Blackberry Crumble
Page 1
© 2011 Josi S. Kilpack.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Deseret Book Company, P.O. Box 30178, Salt Lake City Utah 30178. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of Deseret Book. Deseret Book is a registered trademark of Deseret Book Company.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kilpack, Josi S., 1974– author.
Blackberry crumble : a culinary mystery / Josi S. Kilpack.
pages cm
Summary: When Sadie Hoffmiller is hired by May Sanderson to investigate the death of her father, Sadie travels to Oregon and uncovers a complicated plot of greed, shady business dealings, and more than one member of the Sanderson clan with a motive for murder.
ISBN 978-1-60641-941-0 (paperbound)
1. Hoffmiller, Sadie (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Cooks—Fiction. 3. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3561.I412B57 2011
813'.54—dc22 2010045053
Printed in the United States of America
Publishers Printing, Salt Lake City, UT
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Sweet As Pie . . .
Key Lime Pie
“I had a great time following the ever-delightful Sadie as she ate and sleuthed her way through nerve-wracking twists and turns and nail-biting suspense.”
—Melanie Jacobsen, author of The List, http://www.readandwritestuff.blogspot.com/
“Sadie Hoffmiller is the perfect heroine. She’s funny, sassy, and always my first choice for crime solving. And where better to solve a mystery than the Florida Keys? Key Lime Pie satisfied with every bite!”
—Julie Wright, author of Cross my Heart, www.juliewright.com
“The title of Key Lime Pie will make you hungry, but the story will keep you too busy to bake. Even when oh-so-busy amateur sleuth Sadie Hoffmiller vows to stay out police business, life comes up with a different plan. A missing girl, a very interesting man with bright blue eyes, and plenty of delicious recipes all create a combination even Sadie can’t resist.”
—H.B. Moore, author of Alma the Younger, www.hbmoore.com
Devil’s Food Cake
“There’s no mistaking that Kilpack is one of the best in this field and not just in the LDS market. Lemon Tart was good, English Trifle was better, but with Devil’s Food Cake she delivers a polished novel that can hold its own anywhere.”
—Jennie Hansen, Meridian Magazine
“Throughout the book, Kilpack offers fast-paced adventure supplemented with well-plotted bursts of information plus several surprises to keep the reader off-balance but fascinated.”
—Bonnye Good, Suite 101, fiction editor
“Josi Kilpack whips up another tasty mystery where startling twists and delightful humor mix in a confection as delicious as Sadie Hoffmiller’s devil’s food cake.”
—Stephanie Black, two-time winner of the Whitney Award for Mystery/Suspense
English Trifle
“English Trifle is an excellent read and will be enjoyed by teens and adults of either gender. The characters are interesting, the plot is carefully crafted, and the setting has an authentic feel.”
—Jennie Hansen, Meridian Magazine
Lemon Tart
“The novel has a bit of everything. It’s a mystery, a cookbook, a low-key romance and a dead-on depiction of life. . . . That may sound like a hodgepodge. It’s not. It works. Kilpack blends it all together and cooks it up until it has the taste of, well . . . of a tangy lemon tart.”
—Jerry Johnston, Deseret News
“Lemon Tart is an enjoyable mystery with a well-hidden culprit and an unlikely heroine in Sadie Hoffmiller. Kilpack endows Sadie with logical hidden talents that come in handy at just the right moment.”
