Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(59)

"Corn cookies?" Hannah was puzzled. She'd never heard of corn cookies, but she knew that corn was a basic ingredient in Native American cooking. Perhaps it was a tribal custom to bake cookies with corn in them for Halloween, but that seemed odd. Hannah was fairly sure that Halloween had no celebratory significance in American Indian culture.

"What's the matter, Hannah? Haven't you ever heard of corn cookies?"

"No, I haven't," Hannah said, wondering how to word the second half of her response. "Are they… uh… an old Indian recipe?"

Jon threw back his head and laughed long and hard. Several people seated at the tables turned to stare at him, but he just laughed harder. When he had calmed down enough to speak again, he asked, "An old Indian recipe? I guess you're right, in a way. My mother's an old Indian."

"I didn't mean that!" Hannah retorted, chuckling along with Jon. "But I really would like to know more about them. Are corn cookies ethnic, or tribal, or whatever's politically correct to say now?"

Jon shrugged. "I really doubt it. As far as I know, my mother was the only woman on the reservation who baked them."

"Did she use corn meal? Or canned corn?" Hannah asked. She was about to add cornflakes to her list of possibilities, but Jon was laughing so hard he wouldn't have heard her anyway.

"None of the above. I'm not talking about real corn, Hannah. My mother made pumpkin cookies and decorated the tops with candy corn."



Hannah climbed the stairs to her condo with resolve. She was determined to give Moishe his vitamin supplement. Several of her patrons had offered advice on medicating cats and a couple of techniques sounded as if they might work. First of all, she had to put on a heavy, long-sleeved shirt. Everyone agreed that this was important. She also had to wear gloves to guard against scratches and bites. Trudi Schmann thought that Hannah should tie Moishe up so that she could use both hands to medicate him. She'd even suggested duct-taping his feet together. That unhelpful hint had gone in one of Hannah's ears and out the other. Everyone knew that Trudi didn't like cats.

Vern Kleinschmidt suggested tranquilizing Moishe so that giving him the vitamins would be easier. But the moment the suggestion left his mouth, he realized that there was no way to tranquilize Moishe without giving him a pill. And if Hannah had to hold him and give him a pill, she might as well give him the vitamins.

Lisa came up with the best feline offensive, the one Hannah intended to use. She was going to wrap Moishe tightly in a large bath towel so he couldn't scratch, set him on her lap facing her, and hold him in place with her legs. Then she'd have both hands free and could use one to block his nose. Moishe would be forced to breathe through his mouth, and when he opened it, she'd squirt in the vitamins.

"I'm home," Hannah called out as she unlocked the door to her condo, but no orange and white blur hurtled itself into her arms. Moishe must be keeping a low profile, perhaps because he felt guilty for scratching her this morning. "Moishe? Where are you, boy?"

Hannah tossed her shoulder bag purse and her jacket on the chair by the door and started the search for her missing cat. With the exception of tipping the couch on end so that she could see beneath it, she explored every feline hiding place in the living room and came up with nothing.

Hannah flicked on the kitchen light and checked the narrow space by the side of the refrigerator, the seats of the chairs that were pushed under the formica table, and the area behind the kitchen wastebasket. She even looked on top of the refrigerator, although he hadn't jumped up there in a while. Moishe wasn't in the kitchen.

He wasn't in the laundry room, either. Or the guest bedroom. Hannah stepped into her bedroom and called out again. Moishe had to be here. There was no way he could have gotten out.

She was about to go through the rooms again when she heard a pathetic mew. Then Moishe appeared, pulling himself out from under the bed. Hannah's heart plummeted to her toes when she saw him. Something was terribly wrong. Her poor kitty was trembling so hard he could barely move and he was crawling along on his belly.

"Come here, sweetheart," Hannah crooned, reaching out to carefully gather him into her arms. She held him gingerly, fearing he might be injured, and set him on his favorite goose down pillow.

Moishe looked up at her as she sat down on the bed beside him and Hannah could swear he blinked away a tear. Then he pulled himself closer to her and licked her hand.

"Poor baby," Hannah murmured, leaning down to nuzzle him on the top of his head. "Did something scare you?"

Moishe mewed again and pushed his head up against her hand, soliciting more gentle pets from his mistress. Hannah obliged and felt for injury. Nothing seemed to be broken, and there were no wounds that she could see or feel.

After several long minutes of scratching and soothing, Moishe was calm again. Hannah made sure that he was bribed into complacency by a handful of his favorite salmon-flavored kitty treats, and then she headed off to see if she could spot what had disturbed him.

The windows were secure and the door had been locked when she came in. Finding nothing amiss in any of the other rooms, Hannah headed into the bathroom. And that was when she found the telltale piece of evidence that told her exactly what had happened. The liquid vitamin supplement she'd left on the kitchen counter was now in the bottom of her toilet bowl.

"Uh-oh," Hannah groaned. No wonder Moishe had been trembling when he'd come out from under the bed! He knew he'd done wrong.