Carrot Cake Murder

Book 10: Hannah Swensen Mystery

by Joanne Fluke

Genres: Mystery; General Fiction; Romance; Mystery

Synopsis

Millions savor New York Times best-selling author Joanne Fluke’s delicious Hannah Swensen Mysteries. It’s summer time in Lake Eden, Minnesota, which means picnics aplenty for bakery proprietress and amateur sleuth Hannah. Then Uncle Gus is murdered following a big family reunion, and the only clues to be found at the crime scene are two slices of Hannah’s infamous carrot cake.

Release date: February 27, 2013

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

Thanks to Ruel, my in-house story editor, research team, and cheerleader.

And to our kids who know that there is no substitute for butter.

Hugs to the grandkids as they try to convince their moms that carrot cake is a vegetable.

Thank you to Mary Ann Grossman who gave me the idea for the victim in this book.

Thank you to our friends and neighbors:

Mel & Kurt, Lyn & Bill, Gina & the kids, Adrienne, Jay, Bob, Amanda, Dale, John B., Trudi, David, Dr. Bob & Sue, Laura & Mark, Richard & Krista, and my hometown friends from Swanville, Minnesota.

Thanks to the Hannah fans at Mysteries To Die For for taste-testing the Viking Cookies.

Thank you to my Editor-in-Chief, John Scognamiglio.

You’re the absolute best.

The same goes for Walter, Steve, Laurie, Doug, David, Maureen, Magee, Meryl, Colleen, Michaela, Kate, Jessica, Peter, Robin, Lydia, Lori, Mike, Tami, and Barbara.

Thank you to Hiro Kimura for the incredible carrot cake on the cover.

And thanks to Lou Malcangi for designing such a delicious dust jacket.

Thanks also to all the other talented folks at Kensington who keep Hannah sleuthing and baking up a storm.

Thanks to Levy Home Entertainment for inviting me to the 2007 convention in Chicago. Not only did I have a great time, I met some really wonderful people!

Thank you to Dee for Alison Wonderland’s stage name. Thanks to John for proofreading and for keeping my computer running. And thank you to Jill Saxton for catching more goofs than anyone else.

Thank you to Dr. Rahhal & Trina for all that you do.

Thanks to Mrs. Line for trying out so many recipes. And hugs to everyone who sent favorite family recipes for Hannah to try.

Massive hugs to Terry Sommers for testing all the recipes and trying them out on her family. Nobody’s keeled over yet, right, Terry?

Thank you to Jamie Wallace for keeping my Web site,
MurderSheBaked.com
up-to-date and looking great.

And many, many thanks to everyone who e-mailed or snail-mailed.

Writing is solitary work, but when you invite me into your lives, you make me feel like family.

The Amen couldn’t come fast enough to suit Hannah Swensen. She was sitting in the third pew from the front of Holy Redeemer Lutheran Church in Lake Eden, Minnesota, and her ears were still ringing from the fifth and final chorus of Jesu Priceless Treasure. She thought she might have suffered a slight hearing loss from Marge Beeseman’s attempt at a high G, but that wasn’t her primary concern. Her eyes were trained on Reverend Knudson as he emerged from the small dressing room adjacent to the pulpit. He was wearing an ordinary suit, the type Doug Greerson, president of the Lake Eden First Mercantile Bank, wore every day to work. The minister’s vestments had gone the way of his solemn manner, and he was smiling as he walked forward to informally address his flock.

An ecumenical fly droned its way from the open doors at the back of the church, alighting momentarily on Lutherans, Catholics, and Bible Church members alike. The church was packed this last Sunday in August, and much of that was Hannah’s mother’s doing. Delores Swensen had spent the previous evening on the phone, convincing scores of Lake Eden residents to attend Reverend Knudson’s ten o’clock service.

Hannah turned to look at her mother. Delores was watching the reverend with the same intent gaze that Hannah’s cat, Moishe, employed to run surveillance on the chipmunk that frequented the flowerbeds beneath Hannah’s living room window. The other occupants of the pew had also drawn a bead on their minister in mufti. Hannah’s two younger sisters, Andrea and Michelle, appeared mesmerized by his every move. And their mother’s business partner, Carrie Rhodes, was clutching her hymnal so hard Hannah was afraid she’d crack the spine. Even Carrie’s son, Norman, looked nervous. This was the showdown, the eleventh hour, the pivotal moment they’d all come to witness.