—Shelley Glodowski, Midwest Book Review, June 2009
Other Books By Josi S. Kilpack
Her Good Name
Sheep’s Clothing
Unsung Lullaby
Culinary Mysteries
Lemon Tart
English Trifle
Devil’s Food Cake
Key Lime Pie
Pumpkin Roll (coming Fall 2011)
Blackberry Crumble recipes
Blueberry Muffin Tops
Gayle’s Potato Salad
Easy Crab Dip
Cherry Chocolate Chip Cookies
Annie’s Triple-Berry Summer Salad
Salmon and Wild Mushroom Casserole
Loaded Bread Dip
Bacon Ice Cream
Marvelous Bran Muffins
Blackberry Crumble
Second-Chance Baked Potato Soup
* Download a free PDF of all the recipes in this book at josiskilpack.com or deseretbook.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Enjoy this sneak peek of Pumpkin Roll
Chapter 1
Quiz me,” Sadie said, straightening the row of cherry chocolate chip cookies she’d laid out on the platter. Pete Cunningham, her absolutely-certain boyfriend, was also laying out cookies—blueberry muffin tops to be exact. The Fourth of July had been several weeks ago, but she’d chosen the color scheme of red, white, and blue for the annual Latham Club summer picnic, which made the cookies a perfect fit.
“Okay,” Pete said in his rich voice, placing a final cookie in his row—you couldn’t really stack or layer blueberry muffin tops, but he was doing a wonderful job of arranging them as attractively as possible. More points in his favor, though he didn’t need extra credit. Their relationship had moved to a new level the last few months, and Pete had proved himself a hundred times since then. “How many exits?”
“Three,” Sadie said with confidence; that was an easy one. She popped open a plastic clamshell container and tried not to be offended by the store-bought cookies. She’d have made more cookies if she’d known the other people on the food committee weren’t making their own. “Double doors straight ahead, single doors to the close left and far right. The doors behind us don’t count because they lead to the kitchen, which leads to the fenced parking lot.”
&nb
sp; “Good,” Pete said. “But always assume you’re in the six position on a clock and specify exit locations by the hours they represent. That would make the double doors eleven o’clock, since they are slightly left of straight ahead. The single doors would then be at eight and two.”
“Got it,” Sadie said, a little thrill of discovery rushing through her. People might say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks—and at the age of fifty-six, Sadie could certainly be considered a mature student—but she was proving the cliché wrong under Pete’s excellent tutelage. “What else?”
“How many chairs are along the walls?” Pete asked. “That will give you an idea of how many people are expected to be here.”
“About seventy,” Sadie said, glancing quickly at the left wall and estimating that there were twenty-something chairs lined up. Two other walls had what looked like equal numbers of chairs, and the fourth wall had the tables for the food. However, since she’d helped plan the event, she already knew how many people were expected. Originally, the annual picnic-style dinner was supposed to be held outside, but Garrison, Colorado, was at the mercy of a hot spell so the event had been moved to the city hall—a former elementary school with a nice-sized gymnasium and an overzealous air conditioning system. It was 5:30 in the evening, ninety degrees outside, and yet Sadie had goose bumps since it was a chilly sixty-five degrees in the gym.
“And where are your keys?”
Sadie’s head snapped to the side, and she looked at Pete in surprise. “My keys?” she asked. In the weeks since she’d started asking him to quiz her about her surroundings—honing her skills of observation—he’d never asked about anything other than the place they were at or the people they were with.
Pete glanced at her as he straightened the row of store-bought M&M’s cookies someone else had brought and then wiped the crumbs off on his apron. Sadie thought he looked very cute in the apron. “If you had to leave in a hurry, you’d need your keys. Where are they?”
“Um, in my purse.”
“And where is your purse?” Pete said, turning to face her and crossing his arms over his chest. His silver hair caught the light streaming in through the high windows, but Sadie was in no mind to appreciate it the way she normally would.
She had failed.
“In the kitchen,” she said in defeat. “With the other half a dozen people helping with the food.”
“Not to mention anyone who comes in through the back door, which is unlocked to make it easier for people to come in and out.” He gave her an understanding smile, but didn’t stop there. “I counted three other purses on the counter next to yours, each one of them likely holding wallets and keys. With no one specifically assigned to stay in the kitchen at all times—not that that’s foolproof either—there’s no one to keep an eye on those purses. They’re a prime target for theft, especially since the gate is open, and Goose Park, a common hangout for transients and drug users, is right across the street.”
