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Plum Pudding Murder Bundle with Candy Cane Murder & Sugar Cookie Murder

Page 62

by Joanne Fluke


  2 eggs

  5 cups flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  1 teaspoon almond extract (or vanilla)

  Cream butter, adding sugar gradually. Add unbeaten eggs, then sift dry ingredients and extract. Dough will be stiff.

  Fill cookie press and press cookies out onto cookie sheet and decorate. (Lucy sprinkles colored sugar on the long strip cookes and puts bits of candied cherry in the center of the flower shapes.)

  Bake at 375 degrees for 10–12 minutes, remove to rack to cool. These cookies keep well in a tightly sealed tin, but you’ll have to hide it well if you want to save them for Christmas.

  SAND TARTS

  These cookies are named for the dusting of cinnamon sugar that looks like sand. They’re delicious and not very well known anymore. Lucy remembers them from her childhood, when her grandmother used to make them. This is her recipe, written in her style.

  Cream ½ cup butter.

  Add:

  1 cup sugar

  2 beaten egg yolks

  1 tablespoon milk

  ½ teaspoon vanilla

  Beat mixture until light.

  Sift together:

  1½ cups flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  Add to first mixture and blend well. Chill for several hours. Roll dough very thin and cut with a star or circle cookie cutter. Place on buttered baking sheet and put a split blanched almond on each cookie. Brush with unbeaten egg whites and sprinkle with mixture of 1 tablespoon sugar and ¼ teaspoon cinnamon.

  Bake at 375 degrees for 10 minutes. Cool on racks.

  SUGAR COOKIE MURDER

  Hannah bent over to examine the large lump of fur. The animal she thought she’d seen was really the expensive fur coat that Martin’s new wife was wearing. The only other animal in sight was the reindeer sugar cookie that was broken near Brandi’s feet, along with the pieces of a Christmas tree cookie, and a bell decorated in red and green icing. Brandi must have taken several cookies from the dessert table and come out here to eat them. The big question was, did she also take the antique cake knife?

  Hoping that she’d just slipped and fallen, Hannah reached down to tap Brandi on the shoulder. “Brandi? Do you need help getting up?” she asked, shaking her a little harder and wondering if she should go for help.

  Hannah certainly wouldn’t risk moving Brandi, but she’d taken a first aid class in college and she knew there was a pulse point just under the jawbone on the side of a person’s neck. The collar of Brandi’s coat was in the way and Hannah pushed it back. This caused the coat to fall open and Hannah gave a strangled gasp as she caught sight of Brandi’s chest.

  “Hannah? Are you out there?” Edna called from the kitchen.

  “I’m here.”

  “Did you find the knife?”

  Hannah glanced down at her mother’s valuable antique knife, buried to the hilt in Brandi’s too-perfectly-proportioned-to-be-natural chest. “I found it…”

  Books by Joanne Fluke

  Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder

  Strawberry Shortcake Murder

  Blueberry Muffin Murder

  Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

  Fudge Cupcake Murder

  Sugar Cookie Murder

  Peach Cobbler Murder

  Cherry Cheesecake Murder

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  JOANNE FLUKE

  SUGAR COOKIE MURDER

  A HANNAH SWENSEN HOLIDAY MYSTERY WITH RECIPES

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  This book is for Haley, Rachael, and Madeline.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Ruel, my in-house story editor.

  And thanks to our kids who say things like, “You should make a cookie that tastes like German Chocolate Cake.” (I’ve almost got it, and it’ll be in the next Hannah book!)

  I’m grateful to our friends and neighbors:

  Mel and Kurt, Lyn and Bill, Gina and the kids, Jay, Bob M., Amanda, John B., Dr. Bob and Sue Hagaman, and to everyone who came running when I said I was testing potluck recipes for this book.

  Thank you to my talented editor, John Scognamiglio, for his constant support.

  Editors don’t come any better than John.

  And thanks to all the good folks at Kensington who keep Hannah Swensen sleuthing and baking to her heart’s content.

  Thank you to Hiro Kimura, my cover artist, for his incredible artwork.

  Big hugs to Terry Sommers and her family for critiquing my recipes and for letting me use their family recipe, Aunt Grace’s Breakfast Muffins.

  Happy Birthday, Terry!

  Thanks to Jamie Wallace for shepherding my Web site MurderSheBaked.com

  Thank you to Laura Levine (she writes the Jaine Austen mysteries),

  Helen Kauffman, and Charlene Timms, for the title suggestions.

  They were all great, and you may see them in print yet.

  Thanks to Merle and Tracy for information about Alzheimer’s, and to Doris Hannon for asking about “Hot Stuff” and “Silver Fox.”

