“Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you your chosen one, the man of the hour, and your new Bingo caller, Mr. Harvey Davis!”
The old men were smiling and clapping heartily, and the senior women were clapping with excitement. I knew Harvey was popular, but I didn’t know they loved him this much. The cheers and applause went on until the Pastor raised her other hand and motioned for everyone to sit.
Harvey put the halo back on his shiny bald head, and the Pastor put a gold lamé shawl over his shoulders and handed him a scepter made from an old broom handle with a toy hand grenade on the end. It was all painted gold as well.
“Harvey Davis, because of your commanding and pleasant persona, your beautiful deep tones that are so easy to understand, and your slow and measured pace that allows all of our players to keep up, you have been chosen above all others to come to the mountain top and call out the bingo numbers.”
Another round of applause. Eli looked proud of his poppa. “I think a lot of people in this town adore your Dad.” Eli nodded.
It was one of those nights that don’t happen very often and you remember your whole life. Maybe that Bingo hall did have a supernatural warmth and mystery about it. I didn’t discover anything new in their basement, but I did learn that some of the things that sounded like spooky rituals had reasonable, if not a little offbeat, explanations.
Harvey and Miranda stood outside the front door like a bride and groom in a reception line after a wedding. Hildie seemed a little jealous and irritated with the way Pastor Miranda was holding his arm and lavishing so much attention on him. Maybe she was getting like Essie when she heard about all the women Toe had dated.
We watched from the curb for a while as everyone greeted and congratulated him. Harvey seemed to be having the time of his life, more vibrant and outgoing than I’d ever seen him, though he did mention that he was nervous about his debut on Tuesday night and felt like he needed a lot of practice.
“This reminds me of the way Dad used to be when I was growing up.” Eli had a gleam of pride in his eye. “Well, he’s got Sharkie here and Trevor is going to wait for him, so we can head back to the coffee shop if you want.”
Jules and Mike climbed in the back seat, I got in the front, and we headed back to the Coffee Cabana.
“I hope Schooner was able to manage things okay. I’ve been a little worried.”
“He would’ve called if he needed help, Lily,” Jules reassured. “And he’s a good bartender, so he’s probably pretty good behind your counter too.”
“Yeah. It’s likely been pretty slow during the Harvest dinner.”
As we drove up to the shop, I couldn’t believe what I saw. There was a crowd of people from the middle of the street, onto the sidewalk, and all the way inside the coffee shop. I could see three or four girls with trays delivering coffee and taking orders, and more were coming out of the front door. I could hear some wild guitar music coming from in front of the shop too.
“I’m not sure if this is good or bad.” I was a little shocked, I guess. “Maybe Schooner is giving away the house.” Eli was pulling up as close as he could. “Jules…”
“Don’t worry Lily. Let’s go in and find Schooner.”
We worked our way through the crowd, with Mike and Eli not far behind. The lead guitar player for Scorched Wings was playing famous guitar solos from the 1970s out front through a small amplifier plugged into a heavy duty extension cord going inside. High school girls were gathered around him like moths around a porch lamp, and each of them had a cup of coffee or other drink.
Inside was full, but you didn’t need a crowbar to get through the crowd as you did outside. Schooner was coming in from the backroom with a case of bottled lemonade, cool as a cucumber.
“Hey! Ladies! How was your dinner?” He kept working as he was talking, setting four bottles and two cups of coffee on a tray for one of the girls.
“Good. What’s happening here?”
“Ah, we got a little busy. The guys in the band stopped by and called a few of their friends. I guess I might have put it out on social media too.”
I looked in the cash register, and it was practically empty.
“Schooner, are you charging…”
“Oh, here you go.” He unlocked a cupboard door under the back bar and pulled out a small box. “Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t fit it all in there, so I just pulled a bunch of cash a minute ago from the register and stacked it up back here. It’s all rung up though, so it should balance out perfectly.”
There were tall stacks of bills of every denomination, including a few hundreds. “But…”
“Hold on. Alice needs some more drinks.”
