his staff, he'd fire the guy and send her off to finish college in Alaska."
Hannah whistled softly. "You do have a problem. Just get Marcia on the phone and let me talk to her. If she says that you were with her all night, I'll forget everything you told me."
Five minutes later, Hannah had all the information she needed. After assuring Marcia that she wouldn't blow the whistle on them, she hung up Kurt's cell phone and handed it back to him. "You're in the clear. But just to satisfy my curiosity, why was Connie Mac so mad at you?"
'I guess it can't hurt to tell you." Kurt hesitated and Hannah noticed that he looked highly embarrassed. "I refused to sleep with her."
Hannah could feel her mouth drop open, and she closed it before she looked like the village idiot.
"The last guy who had my job warned me that Mrs. Macintyre was sleeping around, but I thought that was just a rumor. And then she came on to me."
"What did you do?"
"What could I do? I love Marcia and there's no way I'd cheat on her, not even to keep my job. I tried to be diplomatic, but Mrs. MacIntyre didn't buy it. Right before she stomped off, she said she was going to call Marcia's father in the morning and have me fired."
"And that's why you drove to Minneapolis to see Marcia?"
"Marcia was wonderful about it. We decided that when the ax fell, we'd elope. She was willing to put college on hold so we could both work until I got established with another publishing firm."
"When did you find out that Connie Mac was dead?"
"Not until this morning. I drove back here early and got a couple hours of sleep. When I went down to breakfast, everybody was talking about it."
"Do you have any idea who killed her?"
Kurt shrugged. "Not really. Mrs. MacIntyre got to the top by climbing over a lot of other people. It could have been anybody she stepped on over the years."
Hannah thanked Kurt, assured him again that she wouldn't tell anyone about Marcia, and walked back out to her truck. It was only four-thirty in the afternoon, but night was falling and she switched on her headlights as she drove home to her condo. She'd eliminated some of her suspects without technically breaking her promise to Mike, but there were still a whole lot to go.
-17- When Hannah inserted her key in her condo door, she heard an irate yowl from inside. She immediately went into defense mode, dropping her shoulder bag so she wouldn't be encumbered, and zipping her parka all the way up to her chin. Then she opened the door and held out her arms to receive the twenty-three-pound bundle of orange and white fur that hurtled itself at her chest.
"Hi, Moishe. Did you miss me?" Hannah cuddled him a moment before she dragged in her purse and shut the door. "What's the matter?"
Hannah figured that one of two things could have happened to upset her feline companion. Either his food bowl was empty again, or her mother had called. The moment Hannah set Moishe down, he led her directly into the kitchen, his tail flicking impatiently. There she discovered that it was two out of two. His food bowl was empty and the little red light on her answer phone was blinking.
"Okay, hold on a second." Hannah shrugged out of her parka and draped it over one of her kitchen chairs. She headed straight for the cupboard where she kept Moishe's food and unlocked it. When Moishe had first come to live with her, Hannah had been a big believer in what her vet called "free food." She'd made it her mission to keep the food bowl stocked so that Moishe wouldn't panic every time he saw a patch of white ceramic at the bottom. Her intentions had been good, but Moishe's table manners left a lot to be desired and he'd carried her "free food" program to the extreme when he'd learned how to open the cupboard door and help himself to the twenty-pound mother lode she kept in her broom closet. A few months ago, Hannah had decided that she'd swept up enough pilfered fish-shaped kitty crunchies to last her a lifetime, and she'd installed a hook and eye high up on her broom closet door.
"Here you go," Hannah said, scooping out the kitty crunchies and dumping them into his food bowl. "I suppose you want fresh water, too."
Moishe looked up at her and yowled. He had plenty of water in his bowl, but he liked it ice cold. Hannah turned on the faucet, let it run until it was cold, and filled his water bowl. Once she'd set it down on the Garfield mat next to his food bowl, she walked over to check her messages, wondering exactly when, in the course of their relationship, she'd become a slave to her pet.
The first message was from Andrea, who thanked her for finding Janie. She said she'd finished writing up her listing and she'd meet Hannah at the Winter Carnival banquet.
Hannah glanced over at Moishe. He hadn't been upset at hearing Andrea's voice, but when the next message came on, he bristled.
"Hannah? This is Mike. We just finished with Miss Burkholtz, and Bill's taking her out to get her car. She said she'd be staying with you. I know she's an old friend, but I can tell you right now, I don't like it. Just do me a favor and don't get involved, okay?"
"Right," Hannah muttered, bending down to give Moishe a pat. He hadn't liked the officious tone in Mike's voice, either.
"Hannah? This is your mother." The third and final message began to play, and Hannah stepped out of the way as Moishe made a beeline to the answer phone to stare at it balefully. His ears were laid back, his tail was flicking, and he looked as if he'd like to tear it off the wall.
"Relax. She's not here. It's just a recording," Hannah said, but she knew it wouldn't do much good. Every time Moishe heard her mother's voice, it upset him.
"Carrie and I are passing on the banquet. We're going to buy Tracey a pizza at the mall and then we're going to see the new Disney film. Tracey was a big help this afternoon, and she deserves a treat."