Devil's Food Cake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #14)(61)

“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.”