Chocolate Cream Pie Murder (Hannah Swensen #24)

The organist, who had been playing softly while people filed into the church, increased the volume and segued into the verse of the hymn. This precluded any further conversation, and Hannah was grateful.

If there had been a ten-question quiz about the sermon that Reverend Bob delivered, Hannah would have flunked it. She was too busy worrying about what she wanted to say to pay attention. There were times during the sermon that Hannah wished Reverend Bob would hurry so that she could get up, apologize, and go back home. At other times, she found herself wishing that the sermon would go on forever and she’d never have to walk to the front of the church and speak.

When Reverend Bob finished, stepped down from the pulpit, and went into the room at the side of the nave to hang up his vestments, the butterflies of anxiety in Hannah’s stomach awoke and began to churn in a rising cloud that made her feel weak-kneed and slightly dizzy. She concentrated on breathing evenly until Reverend Bob reappeared in the black suit he wore once the sermon was over.

The announcements Reverend Bob made were short and sweet. There was a request for donations of canned food from the Bible Church for their homeless shelter in the church basement, an announcement of the nuptials scheduled on Valentine’s Day, a reminder that the lost and found box in the church office was overflowing with forgotten mittens, gloves, and caps, a notice of a time change in Grandma Knudson’s Bible study group, and two notifications of baptisms to be held after church services in the coming month.

“And now we have a special request from Hannah Swensen,” Reverend Bob told them. “She’d like to say a few words to you before the social hour.”

Hannah stood up and slid out of the pew. She walked up the aisle at the side of the church on legs that shook slightly to join Reverend Bob. She cleared her throat and then she began to speak.

“Almost everyone in the congregation today attended my wedding to Ross Barton in November. Most of you were also at the Lake Eden Inn for the reception.”

There were nods from almost everyone in attendance and Hannah went on. “I asked to speak to you today because I need to apologize. I think you all know that Ross is gone, and my family and I told you that he was on location for a new special that he was doing for KCOW Television. That is not true. I’m sorry to say that we lied to you and we owe you an apology for that.”

“If Ross isn’t out on location for a special, where is he?” Howie Levine asked.

Hannah wasn’t surprised by the question. Howie was a lawyer and he always asked probing questions. “Ross is in Wisconsin.”

“Is he filming something there?” Hal McDermott, co-owner of Hal and Rose’s Café, asked.

“No. I’ll tell you why he’s there, but first let me tell you what happened on the day Ross left Lake Eden.”

Haltingly at first, and then with more assurance, Hannah described what had happened on the day Ross left. The words were painful at first, but it became easier until all the facts had been given.

“Did Ross leave you a note?” Irma York, the wife of Lake Eden’s barber, asked.

“No, there was nothing. His car was still there, his billfold was on top of the dresser, where he always left it when he came home from work, and he’d even left his driver’s license and credit cards. It was almost as if he’d packed up his clothes and . . . and vanished. ”

“You must have been very worried,” Reverend Bob said sympathetically.

“Not at first. I was upset that he hadn’t called me to say he was leaving, but I thought that he had been rushed for time and he’d call me that night. Then, when I didn’t hear from him that night or the next day, I got worried.”

“Of course you did!” Grandma Knudson, Reverend Bob’s grandmother and the unofficial matriarch of the church, said with a nod.

“After three days,” Hannah continued, “I was afraid that something was very wrong and I asked Mike and Norman to help me look for Ross.”

Mike stood up to address the congregation. “It took us weeks of searching, but two of my detectives finally found Ross. Right after I verified his identity, Norman and I went to Hannah’s condo to tell her.” He turned around to face Hannah. “Go on, Hannah.”

“Yes,” Hannah said, gathering herself for the most difficult part of her apology. “When I came home that night, Mike and Norman were waiting for me. Both of them looked very serious and I knew right away that something was wrong. That’s when Mike said that they’d found Ross, and . . .” Hannah stopped speaking and drew a deep, steadying breath. “Mike told me that Ross had gone back to his wife.”

“His wife?” Grandma Knudson looked completely shocked. “But you’re his wife, Hannah! We were all right here when you married Ross!”

There was a chorus of startled exclamations from the congregation. Hannah waited until everyone was quiet again and then she continued. “Ross was already married when he married me. And that means my marriage to him wasn’t legal.”

“You poor dear!” Grandma Knudson got up from her place of honor in the first pew and rushed up to put her arm around Hannah. Then she motioned to her grandson. “Give me your handkerchief, Bob.”

Once the handkerchief was handed over, Grandma Knudson passed it to Hannah. “What are you going to do about this, Hannah?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” Hannah admitted truthfully. “I just wanted to tell all of you about this today because my family and I lied to you and we needed to set the record straight.”

“Hannah could sue Ross for bigamy,” Howie pointed out. “And since bigamy is a crime, Ross could be prosecuted. Do you want to press charges, Hannah?”

“I’m not sure. All I really know is that I never want to see him again.” There was a murmuring of sympathy from the congregation as Hannah dabbed at her eyes with the borrowed handkerchief. “I know all of you thought I was married. I thought I was married, too, but . . . but I wasn’t. And since you gave me wedding presents under false pretenses, I’d like to return them to you.”

“Ridiculous!” Grandma Knudson snorted, patting Hannah’s shoulder. And then she turned to face the worshippers. “You don’t want your wedding gifts back, do you?”

“I don’t!” Becky Summers was the first to respond. “Keep the silver platter, Hannah. Consider it an early birthday present.”

“The same for me!” Norman’s mother chimed in. “You keep the crystal pitcher, Hannah.”

Several other members of the congregation spoke up, all of them expressing the same wishes, and then Grandma Knudson held up her hand for silence. “If anyone here wants a wedding gift back, contact me and I’ll make sure you get it. And in the meantime, I think we’ve kept Hannah up here long enough.” She turned to Hannah. “I know you brought something for our social hour, Hannah. I saw Michelle run down the stairs with a big platter. What wonderful baked goods did you bring today?”

Hannah felt a great weight slip off her shoulders. It was over. She’d come and accomplished what she’d set out to do. Now she could relax and spend a little time with the people she knew and loved.

“I brought Valentine Whippersnapper Cookies,” she told them. “They’re a new cookie recipe from my sister Andrea. Since we’re about ready to start baking for Valentine’s Day at The Cookie Jar, Andrea and I really want your opinion. Please try a cookie and tell us what you think of them.”

Grandma Knudson turned to the congregation. “I’ll lead you downstairs so you can start in on those cookies. And then I’m coming back up here for a private word with Hannah.” She took Hannah’s arm, led her to the front pew, and motioned to her to sit down. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Just sit here and relax for a few moments.”

Hannah watched as the church emptied out with Grandma Knudson leading the way. Then she closed her eyes for a moment and relished the fact that the tension was leaving her body. She felt good, better than she had for a long time. Perhaps Reverend Bob was right and confession was good for the soul.