CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next afternoon could not have been more perfect. I was on crutches, but they’d released me with a relatively clean bill of health and orders to relax, which meant fewer dishes for a while. Charlene sat with me at the kitchen table, looking happier than I’d seen her since the tour began; Alex was out of jail, and the charges had been dropped. I looked out the window, thinking of the team that was trying to free the whale from the fishing gear; they’d managed to locate it yesterday. Thankfully, the wind had died down, and the blue water was calm.
“That’ll make things a lot easier,” Charlene said as she finished off a scone.
“I just hope she survives until they get the gear off,” I said.
“That won’t be a problem. The marine entanglement team arrived this morning, located her and managed to put floats on her,” she told me.
As she spoke, Alex pushed open the door. “Ready?”
“I’m coming,” I said, reaching for my crutches and levering myself up off the chair.
Thirty minutes later, we were all on the Summer Breeze, Martina at the helm, Eli helping as first mate, and Alex scanning the water for signs of whales. Adam’s boat, the Carpe Diem, flanked ours, with both Gwen and Bridget aboard, smiling—a small miracle. A little further on was Tom Lockhart on his boat, looking sunny; he and Lorraine seemed to have patched things up. I waved to Bridget, who had joined Gwen on the Carpe Diem.
“They’re both smiling,” I said. “It’s a miracle.”
“I talked to her a bit,” Catherine said. “Also, I think your experience in Martha’s cellar helped.”
“Bonding through trauma,” I said, and glanced back at Cranberry Island. “Any word from Murray on the Cliffside deal?”
“That’s turned out to be an interesting situation,” she said. “Murray called McGee and talked about his troubles with development on the island, and mentioned a piece of land out on Mount Desert Island he’s been wanting to invest in. When he asked if she’d be interested in partnering with him, she said she was definitely interested.”
“What does that mean for Cliffside?”
“Well, with the permitting issues, she’s thinking of relocating the whole concept to the island; it’s got better access to the park and the amenities of Bar Harbor.”
“What about the architect’s drawings?”
“The Fowlers paid for them,” she said. “Nan and Murray will see if they’re adjustable for the new site, or if they need to be scrapped; if they are, they’ll pay for them.”
“Will the Fowlers be involved if McGee buys the land on Mount Desert Island?”
“I doubt it,” she told me. “McGee wasn’t impressed by their sabotage efforts. Apparently they were downstairs going through your files the night Bridges died; they told McGee about it the next day.”
“Well, that’s one mystery solved,” I said. “But they can still build on the island if they find funding.”
“Yes, but the contract is contingent on funding,” she said, “and they’ll have to put it together quickly or back out.”
“So there’s hope after all. Plus, it keeps Murray busy building something other than a resort on Cranberry Island,” I said. “Thank you so much, Catherine.”
“It’s the least I could do,” she said. “I’m fond of the place, too. And it’s not for sure yet, but he’s pretty confident about it.”
“Terrific news,” I said. “Alex is out of jail, Cliffside is likely going to remain Cliffside, and Bridget and Gwen are actually talking to each other.” I grinned. “Nothing like being held at gunpoint to encourage togetherness.”
“Small steps,” Catherine said, looking over at John fondly. “We all have ideas of what we think our children should be. It’s hard to let go and realize that they don’t really belong to us. They belong to themselves.”
“You’re right,” I said, looking over at Gwen, her curly hair flying free in the wind.
“Don’t worry about it, Natalie,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “Just love her, and let the two of them work it out on their own.”
I turned and smiled at my mother-in-law. “Thank you,” I said. “And thanks for not giving John too hard a time for moving to an island to become an artist and marrying a Texas innkeeper.”
“I did at first,” she confessed. “But I was wrong. I have to admit,” she said with a sly grin, “it’s turned out better than I expected.”
I laughed. “I think it’s turned out great. And I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too, Natalie,” she said. “Oh, look! There’s the whale! That looks horrible, doesn’t it?”
She was right; the poor creature was attached to several orange floats. Alex had told me the practice was called “kegging;” it kept the whale at the surface, so that she was less likely to be caught underwater where she couldn’t get up to breathe; it also helped rescuers track her. The tangle of lines stuck on the whale’s fluke was readily visible; it seemed to have grown since last I’d seen them. A small inflatable boat idled near her, and a hundred yards farther on, a larger research vessel. Martina cut the engine, as did the two lobster boats behind us, and radioed the rescue boat.
“Stand by,” they told us. “We’ve cut two of the ropes, but there’s one more.”
It was a long wait before the whale drifted close enough to the inflatable for the rescuers to reach her. We held our breath as the shorter of the two women reached over and hooked the last rope. She had just started sawing back and forth when the whale flapped its tail and struggled to dive. The woman almost lost her balance—I was glad she was wearing a life jacket—and pulled back just in time. The rope was sawed only partway through.
“So close,” I breathed, watching the huge whale thrashing around in the water.
“I hope she doesn’t overturn the inflatable,” Catherine said beside me.
I was thinking the same thing. It took several minutes before she started to calm down. The inflatable nudged toward her again slowly, trying not to spook her. The rescuers looked tired; I wondered how long they’d been attempting to free her.
