The FBI caught Gordo McNair as he was attempting to cross the Canadian border by hiding in the back of an ice cream truck. Apparently he’d been in there so long two of his fingers had suffered severe frostbite and the tips had to be amputated. He got an even colder reception when a special judiciary hearing was convened; it found him guilty of three counts of blackmailing public officials, as well as a laundry list of embezzlement, tax evasion, and other financial crimes. Gordo was sentenced to seventeen years.
Junior Deputy Billy Langdale received a commendation and a promotion for his resourcefulness and bravery that night. He became Senior Deputy Langdale, next in line for Deputy Chief of Police. Better than that, if I do say so myself, I started dating him again. Our favorite pastime, rowing out beyond the bay and picnicking alone on the gentle swells, caught on for a while; other couples began to copy us, but none kept it up after winter hit. So we had the sea to ourselves again. We were both happiest out there, on the big blue, and there was nowhere we would rather have lived than Windward Bay.
Billy gave up on his dream to be a career Coast Guard rescue diver, but, partly due to my urging, he joined the Maine Coast Guard as a volunteer instead. It took him away from me a few times a month, but he was always happy and rejuvenated after each stint, which in turn made me content.
As for me, I went back to work at the bakery. But my sleuthing days were far from over. As a matter of fact, the two collided in quite spectacular fashion a few days after the big arrests. I was mixing the filling for a batch of jam tarts when a few blobs dropped onto the floor. At that same moment I heard Gabe Solinski boasting to a customer about his promotion. What forged the link couldn’t quite say—intuition, a sixth sense—but my mind back-tracked to the day after the clam bake, when Manuka had limped in with a sore paw. And I realized, those two drops of blood on my kitchen floor I’d assumed were Manuka’s...couldn’t have been his.
If his paw had been dripping blood, I’d have seen some on him. Heck, he’d have left bloody paw-prints all over the place. No, those drops had come from someone else, someone who’d been in my house. And Gabe had had a couple of nasty cuts on his forearm. Manuka, a fiercely territorial cat, had lashed out at strangers before. He would absolutely have tried to slice ’n’ dice Gabe if he’d sneaked into my kitchen to steal, say, my A4 notebook with the recipes in—which, as it happened, had gone missing.
Add that to the underhanded affair with the Cut Rounds, and Gabe’s sudden promotion—not to mention his advice for me to leave the theft well alone—and my boss was the craftiest culinary rat since Pixar’s Ratatouille. I just couldn’t believe how plausible he was. It even got me to thinking...what other underhanded stunts had he pulled? Had he been secretly altering my recipes before the desserts reached Bronwyn’s, prompting the awful reviews, and then peddling the original recipes as his own, to the Hub Bakery in Portland? Had he actually written those negative comments himself?
My brain unspooled just thinking about it.
So, with Billy’s help, I set about proving my case. Luckily, with all the commotion, I’d forgotten to put the garbage out, so the tissues I’d used to wipe up the spots of blood from my kitchen floor were still there. All I needed then was one of Gabe’s hairs, which I yanked right off his head without explanation and took it straight to Billy at the station. He then ordered a DNA test, which confirmed the match. Now, it probably wouldn’t have held up in court, but Gabe didn’t know that. When Deputy Pride-of-Windward Langdale confronted him about it, Master Rat Solinski broke down in tears and confessed the whole thing, then churlishly demanded Manuka be put down on account of him being a menace to honest burglars everywhere, or words to that effect.
So ended another criminal career. Meanwhile, my ownership of the Cut Rounds recipe was made official. But, not wanting the scandal made public, Ainscough’s removed my creation from their state-wide franchise menu and I never saw a dime in profit. Bronwyn’s put in a long-standing order for the Cut Rounds, though, and the Windward bakery kept making them for a long time after. The new manager, being allergic to dairy products, never had the privilege of tasting them.
But one customer sure did. Twice a week, I brought home a small tub of clotted cream, set it on the kitchen floor, and let my loyal hero, Manuka, gorge himself until he couldn’t eat any more.
After all, crime-fighting did have its perks.
Recipe for Devonshire Cut Rounds
Makes 12 (approx)
Ingredients:
500gm Plain Flour
50gm Milk Powder
35gm Baking Powder
50gm Butter
220ml Buttermilk
70ml Milk
(If you like sweet version add 30gm Caster Sugar)
Beaten egg to Glaze
Method:
1. Preheat the Oven to 180c or Gas 6
2. Put all the dry ingredients into a bowl
3. Rub in the Butter
4. Mix in the Buttermilk, and Normal milk, bring together until a soft dough is reached
5. Use your hands, not a mixer, as you will over tighten the dough!!
6. Roll into a cylinder shape about 3 inches across
7. Cut into pieces approx 60gm each
8. Slightly press to a nice shape
9. Place on the Baking Tray and Glaze with egg
10. Bake for 14-18 minutes until risen
Notes:
The dough must be soft not dry. Don’t be afraid to add a touch more liquid if you are not happy with the consistency.
The Clam Bake Murder: A Windward Bay Mystery Page 7
