Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry
Page 25
“You said there was a third thing?” Justin reminded Skye.
“After the press conference the first day, I overheard two people talking in the teachers’ lounge, and I finally figured out Brandon might be one of those people, so I had Wally ask him about it. Turns out one of the contestants, Imogene Ingersoll, bribed Brandon to give her all the background info that Fine Foods had gathered on one of the other contestants. He was glad to do it, figuring that if she got caught it would be another black mark for the contest, and the company.”
“Wasn’t Brandon afraid Imogene would take him down with her?” asked Justin.
“I guess he didn’t think his family would believe Imogene over him.” Skye shrugged.
“Imogene Ingersoll was the woman I said looked so familiar.” May wiped her hands on a dishtowel and came over to the table. “I wish I could place her.”
“Hey, I almost forgot.” Skye grabbed her tote from the utility room, where she had left it on top of the dryer. “Here’s a picture of the finalists that was taken during the awards ceremony, and there’s Imogene.” She pointed to a woman standing next to Vince. “Does anyone know her?”
While everyone around the table examined the print, Wally came in from the living room and joined them. “Maybe I do, but I’m not sure.”
“Who do you think it is?” Skye prodded.
“If you visualize her without the glasses and wig, and a little thinner, she’s that woman who impersonated a state police officer when we were investigating the murder of that model last November.” Wally leaned closer to the picture. “Only then she was going by the name Veronica Vale.”
Skye reexamined the photo. “You could be right.” She turned to him, frowning. “How come you recognized her when Mom and I didn’t?”
“I spent a lot more time with her than either of you did,” Wally explained. “You both saw her for at most thirty to forty-five minutes while you were stressed out, while I spent several hours with her.”
“If you’re right, and Imogene is Veronica, that’s pretty creepy.” May made a face. “Why would she turn up again, and with a new name?”
Skye suddenly felt a little light-headed and abruptly sat down. Wally turned to her in concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. It’s just that Brandon said that the person whom Imogene/Veronica was asking him about was me. Why would she want to know about me and my family?”
Everyone was silent as they considered Skye’s question. Finally Wally said, “Maybe she had you confused with May. Everyone thought she had the best odds to win, so maybe this woman was trying to get a leg up on the competition.”
“But why pretend to be a police officer and change her name?” Skye shook her head. “I don’t like it. She’s after something. I just wish I knew what it was.”
They all spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to figure out who the mysterious woman was and what she wanted. Everyone had a guess, but no one had an answer.
By the time she and Wally left, Skye had a headache and wanted nothing more than to go to bed, even if it was only eight o’clock at night. She said goodnight to him without inviting him in, then fed Bingo and went upstairs.
After changing into her nightshirt, she crawled into the big four-poster and lay staring at the ceiling. Tired as she was, she couldn’t shut off her whirling thoughts. Was Imogene Veronica? Why would she change identities? Why would she want to know about Skye and her family?
A half hour went by, and Skye still couldn’t think of a reason. Another half hour went by and Skye stared at the clock. Something else was bugging her, but what?
Was it that Wally hadn’t had her meet his father when Carson Boyd first came to town? He had explained his reasoning, but did she believe him? Not being introduced to the potential in-laws was a red flag that a guy wasn’t that into you. Was that the case with Wally?
Skye pulled the blanket up over her head. She couldn’t answer either question tonight. She needed to sleep. Everything would look better in the morning.
Winning Recipes from Grandma Sal’s Soup-to-Nuts Cooking Challenge
Try these four “winning” recipes, personally created by Denise Swanson, her friends and family. Denise likes to cook a lot more than Skye does….
Winner of the Healthy Category Monika’s Gluten-Free and Dairy-Free Sponge Cake 6 eggs
1 cup white sugar
5 tablespoons white rice flour
5 tablespoons cornstarch
2 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon xanthan gum*
Optional: 1/2 cup Hershey’s cocoa powder
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Break eggs into a warm mixing bowl and beat with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until thick (several minutes). Gradually add half the sugar and continue beating until the mixture holds together. Sift together flour, cornstarch, remaining sugar, baking powder, xanthan gum, and cocoa, if using. Fold dry mixture into egg mixture. Beat on low speed for one minute.
Spray two 8-inch round cake pans with PAM, then pour in batter.
Bake in preheated oven for 15 minutes or until toothpick inserted into center comes out clean.
Immediately remove cakes from their pans. Cool on a cake rack. Warning: Be gentle—cakes break apart easily. When cakes are completely cooled, frost and assemble layers.
Gluten-Free and Dairy-Free Frosting Blend together in a mixer on medium speed:
One stick Nucoa Margarine* and one stick Crisco until fluffy.
Gradually mix in one box (or 1 1b.) confectionary sugar—more as needed to make a fluffy frosting.
Beat in one teaspoon vanilla extract.
Add a few drops of soy milk until frosting is easy to spread.
* Xanthan gum is used in gluten-free baking to give the dough or batter a “stickiness” that would otherwise be achieved with the gluten. It is available in health food stores and specialty grocery stores.