“I wish we could do something,” I said. “I hate feeling so helpless.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s kind of like being a mother.” She gave me a sly smile. “Or an aunt.”
After an interminable time, they managed to get the blade under the rope again. This time, as we watched, the rope came free, and the tangle of lines drifted off, away from the whale. A cheer went up from the boat as the whale slid through the water, then dove, lifting its tail into the water.
“She’s free,” Catherine whispered. I looked over at Gwen, who was beaming as Adam hugged her. At that moment, the whale breached through the water, coming down with a loud smack, and then rolled over before disappearing into the inky waves.
“Yes,” I said. “She is.”
<<<<>>>>
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Whale of a Crime, I would be honored if you would write a review where you purchased this title online.
Happy Reading!
Karen MacInerney
Visit www.karenmacinerney.com to download a free copy of The Gray Whale Inn Kitchen, a collection of recipes from the first six Gray Whale Inn mysteries.
Karen MacInerney
Book List
The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries
Murder on the Rocks
Dead and Berried
Murder Most Maine
Berried to the Hilt
Brush With Death
Death Runs Adrift
Whale of a Crime
The Gray Whale Inn
The Gray Whale Inn Kitchen
Blueberry Blues, a short mystery
Pumpkin Pied, a short story
The Margie Peterson Mysteries
Mother's Day Out
Mother Knows Best
Mother's Little Helper (coming April 2017)
The Dewberry Farm Mysteries
Killer Jam
Fatal Frost<
br />
Deadly Brew (coming Fall 2017)
Tales of an Urban Werewolf
Howling at the Moon
On the Prowl
Leader of the Pack
For more information and to buy go to www.karenmacinerney.com.
RECIPES
John’s Beef Stroganoff
1 pound sirloin steak, cut into cubes
Kosher salt and black pepper (to taste)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 onion, diced
2 carrots, diced
8 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced
1/2 cup brandy
2 cups beef stock
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 cup room-temperature sour cream
1 heaping teaspoon Dijon mustard
Minced fresh parsley
Season the steak with salt and pepper, then heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a heavy saucepan over medium high heat. Add half the meat to the pan and brown it quickly (about 2 minutes). Remove the first batch to a bowl and cook the second half of the meat, then remove and set aside. Add the remaining olive oil to the pan and add the onion, carrots, and mushrooms. Sauté for about five minutes, or until the vegetables are golden brown. Turn off the heat; add the brandy and 2 cups of the stock. Stir, scrape the bottom of the pan, and turn the heat to medium-high. Cook 3 to 4 minutes, or until liquid is reduced by a third.
In a small bowl, mix the remaining 1/4 cup stock and the cornstarch with a fork. Pour the slurry into the saucepan and cook until the sauce thickens, about 1 to 2 minutes. Turn off the heat and stir in the sour cream and mustard, then add the beef and stir over low heat until the mixture is hot. Taste and adjust seasonings, then serve over cooked egg noodles and sprinkle with fresh parsley.
Serves 4.
Blueberry Cobbler Muffins
Muffin Batter
4 cups blueberries (fresh is best, but frozen is fine)
1 stick butter, softened
1 1/4 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 cup milk
3 cups flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
Streusel Topping
1 stick butter, softened
1 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Dash of nutmeg
Preheat oven to 350 and line muffin tins. Cream together one stick of butter and sugar, then add eggs, milk, flour, baking powder, and salt. Fold in blueberries and pour into muffin tins. In a separate bowl, combine streusel topping ingredients with a fork or pastry blender; stop when the mixture is in pea-sized chunks. Sprinkle muffins with streusel topping, then bake for 25-30 minutes or until muffins spring back when touched.
Makes 24-36 muffins.
Oatmeal Raspberry Crumble Bars
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup seedless raspberry jam
Preheat oven to 350. Grease an 8-inch square pan, then line it with greased foil. Combine brown sugar, flour, baking soda, salt, and rolled oats in a medium-size bowl, then rub in the butter using your hands or a pastry blender to form a crumbly mixture. Press 2 cups of the mixture into the bottom of the prepared pan, and spread the jam to within 1/4 inch of the edge. Sprinkle the remaining crumb mixture over the top and press lightly into the jam. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until lightly browned. Allow to cool before cutting into bars.
Salted Caramel Chocolate Chip Bars
1/2 cup caramel sauce, good quality or homemade.
2 1/8 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, melted
1 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 cups milk chocolate chips
Fleur de sel or other coarse sea salt to taste
Preheat oven to 325°F/160°C and spray an 8-inch square baking dish with non-stick cooking spray. Stir together the flour, salt, and baking soda in a medium size bowl.
In the bowl of a stand mixer, add the sugars and the melted butter. And mix with the paddle attachment on low until combined. Increase the speed on your stand mixer by one and add the egg, yolk, and vanilla. Mix until creamy and smooth, then bring the mixer down to the lowest setting again and slowly add the dry ingredients. When everything is combined, fold in the chocolate chips.
