Devil's Food Cake Murder (12 page)

When Hannah opened the kitchen door at the parsonage, she found Grandma Knudson standing at the stove, stirring a big pot of soup. “That smells wonderful!” Hannah told her, stepping into the steamy warmth and immediately shedding her parka. “Is that homemade chicken soup?”

“Yes. And no.”

“What does that mean?”

“The only homemade part is the chicken. It’s a recipe I got years ago from my daughter-in-law, Janelle. She was a lawyer and she didn’t have time to cook when she got home from work. Sit down at the table and I’ll give you a bowl so you can try it.”

Hannah’s stomach growled as Grandma Knudson ladled some soup into a bowl and set the steaming vessel in front of her. The aroma was heavenly.

“It’s hot. You’d better blow on it to cool it down.”

Hannah did just that, but it was hard to wait when something smelled as delicious as Janelle’s chicken soup. She forced herself to give it several cooling blows, but then hunger overcame caution.

The soup was still hot, but not so hot that she couldn’t taste the complex flavors. It was absolutely perfect, and she had to have the recipe. “Sour cream?” she asked, dipping her spoon in again the moment the question had left her mouth.

“Yes. You put it in at the very end. I added yours to your bowl right after I dished it up.”

“It’s wonderful. Will you give me the recipe if I promise you my firstborn son?”

Grandma Knudson laughed. “They only did that in the Old Testament. You can have the recipe, no promises necessary. I’ll copy it out for you right after you finish your soup.”

“Thanks!” Hannah said, and she finished her soup in record time.

“More?”

“No, thanks. That really hit the spot, but I’m saving myself for dinner tonight. Norman’s taking me out to the Lake Eden Inn.”

“Then could you run over to the church and tell Matthew it’s time for his lunch? I tried calling him on the phone, but he didn’t answer.”

“Are you sure he’s there?”

“Oh, yes. When I went to bed last night, he said he was going to get up early and work on his sermon for Wednesday night services. He must have gotten up very early, because I walked past his room at six-thirty and he was already gone.” Grandma Knudson gave a little smile. “He hasn’t changed that much since he was in high school. Matthew still makes his bed every morning. And I noticed that he took a big piece of my Red Devil’s food Cake to the office with him for breakfast.”

His bed was made, Hannah’s mind gave her a little nudge. Grandma Knudson assumes that he made it this morning, but what if he never went to bed at all? What if he went somewhere else and he isn’t back yet?

“Do you suppose he was called out last night for a sick parishioner, or something like that?”

“No. Matthew’s very thoughtful. He would have left me a note. Besides, there’s no way he would have taken Jacob anywhere except the church office.”

“And Jacob is gone,” Hannah drew the obvious conclusion.

“Yes. Matthew’s taken quite a liking to Jacob. He always reads his sermons out loud, hoping that Jacob will pick up some new bible verses.”

“Has he?”

“Yes, one. If Matthew’s not in the office, he could be in another part of the church. He said something about replacing a burned-out bulb in one of the hanging lamps. Or he could be trying to fix the furnace. Bob showed him how before he left.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find him,” Hannah promised, standing up and carrying her soup bowl and spoon to the sink. “Just don’t forget to copy that recipe for me. It’s really great soup.”

There was absolutely nothing frightening about a church in the afternoon. Hannah closed the kitchen door behind her, traversed the back porch, and stepped out onto the walkway that led from the parsonage to the side door of the church. But if there was nothing frightening, why was her heart racing a zillion beats a minute?

Hannah avoided an icy patch on the walkway and shoved her hands into the pockets of her parka. It was a bright, sunny winter day and as she neared the side door of the church, she told herself that there were plenty of plausible reasons why Reverend Matthew hadn’t answered the phone in the church office. He could have been somewhere he couldn’t hear it, like in the restroom, or out in front shoveling the snow that had fallen during the night, or checking something in the storage room at the rear of the church. It was also possible that Grandma had misdialed, or another half-dozen equally reasonable explanations. Just because Reverend Matthew hadn’t responded was no reason to suspect that there was anything wrong.