  A big hug to all my e-mail and regular mail friends who share their feelings, their baking experiences, and their love for Hannah with me.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Appetizers

  Baked Brie

  Busy Day Pâté

  Caviar Pie

  Deviled Eggs

  Fiesta Dip Platter

  Herring Appetizer

  Misdemeanor Mushrooms

  Seafood Bread Dip

  Spinach Quiche

  Spinach Rollups

  Hannah’s Addition to Susan’s Rollups

  Soups

  Corn Chowder

  Cream of Cheat Mushroom Soup

  Quick Irish Chili

  Sally’s Radish Soup

  Summer Gazpacho

  Salads

  Dilly Onion Rings

  French Dressing

  Ginger Ale Jell-O

  Holiday Jell-O Mold

  Pretty Coleslaw

  Quick Pickle Salad

  Waldorf Salad Jell-O

  Breads

  Aunt Grace’s Breakfast Muffins

  Can Bread

  Cheesy Spicy Corn Muffins

  Cranberry Muffins

  Gina’s Strawberry Bread

  Sally’s Banana Bread

  Soda Bread

  Entrees

  Baked Fish

  Barbecued Anything

  Chicken Paprikash

  Country Ham Casserole

  E-Z Lasagna

  Festive Baked Sandwich

  Hawaiian Pot Roast

  Hot German Potato Salad with Bratwurst

  Hunter’s Stew

  Irish Roast Beast

  Meatloaf

  Minnesota Hotdish

  Not So Swedish Meatballs

  Rose’s Restaurant Turkey

  Salmon Loaf

  Sauerbraten

  Smothered Chicken

  Sides

  Apple ’N Onion Dressing Balls

  Corn Pudding

  Green Bean Classic With a Twist

  Holiday Rice

  Make-Ahead Mashed Potatoes

  Oodles of Noodles

  Potato Bake or Party Potatoes

  Scandinavian Red Cabbage

  Silly Carrots

  Spinach S
oufflé

  Sweet Potato Casserole

  Desserts: Cakes

  Christmas Date Cake

  Chocolate Fruitcake

  Coffee Cake

  Jell-O Cake

  Lady Hermoine’s (Hannah’s) Chocolate Sunshine Cake

  Poppy Seed Cake

  Rose’s Famous Coconut Cake

  Desserts: Pies

  Coconut Green Pie

  Pecan Pie For A Holiday Crowd

  Pumpkin Pie For A Thanksgiving Crowd

  Desserts: Cookies

  Cherry Bomb Cookies

  Christmas Sugar Cookies

  Heavenly Tea Cookies

  Lisa’s Pieces

  Blueberry Shortbread Bar Cookies

  Hannah’s “Hot” Brownies

  Rhubarb Bar Cookies

  Desserts: Other Sweet Treats

  Candied Pecans From Lois

  Chocolate Fruit Platter

  Beverages

  English Eggnog

  Dimpled Duchess

  Extras (that didn’t fit anywhere else)

  Mrs. Knudson’s Season Salt

  Werner Herman’s Catfish Bait

  Baking Conversion Chart

  Chapter One

  It was a meatball, a really big meatball, and it was rolling out of her closet. It stopped a few feet from the end of the bed, and that was when she noticed its eyes and its face. The eyes stared at her in abject disappointment, and two tears of gravy rolled down its fat bumpy cheeks. It looked so miserable Hannah wanted to reach out and give it a hug.

  “You forgot me,” the meatball said, “and I’m an entrée. And from what I hear, your entrées aren’t that good.”

  “Yes, they are. We’ve got…”

  “I’m doing my best not to take this as a personal insult,” the meatball interrupted her, “but you know I’m a lot more delicious than your mother’s Hawaiian Pot Roast. What really makes me mad is that you left me out, but you put in four of your sister Andrea’s Jell-O molds. Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to dump a can of fruit in some Jell-O. If you want her name in the cookbook, you ought to teach her to cook.”

  What was the meatball talking about? No ordinary mortal could teach Andrea to cook! Her sister was firmly entrenched among the ranks of the culinary-impaired. Hannah sat bolt upright in bed, prepared to give the Swedish treat a piece of her mind. But there was no longer a round, brown entrée with the delectable scent of mushrooms and beef positioned in front of her closet or at the foot of her bed. With the exception of Moishe, who was curled up at her feet sleeping peacefully, she was alone.

  Hannah blinked several times, and then the truth of the situation dawned. She’d been dreaming. The talking meatball had retreated into whatever corner of her mind had created it, but the message it had delivered remained. Hannah had goofed big time. She’d forgotten to include Edna Ferguson’s recipe for Not So Swedish Meatballs in the packet to be tested at tonight’s potluck dinner.

  “Uh-oh,” Hannah groaned, feeling around under the bed for her slippers. When she’d wiggled her feet inside the fake fur lining, she patted the mattress to wake the orange and white tomcat who’d been her roommate for the past year and a half. “Come on, Moishe. Time to wake up and smell the kitty crunchies.”

