Crumbled to Pieces
Page 21
To serve, run small metal spatula around edge of pan; carefully remove foil and ring of pan. Cut cheesecake into slices. Top slices with whipped cream; sprinkle with ½ teaspoon cinnamon. Garnish with chocolate shavings. Cover; refrigerate any remaining cheesecake. Makes about 16 servings.
SNICKERDOODLES
Ingredients
1 cup, plus 2 tablespoons butter
1 ¾ cups sugar, divided
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 ¾ cups flour
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon
Heat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Using an electric mixer at medium speed, combine 1 ½ cups sugar, butter, eggs, milk, and vanilla in a large bowl until well blended. Combine flour, cream of tartar, baking soda, and salt in medium bowl. Add gradually to butter mixture at low speed. Mix just until blended. Combine remaining ¾ cup sugar and cinnamon in small bowl. Shape dough by hand or with cookie scoop into 1-inch balls. Roll in cinnamon-sugar mixture, and place 2 inches apart on parchment paper. Bake about 7 minutes, and then place on cooling racks to cool completely. Makes between 2 and 3 dozen cookies.
FUDGY DELIGHT COOKIES
Vanilla Cookie:
Ingredients:
4 ½ cups all-purpose flour
4 ½ teaspoons baking powder
¾ teaspoon salt
1 ½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 ½ cups sugar
3 large eggs
5 teaspoons vanilla extract
To make the cookies, preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line baking sheets with parchment paper. In a medium bowl combine the flour, baking powder, and salt, and whisk together to blend. In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine the butter and sugar, and beat together on medium-high speed until soft and fluffy, about 2-3 minutes. Beat in the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition and scraping down the bowl as needed. Blend in the vanilla. With the mixer on low speed, add in the dry ingredients, mixing just until incorporated and evenly mixed. Cover and chill the dough for 1 hour.
When you are ready to bake the cookies, scoop out the dough into the size of a golf ball, or use a 2-tablespoon scoop for them. Flatten the ball slightly, to about half-inch thickness, and place on the prepared baking sheet. Repeat with the remaining dough, spacing the cookies at least 2-3 inches apart. Bake about 10-12 minutes or just until set. Do not overbake. The edges should be no more than very lightly browned. Let cool on the baking sheet for several minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Makes between 3 and 4 dozen cookies, depending on size.
Ingredients for Frosting:
2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup baking cocoa
1 cup milk
½ cup butter or margarine
¼ cup light corn syrup
¼ teaspoon salt
2 ½ to 3 cups powdered sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
In 3-quart saucepan, mix granulated sugar and cocoa. Stir in milk, butter, corn syrup, and salt. Heat to boiling, stirring frequently. Boil 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Beat in powdered sugar and vanilla extract with spoon until smooth. Fudge will be runny so chill in the fridge for a few hours or until firm and then frost. There will be enough fudge to frost at least 4 dozen cookies.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bruns lives in Upstate New York with a male dominated household that consists of her very patient husband, three sons, and assorted cats and dogs. She has wanted to be a writer since the age of eight when she wrote her own version of Cinderella (fortunately Disney never sued). Catherine holds a B.A. in English and is a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.
To learn more about Catherine Bruns, visit her online at: www.catherinebruns.net
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BOOKS BY CATHERINE BRUNS
Cookies & Chance Mysteries:
Tastes Like Murder
Baked to Death
Burned to a Crisp
Frosted with Revenge
Silenced by Sugar
Crumbled to Pieces
A Spot of Murder (short story in the Killer Beach Reads collection)
A Drizzle Before Dying (short story in the Pushing Up Daisies collection)
Cindy York Mysteries:
Killer Transaction
Priced to Kill
For Sale by Killer
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries:
Death of the Big Kahuna
Death of the Kona Man
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SNEAK PEEK
If you enjoyed this Cookies & Chance Mystery, check out this sneak peek of
DEATH OF THE BIG KAHUNA
an Aloha Lagoon Mystery
by
CATHERINE BRUNS
CHAPTER ONE
When I was a little girl, playing waitress was one of my favorite pretend games. Together with my friends who lived next door at the time, we'd rush around and serve imaginary people at my mother's dining room table. In nice weather, we would use the back deck of my house. The state of Vermont has beautiful foliage during the autumn season, and we enjoyed gathering the multicolored leaves, pretending they were different types of entrees. The customers never complained about how long the food took to arrive, nothing was undercooked, and we always received hefty tips. And I never spilled food or broke glassware.
Yeah, only in a perfect world…
"Carrie Jorgenson?" A deep male, accented voice boomed in my ear.