Divide the cookie dough and spread half on the bottom of the prepared baking dish, then pour 1/2 cup caramel sauce over the dough and sprinkle on salt to taste (don’t be too sparing). When caramel and salt have been distributed, put chunks of the remaining cookie dough evenly on top of the caramel sauce with a spoon. Use a spoon sprayed with cooking spray (or your fingers) to spread the cookie dough over the caramel until the caramel is covered, then sprinkle more salt on top. Bake for 30 to 38 minutes or until the cookie top is golden brown.
Yield: 16 2-inch bars.
Caramel Sauce
1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon corn syrup
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup heavy cream, heated
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
In a heavy (preferably nonstick) saucepan, stir together sugar, syrup, and water until sugar is completely moistened. Heat, stirring constantly, until sugar dissolves and the syrup is bubbling. Stop stirring and let boil undisturbed until the mixture turns a deep amber (380°F on a candy thermometer). Remove from heat immediately; slowly pour the hot cream into the caramel. It will bubble up furiously.
Use a wooden spoon to stir the mixture until smooth, scraping up the thicker part that settles on the bottom. If lumps develop, return the pan to the heat and stir until dissolved. Stir in the butter; the mixture will be streaky but become uniform after cooling slightly and stirring.
Allow the sauce to cool for 3 minutes. Gently stir in the vanilla extract.
King Ranch Chicken Casserole
2 tablespoons olive oil or butter
1 onion, chopped
1/2 bell pepper, chopped
1 (10 1/2 ounce) can cream of mushroom soup
1 (10 1/2 ounce) can cream of chicken soup
1 (10 1/2 ounce) can Rotel tomatoes and chilies
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 cups diced cooked chicken (rotisserie chicken works great, or you can poach chicken breasts; I sometimes do this with a can of Hatch green chiles and some broth)
12 corn tortillas, ripped into bite sized pieces
2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
Preheat oven to 325°F and spray a 9 x 13” baking dish with cooking spray. In a large saucepan, sauté the onion and pepper in the olive oil or butter until tender (about 5 minutes). Add soups, tomatoes, and broth, then stir to combine. Fold in the chicken until well blended.
Layer with 1/3 the tortillas into the bottom of the baking dish, then 1/3 of the chicken mixture, then 1/3 the cheese. Repeat layers twice more. Bake for 30-40 minutes, uncovered, until hot and bubbly. (Check at around 20 - 25 minutes; if cheese begins to brown too much, cover dish with foil.)
Texas Sheet Cake
Cake
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sour cream
2 eggs
1 cup butter
1 cup water
5 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
6 tablespoons milk
Icing
5 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup butter
4 cups confectioners’ sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup chopped pecans (optional)
Preheat ov
en to 350, then grease and flour a 10x15 inch pan. Stir together flour, sugar, baking soda and salt until combined. Beat in the sour cream and eggs, and set aside. Melt the butter on low in a saucepan, then add the water and 5 tablespoons cocoa. Bring the mixture to a boil and remove from heat. Allow to cool slightly, then stir cocoa mixture into the egg mixture, mixing until blended.
Pour batter into prepared pan and bake in the preheated oven for 20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.
While the cake is baking, combine milk, 5 tablespoons cocoa powder and 1/2 cup butter in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, then remove from heat. Stir in the confectioners’ sugar and vanilla, then fold in the pecans, mixing until blended. Spread frosting over warm cake.
Chapter 1
I’ve always heard it’s no use crying over spilled milk. But after three days of attempting to milk Blossom the cow (formerly Heifer #82), only to have her deliver a well-timed kick that deposited the entire contents of my bucket on the stall floor, it was hard not to feel a few tears of frustration forming in the corners of my eyes.
Stifling a sigh, I surveyed the giant puddle on the floor of the milking stall and reached for the hose. I’d tried surrounding the bucket with blocks, holding it in place with my feet—even tying the handle to the side of the stall with a length of twine. But for the sixth straight time, I had just squeezed the last drops from the teats when Blossom swung her right rear hoof in a kind of bovine hook kick, walloping the top of the bucket and sending gallons of the creamy white fluid spilling across both the concrete floor and my boots. I reprimanded her, but she simply tossed her head and grabbed another mouthful of the feed I affectionately called “cow chow.”
She looked so unassuming. So velvety-nosed and kind, with big, long-lashed eyes. At least she had on the day I’d selected her from the line of cows for sale at the Double-Bar Ranch. Despite all the reading I’d done on selecting a heifer, when she pressed her soft nose up against my cheek, I knew she belonged at Dewberry Farm. Thankfully, the rancher I’d purchased her from had seemed more than happy to let her go, extolling her good nature and excellent production.
He’d somehow failed to mention her phobia of filled buckets.
Now, as I watched the tawny heifer gamboling into the pasture beside my farmhouse, kicking her heels up in what I imagined was a cow’s version of the middle finger, I took a deep breath and tried to be philosophical about the whole thing. She still had those big brown eyes, and it made me happy to think of her in my pasture rather than the cramped conditions at Double-Bar Ranch. And she’d only kicked the milk bucket, not me.
Whale of a Crime (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries Book 7) Page 21