* Nucoa is the brand name of a margarine that does not contain any milk solids and is thus dairy-free, as well as free of protein and phenylalanine. It is a lactose-free, cholesterol-free margarine that is distributed by GFA Brands, Inc., Cresskill, NJ, and is available at most large grocery stores.
Winner of the Snacks Category Fiesta italiano Dip
½ cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayonnaise
10-oz. package frozen finely chopped spinach, thawed and drained
14-oz. can artichoke hearts, finely chopped
1 teaspoon garlic salt
1/4 teaspoon basil
1/4 teaspoon oregano
1/4 teaspoon red pepper
4 oz. mozzarella, shredded
4 oz. provolone, shredded
8-oz. can of Italian-seasoned chopped tomatoes
Thinly sliced rounds of Italian bread
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix together the sour cream and mayonnaise. Add spinach, artichokes, and seasonings. Mix well. Stir in cheeses. Pour into a medium-sized casserole dish and bake at 350 degrees for thirty minutes, or until cheese is melted. Sprinkle with room-temperature tomatoes and serve on bread rounds.
Winner of the One-Dish Meals Category May’s Chicken Supreme Casserole Note: You’ll notice that for purposes of the plot, Skye’s version of this recipe differs slightly from mine, which comes from Grandma Swanson.
2 cups cooked chicken, diced
7 oz. elbow macaroni, uncooked
2 cups milk
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can cream of celery soup
½ pound Velveeta cheese, cubed
1 4-oz. jar pimentos, drained
1/4 cup chopped green pepper
1 small onion, chopped
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
1 cup bread crumbs
¼ cup butter, melted
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Combine all ingredients except for the bread crumbs and butter in a large bowl. Pour into a greased casserole dish and refrigerate overni
ght. Bring back to room temperature before baking. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes.
Combine 1 cup bread crumbs and 1/4 cup melted butter. Sprinkle on top of hot casserole and return to oven for 5 to 10 minutes, until bread crumbs are browned.
Winner of the Special-Occasion Baking Category and the Grand Prize Chocolate Brownie Tiramisu For the brownies:
1 cup shortening
4 1-oz. squares unsweetened chocolate
4 eggs
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 ½ cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Melt shortening and chocolate together in double boiler. Cool to room temperature. In a separate bowl, beat eggs with a mixer on high speed until light. Stir in sugar, then add chocolate mixture and vanilla. Sift together dry ingredients, then add to batter and mix well. Pour into a greased 9-by-13 pan and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Set aside to cool.
For the topping:
8 egg yolks
½ cup sugar
¼ cup milk
2 cups whipping cream
16 oz. mascarpone cheese
½ cup sugar
2 cups brewed and cooled Godiva raspberry-flavored coffee
¼ cup Godiva liqueur
2 ½ oz. semisweet chocolate, grated
Cocoa powder
Chocolate shavings
Whisk together egg yolks, sugar, and milk in a 2-quart saucepan until smooth and blended. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. As soon as mixture reaches a boil, remove from heat. Immediately refrigerate until cool.
With an electric mixer, beat whipping cream at high speed until it forms very stiff peaks. Set aside in the refrigerator.
Mix the mascarpone cheese and sugar. Stir in the yolk mixture. Fold in the whipped cream.
Combine the coffee and Godiva liqueur in a large mixing bowl.
To assemble:
Cut brownies into 2-by-½-inch strips. Quickly dip each strip in the coffee mixture and place on the bottom of a 9-by-13 baking dish. Sprinkle with half the semisweet chocolate. Cover with half of the cheese mixture. Add another layer of dipped brownies. Sprinkle with remaining semisweet chocolate and finish with the cheese mixture.
Sift cocoa powder over the top and garnish with chocolate shavings.
Refrigerate overnight for best flavor. Serve in chilled dessert bowls.
Here’s a sneak peek at
Skye Denison’s exciting
Scumble River Mystery
MURDER OF A ROYAL PAIN
Available from Signet
On Mondays, school psychologist Skye Denison liked to play a game called Name that Disaster as she made the ten-minute drive to work. It consisted of guessing what calamity, catastrophe, or cataclysm would be waiting for her when she arrived.
Skye’s assignment included the elementary, middle, and high schools in Scumble River, Illinois. This meant the crises could vary from an eight-year-old girl scalping a fellow third grader in order to dance the lead in Rapunzel, to a thirteen-year-old methamphetamine user who thought he was Superman trying to fly from the roof of the junior high school, to a cheerleader holding her own private sex party for the winning basketball team, or any little mess in between.
Her job description was vague, allowing the principals to assign Skye any task they did not wish to perform, and, of course, any that even hinted of belonging in the realm of special education. One of the duties Homer Knapik, the high school principal, had recently handed over to Skye was faculty liaison to the Promfest committee—parents who were putting together an event designed to keep the junior and senior classes and their dates from getting high, crashing their cars, and making babies after the prom.
Homer had assured Skye that it was an easy assignment. All she would have to do was attend a few meetings and maybe help put up some crêpe paper. But as Skye approached the high school cafeteria where the first gathering of the 2004–2005 Promfest committee was being held, she knew he had lied to her. She could hear the raised voices five hundred yards away.