Reverend Knudson made his way to the head of the center aisle with all eyes upon him. He was still smiling and he didn’t look as if he had an important announcement to make, but almost everyone in the congregation, members and visitors alike, knew that he did. The reverend was about to tell them that he planned to marry Claire Rodgers, owner of Beau Monde Fashions, Lake Eden’s only designer dress shop.

Startled by a poke in the ribs, Hannah turned to her youngest sister. “What is it, Michelle?” she whispered.

“Two rows back on the other side,” Michelle replied, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. Then she jerked her head in the direction she wanted her oldest sister to look and nudged her again.

Hannah turned around and gave a little gasp as she saw the couple seated two rows behind them on the aisle. It was Mayor Bascomb and his wife, Stephanie. And they were the very couple Hannah had least expected to see at Holy Redeemer Lutheran this morning!

“Mother convinced Mrs. Bascomb to come,” Michelle continued, her lips close to Hannah’s ear. “She didn’t think anyone would have the nerve to object to Reverend Knudson and Claire getting married if they were here for the announcement. I mean…what reason could they give in front of the mayor’s wife?”

“Diabolical!” Hannah breathed, shooting her mother an admiring look. Rumor had it that Claire had once been Mayor Bascomb’s mistress. No one could prove it, but some members of the congregation tended to look down their noses at Claire. It was the reason Hannah, her family, and the scores of people that Delores had recruited were here to support the reverend’s announcement. There was no way Hannah and her extended family were going to let anyone throw a damper on this happy occasion.

“I’m delighted to see so many of you at services this morning,” Reverend Knudson said, beaming. And then he proceeded to announce upcoming activities for the week. Hannah learned that Bible study would take place on Monday night, there would be a church rummage sale on Tuesday afternoon, they would hold twilight services on Wednesday at seven with choir practice immediately after the service, and Luther League would meet in the church basement on Thursday night. Friday evening was slotted for Lutherans Without Partners, a new singles club. There would be two weddings on Saturday, and the regular services on Sunday morning.

“And now, if you’ll bear with me, I’d like to say something on a personal note. There is someone in this congregation who is near and dear to my heart.”

Hannah nudged Michelle. This was it. Reverend Knudson was about to do it!

“That someone is Winifred Henderson, and I’d like to thank her for her years of service in the church nursery. Because of Winnie, many of you mothers have enjoyed worry-free Sunday church services, knowing that your children are well cared for and happy in the nursery. Even though we don’t ordinarily applaud in church, I think Winnie deserves a standing ovation.”

Hannah stood and applauded along with everyone else, and then she sat back down to wait for the last announcement. Reverend Knudson’s eyes met hers for a moment, and then they quickly skittered away.

Uh-oh! Hannah breathed, coming very close to groaning out loud. There was only one reason for Reverend Knudson to avoid her eyes. Claire had gotten cold feet and asked him to delay the announcement again!

The reverend’s hand began to rise in a signal for the organist to play the recessional. But Hannah was quicker, and she shot to her feet. “Wait!” she said loudly. “I have an announcement to make.”

All eyes swiveled in her direction, and Hannah came close to wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her. But something had to be done right now and she had to do it. Reverend Knudson and Claire were perfect for each other. And Claire was letting her fear of rejection stand in the way of their future happiness.

“I know you’re too modest to mention how hard you work to keep all these church activities going,” Hannah began, making up a speech as she went. “I didn’t realize it before, but you just told us about a meeting, or group, or event every single day of the week. And you go to every one of them. Not only that, you counsel people if they have a problem, you visit the sick at Lake Eden Hospital, and you or Grandma Knudson are always available on the phone if we need you. I know I speak for everyone here when I say that we appreciate all the time and effort you spend looking after us and the church.”

“That’s right,” Marge Beeseman called down from the choir loft. “We think you deserve a standing ovation, too!”

This is nice, Hannah thought as she applauded with everyone else. They’re in the mood to applaud, and they’ll go right on applauding when I throw them a curve.

“Sometimes we take you for granted,” Hannah continued. “We forget that you have a personal life in addition to your life as our pastor. And I know that’s why you’re not mentioning the most wonderful news of all.” Hannah looked around at the congregation. She had them on the edges of the pews. Everyone was leaning forward, waiting. “And that wonderful news is that wedding bells are about to ring for you and your bride.”

If they lean forward anymore, they’ll fall on the floor, Hannah thought fleetingly, noticing that people in the front pew were canting forward at close to a ninety-degree angle. But she went right on despite Reverend Knudson’s startled expression. “I’m happy to tell all of you that she’s a member of our own congregation. Since the Reverend is too shy to do it, I’m announcing that Reverend Knudson and Claire Rodgers will be getting married at Christmas! And I think our beloved minister and his bride-to-be deserve a standing ovation.”