He had coffee brewing and also filled a few of the air pots we use for the morning rush. He set Alice up with a couple of lattes, some coffees, and an iced coffee and had another tray ready for somebody filled with even more drinks.
“So, who…how…?” I stuttered
“Ah, these are some of the guys’ girlfriends and other girls who follow us. They text me the orders and I get it all ready for them. Sorry, but we ran out of fruit pretty early, so we don’t have smoothies, and I had my friends pick up a few bags of ice when we ran out of that so we can still do frappes and iced coffees, and we need ice for the bottled drinks too cause we only have warm ones left. There’s a paid-out slip in the register.”
He was blending a frappe right now and had cappuccinos or lattes coming out of the machine steadily. It was like watching an engineer at work.
“I hope you don’t mind if I’m using these regular to-go cups instead of your expensive ones. Oh, and I was getting a lot of coupons in earlier. And then I had to just start charging five dollars for everything because it was too hard for the girls to keep track and learn all the prices otherwise.”
Eli looked at me. “That guy’s a machine, not to mention a marketing guru. You’re going to need six people to replace him when the street dance starts.”
He was right. “What can we do to help, Schooner?”
“Aw, just relax for a while.” He looked at another order on his phone and had trays lined up with orders ready to go. The girls were taking the trays and leaving cash almost as fast as he could fill the orders and ring them up. I can stay another 20 minutes or so.”
“How much do I owe the girls?”
“They’re making more in tips than they earn at their regular jobs, so they’re fine.”
“Well, they look like they’re having fun anyway, Schooner.”
“Yup. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them ask you for a job.”
Hmmm….not sure that Toe and Harvey are big tippers.
By the time Schooner left to play in the band, he had done more business than I usually do in three days, including the morning rush hour sales.
Chapter Seven
Saturday is supposed to be my day to sleep in. There’s no morning rush hour coffee madness, and Essie opens the Cabana at 7:00 or 8:00 so I don’t have to be in until 9:00 or 10:00. So, usually like 9:45. Okay…9:52.
Well, Jules called as soon as she got home at midnight or so to talk about Mike Barton, and that lasted until 3:00. And now I’ve got Essie on my house phone and Hildie on my cell, and it’s not even 7:30.
“Essie, just push the red restart button on the ice machine. It was empty at the end of the night, so I thought it would be a good time to defrost it. What else? What? Hold on a sec…”
“Hildie, why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were entering the bake-off? Are you using canned pumpkin or real? Just a minute.”
“What’s that, Essie? I was talking to Hildie. The button is on the back. Just reach over the top on the side where the tray of cups is… You got it? Great. The what?”
“Hildie, I’ll be over in 30 minutes. I have to shower. Just set up all the ingredients, make the crust, and have a big bowl ready. It won’t take us that long. Bye.”
“Essie? I know all the air pots are dirty. It was busy last night. Did you see the bank deposit in the
safe? You won’t need them today anyway. Okay. Okay, sorry. Okay. Bye.”
I got to Hildie’s at 8:00, and she was doing her best not to be frantic.
“So what are you making, Hildie?”
“Well, I’m trying to use your mother’s cheesecake recipe as the starting point for a pumpkin cheesecake with a chocolate-caramel-pecan topping, and then I’ll put a pumpkin mousse on top of the whole thing. But I don’t know how much pumpkin to put in.”
“If you’re using three cups of cream cheese, use one cup of pumpkin. That was Mom’s rule of thumb for pretty much everything she added to her cheese cake.”
“Okay, and will you help me mix it to the right texture, Lily? I never seem to get that right. But we’ve got to have it in the oven in half an hour because I have to let it cool for an hour and then refrigerate it for four more hours before I can put the toppings on. And, oh my, I have to have it there by 3 o’clock, a half-hour before the judging begins.”
We worked like little elves, yacking about Harvey and chupacabras and Bingo the whole time. I mixed the pumpkin up with some egg yolks and sugar and cinnamon while Hildie got the cream cheese nice and fluffy. I mixed in more sugar, eggs, a dribble of heavy cream, and some vanilla and a little lemon extract, just like Mom always did, and then I folded in the pumpkin mixture, leaving a bit of a swirl. Hildie had the graham cracker and pecan crust all ready and the oven pre-heated, so we just had to pour it into the baking pan and toss it in the oven.
