Devil's Food Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #14)(2)

“Are Claire and Bob back?” Hannah asked, quickly relieving Grandma Knudson of the heavy tray.

“Not yet. I asked Bob to call when they left the hospital so that I could put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

Hannah retraced her steps to the sitting room and set the tray down on the coffee table in front of the couch Grandma Knudson called a “davenport.” It had been reupholstered last month by a member of the Holy Redeemer congregation who had chosen the material and the color. The forest green couch that had gone so well with the green and yellow striped wallpaper had been re-covered with bright pink velveteen in a hue that reminded Hannah of the contents in a Pepto-Bismol bottle.

“Would you pour, Hannah?” Grandma Knudson asked, as Hannah settled down on the pink davenport again. “I know young ladies like you prefer coffee mugs, but there’s something so civilized about sipping coffee from bone china cups.”

Hannah reached for the silver coffeepot and carefully filled two cups. She set them on their matching saucers and was about to hand one to Grandma Knudson when she reconsidered. “I wonder if we might be better off having our coffee in the kitchen,” she suggested, glancing down at the generous slices of chocolate layer cake with fudgy frosting that her hostess had placed on matching bone china dessert plates.

“Why is that, dear?”

“I’m worried that I might spill something on your pink davenport.”

“Don’t give it a second thought,” Grandma Knudson told her, reaching out to retrieve her cup and saucer. “Every time I sit there, I hope I’m going to spill something. Unfortunately, Donna Lempke Scotchguarded this darned thing after she recovered it. Every single stain I’ve managed to make just wipes off.”

“Well…that’s good.”

“No, it’s not. It means I’m stuck with this pink monstrosity, and it’ll probably outlive me!”

Hannah wasn’t sure exactly how to respond. Half of her wanted to laugh because Grandma Knudson hated the color of her davenport so much, she was actively trying to ruin it. But the other half of her wanted to cry because Grandma Knudson thought she’d die before the couch could be reupholstered again. Since Hannah really didn’t know what to say, she picked up her dessert plate and took a bite of Grandma Knudson’s Red Devil’s Food Cake.

“Mmmm!” Hannah gave an involuntary exclamation of pure pleasure. The sweet, fudgy melt-in-your-mouth goodness of the frosting was tempered by the deep, dark chocolate of the cake.

“Thank you, Hannah,” Grandma Knudson said with a smile. “I’m glad you like my cake. And I’m very flattered that your mother is going to serve it at her book launch party. Now…what made you think Claire and Bob were back?”

“I was sure I heard Claire’s voice in the hall. And I’m almost positive I heard her laugh.”

“Jacob.”

“What?”

“You didn’t hear Claire. You heard Jacob.”

“But it was Claire’s voice. I recognized it.”

“Jacob can imitate Claire. What did he say?”

“You’ll never see a hearse towing a U-Haul,” Hannah said, repeating the words she’d heard.

“Then it was definitely Jacob. He was with Claire and Bob in the church office when they were trying to find something to put on the billboard sign for Sunday. Just wait until I tell them! They’ll be so pleased he learned something new.”

Hannah knew there was some information she wasn’t getting. “Who is Jacob?” she asked, deciding to cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“He’s Pete Nunke’s mynah bird. Bob agreed to keep him while Pete recovers from back surgery.”

Hannah laughed. “Well, Jacob fooled me. I really thought he was Claire. Does he imitate you, too?”

“Not me. And not Bob either, at least not yet. He says two things he learned from Pete, though.”

“What are they?” Hannah took another forkful of cake. It was so delicious, she wanted to just put her head down and inhale it.

“The first one is, Brrr, it’s cold out there! And I won’t repeat the second one. It has something to do with the weather and someone digging a well, though.”

A possible phrase popped into Hannah’s head, but she wasn’t about to utter it in the parsonage. “Has Jacob learned anything else since he’s been here with you?”

“No, and it’s not for lack of effort. Bob and Claire have been trying to teach him to say his name, but he doesn’t seem interested.”

The phone on the end table rang, and Hannah took another bite of her cake while Grandma Knudson answered it. The cake layers had a slightly reddish tint and Hannah remembered that the recipe she’d copied had called for a half-cup of cocoa powder. Cakes made with cocoa powder often took on a nice mahogany color. She reread what she’d written on the recipe card that Grandma Knudson had given her and realized that the deep, dark flavor she’d failed to identify initially must be from the strong coffee that complemented the chocolate. No wonder this cake was so good!

“That was Bob,” Grandma Knudson told her, replacing the phone in its cradle. “They’re on their way home, and they said they’re bringing a surprise for me.”

“Any idea what it could be?”