Of course they all applauded. They were programmed for standing ovations. And thanks to Delores and her phone recruiting, more people approved than objected. Now there was only one more thing for Hannah to do and that would be easy.

“I thought we should have a small celebration on this joyous occasion, so I brought several kinds of cookies and Edna Ferguson made coffee. There’s juice for the kids, and everything’s all set up on tables outside. Please enjoy yourself, and don’t forget to tell Reverend Knudson and Claire how much you’re looking forward to their marriage.”

 

“Hannah?” Norman came up to her and slipped his arm around her waist. “That was just amazing what you did back there. You could sell kitty litter to nomads.”

Hannah laughed. Norman had a way with words. “Thank you…I think. Did you happen to notice how fast the Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies went?”

“They’re almost gone. Decorating them with Claire and the reverend’s initials was a brilliant touch.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, knowing full well that Norman had caught her psychological ploy. Anyone who took a cookie with the two sets of initials encircled by a heart was giving symbolic approval to the marriage. “How about the Viking Cookies?”

“What Viking Cookies? The little sign is still there, but the plate’s empty. And I didn’t even get to taste them.”

“Don’t worry. I saved some for you.” Hannah was pleased that the Viking Cookies were such a big hit. The recipe was a new one that Lisa had perfected and it was made with her favorite white chocolate.

Marge Beeseman came up to them with a huge smile on her face. “That was an excellent speech, Hannah.”

“Thanks. I figured I’d better do something or Reverend Knudson would cop out again. Did Lisa tell you that we saved a few dozen cookies for this afternoon in case some of your relatives come in early for the family reunion?”

“She told me. And that’s so sweet of you, Hannah. My sister Patsy and her husband are here already, and so is Lisa’s oldest brother, Tim, the one who moved to Chicago.”

“How many people do you expect?” Norman asked. Although he wasn’t a Lake Eden native, he’d been here for almost three years now and he knew that Lisa’s family was huge, and so was the Beeseman family.

“Almost all the out-of-town relatives sent in the card that Lisa and Herb mailed with the invitation. And some locals called instead of filling it out. As it stands right now, I think we’ll be over a hundred.”

“That’s a big party!” Hannah said, wishing she’d saved more cookies. “Did Andrea find enough rentals for you at the lake?”

“I think so. And if we’re a little short on room, we’ll just double up. The Des Moines Beesemans are bringing their RV and there’s room for three more in there, and the Brainerd Hermans are bringing an extra tent in case anyone needs it.”

“Are you looking forward to seeing all your relatives again?” Norman asked.

“I’ll say! There are some grandnieces and grandnephews I haven’t even met yet. It’s going to be the most wonderful week! There’s only one thing I wish…” Marge stopped speaking and looked a bit wistful.

“What’s that?” Hannah asked her.

“It’s my brother, Gus. I was hoping he’d hear about the family reunion and show up.”

“He didn’t respond to the invitation?” Hannah was curious.

“He didn’t get an invitation. I don’t have an address for him.”

There was a story here, and both Hannah and Norman realized it. Like a good, attentive audience, they remained silent and waited for Marge to explain.

“Gus left Lake Eden over thirty years ago, and no one’s heard from him since. I hired a private detective to try to find him when my mother got sick, but he said Gus probably changed his name, and unless he knew what it was, he couldn’t get a lead on him.”

“Did you try a search on the Internet?” Norman asked.

“Herb did. There are some other August Kleins, but not my brother, Gus.”

“He didn’t tell anyone where he was going?” Hannah couldn’t help but ask.

Marge shook her head. “He just disappeared in the middle of the night. He was staying with my folks at the time. All he took was a change of clothes and some money from the teapot on the kitchen counter.” Marge must have seen their puzzled looks, because she went on to explain. “The teapot was a gift from one of my great aunts, the ugliest thing you ever saw! None of us drank tea, so we used it for the family bank when we were all growing up. We knew we could take money out when we needed it, and pay it back later, when we could.”

“How much money did your brother take?” Hannah was curious.

“We were never really sure, but my father didn’t think it was over a hundred dollars. Nobody ever bothered to count it. They just remembered how much they took so they could put it back.”

Hannah did some fast figuring. “Bus tickets weren’t that expensive back then,” she said. “Your brother could have gone all the way to the west coast. Or to the east coast, for that matter.”

“And he would have had seed money when he got there,” Marge informed her. “I know my sister Patsy lent him some money about a week before he left town, and he borrowed some from me, too.”

