Wedding Cake Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  Hannah smiled, hoping that her put-on smile didn’t look like a grimace. This part of the program made her even more anxious than she’d been when she’d presented her cookies to the judges.

  The announcer always started with the lowest scoring entry and worked his way up to the winner of the challenge. Hannah took a deep breath and held it. She didn’t think she’d come in dead last, but anything could happen.

  “In fifth place is Chef Gloria Berkeley,” the announcer declared, and Hannah breathed a huge sigh of relief. She’d truly believed that her Butterscotch Sugar Cookies were just too good to come in last, but it was still a big relief. If she came in fourth, she wouldn’t be happy, but she could live with herself. And if she came in third, in the center of the pack, she would be disappointed, but not devastated. Second would be better, a lot better. After all, every other contestant was a noted dessert chef and she was just a small-town baker. But if somehow luck smiled on her tonight and she came in first, she would be ecstatic!

  “Our fourth-place winner is Chef Rodney Paloma.”

  The moment Rodney’s name was announced, Michelle reached out to squeeze Hannah’s hand. Their sisterly radar was at work again. If Gloria and Rodney had taken fifth place and fourth place, the top three were Hannah, Loren, and Brooke. Now she could relax slightly.

  “The judges wanted me to tell you that the top three places were very difficult for them to decide. For this reason, they have reached a tie for first place in the cookie challenge. The third-place cookie was excellent and received top scores on appearance, consistency, and flavor. The judges did not feel, however, that it was as innovative as the top two cookies. For that reason, third place belongs to Chef Loren Berringer.”

  “This leaves a first-place tie between Chef Brooke Jackman with her unusual and innovative chocolate rosette cookies and Hannah Swensen with her incredible Butterscotch Sugar Cookies!”

  Hannah heard the next announcement through a fog of happiness. The announcer was telling the audience that the next and final challenge of the competition would be a free-for-all challenge. The contestants were allowed to choose any dessert they wished to make and present it to the judges.

  Hannah smiled and hugged Michelle. They’d won! And then Brooke came racing over to hug both of them. That was when Michelle must have glanced up just in time to see a cameraman getting a shot of all three of them because she said, “Smiles! Quick! Link arms!”

  And they did exactly as Michelle instructed so the cameraman could get a good shot of all three of them celebrating their first-place win.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “I’m all set,” Ross told them, sitting down with the remote control. “I think I’ve got something that’ll help.” He smiled as he started the taped interview. “What time did Doc say that Chef Duquesne was murdered?”

  “Between midnight and three in the morning,” Hannah answered. They were sitting on her couch, all four of them. Ross was seated on one end, Hannah was in the middle next to him with Moishe in her lap, and Michelle was on the other end of the couch. They were sipping tall glasses of lemonade, and Moishe was eating a salmon-flavored, fish-shaped kitty treat.

  “Between midnight and three,” Ross repeated. “Good! That’s what I remembered. Well . . . this interview should help to give Judge Stone an alibi.”

  “She looks happy,” Michelle said when Helene Stone appeared on the screen.

  “She was happy and relaxed,” Ross replied. “You’ll see why when I fast-forward through the opening questions.”

  They watched the screen as the images sped by. Helene Stone moved only inches, but Ross had shot this footage in the lobby by the massive stone fireplace and the people in the background were moving at a speed that was humanly impossible under their own locomotion.

  “Here we go,” Ross said, stopping the forward motion and turning up the volume. “Just listen to this next part.”

  “Are you glad the competition is almost over?” Ross asked the next question of his interview subject.

  “Actually, no,” Helene replied with a smile. “My husband surprised me by flying in two nights ago, and it’s beautiful and relaxing out here in the winter at this lovely inn. It’s been almost like a second honeymoon for us.”

  “You said that he surprised you by coming here?” Ross followed up on her statement.