Hannah’s mind begged to differ. There could be something wrong. What if Reverend Matthew had fallen off a ladder while replacing a light bulb in the heavy colored-glass fixtures that hung from the vaulted ceiling of the church? Or how about the temperamental furnace? Reverend Bob was an expert at jiggling wires to fix it. What if Reverend Matthew had tried to do the same, and electrocuted himself in the process?

All this was speculation. Hannah gave a little laugh at her overactive imagination. Chronicling all the mishaps that could have befallen the substitute minister was silly. She was almost there, and she would find out what was the matter…if anything was the matter.

Hannah arrived at the side door to the church and unlocked it with the key Grandma Knudson had given her. She told herself again that nothing was wrong, that everything was perfectly normal. Reverend Matthew would greet her when she came into the church office, and they’d go back to the parsonage together.

A wave of stale air rolled out to meet her as Hannah pushed the door open and stepped in. It was scented with dying flowers and the faint odor of fuel oil from the old furnace. Even though the inside door to the small windowless entry room was open, only feeble light filtered in from the stained glass windows that graced the walls in the body of the church.

Hannah felt for the light switch, but she couldn’t seem to find it. She debated the wisdom of leaving the outside door open for light and air, but then she remembered the huge heating bills that the church incurred every winter. This was the coldest February on record, and her eyes would adjust to the dim light.

It took a few moments after she’d closed the outside door, but at last she could see well enough to move forward in the crowded room. A tall dresser with wide, shallow drawers sat against the wall. It contained the sparkling white linen for communion. The top of the dresser held a large, round silver tray that had been polished to a high gleam by Hannah’s neighbors, Marguerite and Clara Hollenbeck. The tray was peppered with small indentations for tiny round glasses that would hold the communion wine. Another smaller silver tray with a cover sat next to the large tray, ready to receive the communion wafers.

Avoiding several boxes that jutted out into her path, Hannah moved toward the doorway and stepped into the main body of the church. That was much better! The sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows was gorgeous.

“Reverend Matthew?” she called out expectantly, but there was no answer to her call. Her eyes scanned the rows of oaken pews, but the only things moving in the body of the church were tiny dust motes dancing in the beams of colored light.

Hannah gave it a minute or two, just in case Reverend Matthew had heard her and was coming from another part of the church, but there was no sound of hurrying footsteps. When she’d waited long enough, in her estimation, she moved on down the carpeted center aisle, past the tall, arched stained-glass windows on both sides of the church, and headed to the church office.

The office was opposite the stairway that led up to the choir loft, and Hannah knew that Reverend Bob had recently refurbished it. The door was shut, and she hesitated. What if Reverend Matthew was deep in prayer, or meditation, or something like that? Would it be right to interrupt him for something as mundane as lunch? But Grandma Knudson’s homemade chicken soup was certainly not mundane!

“Reverend Matthew?” Hannah called out again, and followed her query by knocking softly on the door. “Are you in there?”

There was no answer. Hannah felt her heartbeat quicken, and there was a lump in her throat. This wasn’t good, not good at all. She wanted to turn tail and run, but that would be cowardly. What if Reverend Matthew was inside and he was injured in some way? Or he had been taken suddenly ill? Or…but she didn’t want to think about that!

She called his name again. Twice. And then she reached out with shaking fingers and turned the doorknob. It took all of her gumption to push the door open slightly, just far enough so that she could see the edge of the desk. And then a bit wider. And then …

The first thing she saw was the cake, a huge slice of Grandma Knudson’s Red Devil’s Food Cake on the rug in front of the desk. There was a plate there too, obviously thrown to the floor. Hannah stared at the cake for a moment. Grandma Knudson’s mouthwatering fudge frosting was smeared into the fibers of the off-white rug, and she hoped it wouldn’t stain. But she ceased thinking about that minor problem when she spotted what was behind the desk.

Hannah stood stock still and stared at the awful sight. Reverend Matthew was seated at the desk, and it was obvious that he’d been working on next Sunday’s sermon because it was spread out on the desk in front of him. His head was resting on the pages, but he wasn’t asleep. There was something on the sheets of paper and on the desktop in front of him. That something was blood. A lot of blood. More blood than Hannah ever would have guessed a human being could contain.

“Reverend Matthew?” she asked again, in a very quiet voice. She didn’t expect an answer, and she didn’t get one. Reverend Matthew was dead.

