<9>
Hannah groaned as Edna’s words sank in. “Mother’s cake knife is missing?”
“That’s what I said.”
“And you looked on the dessert table?”
“That’s what I said, too!”
“All right. Don’t panic. It’s got to be here somewhere.”
“Where? I looked everywhere!”
“Take a deep breath and let it out slowly,” Hannah advised, taking a moment to do exactly that. “When is the last time you saw it?”
Edna did exactly what Hannah said, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It was proof of how upset she was, since Edna rarely took anyone’s advice about anything. “It was on the dessert table when I carried out the second crock of meatballs. I remember thinking how pretty it looked under the lights.”
Hannah glanced at the elaborately carved wooden container on the kitchen counter. “Maybe someone put it back in the chest?”
“Nope. I checked that right off. That box is as empty as Redeemer Lutheran on the Sunday after Jordan High’s homecoming game.”
Hannah bit back a laugh at Edna’s description. It was true that most people celebrated too much on homecoming weekend and not that many had the urge to get up early on Sunday morning and make it to church.
“I’m sure you’re right, but . . . I just have to check for myself.” Hannah walked over to the box and raised the lid. It was empty, just as Edna had said. “Sorry, Edna.”
“That’s all right. I checked it twice myself.”
Both women leaned up against the counter to think about the seemingly insurmountable problem at hand. They were so quiet Hannah could hear the kitchen clock ticking as the minute hand moved up a notch.
“Do you think someone could have used it for something else?” Hannah finally asked, after another notch had clicked off. “I mean, picture this . . . someone in the buffet line needs another knife for the turkey, or whatever. They’re about to go back to the kitchen to get one when they notice Mother’s knife on the dessert table. So they take it and use it and . . . “
“And they leave it on the entrée table!” Edna interrupted, somehow managing to look doubtful and hopeful at the same time.
“Exactly right. It could have happened that way.”
“That means we’d better check the other buffet tables. I don’t want your mother to know it’s missing until we know for sure. Will you do it . . . um . . . you know . . . “
“Surreptitiously?” Hannah supplied the word she thought Edna was trying to say.
“That’s exactly what I mean. I’m so upset, I couldn’t think of the polite word for sneaky.”
A cake knife the size and commanding presence of her mother’s antique silver heirloom couldn’t hide for long on any of the other tables. Just to be sure, Hannah lifted platters and checked under bowls and centerpieces, but she really hadn’t expected to find it, and she wasn’t surprised when it didn’t turn up.
“You didn’t find it,” Edna said, reading Hannah’s expression when she returned to the kitchen.
“I’m afraid I didn’t.”
“Your mother’s going to kill me. You know that, don’t you? We’ve just got to find it before she realizes that it’s missing.” Edna sat down on a kitchen stool, thought for a moment, and raised her head to look at Hannah. “Do you think someone stole it?”
“In Lake Eden?”
“You’re right. Nobody here would do something like that.”
“Chances are it’s just misplaced, and that means it has to be around here somewhere. Why don’t you take a look to see if anything n the tables need replenishing? I’ll stay in here and go through every cupboard and drawer in this kitchen.”
“Good idea,” Edna said, taking the top from a huge Tupperware container shaped like a dress box. “While I was out there looking for the cake knife, I noticed that some of your Christmas cookies were gone. Can’t say as I blame the folks that took ‘em early. Your cookies are prettier than the ones they show in the magazines.”
“The pretty part is Lisa’s doing. She decorated them. All I did was bake them.”
“They’re tasty, too. Sweet and crunchy, with the taste of butter in every bite.”
“You ate one?” Hannah was surprised. When Edna managed a potluck dinner, she waited to eat until they’d carried the food back into the kitchen. And unlike Hannah, who sometimes couldn’t resist sampling something yummy, Edna wasn’t the type of person to eat dessert first.
“It was a Santa with one leg broken off. If I’d put it on the platter that way, sure and shootin’ some child would have had nightmares about it.” Edna headed for the door, but she turned back for a final comment. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, but I’m going to keep my fingers crossed.”
Once Edna had left to restock the cookie platter, Hannah searched systematically, determined to go through every cupboard and drawer. Edna buzzed in and out, putting out more food where it was needed. Then she began to get out the rest of the desserts and prepare them for presentation.
Hannah met Edna’s eyes several times while the older woman was cutting cakes and pies in even slices and arranging platters of cookies and cookie bars. Each time Edna’s eyebrows elevated in a question, Hannah shook her head. The missing cake knife was still missing, and Hannah’s hope that she’d find it stuck away in a drawer or mixed in with other serving implements was dwindling faster than an ice cube in a mug of steaming hot coffee.
It took awhile, but at last Hannah knew she’d left no metaphorical stone unturned. She’d been so thorough. She would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that her mother’s cake knife was not in the Lake Eden Community Center kitchen. Hannah headed for a stool at one of the center work islands. She had to tell Delores the bad news before she discovered it for herself. There was no way Hannah would shirk that duty, but she did need time to think of a way to phrase the message that wouldn’t immediately result in the death of the messenger.