  “Yes. I had no idea he was coming. He called me the afternoon of the cake challenge and told me he’d just landed at the airport, rented a car, and was about to drive here. He got here an hour before the competition was due to start. You probably saw him in the front row. Sally added a chair on the aisle for him.”

  “Tall with dark brown hair and wearing a blue blazer and grey pants?” Ross asked her.

  “That’s my husband. Both of us are staying for your wedding and the reception. I wish we could stay even longer, but we have to get back to New York the next day.”

  Ross paused the tape and turned to them. “What do you think? Does that take her name off your suspect list?”

  It took Hannah a moment to reply, and when she did, she worded her reply carefully. Ross was so proud of himself for getting the information about Helene Stone’s husband, and it was very helpful. “It’s certainly a factor, Ross. And it does make her a less likely suspect. Now all I have to do is check to make sure that both of them stayed in their room during the time when Chef Duquesne was murdered.”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” Ross said with a smile. “I spoke with Sally right after I finished the interview and she checked with her staff. The college kid at the desk said they sat in the lobby by the fireplace until almost midnight and then they went up to their room. He can see the elevator from the desk and they got on together. That elevator didn’t come down again until some woman got off and rushed out the front door.”

  Hannah glanced at Michelle and knew they were both thinking the same thing. The woman had been Aunt Nancy.

  “One or both of them could have come down the stairs,” Hannah suggested.

  “I asked about that, too. It’s possible, but it’s doubtful that one or both of them did that. You see, Helene’s husband stopped at the bar right before Dick closed it for the night and ordered a bottle of champagne. Dick offered to bring it up to their room after he closed the bar, and they took him up on his offer. He said he delivered it at twelve-thirty, opened it for them, and poured two glasses. Sally had some hors d’oeuvres left in the walk-in cooler so he brought up some of those, too.”

  “And there was no one in the kitchen or the walk-in cooler at twelve-thirty?”

  “No. And no one was in the hallway, either. Sally’s housekeeper said she was almost positive they didn’t leave their room. Her room is right across from theirs, and she’s a light sleeper. The night maintenance guy was supposed to oil their door because it squeaked when it opened and shut, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. She told Sally that she’s sure she would have heard their door if it opened or closed during the night.”

  “You’ve convinced me!” Hannah said, giving Ross a little hug. “You did a super job following up on everything and I really appreciate it. I’ll take Helene Stone off my suspect list. And thanks to you, I can now narrow the time of death by a half hour since Dick said there was no one in the kitchen and no one in the walk-in cooler when he got the hors d’oeuvres.”

  “One other thing,” Ross said, “I remembered what you said about the bottle of red wine and the glasses on the kitchen counter when you went in the next morning. I asked Dick if he noticed them on the counter, and he said no, he doesn’t usually go in the kitchen when no one’s there, and he had to look around for a plate. He found a clean one on the kitchen counter and he’s sure he would have noticed if there’d been an open bottle of wine and glasses.”

  “Interesting,” Hannah said. “It took some time to open the bottle and pour two glasses.”

  “And Chef Duquesne’s glass was half empty,” Michelle pointed out. “That means he’d taken time to dr
ink half a glass of wine.”

  “To sip half a glass of wine,” Hannah corrected her. “I don’t think Chef Duquesne would have tossed back a half a glass of red wine. It’s just not in character for him.”

  “You’re right,” Ross said. “And that means we can tentatively shorten the time of death by another fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  “Right,” Hannah agreed. “And Dick said he didn’t meet anyone coming down from the second floor or anyone walking in the halls. That could add another five or ten minutes. Thanks to you, Ross, we can shorten Doc’s time of death by a whole hour. And that means Chef Duquesne was killed between one and three in the morning.”

  Hannah smiled in her sleep. She was on a lovely beach with Ross and it was their honeymoon. The sun was warm, the gentle sea breeze caressed her skin, and she knew she’d never been this happy before in her life. She was with the man she loved. Her husband. And everything was so perfect, she had trouble believing that it was real.

