Devil's Food Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #14)(16)

“Hi, Grandma Knudson,” Hannah greeted her when she came into the kitchen. “Come sit at the workstation and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

“Thank you, Hannah.”

Hannah noticed that Grandma Knudson’s voice sounded shaky and she hurried to pour the coffee. The walk from the parsonage in subzero temperatures had obviously tired her. “Did Lisa tell you? Herb’s going to take you back home so you won’t have to walk up the hill.”

“She told me, and that’s very sweet of him. Herb Beeseman’s always been a good boy. Did you bake anything special today? I want to take a box of something special back with me so that Bob and Claire think I walked down here to bring back a surprise for them. If they guess the real reason I came to see you, they might not leave on their honeymoon.”

Uh-oh, Hannah’s mind warned. Grandma Knudson looked very serious. “Of course I can pack up something special,” Hannah reassured her, glancing over at the bakers’ racks. “I’ve got Chocolate Sugar Cookies, Mocha Nut Butterballs, Walnut Date Chews, and Blonde Brownies. And if you’d like something different from cookies or cookie bars, I baked a batch of Carrot-Oatmeal Muffins this morning.”

“I like the sound of those muffins. Are they new?”

“Yes. Lisa got the recipe from Lois Theilen. She says they’re the best oatmeal muffins she ever made, and the recipe won first place at the Minnesota State Fair.”

“Oh, my!” Grandma Knudson was clearly impressed, but she still looked worried.

“Try one to see if you like it,” Hannah offered, putting a muffin on a plate and setting it in front of Grandma Knudson.

“Gladly. I know Lois and she’s a wonderful cook. If this is her favorite oatmeal muffin recipe, it’s going to be delicious.” Grandma Knudson took a bite and nodded. “I told you. It’s delicious. And these muffins are perfect for Bob and Claire. She likes oatmeal cookies, and Bob’s really fond of carrots.”

“How about Matthew? Do you think he’ll like them?”

Grandma Knudson began to frown. “I’m not concerned about Matthew, at least not when it comes to muffins. Matthew’s the reason I came down here to talk to you.”

It took three cups of coffee and every bite of the Carrot-Oatmeal Muffin before Hannah had the whole story. Grandma Knudson was concerned that Matthew might not be the boy she remembered from so long ago. She wasn’t sure why anyone would assume Matthew’s identity, but there were just too many inconsistencies between the Matthew she remembered as a teenager and the man who claimed to be Matthew as an adult.

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Hannah said, glancing down at the notes she’d jotted in one of the shorthand notebooks she kept in the kitchen. “The teenage Matthew was allergic to chocolate, but the adult Matthew isn’t.”

“That’s right. And I don’t think you can outgrow a chocolate allergy. My sister Bertha was allergic to strawberries for her whole life. She broke out in hives every time she tried to eat them.”

“I’ll check on that chocolate allergy,” Hannah promised, glancing down at her notes again. “You’re also suspicious that the adult Matthew isn’t who he says he is because you don’t think the seminary would give him all that time off. You want me to call to make sure he actually teaches there and he really is on sabbatical.”

“That’s right. I really don’t think the seminary would give him a four-month sabbatical. My husband taught there before he decided he’d rather accept a calling as a minister. After the first two years, he earned a sabbatical, but it was only for six weeks.”

Hannah jotted that down, and went on. “You told me that another reason you’re suspicious is because Matthew sings too well?”

“Oh my, yes! That really made me think twice. I’ve never met a Lutheran minister that could sing all five verses of Abide With Me without going off-key.”

“How about Matthew the teenager?” Hannah asked. “Did he sing off-key?”

Grandma Knudson thought about that for a moment and then she sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think I ever heard him sing. I sat up front in church. There was a special pew for the family of the minister. The boys could have been up there with me, but they preferred to sit in the back with their friends.”

“And the fact that Matthew can sing makes you doubt that he’s an ordained minister?”

“Yes. If it turns out that there really is a Matthew Walters who teaches at Concordia and is an ordained minister on a four-month sabbatical, do you think you can find out if the Matthew they know has a good singing voice?”

“I can try,” Hannah said, but it was a tall order. Perhaps Andrea would be better at making the seminary call. Bill always said she could charm the birds out of the trees, and Hannah knew firsthand that her sister could get personal information from practically anyone.

“There’s the davenport, too,” Grandma Knudson said. “I almost forgot about that.”

“The pink one in your sitting room?”

“Yes. Matthew said he remembered it when it was green, but he couldn’t have remembered that. I looked in my papers last night, and when the boys stayed with us, it was red. It wasn’t recovered with green fabric until after they’d left.”