Apple Turnover Murder, Key Lime Pie Murder, Cherry Cheesecake Murder, Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  The ladies’ room at the Lake Eden Inn was spacious. Sally had placed several chairs around a round table opposite the sinks and the mirrors, and there was even a phone on the wall. Hannah had spent too many minutes thinking about how that phone might be used. She’d come up with several scenarios, including a woman on an unpleasant date who might use it to call a taxi and leave before her escort could become any more unpleasant.

  “Have a chair,” Hannah said, taking a quick peek in the other room to make sure they were completely alone and then sitting in the chair directly opposite the teenage waitress she was now beginning to think of as her informant. “Why did you take coffee to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer?”

  “He forgot to pick up the thermos Sally had at the desk for him. And since I was scheduled to work breakfast and I had a car, Sally asked me to run it into town for her.”

  “Okay,” Hannah said, pulling her shorthand notebook from her purse and flipping it to the right page. “What time did you get to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer?”

  “Eight-thirty. I was listening to KCOW radio and Kelly was just about to bang the gong for the half-hour when I pulled in and parked.”

  Hannah jotted down the time and decided not to ask about the gong. Jake and Kelly were the half-comedy, half-news team who hosted KCOW’s News at O’Dark-Thirty, and they could get a bit strange. “What happened next?”

  “Well, I got out of the car with the thermos and the first thing I heard was yelling. It was coming from the trailer and I recognized Mr. Anson’s voice.”

  “Are you absolutely positive it was Mr. Anson?” Hannah asked, her pen poised over the page.

  “Oh, I’m sure. And I saw him leave a couple of minutes later, so that proves it.”

  That was good enough for Hannah and she jotted down Burke Anson’s name. “And Mr. Lawrence was in his trailer at that time?”

  “Oh, yes. He was yelling, too. That’s why I waited to knock on the door. I didn’t want to go inside in the middle of a fight.”

  “A wise decision,” Hannah said, hoping that Amber had overheard something useful. “So you sat in your car and waited?”

  “That’s right. But I did something I’m a little ashamed of. I left the door open a little so I could listen.”

  “Of course you did!”

  “But I know I shouldn’t have done that. I was eavesdropping on a private conversation and that’s never nice.”

  “Of course it’s not, but I don’t think you could find a single person in Lake Eden who wouldn’t have done exactly what you did.” Hannah stopped to give Amber an encouraging smile. “And you had a good reason for listening.”

  “I did?”

  “Absolutely. You had to know when Dean and Burke stopped yelling so that you could deliver the coffee.”

  “That’s right.” Amber smiled right back. “I really like the way you think, Miss Swensen.”

  Hannah glanced down at her notebook. “All right. While you were sitting in your car waiting for them to end their altercation, what did you hear?”

  “Mostly it was just yelling at each other about who did something. You know how that goes.”

  “I probably do, but tell me anyway.”

  “Mr. Anson was saying, ‘I know you did it, Dean!’ And Mr. Lawrence was saying, ‘You’re crazy. I had nothing to do with it.’”

  “Did you ever find out what they were arguing about?”

  “Not really. It just went back and forth after that and each time it got louder. Mr. Anson kept telling Mr. Lawrence to remember last Tuesday, and Mr. Lawrence kept saying that he had nothing to do with it.”

  Hannah jotted down Last Tuesday with a question mark. “And they never mentioned what happened last Tuesday?”

  “Not once. But something must have, Miss Swensen. They were sure hot under the collar about it. The only other thing that Sally thought you might want to know is what Mr. Anson said right before he stormed out of Mr. Lawrence’s trailer.”

  Hannah leaned forward, her pen poised to record something of great import. “What did he say?”

  “If I find out you did it, you’re going to pay!”

  “Okay, Amber.” Hannah jotted down Burke’s final threat and returned the notebook to her purse. “Thanks a lot for telling me.”

  After Amber left, Hannah just sat there for a minute, thinking about what she’d learned. The fight between Burke and Dean was interesting, but it didn’t shed any real light on Dean’s murder. Burke certainly hadn’t switched the prop gun for a real one, not when he was about to hold it up to his own head and pull the trigger. It had to be someone else, perhaps another person who was involved in whatever had happened the previous Tuesday. She’d ask Ross about that and if Ross didn’t know, she’d ask Michelle to quiz the other members of the crew about it.

  LEMON CREAM TORTE

  Preheat oven to 250 degrees F., rack in the middle position (Not a misprint—two hundred and fifty degrees F.)

  Hannah’s Note: Try to choose a day when the humidity is low to bake this. Meringues don’t crisp up as well if the air is too humid.

  Meringue:

  4 egg whites (reserve the yolks in a bowl for the filling)

  1 cup white (granulated) sugar

  ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

  Cover a cookie sheet with parchment paper. (You can use brown parcel-wrapping paper, but parchment works best.) Draw two 8-inch diameter circles on your paper, using a round 8-inch cake pan as a guide. Spray the paper with Pam, or other non-stick cooking spray, and sprinkle it lightly with flour.