  They were relaxing together in a tropical paradise. Jamaica, Aruba, she wasn’t sure exactly where, but it was delightful and she intended to enjoy every moment with her new husband. She was so happy and so relaxed that her eyes had fluttered closed, and now both of them were napping on the sparkling white sand of the beach.

  The sun was so warm. The breeze held a hint of moisture from the azure-blue sea. She sighed as she breathed in the unique and wonderful scent of the tropics. Cinnamon, rich and pungent. Nutmeg that added depth to the mixture. A hint of cardamom, a smidgen of allspice, perhaps even a trace of ginger to carry her away in her tropical dream.

  The fruits on the breeze were redolent with a ripe and mouthwatering scent. So wonderful. So unusual. There were some she could not identify, a mystery of the island. But there was one scent in particular that was marvelously aromatic, tauntingly addictive, and both irresistible and awe-inspiring. It was a scent that made her want to jump up and search it out so that she could taste it.

  Did her love smell it? Hannah reached out to touch his hand. It was warm, loving, and . . . furry!

  “Moishe!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes to find him snuggled into the pillow beside her.

  “Rrrowww!” Moishe yowled and jumped down to the floor. He raced across the bedroom rug and launched himself up to the top of her dresser where he stared at her accusingly.

  “Sorry,” Hannah apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was dreaming about Ross and a tropical island, and he had fur on his hand.”

  Moishe was still staring. Obviously, her explanation hadn’t registered with him. “I said I was sorry.”

  As she watched, Moishe gave the kitty equivalent of a shrug. He stared at her for a moment, and then he settled himself between the lamp and her hairbrush, and began to take his morning bath.

  Hannah felt better, now that Moishe was purring. She gave a little sigh of relief and went on with her explanation. “You see, Ross and I were on a tropical beach and we fell asleep. I was smelling the most marvelous aroma and . . .” She aborted her explanation in mid-thought and sniffed the air again. The scent was still there!

  “Michelle’s baking,” she stated the obvious to her feline roommate. “And it smells incredibly wonderful. Let’s go find out what it is.”

  Hannah reached for her slippers at the same time that Moishe jumped down from the dresser. She pulled on her slippers, he padded over to watch her put on her comfortable old robe, the one she’d found at the Helping Hands thrift store, and cat and cat-lover walked down the hallway and through the living room to the kitchen.

  “What is it?” Hannah asked, almost causing Michelle, who was standing by the oven, to drop the pan she’d just taken from the interior.

  “Blue Banana Muffins,” Michelle told her, placing the muffin pan on the wire rack sitting on the counter. “I’m trying an experiment.”

  “Blue Bananas?”

  “That’s just the name I made up for them. It’s like your Blue Apple Muffins. Bananas and blueberries with a streusel topping.”

  “It smells successful to me,” Hannah said, taking a seat at her kitchen table. “The scent woke me up from a really great dream. I was napping on a beach on a tropical island with Ross on our honeymoon. The scent of your muffins is probably why I dreamed it in the first place.”

  “That sounds like a great dream. I’m sorry my muffins woke you up.”

  “That’s okay. Who knows what could have come next? Hurricane, shark attack, whatever. I can hardly wait to taste one. They smell fantastic. Of course I’m a little too sleepy to judge anything right now.”

  “Here you go.” Michelle poured a cup of coffee and set it down in front of Hannah.

  Hannah took a sip of the strong, hot brew and smiled. “You’re a lifesaver, Michelle.”

  “That’s good, just as long as I don’t have to save you from that hurricane or that shark.”

  Michelle poured a cup of coffee for herself and took the chair across from Hannah. The two sisters sat in companionable silence for several minutes, sipping their coffee.

  “You said your muffins were an experiment?” Hannah asked when she was capable of rational thought.

  “Yes. I’m trying to use frozen bananas.”

  “Do you mean the chocolate-covered ones?”

  “No. Just frozen bananas.”

  “Where do you buy frozen bananas?”

