Devil's Food Cake Murder (23 page)

Drizzle the top with 4 Tablespoons of the pineapple juice that you reserved.

If you haven’t already done so, crush the cornflakes. You can do this in a sealed plastic bag with your hands. Measure out one cup of crushed cornflakes and sprinkle them on top of your casserole.

Drizzle the remaining melted butter over the top of the crushed cornflakes.

Bake your casserole at 350 degrees F. for 35 to 40 minutes.

Yield: This casserole serves 6 to 8 unless Herb comes to dinner. Then you’d better make two casseroles.

“Now that you’re here, we’re off to make the bank deposit,” Marguerite told them when they arrived at the parsonage. “It shouldn’t take us more than fifteen minutes. We go straight into Doug Greerson’s office and he does it for us personally. Is that okay with you, Hannah?”

“It’s fine. We’ll stay until you get back or Reverend Matthew comes in, one or the other.”

“Grandma said to pour yourself a cup of coffee and come into her sitting room. She’s got Jacob in there.”

Of course Grandma Knudson had put on a fresh pot of coffee. There was always fresh coffee at the parsonage. Michelle poured a cup for all three of them and they walked down the hallway to the sitting room.

“There you are!” Grandma Knudson greeted them. “And Michelle, too. Did you flunk out of college?”

Michelle laughed. She knew Grandma Knudson was teasing her. Delores had bragged about her grades so much that everyone in Lake Eden knew she had a three-point-nine average. “I didn’t flunk out of college, Grandma Knudson…at least not yet.”

Grandma Knudson chuckled cheerily, and Hannah noticed that only about a quarter of the cookie bars she’d brought on the platter were left. They’d done their work well. Grandma Knudson was a lot calmer now, and there was actually some color in her cheeks.

“You said you needed to see me because you had a clue to the identity of the killer?” Hannah asked her, seating herself in a chair close to Grandma Knudson while Norman and Michelle sat down on the pink davenport. “What is it?”

“It’s Jacob,” Grandma Knudson gestured toward the mynah bird in his cage. “He just said something I’ve never heard him say before. And I can’t help thinking he might have learned it the night of the murder. I’m hoping I can get him to say it again so you can all hear it.”

“Come on, Jacob. Be a good bird and say it again.”

They were all gathered around the birdcage, Grandma Knudson, Hannah, Norman, and Michelle. Grandma Knudson had been trying to get Pete Nunke’s bird to repeat himself for almost five minutes now, but the mynah bird just stared at them with beady yellow unblinking eyes.

“Maybe there’s a reason the term bird brain is an insult,” Hannah said, earning a laugh from the others. Jacob cocked his head, almost as if he had understood her, squawked loudly as if in protest, and said, “Brrrr, it’s cold out there!” in Pete Nunke’s voice.

“Is that it?” Norman asked.

“No,” Grandma Knudson told him. “It’s something Pete taught him.”

“You’ll never see a hearse pulling a U-Haul,” Jacob said in Claire’s voice.

“He’s going through his whole repertoire,” Michelle told them. “My roommate’s parrot does the same thing. There’s nothing she can do to get him to talk, but when he starts talking, he says everything he knows before he shuts up.”

“Oh dear, I hope he doesn’t say the well-digger one,” Grandma Knudson said to Michelle. “If he starts, just cover your ears, dear. Pete taught him that one, too. It’s not very nice.”

“The wages of sin is death,” Jacob said in the fake Reverend Matthew’s voice, ruffling his feathers and staring at them.

Michelle shivered slightly. “That’s what he said to Hannah right after she…well, you know.”

“I’ve got to go. It’s almost eleven-thirty,” Jacob said in a woman’s voice. Hannah exchanged glances with Norman. He gave a little nod, and she knew he also thought the voice belonged to Alice Vogel.

“I haven’t heard that before, but it must be someone he was counseling,” Grandma Knudson told them. “Matthew…I mean the man who was impersonating Matthew, scheduled counseling sessions in the mornings and he took Jacob with him. He was always back at the parsonage by noon, and that’s why I was so worried when he didn’t show up for yesterday’s lunch.”

Hannah had her doubts that Grandma Knudson was right about the fake Reverend Matthew’s counselee, but she said nothing. She’d have to talk to Alice Vogel again to see precisely when she’d arrived at the church office to see the man she thought was Matthew Walters.