  Beat the egg whites until they are stiff enough to hold a soft peak. Add 2?3 cup of the sugar gradually, sprinkling it in and beating hard (on high speed with an electric mixer) after each sprinkling. Pour in the vanilla extract and sprinkle in the rest of the sugar ( 1/3 cup.) Mix it in very gently (on low speed with an electric mixer), or fold in with an angel food cake whisk until the meringue is smooth.

  Spoon half the meringue neatly into one of the 8-inch circles. Smooth the top—it should be about ¾ inch thick. Spoon the remaining meringue into the second circle and smooth the top.

  Bake at 250 degrees F. for one hour, or until slightly golden on top and the surface is hard when touched.

  Cool completely on the cookie sheet on a wire rack.

  When the meringues are cool, gently loosen them by peeling off the paper. Put them back on the paper loose, and move them to a cool, dry place. (A dark cupboard is fine—The refrigerator is NOT FINE.)

  Filling:

  4 egg yolks

  ½ cup white (granulated) sugar

  3 Tablespoons lemon juice

  2 teaspoons lemon zest (finely grated peel—just the yellow part)

  ½ cup whipping cream

  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

  ¼ cup white (granulated) sugar (you’ll use ¾ cup total in the filling)

  Beat the egg yolks with ½ cup sugar until smooth. Add the lemon juice and zest.

  Cook in the top of a double boiler, over gently boiling water, until the egg yolk mixture is smooth and as thick as mayonnaise. (That’s a little thicker than gravy and takes about 3 minutes or so.) Move the top part of the double boiler to a cold burner and let the mixture cool while you complete the rest of the recipe.

  Pour the vanilla into the cream. Whip the cream just until it holds a peak. Don’t overbeat. Beat in the remaining ¼ cup sugar. Slowly stir the whipped cream mixture into the warm lemon mixture until you have a light, smooth sauce. (Lick the spoon—it’s yummy!) Cover it and refrigerate the sauce until you’re ready to serve.

  To assemble, get out the meringues and the lemon filling. Decide which meringue looks best and set that aside for the top. Place the other meringue on a cake plate.

  Spoon half of the lemon filling over the top of the meringue on the cake plate. Spread it with a rubber spatula so it’s almost out to the edge.

  Put the best-looking meringue on top. Spoon the rest of the lemon filling on top of that meringue and spread it out with a rubber
spatula.

  To serve, cut pie-shaped wedges at the table and transfer them to dessert plates. This is a light, sugary but tart, totally satisfying summer dessert.

  Yield: Serves 4 to 6 people (unless you invite Carrie—she always has thirds).

  Another Note From Hannah: This dessert is certainly yummy, but it’s not gorgeous. When Sally serves it at the Lake Eden Inn, she slices it in the kitchen because the meringues tend to crumble. Then she puts it on a beautiful dessert plate or in a cut glass dessert bowl, tops it with a generous dollop of sweetened whipped cream, and places a paper-thin lemon slice on top to make it look fancy.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Seven

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Delores asked. Her mother’s question yanked Hannah out of the contented daydream she’d slipped into after finishing the baking and back to reality, where she was sitting across from Delores in the kitchen of The Cookie Jar. Since telling her mother that she’d been thinking about Ross, the fun they’d had the previous evening, and the possibility of more fun in the future might encourage her matchmaking matriarch much too much, Hannah pretended she hadn’t heard. “What did you say, Mother?”

  “Why were you smiling like that?”

  “Smiling like what?”

  “Like the cat that got into the cream pot.”

  Hannah’s ears perked up. It was another Regency expression from the mother who’d been spouting them left and right for the past few weeks. In less time than it took to mix up a batch of Oatmeal Raisin Crisps, Delores had used three Regency expressions and the cat and the cream pot counted as the fourth. She’d said high in the instep to describe someone who was snooty, she’d called the new sweater she’d bought all the crack to mean that it was fashionable, and she’d explained that one of her customers had suffered an attack of the megrims when she went into a severe depression over her daughter’s divorce. Hannah was used to hearing Regency expressions for a day or two after a meeting of the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club, but the meeting this month had been canceled so that the members could try out for parts in the movie.

  “What’s with all this Regency-speak?” Hannah asked, answering a question with a question in an effort to throw off her mother’s game.

  “It’s just so much more colorful, isn’t it?” Delores also answered a question with a question, and mother and daughter began to volley.

  “Do you really think so?” Hannah lobbed the question ball right back over the net. She must have landed a good one, because her mother didn’t reply. “So how many Regency expressions do you think you know?”

  “Hundreds, I’m sure,” Delores answered, not even trying for a return.

  Hannah felt the thrill of victory. She’d served and scored on that last question. But just as she was relishing her win, a dire thought crept into her mind. Delores had a computer, and she was using a lot of Regency expressions. Had her mother found another Englishman who piqued her interest, perhaps someone she’d met in some international chat room on the Internet? Delores had already shown that she wasn’t such a good judge of character when it came to handsome Englishmen who liked to dance.

  “Mother?” Hannah started out tentatively, but only after she’d replenished her mother’s supply of German Chocolate Cake Cookies.

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Michelle says you’ve got a new computer.”

  “Yes, I do. Norman helped me order it and he hooked it all up for me.”