Delivering bad news had never been one of her skills. Hannah tended to blurt things out, a bit like jerking a bandage from a wound rather than inching the tape off. She didn’t think she was quite as outspoken as Edna, but people weren’t that far wrong when they accused her of having no tact.
The pantry door was open slightly and Hannah noticed that the light was on. She hadn’t bothered to check the pantry, because she’d assumed that no one had used it. Since it was a potluck dinner, everyone had brought in fully cooked dishes. Edna and her helpers had simply kept things warm or chilled, depending on the dish, until it was time to serve.
Hannah’s mind spun, imagining a possible scenario. Someone who’d brought in a dessert suddenly realized they’d forgotten powdered sugar to sprinkled over the top. Rather than rush home to get it, the frantic cook stepped into the community center pantry hoping to borrow some. Had that person also picked up the antique cake knife, intending to use it to slice her dessert? It was certainly possible . . .perhaps unlikely, but still possible.
Rising quickly, Hannah hurried to the pantry and opened the door. A quick scan of the neatly stocked shelves disproved the theory that had seemed plausible only moments ago. The cake knife was nowhere in sight. Hannah was about to turn off the light and step back out into the kitchen when she noticed that the dead bolt on the door to the parking lot wasn’t locked.
Hannah opened the door and took a step outside. Through the blowing snow, she could see the icy hulks of parked cars. This was the delivery entrance and since it opened onto the parking lot, it would be a perfect escape route for a thief. If someone really had stolen her mother’s antique knife and ducked out to the parking lot through this door, they’d be long gone by now.
A blast of cold wind carrying icy needles of snow made her shiver. Hannah was about to step back into the warmth of the pantry when she noticed something bulky on the ground between two of the parked cars. It looked furry, like some sort of animal, but it was too small for a bear, and too large for a dog.
Curiosity trickled, gathered force, and grew into a mighty waterfall. There was no way Hannah could turn around and go back inside without finding out what kind of animal was in the parking lot. She headed out at a trot, glad that she was wearing her all-purpose footwear, the moosehide moccasin boots that were so politically incorrect with people who’d never even seen a moose . . . or smelled one, for that matter.
Hannah’s sweater was dusted with flakes of snow by the time she got close enough to see. She bent over to examine the large lump of fur, and reached out to steady herself on the nearest car. The animal she thought she’d seen had been made into an expensive fur coat that Martin’s new wife was wearing. The only other animal in sight was the reindeer sugar cookie that was broken in near Brandi’s feet, along with the pieces of a Christmas tree cookie, and a bell decorated in red and green icing. Brandi must have taken several cookies from the dessert table and come out here to eat them. The big question was, did she also take the antique cake knife?
Hoping that she’d just slipped and fallen, Hannah reached down to tap Brandi on the shoulder. “Brandi? Do you need help getting up?”
There was no answer and Hannah began to frown. This didn’t look good. “Brandi?” she called again, shaking her a little harder and wondering if she should go for help. The former dancer wasn’t moving, but she could be faking it. If Hannah left her alone and Brandi had the cake knife, she might make a run for it with the valuable antique.
Hannah knew that it was dangerous to move someone who had undetermined injuries. Accident victims had died from the ministrations of well-meaning bystanders who had tried to move them without backboards and stabilizing collars. Hannah certainly wouldn’t risk moving Brandi, but she’d taken a first aid class in college and she knew there was a pulse point just under the jawbone on the side of a person’s neck.
The collar of Brandi’s coat was in the way and Hannah pushed it back. This caused the coat to fall open and Hannah gave a strangled gulp as she caught sight of Brandi’s chest.
Hannah felt for a pulse, even though her rational mind told her it was useless. No one could live with a wound that deep. She’d just straightened up, dizzy and slightly sick to her stomach at the sight of the blood that had been soaked up by the expensive fur, when the pantry door banged open and she heard Edna’s voice.
“Hannah? Are you out there?”
“I’m here.”
“Did you find the knife?”
Hannah glanced down at her mother’s valuable antique knife, buried to the hilt in Brandi’s too-perfectly-proportioned-to-be-natural chest. “I found it.”
“Thank the Lord,” Edna shouted out gratefully. “Bring it here before your mother realizes it’s missing.”
Hannah considered that for a moment. The urge to jerk the knife out of Brandi’s chest and head for the kitchen at a run was strong. But equally strong was the awareness of her civic duty. Brandi didn’t stab herself, and that meant murder. And disturbing a crime scene by removing the murder weapon was a big no-no. “Sorry, Edna. . . I can’t bring it in.”
“Why not?”
“Because Brandi’s got it.” And with that said, Hannah turned and headed back to the kitchen to explain.