"You did exactly the right thing, Luanne," Hannah assured her.
"Can you drive out here, Hannah? I have to get home and Norman doesn't have any way back to town."
"I'll be there in ten minutes," Hannah promised. "And thanks, Luanne. I'm really glad you forgot that giraffe."
"Me, too. 'Bye, Hannah."
Hannah hung up the phone and turned to Janie, who was staring at her curiously. "Norman got mugged. He's out at Lake Eden Memorial and I'm driving out there. Do you want to come along?"
"I'd rather stay here. Is there anything I can do for you while you're gone?"
"Yes. Check to make sure all the doors and windows are locked, and don't let anyone in."
"Why?" Janie looked worried. "Is there a problem?"
"I don't know, but Norman was a suspect in Connie Mac's murder, and so are you."
"Then you think Norman's mugging has something to do with Connie Mac's murder?"
"I won't know until I talk to him, but it's better to be safe than sorry."
"Okay, Hannah. I'll wait up for you. And I'll put on a pot of coffee so it'll be ready for you when you come home."
"Thanks, but the last thing I'm going to need when I get home is a load of caffeine. There's an extra gallon of wine in the broom closet, right next to Moishe's kitty crunchies. Shove it in the bottom of the refrigerator for me, will you? I have a feeling I'm going to need it tonight."
"Hannah!" Norman looked absolutely delighted to see her ' as delighted as a man could look who was flat on his back on an emergency room cot with a blood-pressure cuff on his arm and a turban-style bandage wrapped around his head. "You came."
"Of course I came. Luanne tells me you've been testing out the theory that your head is harder than concrete."
"Wood," Norman told her, struggling up into a sitting position. "Doc Knight found a splinter in my ski cap, and he thinks it came from a baseball bat."
"Whatever. Are you supposed to sit up like that?"
"They didn't tell me not to sit up. I'm fine, Hannah. I've just got a little headache, that's all."
"Don't go all Mister Tough Guyon me," Hannah warned "You have to be hurting. Where's Doc Knight? I want to talk to him."
"He's around here somewhere. Whatever you do, Hannah, don't call my mother. She'll be out here with chicken soup and a mustard plaster. And the soup will be straight out of a red-and-white can."
Hannah laughed. Delores had done the same thing when she was sick. "Okay, I won't call her. How about the sheriff's department? They should know what happened."
"They already know. Doc Knight called them the minute I came in, and they sent Rick Murphy out to take my statement. I couldn't tell him much. I never even saw who hit me."
"Okay, I'll be right back." Hannah walked over and touched Norman's arm. She had the urge to kiss him on the cheek, but she didn't. She just patted his arm, turned on her heel, and went out to find Doc Knight.
The first three emergency room cubicles Hannah passed were empty, but there was someone in the fourth. The curtains were drawn, but she could hear Doc Knight talking to someone about zinc powder and how often to apply it. Since there'd been a recent outbreak of athletes' foot at Jordan High, Hannah figured that the person behind the curtain was another shower-room casualty.
Doc Knight stepped out of the cubicle and he smiled when he saw Hannah. "Don't worry. He'll be fine. He can leave, but don't let him sleep for at least three hours. No alcohol and a liquid diet for the first twelve hours. Bring him right back out here if he shows any signs of concussion."
"Okay," Hannah said. "Norman told me you thought it was a baseball bat?"
"Either that or something similar. He took a hard blow and he's lucky it glanced off. A direct hit probably would have killed him."
Hannah winced. She didn't want to think about that. "Like Connie Mac?"
"I'd say so,' Doc Knight looked wary, "but you didn't hear that from me. I took pictures, and I'll compare them when I get some breathing room. And I didn't tell you that, either."
"I understand. You're just a font of noninformation."
"And that's the way I want it. If the boys out at the sheriff's station find out I told you anything at all, they'll skin me alive. Now take him off my hands and give him some TLC. I've got a two-car accident coming in any minute and I need the beds."
"Aspirin?" Hannah asked.
"No. I gave him something for his headache, and he can have another pill in two hours. That should knock him out for the rest of the night."
"You got it. I'll take him straight home,' Hannah promised.
"No, not home. Take him to your place. If you take him home, Carrie will kick up a fuss and he'll never get any rest. Let him relax for a couple of hours and then he can go home. And if Carrie starts weeping and wailing, give her one of Norman's pills."
"Well, there's one good thing," Norman said, accepting the mug of hot chocolate Hannah had made for him. "Until this bandage comes off, I won't have to wear a hat."
Janie laughed. "All you need is a jewel in the middle of that turban and you'll look like a sheik."
"I think it might take a little more than that," Norman said, taking a sip of his drink. "This is really good. Hannah."
"Doc Knight told me to keep you on liquids, and I figured a shot of liquid chocolate was better than low-fat chicken broth. How are you feeling, Norman?"
"Okay. I've still got a headache, but it's not as bad as it was before. Go ahead, Hannah."
"Go ahead and what?"
"Ask me those questions you've been dying to ask. If you hold them in much longer, you're going to pop."
Hannah gave a self-conscious .laugh. Norman knew her very well. "Are you sure you're well enough to answer?"
"I'm sure. Ask me now, while everything's still fresh in my mind."
"Okay." Hannah flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. "I know you didn't actually see your attacker, but did you see or hear anything right before he hit you?"
"No."
"Did you feel anything? A leather glove? A fur jacket? Anything like that?"
"All I felt was the blow."
"Did you smell anything? A cigarette burning? A distinctive aftershave, or a scented soap?"
"No. I don't have a clue who hit me, Hannah."
"Okay," Hannah sighed, switching to another line of questions. "Who knew that you'd be taking portraits at the Ezekiel Jordan House tonight?"
"Beatrice and Ted Koester. They were my subjects. And Luanne knew because she did Beatrice's makeup. Our mothers knew because I told them. They were taking Tracey to a movie tonight and I figured they might drive past on their way home. I didn't want them to worry when they saw lights on inside."
Hannah groaned in tandem with Janie. Both of them knew that Delores was a virtual pipeline of information.
"There's one thing I know." Norman looked very serious. "I thought about it all the way back here. I wasn't mugged or carjacked. I was deliberately targeted for some reason."
Hannah stared at him in surprise. "What makes you think that?"
"If the guy wanted my car, he could have hot-wired it while I was inside loading my cameras. It took me a good fifteen minutes, and everyone else had already left. And I was carrying a waterproof gym bag with a couple of cameras and my wallet inside. I set it down on the top of the trunk while I brushed off my windshield. He could have just grabbed it and run. I think I was attacked by Connie Mac's killer."
"You're lucky he didn't kill you, Norman," Janie commented, and Hannah noticed that her face was very pale.
"I know. I think the only thing that saved me was that I dropped my car keys in the snow. He must have swung at me just as I bent down to pick them up."