“Then his problem wasn’t lack of money.”

“No. He was living with Mom and Dad, so he didn’t have to pay for rent, or food, or anything like that. I was living there, too. I had a job, but I didn’t leave home until the next summer, when I got married.”

“Was there any indication that he was going to leave?” Norman asked. “I mean, did he act restless or anything like that?”

“Not really. To this day, I don’t know why he took off like that. I’ve been thinking about it ever since Lisa and Herb first mentioned having a family reunion, and I couldn’t help hoping that he’d finally come home.”

There was a moment of silence. Neither Hannah nor Norman was quite sure what to say. Then there was a honk from the street as a car drove up, a shiny new red car with a classic hood ornament.

“Nice car!” Norman exclaimed, eyeing the new Jaguar with obvious admiration. Then he turned to Marge. “One of your relatives?”

Marge gave a little laugh. “That’s unlikely. As far as I know, we don’t have any family that rich. Can you see who’s driving?”

“It’s a guy,” Hannah told her. “Come on. Let’s walk over to see who it is.”

By the time they made their way to the street, the Jaguar was surrounded by admirers. They walked around to the street side, and Marge’s eyes widened as she saw that her son was sitting in the passenger seat. “Herb?” she gasped. “What are you doing in there?”

“Hi, Mom. I took a quick run by the house to make sure no more relatives came in while we were at church, and look who I found waiting for us!”

Herb leaned back so that Marge could see the driver. “He said you probably won’t recognize him, since it’s been a really long time.”

“Is it…?” Hannah breathed, hardly daring to ask if Marge’s wish had come true.

“Yes!” Marge was clearly ecstatic as she ran around the car to hug her brother through the open window. “Oh, Gus! I’m so glad you came home at last!”



VIKING COOKIES

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

2 cups butter (4 sticks—melted)

2 cups brown sugar

2 cups white sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

4 eggs—beaten

2 teaspoons vanilla

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon cardamom (nutmeg will also work, but cardamom is better)

4½ cups flour

3 cups white chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli’s)***

3 cups rolled oats (uncooked oatmeal—I used Quaker’s Quick Oatmeal)

Melt the butter in a large microwave-safe bowl, or on the stove in a small saucepan. (It should melt in about 3 minutes in the microwave on HIGH.) Set it on the counter and let it cool to room temperature.

When the butter is cool, mix in the white sugar and the brown sugar.

Add the baking powder, baking soda, salt, eggs, vanilla, and spices. Make sure it’s all mixed in thoroughly.

Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. Then add the white chocolate chips (or pieces of white chocolate if you cut up a block) and stir thoroughly.

Add the oatmeal and mix. The dough will be quite stiff.

Drop by teaspoons onto a greased (or sprayed with nonstick cooking spray) standard-sized cookie sheet, 12 cookies to a sheet.

Flatten the cookies on the sheet with a greased metal spatula (or with the palm of your impeccably clean hand.) You don’t have to smush them all the way down so they look like pancakes—just one squish will do it.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 11 to 13 minutes or until they’re an attractive golden brown. (Mine took the full 13 minutes.)

Cool the cookies for 1 to 2 minutes on the cookie sheets and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: 10 to 12 dozen delicious cookies, depending on cookie size.

These freeze well if you roll them in foil and put them in a freezer bag.

Hannah’s Note: These cookies will go fast, even frozen. If you want to throw the midnight freezer raiders off the track, wrap the cookie rolls in a double thickness of foil and then stick them in a freezer bag. Label the bag with a food your family doesn’t like, (something like BEEF TONGUE, or PORK KIDNEYS, or even LUTEFISK—it works every time.)



Hannah stopped just inside her condo door and stared around her in shock. There had been a blizzard in her living room! Her wall-to-wall carpeting, normally a dark green color that she’d chosen because it reminded her of a lush green lawn, was covered with fluffy white snowflakes. Except it wasn’t snow, and it wasn’t flakes. And there was the empty couch pillow cover to prove it. Hannah picked up the cover and read the tag listing the contents. What she’d thought was snow was really the “unidentified fibers” CostMart used as stuffing in their decorator sofa pillows.

“Moishe?” she called out, realizing that her orange-and-white feline roommate was nowhere in sight. He hadn’t hurtled himself into her arms as he usually did when she came in the door, and that meant he was probably responsible. The pillow was a bit wet on the corner, from kitty saliva no doubt, and at least two paws’ worth of claws had shredded the fabric to pull out the faux snow. The male companion who shared her home and her bed knew he’d done wrong and he was hiding somewhere, waiting for her to get over her initial shock and anger before he showed himself.