Sadie’s shoulders fell. “It’s not fair,” she said, suddenly petulant. “I don’t have any pockets. Even if I wanted to keep my keys with me, I can’t.”
“Don’t you have a code on the door of your car? You can leave your purse in your car where it’s safer.”
“That’s gotten me into trouble before. I need to keep my cell phone close by.”
“So keep your phone on your person.”
“Pockets,” Sadie reminded him, lifting the sides of her skirt to demonstrate how pocketless she was.
Pete shrugged and smiled at her. “Then wear clothing with pockets when you know you’ll be unable to keep your purse with you.”
Sadie narrowed her eyes at him. “Easy for you to say,” she said, half-serious and half-playful. “You’re a man. Everything you buy comes with pockets.”
Pete grinned back at her in a superior way. “I believe, however, that men’s clothing doesn’t have a corner on the market.”
“But some styles don’t offer a pocket option,” Sadie continued, reflecting on the women’s clothing industry as a whole. Because of the same patriotic theme that had helped her choose the types of cookies she’d made, she was wearing what she called her Betsy Ross dress—a navy blue, cotton sundress which looked as though it had been sprinkled with white polka dots. Upon closer inspection, however, the dots revealed themselves as stars. The bodice fit well, with a wide, navy blue belt that set off her waist, even if it did make her hips look a little more prominent. Pockets on a dress like this would pad her hips even more and keep the A-line skirt from falling correctly.
“Then don’t buy those styles,” Pete said. He took a step closer to her, and Sadie felt the now-familiar zing as the protons between them started dancing. She loved the zing, something she hadn’t felt between them for too long. But now wasn’t the moment for protons.
“O-okay,” Sadie said, finding it hard to stay focused as Pete moved even closer. His hand brushed her arm as he raised it to tuck her hair behind her ear. She’d been growing it out and it was now a choppy bob that was deceptively difficult to do despite its looking rather haphazard. Her breath shuddered slightly at his touch even as she felt herself leaning into him. They were alone, creating the perfect moment for him to steal a kiss . . . or three. The voices of the rest of the food committee could be heard through the door behind them; they were all in the kitchen. The scent of Pete’s cologne mingled with the smell of the cookies—was there a more perfect combination than baked goods and Peter Cunningham?
“Just remember that if someone takes your keys, you’re stranded, and whomever it was you were supposed to be going after is getting farther and farther away.”
Shop talk or not, he was totally flirting with her, and she was completely under his spell.
When words failed her and she was feeling herself pulled into the reservoirs of his beautiful hazel eyes, he spoke again. “I’ve got two words for you, Sadie Hoffmiller.”
“What?” Sadie breathed, thinking of all the things he could say that were only two words. Kiss me made the top of the list, right under Love you, which he’d yet to say out loud.
“Voice mail.”
“What?” Sadie said, pulling her eyebrows together in surprise.
“If you can’t keep your purse with you, chances are you’re too busy to answer your phone anyway. Let them leave a message, and you can enjoy the peace of mind of knowing your personal items are safe.”
“Oh,” Sadie said, trying to hide her disappointment. “That’s a really . . . smart idea.”
“Well,” Pete said with a sarcastic shrug and another of his adorable smiles as he tapped her nose playfully and moved away, “I didn’t find my shiny badge at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.” He wiped his hands on his apron again, and in the process drew attention to the very badge he was referencing, clipped to the waistband of his pants.
At that precise moment, it caught the same light that had caught Pete’s hair earlier. The metal gleamed heroically and initiated a wave of . . . envy in Sadie.
She looked away, chastising herself for being silly. She was not, nor would she ever be, a police detective. She was a retired schoolteacher, for heaven’s sake. And yet she’d had several adventures over the last eight months that had created a longing for . . . something. She didn’t know what, exactly, but listening to Pete talk about his work—the details he could talk about—ignited something inside her that drew her toward his expertise.