Hannah’s eyes were drawn to the television screen. Klute was still playing and that gave her an idea. “Maybe we do have a motive. What if Ron saw something that morning, something that could incriminate his killer in some way? That might be why he was shot.”

“And Ron was murdered before he could implicate his killer in another crime?” Bill was silent for a long moment and Hannah knew he was thinking it over. “You could be right. But how do we find out what Ron saw?”

“I’ll go back to my source, the one with the pink lipstick. She can tell me if anything unusual happened that morning.”

“Okay.” There was another long silence and then Bill sighed. “Maybe you’d better warn her to be careful. If you’re right and she saw what Ron saw, the killer might come after her.”

“He won’t. I’m the only one who knows who she is and she’s sure that no one spotted her with Ron. If the killer wanted to murder her, he would have done it by now.”

“Maybe.”

Bill didn’t sound convinced and Hannah frowned. For Danielle’s sake she certainly hoped that she was right.

“You’ve been a big help, Hannah. By the way, did you know that your mother saw Ron pulling away from Norman’s dental office right before she went in for her appointment?”

“Norman told me about it. I questioned him, but he said that Ron was only in his chair for twenty minutes. He gave Ron a shot of Xylocaine for his cracked tooth and Ron was supposed to come back to get it fixed. I’ll get back to you as soon as I talk to my source. I’m sure she’ll be at the Woodleys’ party. And if you want to talk to Norman, he’ll be there, too.”

“Andrea told me that you were going to the party with Norman. Is it serious?”

“Serious? With Norman?”

“I was just teasing you, Hannah. I’ll see you at the party and we can compare notes.”

Hannah hung up and flicked off the television. She scooped up Moishe, carried him into the bedroom, and deposited him on the pillow she’d designated as his on the first night he’d spent in her condo. Then she went back for her wineglass and flicked off the lights, taking a seat in the old wing chair she’d placed in front of her bedroom window. The snow was still falling and it created lovely halos around the old-fashioned streetlights that lined the brick walkways between the units. It was a perfect winter scene, worthy of Currier and Ives. According to her college art professor, people who lived in warm climates loved winter scenes with their glittering expanses of unbroken snow and yellow light spilling out from the windows of snug, cozy homes. Minnesotans who bought scenic art usually avoided winter scenes. Hannah didn’t find that surprising. Minnesota winters were long. Why would they want to buy a painting that would constantly remind them of the bone-chilling cold, the heavy snow that had to be shoveled, and the necessity of dressing up in survival gear to do nothing more than take out the garbage?