It was baking by 8:30, which gave us nearly an hour to melt the caramels and chocolate, chop half of the pecans, and make the pumpkin mousse. The cheesecake was perfect after 55 minutes. It was still a little soft in the middle, but that would firm up when it’s chilled. I learned the hard way to trust Mom when she told me, “If the middle is done when you take it out of the oven, then the rest will be over-baked.”
We had an hour to kill while the cheesecake cooled.
“Why didn’t Essie join the bake-off this year, Hildie? She’s won it or come close a few times.”
“Oh, she says it’s my turn to give it a try. I think she figures that it’ll impress Harvey if I win, but I’m just interested in him as a friend, you know. I’ve never been married and have no intention to settle down now.”
I wasn’t sure if I detected a note of sadness in her voice. “Didn’t you ever think about finding a man and starting a family, even when you were younger?”
“No. Not since Elvis died anyway.”
Wait. “You had a thing for Elvis Presley?”
“Oh, Lord, no, Lily. I’m just using that as a time frame. He was kind of cute in 1957, I suppose, but in 1977 when he died he was fat and high all the time. I knew a nice boy after high school, but then he went to Vietnam. Never came back.”
“Oh…I’m sorry. Did he get killed in action?” Why did I never know this?
“Don’t know. He just never came back. Let’s take the cheesecake to the coffee shop and put it in the refrigerator there. Essie might need some help.”
It was steady but not really busy at the Coffee Cabana, and I washed and sanitized all of the air pots. I also had to run to the store for more fruit and condiments after the busy Friday night.
“Lily, why don’t you take my golf cart and drive Hildie to the baking contest, and then just stay and enjoy the afternoon. Actually, I’ll have Gladys or Carmen come in to help out this evening too, so just take the rest of the day off. It’s supposed to be your date night with Eli anyway.”
“Well, thanks, but with the Festival going on he’ll probably have to be on duty most of the night.”
“So have fun with Jules then. I’ll handle this place, and Hildie will be back after the contest.”
“Well…”
“Don’t argue with her, Lily,” Hildie whispered to me. The cheesecake was topped, and she had a small bag of ice and a large Tupperware tub for an ice bath to keep it cool. She put her mousse mixture into the CO2 whipped cream canister and looked at her watch. “Let’s go!”
There were two large banquet tables set up for the baking contest entries. It was under an open party tent to keep the sun out, and each table had an over-sized orange tablecloth that hung down to the ground on all four sides. The late arrivals were placing their entries in their assigned spots.
“Here’s your name, Hildie.”
She set up her ice bath, put the cheesecake in, added a few more ice cubes around it, and then poured in some water. The dessert looked amazing with lines of chocolate drizzle going in one direction and lines of caramel in another. She deftly sprinkled some chopped pecans over the top and then put a circle of twelve whole ones around, halfway to the center, so that each slice would have one. Finally, she sprayed a floret of mousse on each piece between the pecan and the crust, plus a big one in the middle and then dusted them with some of the nutty powder from the bottom of the bag that had held the chopped and whole pecans.
“There are some pretty good-looking desserts here, Hildie, but yours is the one I want to eat. I bet you’ll get a ribbon.”
Hildie was obviously excited and proud at how well her dish turned out.
“It’s really our dessert, Lily.” She gave me a hug. “And your mom’s. Thank you for all your help.”
Yeah, she’s a good old girl. I love her a lot.
Cindy Grant came into the tent with her daughter, Missy, and they set their pumpkin pie up on the second table. Missy looked a little downhearted.
“Hi, Cindy.” I didn’t know her well, but she and her husband came in for coffee sometimes on the weekends. I knew Missy a little because she was a friend of Moira’s.
“Did you find your dog yet,” I asked, almost afraid to bring it up.
She just shook her head slowly.
“Well, maybe he’ll come home real soon.”