“It’s colder than a well-dig …” Jacob started to say, but Grandma Knudson cut him off.

“Jacob! That’s naughty!”

Jacob cocked his head and preened a bit. And then he said, in Grandma Knudson’s voice, “Jacob! That’s naughty!”

Hannah couldn’t help it. She laughed. And so did everyone else, including Grandma Knudson.

“Whether you want weather, music, or the latest moos, tune in to KCOW for country-western or blues,” Jacob sang, in a perfect imitation of their local radio station’s theme song.

“That’s good,” Hannah said. “The fake Reverend Matthew must have listened to KCOW.”

Grandma Knudson shook her head. “No, that was Claire’s idea. She always left the radio on for Jacob when they went out.”

“I know why you’re here, and you’re not going to find it!” Jacob said loudly in the fake Reverend Matthew’s voice.

“That’s it,” Grandma Knudson said quickly. “That’s what I wanted you to hear.”

They all fell silent, waiting for Jacob to go on with his memorized recital, but the mynah bird was also silent. He ruffled his feathers, hopped down from his perch, and went over to the water dish attached to the wall of his cage.

“I think he’s through,” Grandma Knudson said, watching as Jacob drank and then began to groom his feathers. “He always does that right before he takes his afternoon nap.”

They watched as Jacob settled down on his perch for his nap. Grandma Knudson covered his cage with a cloth and led them all to the sofa and chairs again.

“Won’t it bother him if we talk?” Norman asked.

“No. Pete told me that when he’s in his little cave like this, he relaxes and goes to sleep unless a really loud noise wakes him.”

“That must be true for a lot of birds, maybe all birds,” Michelle commented. “I know when my roommate covers her parrot’s cage, he goes to sleep.”

“Pete says that’s because they think it’s night,” Grandma Knudson said, “but I don’t think you should fool them unless they really need a nap. It’s just not nice.”

Hannah remembered Andrea driving Tracey around and around the block with the baby blinds drawn to put her to sleep when she needed a nap. It seemed that there were lots of ways for parents and bird owners to get their young charges to take a nap, and one way was to trick them.

“Did Marguerite and Clara like the cookie bars?” Hannah asked, hoping that the oblique nudge would cause Grandma Knudson to take one. She still looked a bit shaky.

“Oh, my yes! They wanted to make them for a church group they lead, but when they found out one of the ingredients was sweetened condensed milk, they reconsidered. Store-bought sweetened condensed milk is expensive, and there are over thirty ladies in their Singles Without Partners group.”

“They don’t have to use boughten sweetened condensed milk,” Hannah told her. “I’ve got a recipe that works every bit as well, and you make it at home from powdered milk and some other ingredients. Would you like it so you can give it to them?”

“Oh yes! I’d love to have it! I think there was one published in the Farm Journal years ago, but I clipped it out and didn’t copy it into my recipe book. I looked for it not all that long ago, but I must have lost it.”

“That may be the one that I have. I got it from my Grandma Ingrid, and she used to read the Farm Journal. I’ve got it down at The Cookie Jar. I’ll print it out and bring it to you.”

“Just e-mail it to me,” Grandma Knudson said. “I’ll add it to my recipe folder and that’ll be fine.”

“You have e-mail?” Michelle asked, looking very surprised.

“Of course I have e-mail. It’s not just for young people, you know. Bob set it up for me, and it’s a great way to keep in touch with friends. And I just love to surf the Internet. I learn the most incredible things. There are even a couple of Web sites for Bible passages. You can choose the Bible you want to use and type in a phrase to search for. It’ll tell you how many times it was used and give you book, chapter and verse within seconds. It’s just amazing.”

“Will you send me a link?” Michelle asked, writing her e-mail address on a piece of paper and handing it to Grandma Knudson. “One of my roommates is doing a paper for a comparative religion class, and it sounds like a great resource.”

“I’ll do it tonight,” Grandma Knudson promised, and then she turned to Hannah again. “You need my e-mail address to send me those recipes. Mine is Grandma K, that’s all one word, at the church Web site.”

Hannah glanced at Norman, who was looking at her as if to say I told you so. She hadn’t believed him when he’d told her that almost everyone in Lake Eden had become computer literate, but now it seemed he was right. If Grandma Knudson, who was almost ninety, had mastered the intricacies of the Internet, perhaps it was time for her to become a little more skilled at it.