  Moishe opened one yellow eye and regarded her balefully. Then the phrase “kitty crunchies” must have registered in his feline brain, because he jumped off the bed with an athletic grace that Hannah could only envy, and padded down the hallway at her side as she headed for the kitchen.

  Once Moishe had been fed and watered and she’d poured herself a cup of strong coffee, Hannah sat down at the kitchen table that was on the cusp of becoming an antique and considered the problem of Edna Ferguson’s meatballs. Since the whole thing was her fault for forgetting to include them, she’d have to find time to test them herself. One thing for sure…Edna wouldn’t be the soul of understanding if she couldn’t find her favorite recipe in the cookbook.

  Hannah glanced down at her coffee mug. Empty. And she didn’t even remember drinking it. If she showered and dressed right now, before she was fully awake, the lure of a second mug of coffee would make her hurry.

  Before the second hand on her apple-shaped wall clock had made twelve complete revolutions, Hannah was back in the kitchen. Instead of her robe, she was wearing jeans and a dark green pullover sweater. Her feet were encased in fur-lined, moosehide boots to stave off the chill of the first cold week in December, and her towel-dried hair was already springing up into a riot of red curls.

  “Coffee,” Hannah breathed, pouring a mug, inhaling the fragrance and taking the first steaming sip, “is almost as good as…” but before she could decide exactly what it was almost as good as, the phone rang.

  “Mother!” Hannah muttered in the same tone she used when she stubbed her toe, but she reached for the phone. To let the answering machine get it would only delay the inevitable. Delores Swensen was relentless. If she wanted to talk to her eldest daughter, she’d keep on calling until she was successful.

  “Good morning, Mother,” Hannah forced a cheery note into her voice and sank down in a chair. Conversations with Delores had been known to last as long as an hour.

  “Good morning, dear. You sound like you got up on the right side of the bed,” Delores replied, matching Hannah’s cheery tone and raising her a cliché. “I know this Christmas potluck has been a lot of work for you and I called to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

  Warning bells went off in Hannah’s head. When Delores tried to be this helpful, she had an ulterior motive. “That’s nice of you, Mother, but I think I’ve got everything covered.”

  “I thought so. You’re so organized, dear. Did I tell you that Luanne found an antique silver cake knife with a provenance that dates back to the Regency period?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Hannah said, getting up to pour more coffee and stretching out the phone cord to within an inch of its life. Luanne Hanks was Delores and Carrie’s assistant at Granny’s Attic, the antique store they’d opened right next to Hannah’s bakery, and she was a genius at finding valuable antiques at estate auctions.

  “I thought you might want to use it tonight. It has a lovely old-fashioned Christmas tree on the handle.”

  “Didn’t you say it was Regency?”

  “That’s right, dear.”

  “But I didn’t think they had Christmas trees in Regency England.”

  “They didn’t. But don’t forget that the Regent’s family was German. And since this particular knife was used at court, it’s decorated with a German Christmas tree.”

  “I’d love to use it,” Hannah said. “It’ll fit in perfectly.”

  “That’s what I thought. When I showed it to Winthrop last night, he thought it would be appropriate to cut a cake from the period.”

  Hannah frowned at the mention of her mother’s “significant other.” She had no basis in fact, but she had the inkling that “Winnie,” as her niece Tracey called him, wasn’t precisely on the level. She’d asked Norman Rhodes, Carrie’s son and the man she occasionally dated, to check Winthrop out on the Internet. Norman had done it, but he hadn’t found anything shady about the British lord who was visiting Lake Eden “for a lark.”

  Hannah pulled herself back to the problem at hand. “I think using the cake knife is a great idea, but as far as I know, no one is bringing a cake made from a Regency recipe.”

  “Yes, they are, dear. You’re forgetting about Lady Hermoine’s Chocolate Sunshine Cake.”

  “Lady Hermoine?” Hannah’s voice reached a high note that would have shocked the Jordan High choir director who’d assigned her to the second alto section. “Who’s Lady Hermoine? You know that’s my original recipe!”

  “Of course I do, but there’s a slight problem, dear. You see, the knife is very valuable. I didn’t want to let just anyone use it, so I fibbed a bit.”

  “What’s a bit?”

  “I said that Lady Hermoine’s Chocolate Sunshi
ne Cake originated a lot earlier. If it’ll make him happy, is there any harm in letting Winthrop think the recipe’s been in our family for hundreds of years?”

  Hannah sighed. She didn’t like lying even when it was for a good cause, and Winthrop’s happiness wasn’t high on her list of good causes. “Your fib won’t work, Mother. My cake uses frozen orange juice concentrate and that certainly wasn’t around back then!”

  “That’s all right. Winthrop won’t notice. And on the off chance he does, I’ll say the original recipe called for orange marmalade.” Delores gave a sigh and when she spoke again, her voice held a quaver. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

 

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