Devil’s Food Cake Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “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.

  Chapter Ten

  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 v
ery 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 ½ cups uncooked wide egg noodles

  2 cans (10 and ¾ 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.

  Chapter Eleven

  “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.”

  Both sisters looked proud to be counted as Grandma Knudson’s friends. “But will Reverend Bob be angry at us for not telling him?” Clara posed another possibility.

  “I can’t see why he would be. It’s not like he can hop on a plane and get here right away. He’s on a ship sailing for Hawaii, and he won’t even get there for another three days. Don’t you think it would be a real shame for Bob and Claire to dock at such a beautiful island and have to go straight to the airport to come home?”

  Clara nodded and so did Marguerite. “You’re right, Grandma Knudson,” Marguerite said, and Hannah noticed that the normally soft-spoken lady had picked up a bit of Grandma Knudson’s firmness. “If we all pull together, we can get along just fine until the seminary sends us another minister. In the meantime, I think our brother’s minister, Reverend Collins from Grey Eagle, might agree to perform some of the duties.”

  “Hank Collins is a nice young man,” Grandma Knudson agreed. “I’m sure he’ll fill in as best he can. And there’s Tom Sherman from Little Falls. Bob helped him out once when he was on vacation.”

  Mike cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at him. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said. “I need to ask Grandma Knudson some questions.”

  “Of course you do, son.” Grandma Knudson turned to Clara and Marguerite. “I’m putting the two of you in charge of the Bible study meeting. When the other ladies come, take them straight to the living room, tell them that there’s been an accident at the church, and get their input on who we can get to fill in until the seminary sends another minister to substitute for Bob. If you make a list of their suggestions, I’ll look it over when I join you and we’ll place some calls. I put on the coffee, so that should be ready, and Hannah brought a box of…what are they, Hannah?”

  “Big Soft Chewy Molasses Cookies. They’re Lois Thielen’s recipe.”

  “I’ve had those. They’re delicious,” Clara said, and then she turned to look at Grandma Knudson. “We could bring coffee and a plate of them in here if you’d like.”

  Grandma Knudson nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you, Clara. You girls are always so thoughtful.”

  When Clara and Marguerite had left, Hannah turned to Mike. “Would you like me to leave so you can talk to Grandma Knudson alone?”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to leave on my account.”

  “Nor on my account,” Grandma Knudson added. “Besides, you should tell Mike everything you and Andrea found out about Matthew.” Grandma Knudson turned to Mike. “We missed you at church services on Sunday, Mike. If you’d been there, you would have had the chance to meet Matthew in person.”

  Mike took the gentle chiding in stride, but Hannah knew him well enough to know he was slightly embarrassed. She was willing to bet he’d be in church this coming Sunday.

  “When was the last time you saw Reverend Walters?” he asked.

  “About nine last night when I went to bed. I said goodnight to him, and he told me that he was going to get up early and work on his sermon in the church office.”

  Hannah gave a little shiver as she remembered the blood-soaked pages spread out on the desk. She wondered if Reverend Matthew had finished his sermon, and then she wondered if it really mattered at all.

  “Do you know if Reverend Matthew had any enemies?” Mike asked his second question.

  “I don’t know of any. Except …” Grandma Knudson stopped and looked thoughtful. “He may have had a falling out with his cousin Paul. Or perhaps it was the other way around and his cousin Paul had a falling out with Matthew. In any event, they hadn’t seen each other for years. When they were here, staying with me while their parents went off to do missionary work, Matthew
and Paul were quite close. Toward the end of the year, Paul did get into a bit of trouble, but we suspected it was because Matthew had a girlfriend and Paul was jealous of the time Matthew spent with her.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Minor trouble. He broke into lockers at school and took mementos, little things that weren’t valuable. The principal at the time thought it was a bid for attention, but Matthew thought it was the start of something. He said Paul committed a crime and was sent to a prison in Iowa. Matthew wasn’t sure of the details because Paul’s parents didn’t want to talk about it, but he thought it was some kind of burglary gone bad.”

  “Do you know Paul’s parents?”

  “I did. Not well, but we exchanged Christmas cards and they always sent me a little something for my birthday. They’re both dead now. Paul’s mother died six years ago, and his father died last year.”

  Hannah interpreted the tightening of the muscles around Mike’s mouth. He was disappointed that he couldn’t interview Paul’s parents. “So when was the last time Reverend Matthew saw his cousin Paul?”

  “I’m not sure, but it has to be when Matthew was in his twenties. I know he tried to contact Paul after his cousin got out of prison in Iowa, but the private detective he hired couldn’t find him.”

  “Why did Reverend Matthew want to contact his cousin?”

  “To tell him that Paul’s mother was dying of cancer. Matthew said he owed it to Paul to tell him. He thought Paul might want to come home to see his mother, or write a letter, or do something, but he couldn’t find Paul to notify him.”

  Mike made a couple of quick notes in his notebook. “All right. How about when Reverend Matthew was here in Lake Eden? Were there any incidents with local people? Altercations? Disagreements? Old grudges from when both boys stayed here with you?”