“Do you want the substitute version, too?” Hannah asked her. “That’s the one for people who have milk allergies.”

“I’d love to have that! We have several church members who have milk allergies.”

“I’ll send that one to you too,” Hannah promised. “All you have to do is ask me for your favorite recipes, Grandma Knudson. I’ll be happy to e-mail them to you.”

“Hello, everyone!” a voice interrupted their quiet conversation, as Clara and Marguerite Hollenbeck came in the door.

“Oh, dear!” Marguerite said, glancing at Jacob’s cage and noticing that it was draped with a cloth. “Inside voices, Clara. Jacob’s asleep.”

“You’re speaking louder than I am, Marguerite.”

“Sorry.” Marguerite turned to Grandma Knudson. “We ran into what we think is a little problem at the bank.”

“What’s the problem?” Grandma Knudson asked her.

“We did what we always do,” Clara explained. “We picked up the collection in the bank bag and took it down to Doug at Lake Eden First Mercantile.”

“Doug counted it for us,” Marguerite took up the story. “He always counts it, even though our tally slip with the total is in the bag and we haven’t been off one single cent in twenty-two years.”

“Doug’s a banker,” Clara said. “He has to make sure everything’s accurate.” And then she turned to them again. “But the tally we did on Sunday, after the service, was completely different from the total Doug gave us when we went to the bank!”

“Was Doug’s tally short? Or long?” Hannah asked, quickly going to the heart of the matter.

Marguerite sighed. “Short,” she said. “A lot short.”

“Three hundred and twenty-five dollars short to be exact,” Clara gave them the figure. “Somebody took out all the big bills and left the change and small bills.”

“And nobody noticed until now?” Hannah asked, wondering how that could have happened.

“No,” Clara answered her. “Nobody even thought to check the collection money. We always make church deposits on Tuesday. We go into the church office, count it three times after Sunday service when it comes in, and make out the deposit slip. It was a big collection on Sunday. I remember that instead of fives and ones, there were quite a few twenty dollar bills. That’s not usually the case.”

“And don’t forget the gold coins,” Marguerite reminded her. “There were five gold coins in the collection, but they were gone along with all the large bills.”

“There’s another motive for the murder,” Norman commented.

“Remember what Jacob said?” Hannah asked them. “He was mimicking the fake Reverend Matthew and he said, I know why you’re here and you’re not going to find it! He could have been talking about the collection money.”

“That makes sense,” Marguerite said. “We always keep it in the file cabinet, filed under C for collection, but somebody moved it. That could have been the fake Reverend Matthew.”

“Or maybe the fake Reverend Matthew’s killer moved it after he took out what he wanted,” Michelle postulated. “And if the fake Reverend Matthew moved it to hide it from his killer, he must have known his killer was coming and who he was.”

Hannah nodded. She was proud of Michelle for using her head. “We’re jumping to several conclusions here, but it could make sense.” She turned to Clara. “How many people knew that you filed the collection money under C?”

“Unfortunately…a lot of people. They were church members. We had no reason not to trust them.”

“And the church office is locked at night,” Marguerite added. “The only reason it was open when the murder happened is that the reverend, whoever he is, was working.”

“So it could have been a burglary gone bad,” Grandma Knudson said thoughtfully. “And that’s why Paul was in prison. He was serving time for a burglary gone bad.”

“That’s what the fake Reverend Matthew told you,” Hannah reminded her. “He might have lied about that, for some reason.”

The phone rang and Grandma Knudson reached out to answer it. They were all silent as she said hello and then greeted her caller. “Yes, Matthew. I’m glad you called. Where are you?”

Now that Hannah knew who the caller was, she listened even more carefully. She glanced over at Norman and saw that he was also intent on hearing the one-sided telephone conversation.

“Are you all right?” Grandma Knudson asked, and then she listened for a moment. “Yes, dear. That’s what we thought. You go right ahead to the sheriff’s station and tell them you made positive identification. And don’t worry about me. Clara and Marguerite are here, and they said they’d stay until you got back.”

So the fake Reverend Matthew was Paul. That was pretty clear from Grandma Knudson’s side of the conversation. It was also clear that the real Reverend Matthew was worried about Grandma Knudson.

“Just come back here when you’re through,” Grandma Knudson said. “I have a nice cut of boneless chuck and I’ll make something good and nourishing for your supper. It always makes a body feel better to have something good to eat.”