Skye crept into the cavernous room, willing herself to become invisible, which was a stretch considering her generous curves, long, curly chestnut hair, and emerald green eyes. From the back wall, she surveyed the crowd.
It was almost entirely women in their late thirties and early forties. An occasional male also occupied the picnicstyle tables arranged in rows facing the stainless-steel serving counter, but they looked uncomfortable and ready to make a run for freedom at any moment.
Skye noticed one guy sitting by himself, and took a seat at his table. He was the only man in the room who didn’t look as if he wished he were somewhere else. Instead, his expression was a cross between amusement and disbelief as he scribbled furiously in a small notebook.
Skye smiled at him, and asked, “Who are they?” gesturing to the front of the room where two attractive women were nose to nose, yelling at each other.
“The one with the black hair is Annette Paine and the blonde is Evie Harrington. They both think they’re this year’s Promfest chairwoman.”
“And they want to be?” Skye couldn’t imagine why anyone would actively seek that position. “Why?”
He nodded. “Lots of power and a good way to strengthen their daughters’ chances of being elected prom queen. Both of them are prior queens themselves—Evie in 1984 and Annette in 1982.”
“Oh.” Skye cringed. “This is going to get ugly.”
“Already has.”
Suddenly the shouting increased in volume and Skye’s attention was drawn back to the women.
“I don’t know where you got the impression that you were chairing this committee.” Annette poked Evie in the shoulder with a perfectly manicured fingernail.
“I got the impression from the election last year.” Evie bristled. “You remember the election, don’t you?”
Annette smoothed a strand of hair back into her chignon. “That vote was not valid. We didn’t have quorum. The legitimate election took place the next week.” Her icy blue gaze lasered into the brown eyes of her rival. “I believe you were on vacation. If you call going to Branson, Missouri, a vacation.”
“You deliberately held that meeting while I was gone.” Evie stamped her Etienne Aigner—shod foot on the worn gray linoleum. “A meeting you had no right to call.”
“As the assistant chair of the 2003–2004 committee, I was certainly within my rights to call a meeting.” Annette flicked a piece of lint from her Yves Saint Laurent cashmere cardigan.
“The 2003–2004 committee had already been disbanded.” A line appeared between Evie’s eyebrows. “You had no authority whatsoever.”
Skye was trying to guess how long it would be before the two women started with the “I did toos” and “You did nots,” when a voice from one of the tables rang out, “Let’s just have another vote and get on with it. Some of us have lives.”
About a third of the women murmured their agreement, but the others protested. Clearly the group was divided into three factions—those who backed Annette’s claim, those who supported Evie, and the rest, who didn’t give a darn one way or the other.
Skye looked at her watch and blew out an impatient breath. Much as she hated to, she was going to have to become an active participant and hurry the committee along. If she didn’t get out of there by the end of first hour, her whole morning’s schedule would be messed up. She was supposed to be starting Brady Russell’s three-year reevaluation—students who received special education services were required by law to be tested by the school psychologist triennially.
These reevaluations made up the bulk of her duties, and if she fell behind, she would have to cut her counseling and consultation hours—the part of her job she really enjoyed. She would need at least ninety minutes without interruption to give Brady the intelligence test. She would have to find another couple of hours to administer the academic and pro
cessing assessments on another day, not to mention time to do the classroom observation, teacher interviews, write the report, and attend the multidisciplinary meeting.
With the ten hours she would need to complete the entire reevaluation in mind, and the clock ticking away precious minutes, Skye stood up. She was ready to make an impassioned plea along the lines of “Can’t we all just get along?” when Annette grabbed Evie by the arm, dragged her to the side, and whispered furiously in her ear.
Skye leaned over the man next to her and lowered her voice. “Prom queen for their daughters aside, I can’t imagine why being in charge of putting a few streamers up, hiring a DJ, and getting some chips and punch out is such a big deal.”
“Where have you been?” He smirked. “Maybe that was true when Promfest was originally conceived. Nowadays it resembles a Chuck E. Cheese party for teenagers, but on steroids.”
Before Skye could grasp that image, her attention was drawn back to the front of the room by Evie’s gasp.
As Skye watched, the blonde shot Annette a look of loathing, walked back to the center of the room, and announced, “For the good of the Promfest and the sake of our children’s special night, I concede the chair to Annette Paine.”
Skye sat back down and stared speculatively at the blonde, then raised an eyebrow at the man next to her. “What in the world could Annette have said to Evie to make her give up a position that was obviously important to her?”
“Got me.” He tapped his pen on his notebook. “But I’m going to find out.”
“Oh?” It wasn’t often Skye met someone even more nosy than she was. “Why?”
“It’s my job.”
“Really?” Skye studied him for a moment. He was in his mid-thirties and devilishly handsome. “What do you do?”
“I’m the new reporter for the Scumble River Star.” He held out a tanned hand to Skye. “My name’s Kurt Michaels. I’m starting a column called Talk of the Town.”