  “Why didn’t Norman tell me?”

  “Because I asked him not to. I was going to surprise you the next time you came over, but I forgot to tell Michelle that it was a surprise. It’s an amazing machine, dear, much better than a typewriter.”

  “So,” Hannah proceeded gingerly down the path she’d chosen, “you use it for word processing, then?”

  “That’s right. And Norman installed a mail program for me.”

  A mail program. Hannah digested that bit of information and then she went for another bite. “You’re connected to the Internet?”

  “Not yet. Norman says to wait until the cable company has a special on their high-speed line. That’s when you can get free installation. He told me I wouldn’t be happy with a dial-up connection. It’s just too slow.”

  “I see,” Hannah said, relaxing slightly. Delores wasn’t connected to the Internet, and that meant she couldn’t be having a cyber romance with a handsome, ballroom dancing Englishman she’d met online. “Is that mail program Norman installed for later when you have e-mail?”

  “No, it’s for snail mail. I learned how to make labels and I’m keeping our master address list of customers for Granny’s Attic. Would you believe that Carrie and I were hand-addressing all our sale notices? Now all I have to do is print out labels, and we can just stick them on.”

  “That’s a real time-saver.” Hannah still wasn’t completely satisfied. Nothing Delores had told her explained her mother’s sudden obsession with Regency terms. “Have you been doing a lot of reading lately?”

  “Not as much as I’d like, dear. Running Granny’s Attic is a full-time job, even with all three of us. And after I get home, it’s all I can do to grab a bite to eat, switch on my laptop, and work for a couple of hours.”

  “Work?” Hannah zeroed in on her mother’s last statement. “What are you working on?”

  Delores glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh, just a little hobby of mine. You wouldn’t be interested. I’d better run, dear. I left Carrie at the shop all alone. She’ll need my help.”

  “But you’re not open for business,” Hannah pointed out.

  “I know, but there are still things to do.” Delores stood up, shrugged into her coat, and headed for the door. “Inventory, straightening up, things like that. Later, dear.”

  Hannah stared at the door that closed behind her mother, but there were no answers written on the white paint that covered the wood. Delores had a secret and she was guarding it carefully. Hannah figured that it would come out sooner or later, but in the meantime her curiosity was killing her.

  “Hannah?” Lisa pushed open the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the coffee shop and glanced in at her partner. “Mike’s here to see you and I told him I’d check to see if you were busy. He says he needs to ask you some questions.”

  “What a coincidence!” Hannah said with a grin. “I’d like to ask him some questions, too.”

  “Shall I go out and lead the lamb to the slaughter?”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t put it quite that way to the lamb.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Lisa went through the swinging door, but she turned around to stick her head back into the kitchen again. “If we’re betting on who gets the most questions answered, my money’s on you.”

  “Thanks, Hannah.” Mike picked up the mug of coffee that Hannah had poured him and took a big gulp. “This would be a whole lot easier if Bill hadn’t gone to that convention. I’m working a double shift most days.”

  “Filling in for Bill as acting sheriff, plus heading up Dean’s murder investigation?”

  “That’s right. I got four hours’ sleep last night and I considered myself lucky.”

  If you’d just swallow that silly pride of yours and let me help you, you’d get more sleep, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it. She also didn’t commiserate too much. She’d had less than four hours’ sleep herself, but she wasn’t about to tell Mike the identity of the person with whom she’d had a late date!

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You do?” Hannah felt a little tingle of alarm. Had Mike heard about her dinner with Ross?

  “You’re thinking that if I’d accepted your offer to help with the investigation, I wouldn’t be so overworked.”

  “Mmm,” Hannah said, settling for the most noncommittal reply she could come up with on short notice.

  “It’s not that I don’t want your help. I do. It’s just that I can’t ask for it. You know?”

  “Not real
ly.”

  “Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department regulation four-eighteen, subsection B says, No civilian shall be recruited into an official investigation without insurance, bonding, compensation commensurate with duties, and deputization.”

  “Is that a word?”

  “Commensurate? Yeah, it means…”

  “Not that,” Hannah interrupted him. “I know what commensurate means. I was talking about deputization. I don’t think it’s a word.”

  “It must be a word. They used it in the official department regulations.”

  Hannah bit her tongue rather than say what was on her mind. Mike had a lot to learn about regulations and the overworked secretaries who usually wrote them for their bosses. A mistake in word usage could multiply from county to county, and from state to state, until it was as rampant as gophers running wild on a golf course.

  “I was really tempted to deputize you, but I thought it would be overstepping my bounds as acting sheriff.”

  “You silver-tongued devil, you!” Hannah murmured under her breath, smiling despite herself. If Mike had deputized her, she would have worked her sleuthy fingers to the bone for him. But he hadn’t. And he’d only mentioned it because he was trying to sweet-talk her into giving him the information she’d gathered.

  “So what did you find out?” Mike asked, validating Hannah’s conjecture.

  “Not much,” Hannah said, but she knew she had to give him more than that so he’d give her something in return. “From what I’ve heard nobody liked Dean all that much.”

  “Who do you like for the murder?”