At least the pillow stuffing was easy to collect. Hannah got a garbage bag from the broom closet and began to fill it with the fluffy white balls. As she bent, retrieved, and stuffed, she thought about the very few times that Moishe had misbehaved.

A month or two after he’d decided to set up residence with her, Hannah had forgotten to empty his litter box when she cleaned the condo. Moishe had given her a one-day grace period, but the following night, when she’d come home from work at her bakery and coffee shop, she discovered that he’d accomplished the task himself and the litter was scattered all over the floor. At that late stage, it had been impossible for Hannah to tell whether her fastidious feline had gotten in to scratch it out, or whether he’d tipped the pan to dump it out and then righted it again. It didn’t really matter in the giant scheme of things. She’d never needed another reminder to empty Moishe’s litter box.

A more serious infraction had taken place a month or two after the litter box incident. Moishe had taken an immediate dislike to Hannah’s mother, and he’d snagged several pairs of her real silk and really expensive pantyhose before Delores had decided that Hannah should visit her, rather than the other way around. Hannah liked to think that her kitty’s dislike of Delores came from an effort to protect her from her mother’s not-so-gentle reminders that she was over thirty, her biological clock was ticking, and she was still single. Perhaps that was true. Or perhaps Moishe simply didn’t like the perfume Delores wore, or the pitch of her voice, or any of a hundred other things.

Hannah glanced at the deflated pillow casing. The litter box message and her mother’s shredded stockings had been easy to interpret. This message was not so obvious. Did it mean that Moishe had suddenly developed an aversion to pillows? Although she’d never been to veterinary school, she didn’t think it was common for cats to develop pillowphobia. Had Moishe objected to her color scheme for couch accessories and decided to let his preferences be known? The wine-colored pillow was intact, but he’d quite literally beaten the stuffing out of the light green pillow. Perhaps the light green color had reminded him of some traumatic incident in his kittenhood?

“Ridiculous!” she murmured under her breath. If there was a message in Moishe’s pillow bashing, it probably had something to do with what was inside the pillow. Hannah let her imagination run wild. It was possible that a colony of bugs originating from the country that exported CostMart’s unidentified pillow fibers had hatched.

Hannah glanced down at the fibers she’d tossed in the garbage bag. She didn’t see any bugs. Could they be tiny, almost microscopic insects that would flutter around harmlessly for a day or two and then disappear? Or were they some type of science fiction worm that would invade her body, take over her mind, and…

A small pathetic sound brought Hannah out of her late-night horror movie scenario. Moishe was inching across the rug toward her, clearly unsure of her reaction but unable to stay away any longer from the mistress he loved. His expression was wide-eyed innocence, and it seemed to say, What happened to that pillow? You don’t think I did that, do you? He reminded Hannah of her niece, Tracey, who’d come out of the kitchen at The Cookie Jar with chocolate smears on her face, insisting that she’d given a half-dozen chocolate chip cookies to a poor starving man who’d knocked at the back door.

“It’s okay,” Hannah said, cutting straight to the chase. “I know you shredded that pillow, and I’m not mad at you. I just wish I knew why you did it.”

Moishe gave as close to a shrug as a cat could give, hunching his shoulders forward and then back. His tail flicked once and his eyes opened wide. Hannah thought he looked thoroughly bewildered. Perhaps he didn’t know why he’d done it either, and she reached down to pick him up.

The moment she lifted him up into her arms, he began to purr. Hannah nuzzled him and gave him a little scratch behind the ears in the spot he loved. He licked her hand to show that he was grateful for her forgiveness. At least she thought it was to indicate that he was grateful. It could also have something to do with the fact that she’d packed up the leftover cookies and probably smelled like butter.

“Just let me finish up here,” Hannah said, placing him on the back of the couch so that she could pick up the last few clumps of pillow innards. She tied the bag shut, placed it by the door so she’d remember to carry it out to the Dumpster when she left for the evening, and beckoned to Moishe, who was watching her intently. “I bet you’d like lunch. I know I would.”

After a quick survey of the pantry and cupboards, Hannah turned to her cat again. “How about Salmon Cakes?”

“Yowwww!” Moishe said.

Hannah took that as approval and she selected a small can of red salmon from the pantry. She opened it and dumped it into a strainer, removing the soft backbones and the dark skin for Moishe. Once she’d thoroughly drained the fish and flaked it, she cut the crusts from two slices of sourdoug. . .