“I’m a little worried with that creature out there, and he’s been gone for more than a week now,” Cindy said, comforting her daughter with a hand on her cheek.
“Scotty’s going to be all right,” Missy insisted almost defiantly. “He can take care of himself, and he’s going to bite any chupacabra that comes close to him!”
“He sounds like a brave and feisty dog, Missy. I hope he comes home soon.” Yikes. A dog named “Scotty” against the glowing green chupacabra monster didn’t sound like a fair fight. He’s probably a little Scottish terrier, so I was a little worried for Missy.
“Am I on time?” Gertie Price came running in with her apple-pumpkin creation.
“Plenty of time, Gertie. You’re still 5 minutes under the wire. Your spot is right there, across from mine.” Hildie pointed to the spot with her name on it.
“Oh, thank you so much, Hildie.” She set her pie down on a raised cake display with a placard in front. It read: Apple-Pumpkin-Pecan Pie. She had one slice of it out of the pie pan and on a separate plate under a glass dome to show off the layers.
“That looks fabulous Gertie.” I figured I would give her a good review of it now so that she might give me a little taste later on after the judging. “Is that a layer of pecan pie filling on the bottom?”
“Thank you, Lily. Not exactly. I pureed some apples, all spiced up and ready for a traditional apple pie, and then mixed in the white corn syrup and other ingredients for the pecan pie base. Then I poured on a thin layer of pumpkin, some thinly sliced apples so they wouldn’t sink, and then another layer of pumpkin and apple and pumpkin again. I finally figured out a recipe that held together. I just hope it tastes good!”
“Well, it looks fabulous.” Hildie nodded in agreement.
Then Gertie whispered to us, “The top layer is sweet potato because I ran out of pumpkin after all of my failed efforts.” Then she looked at us in horror.
“Oh, don’t worry, Gertie,” Hildie said with her gentle laugh. We’re not Francine Diddlemeier. Your secret is safe with us. Besides, you’ve got plenty of pumpkin in it anyway.
Gertie finally settled down from her last-minute arrival and took a look at Hildie’s c
heesecake. Her jaw dropped.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said with wide-eyed amazement, “I might as well just throw mine in the garbage can. That’s the blue ribbon winner right there. And it’s decorated so beautifully!”
Hildie just smiled, but we both new that was high praise coming from the pie queen.
Moira was there with Jules’ camera to get some pictures and do a story for the Gazette, and probably for the high school paper too, on the pumpkin bake-off and the hayride.
“Ooohhh…this one looks good,” Moira said, pointing to Hildie’s entry and snapping a few pictures. She saw Hildie’s name and then looked at me with puppy dog eyes.
“Yes, Moira, we’ll save a piece for you and your mom.”
“Oh, wow, and this apple-pumpkin-pecan looks delicious too!”
That brought up Gertie’s spirits a bit.
Moira looked over towards the band shell where the hay wagon had just gotten back and people were getting off. The next ride would be in about 15 minutes. She snapped pictures of some great looking empanadas, pumpkin breads, and, of course, a whole lot of pumpkin pies and pumpkin muffins.
“Bye!”
She ran off in a hurry towards the hayride to get some pictures there too, and then jumped up onto the wagon. She was the first one on, except for the proctor, and Moira went all the way to the back and sat right next to him. I had to squint a little bit, but then I could see that it was Trevor. Eli must have “volunteered” him. I was thinking that maybe I should go on this hayride, but I didn’t really want Moira to hate me.
They’re still just kids. But then again, it is broad daylight. Then I saw Carmen wave to me and jump on the wagon. I think I might have seen Moira cringe.
Chapter Eight
There was something different in the air today. The shroud of silence and apprehension that’d been hanging over our little town for so long, led by the “Tuesday Night Congregation,” had finally been lifted. People seemed happier. The sun and colors of nature seemed brighter. Even the air felt lighter and more invigorating. The park was filled with laughter and smiles and birdsong, and you could feel the more optimistic mood that had taken over everyone’s body and soul. There hadn’t been many more sightings of the chupra-whatever, so that had helped.
Punked by the Pumpkin: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book 4) Page 7