  “You don’t. You freeze them yourself. Suzi does it all the time.”

  It was too early to figure that out. Hannah got up, fetched the carafe of coffee, and brought it over to the table. She poured herself a second cup, took a sip, and turned to her youngest sister again. “Who’s Suzi?”

  “Jessie’s mother. Jessie’s one of my housemates at college and her mother lives in Phoenix. Jessie says Suzi’s been freezing bananas for years.”

  “Overripe bananas?” Hannah asked, remembering an article she’d read.

  “No. That’s the beauty of it. Suzi buys bananas when they’re on sale and she buys a lot of them. She chooses only bananas that are perfectly ripe. Then she peels them, puts them in freezer bags, and freezes them for up to six months. Maybe longer, but Suzi’s never last that long!”

  “Interesting.” Hannah breathed in the scent again. “Are your muffins cool enough to eat?”

  “Maybe not, but I’m willing to try one if you are.”

  “I’m willing. They smell really good!”

  “They are. Jessie brought some from home the last time she went to visit her mother. They don’t taste like regular banana muffins.”

  Hannah’s mouth was watering as Michelle got up and returned with a muffin for each of them. “I think they’re a lot better than any banana muffins I’ve ever tasted. Let’s see what you think.”

  Hannah removed the cupcake paper and split the muffin in half. She picked up one half, juggled it a bit from hand to hand, and then she took a bite. “Yummy!” she said after she’d swallowed. “They don’t have that perfume-like smell that always reminds me of fruit gone bad.”

  “I know. That’s what I’ve always noticed about banana bread and I tried to make it once with bananas that weren’t overripe. That’s when I discovered that you can’t do it. The bananas won’t mush up unless the peel has a lot of black spots.”

  “I know,” Hannah said, taking another bite of her muffin. “I even tried to do it with a food processor, but the bananas wouldn’t liquefy the way they’re supposed to for banana bread or muffins.”

  “Well, these do. I think it’s because they’re peeled and then they’re frozen. All you have to do is thaw them and they liquefy. And the taste is different.”

  “It certainly is!” Hannah was thoughtful as she took another bite. “Perfectly ripe frozen bananas would work for everything from muffins, to banana bread, to banana pudding.”

  “So you like these muffins?” Michelle asked.

  “I love them! I like them so much that if there was a muffin challenge, we’d make them for the judges!”

  BLUE B
ANANA MUFFINS

  Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  Before you begin: take 2 medium-sized frozen bananas out of the freezer. (See the instructions at the bottom of recipe for freezing bananas.) Remove them from the bag and put them in a bowl on the counter to thaw.

  The Muffin Batter:

  ¾ cup melted butter (1 and ½ sticks, 6 ounces)

  1 cup white (granulated) sugar

  2 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  ½ teaspoon cinnamon

  ¼ teaspoon nutmeg (freshly grated is best)

  ½ cup fresh or frozen blueberries (no need to thaw if they’re frozen)

  2 cups plus one Tablespoon all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  ½ cup milk

  1 cup thawed frozen banana

  The Crumb Topping:

  ½ cup white (granulated) sugar

  cup all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  ¼ cup softened butter (½ stick, 2 ounces)

  Grease the bottoms only of a 12-cup muffin pan (or line the cups with double cupcake papers—that’s what I do at The Cookie Jar.)

  Mix the melted butter with the sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer. Beat until they’re thoroughly combined.

  Add the eggs and beat on low until they’re incorporated.

  Sprinkle in the baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Beat them in at LOW speed.

  Put one Tablespoon of flour in a baggie with your cup of fresh or frozen blueberries. Shake it gently to coat the blueberries and leave them in the bag for now.

  Add half of the remaining two cups of flour to your bowl and mix it in with half of the milk. Then add the rest of the flour and the milk, and mix thoroughly.

  Measure out one cup of the thawed frozen banana.

  Add the cup of banana to your muffin batter. Stir it in thoroughly.