Hannah stood there staring at the gruesome sight for what seemed like endless minutes. She might have stayed there, stationary and in shock, for much longer, but a voice rang out from the top of the bookcase.

“The wages of sin is death,” the voice said, causing Hannah to whirl around and stare at the top of the bookcase. What she saw came very close to making her break out in hysterical laughter.

It was Jacob, the mynah bird, in his cage on the bookcase. He peered down at her with beady eyes and gave a squawk that made her jump. “The wages of sin is death,” he said again in Reverend Matthew’s voice.

At that moment, the phone on the desk began to ring. Hannah reached out to answer it, but she stopped short. Only when she’d taken a tissue from the box on the reverend’s desk to preserve any existing fingerprints did she carefully lift the receiver.

“Hello?” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too shaky.

“Hannah!” It was Grandma Knudson’s voice. “Did you find Matthew?”

“Oh, yes,” Hannah said, deliberately avoiding the natural urge to turn and glance at the reverend.

“Is he coming over for lunch?”

“Uh…no, he’s not …” Hannah stopped, wondering how she could tell Grandma Knudson that her favorite house guest and her grandson’s substitute minister was dead. Certainly not on the phone. That just wouldn’t be right.

“He’s not coming over for lunch?”

“Not right now. He’s not …” Hannah stopped. What could she say? She didn’t want to lie to Grandma Knudson, but neither did she wish to tell her friend the bad news over the phone.

“He’s not what?” Grandma Knudson asked.

“He’s…not hungry at the moment,” Hannah said, grasping at the first excuse she could think of. “You should turn the soup down to simmer, Grandma Knudson. I’m going to stay here with Reverend Matthew for a while, and then I’ll come back to the parsonage.”

“All right, Hannah.” Grandma Knudson gave a little chuckle. “Matthew must have had too much cake. That was a huge piece he took for breakfast this morning. He does love my cake.”

“I can tell that,” Hannah said, glancing down at the sticky goo that had once been a delicious slice of Red Devil’s Food Cake. There was no way she was going to let Grandma Knudson come here to the church office to see the horrific sight. “Just sit tight, and I’ll be there in less than ten minutes,” she promised. “Is that all right?”

“That’s fine, dear. I have to get dressed for my Bible study group anyway. Just let yourself in when you come back to the parsonage, and help yourself to more soup.”

JANELLE’S QUICK AND EASY CHICKEN SOUP

8 cups chicken broth OR

2 quarts water (that’s 8 cups) and 8 chicken bouillon cubes

6 and 1/2 cups uncooked wide egg noodles

2 cans (10 and 3/4 ounce each) condensed cream of chicken soup, undiluted

3 cups cubed cooked chicken

1 cup (8 ounces) sour cream

minced fresh parsley

Bring broth OR water and bouillon to a boil in a pot that will hold 12 to 14 cups.

Add the noodles. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the noodles are tender. (Read your noodle package for the time. Mine took about 9 minutes.) DO NOT DRAIN the noodles. They are now part of the soup.

Turn the heat down to medium.

Add the two cans of condensed cream of chicken soup. Stir them in well.

Add the cubed chicken and stir it in.

Heat everything through. This should take from 5 to 10 minutes.

When the soup is piping hot, remove it from the heat. If you’re serving it all at once and everyone’s ready to eat, stir in the sour cream, sprinkle with fresh parsley, and ladle into soup bowls.

“No, don’t call them!” Grandma Knudson frowned at Mike. “I won’t let anything spoil their honeymoon.”

Hannah cast Grandma Knudson an admiring look. Her elderly friend looked a bit shaken from the bad news Mike had just delivered to her, but her voice was firm.

“Are you sure?” Clara Hollenbeck asked her. The Hollenbeck sisters, Clara and Marguerite, had arrived early for the Bible study group in order to help Grandma Knudson with the refreshments.

“Reverend Bob would come home in a flash if he knew,” Marguerite said. “He wouldn’t want you to be alone at a time like this.”

“I’m not alone.” Grandma Knudson paused and Hannah wondered if they were about to get an affirmation of her faith. “I have you, Clara,” she reached out to pat Clara’s hand, and then she reached for Marguerite’s hand. “And you, Marguerite.”