Carrot Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #10)(64)

Chapter Twenty-One


Hannah had an odd thought as she unlocked her door. If her condo complex had been built next door to the Palace of Westminster, she would be hearing Big Ben strike ten. Of course that didn’t account for the time change.

It had been so long, Hannah had almost forgotten to brace herself for the furry orange-and-white cat bombardment. She staggered slightly as he landed in her arms, but she was smiling all the while. “Hi, Moishe!” she said, nuzzling him as she carried him over to his favorite perch on the back of the couch and gave him a pat before she set him down. Things were back to normal. All was right with her world.

But before she could give her pet the scratch behind the ears he’d always expected, Moishe jumped down from the back of the couch and made a beeline for the Kitty Kondo. He whisked inside, and a second later came out on the penthouse floor.

“Oh, that’s your favorite perch now?” Hannah asked, walking over to give him the scratch that was part of her coming home ceremony.

She stood there petting him and listening to him purr until the phone rang. Then she hurried to the base station on the end table by the couch to get the receiver. “Hello?” she answered.

“You sound happy. I take it Moishe behaved himself while you were gone?”

It was Norman, and Hannah began to smile. “Thanks to you, he did. All I lost was another squeaky mouse, and I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“That’s the reason I called. The girl from the pet store called me on my cell phone. Their shipment of mice came in, and I stopped out there to pick up some more. If you’re not too tired, I’ll bring them over. But if you are, it can wait until the next time I see you.”

Considerate. Norman was so considerate. And despite the fact that she’d gotten very little sleep this week, Hannah felt energized by the fact that Moishe was back to his old self.

“Come on over,” she said. “I just got my second wind, and I’ll put on the coffee.”

Hannah put on the coffee. And while she was there in the kitchen, she gave Moishe a full bowl of food and fresh water. Then she headed straight to the pantry. She needed to serve something with the coffee when Norman arrived at her condo. It was a Minnesota tradition. The obligation to serve a kind of sweet treat was still in force, even though they’d both eaten generous portions of Jack’s birthday cake less than two hours ago. A good Minnesota hostess could not serve coffee all by itself!

It took Hannah all of thirty seconds to evaluate the supplies on her pantry shelves. The something would be Scandinavian Almond Cake. It would make her whole place smell wonderful while it was baking, and it was easy to assemble and serve. She even had some sliced almonds to sprinkle on top of the batter. What could be easier?

Ten minutes later, Hannah slipped her loaf pan into the oven and set the timer. She was about to pour herself a cup of the coffee she’d just made when there was a knock at her condo door.

“Already?” Hannah said to Moishe, whose head had emerged from his food bowl when he’d realized that there was someone at the door. She glanced at the clock, calculated the time, and shook her head. “It’s not Norman. It couldn’t be. Even if he broke the land speed record, there’s no way he could make it here this fast!”

Always cautious, especially when she was working on a murder case, Hannah didn’t simply open the door. The fisheye peephole that had been in the door when she’d bought her unit was practically useless. It distorted her visitors’ features so much she couldn’t even recognize her own mother! From force of habit, Hannah looked through it anyway, and what she saw made her rear back with a start. It was her own mother. At least she thought it was Delores.

“Uh-oh!” Hannah whispered under her breath. Delores didn’t visit her at the condo. She’d stopped when Moishe had shredded her tenth pair of pantyhose. There must be something drastically wrong to have brought her here this late in the evening. But perhaps it wasn’t Delores. It could be another woman with dark hair. She wasn’t going to open the door until she knew for sure, so she called out, “Who is it?”

“Don’t you recognize your own mother?” Delores asked. “We’re sweltering out here, not to mention we’re getting eaten alive by the mosquitoes. Open the door, Hannah.”

Hannah opened the door and saw why her mother had answered in the plural. Delores had Michelle and Andrea in tow.

“I thought you went home after the party,” Hannah addressed Andrea.

“I did, but Grandma McCann had everything under control. She said Bill called to say he’d be tied up until late, and then Mother called, and…here I am.”

“Me, too,” Michelle added. “I was getting ready for bed, but Mother decided we needed a family meeting, so she dragged us all over here.”

“Well, the family’s about to get bigger,” Hannah said, ushering them into the living room. “Norman should be here in ten minutes or so.”

Delores smiled. “That’s just fine. Norman’s practically family, anyway. And we don’t have any secrets from him…do we, dear?”

Hannah was saved from the necessity of a response by an orange-and-white blur that streaked through the living room, tore through the opening in the bottom floor of his new Kitty Kondo, scrambled up two floors, and emerged at the penthouse floor to glare at his archenemy.