I jerked myself out of my thoughts. A tall, powerful-looking Polynesian man was standing to my left, glancing down at me with a somewhat impatient look upon his face.
With trepidation, I rose from my chair. "Yes, I'm Carrie."
The man looked me over without comment and extended his hand. "Hale Akamu. I'm the owner of the Loco Moco Café." He gestured for me to sit down again.
"It's very nice to meet you. This is such a wonderful location for a restaurant." The café was close to the beach and situated smack in the middle of the highly popular Aloha Lagoon Resort in Kauai.
It was a perfect day weather-wise, something I had learned not to take for granted growing up in snow-ridden and rural Vermont. The sky was a cloudless blue like the ocean, waves were gentle, and the temperature warm without nagging humidity. Hale and I were the only ones inside the building, besides a server and two customers at the counter.
He ignored my comment, perhaps thinking I was sucking up—which, of course, I was. Desperation can do strange things to an unemployed person.
Hale eyed me sharply. "References?"
I swallowed hard and produced a manila folder from my shoulder bag. "Yes, they're from back home on the mainland. I just moved here a few weeks ago."
He gave a curt nod and glanced at the page while I took a moment to study him. He was very good looking, similar to Tom Selleck from his Magnum, P.I. days, with thick, dark hair and eyes black as coffee without a hint of cream. I knew he was in his early forties because I'd checked him out on Google the night before. In addition to the restaurant, he owned a mammoth-sized shopping mall on the island of Oahu. Hale had inherited a vast amount of wealth from his parents when they'd died in a car accident about twenty years ago. It sounded like a horrible tragedy for a child to endure—anyone actually—and for a moment I pitied the man. Unfortunately, there was something about him that immediately registered high on my radar in terms of dislike.
Even during our brief exchange, he managed to puff his chest out in an exaggerated manner while looking down his nose at me. He clearly thought I was beneath him.
As if this wasn't enough to repulse me, I saw his eyes focus on my chest for the briefest of seconds. When he raised them again and found me staring back at him, his mouth twitched into a small grin.
Yeah, not in a million years, buddy.
Hale tapped his pen on the tabletop with an authoritative air. "I don't see any serving experience here."
Darn. Kim was right. I had called my best friend from back home last night, and she had advised me to lie about my experience. "Make up some hole-in-the-wall restaurant," she'd advised. "He'll never check."
But I couldn't do it, especially now, not with those calculating eyes pinned on me. "I-I did work in customer service."
Hale pointed at the sheet of paper. "Walmart. You worked for a Walmart. It's not the same thing."
This was not turning out the way I had hoped. It was my third interview in as many days, and I was slowly running out of options. Brad, my boyfriend, worked as a surfing instructor at the resort and had told me that the Loco Moco was hiring.
I decided to level with the man. "Please, I really need the job. I'm willing to do almost anything."
He narrowed his eyes, and a sly smile formed at the corners of his mouth. "Oh really?"
Ugh. Bad choice of words, and this guy had letch written all over him. I heard myself babbling. "Um, I meant wash dishes or sweep the floor."
His eyes swept over me, and my discomfort grew. "Well, that's a shame."
Yikes. Yes, Hale was a pig. I was almost certain of it.
"Excuse me, Hale."
Hale glanced up. "Yeah, what is it?"
A man about my age glanced from me to Hale and seemed embarrassed. "You asked me to let you know when Carmen got back from lunch."
Hale scowled and rose to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute, Miss Jorgenson. Don't go anywhere."
As he spoke the words, I noticed how quickly the color rose in his neck and cheeks. Whoever this Carmen was, I sensed she might be in for a bit of a tongue-lashing. Hale swaggered behind the front counter on his long, powerful legs, head held high and erect. His dark eyes circled the restaurant while he walked, as if afraid he might miss something, and the well-defined nose stuck out so far I feared he might suck up all the air in the place. He disappeared through the double swinging doors with portholes, which I assumed led to the kitchen.
I let out a long, steady breath and tried to calm myself. I seemed destined to strike out again. Maybe panhandling on the beach was in my future.
I looked up to see the other man watching me with unabashed interest. Well, he wasn't just any man. This guy was as hot as the inside of a volcano.
He flashed me a perfect, gleaming white smile. "Interview?"
I nodded. "I don't think my chances are good."
"Ah, I wouldn't say that. We've all been working overtime because the place has been so busy. And Hale does not like to pay overtime." He extended a hand. "I'm Keanu Church."
"Carrie. Nice to meet you." His hand was smooth and cool to the touch.
"Likewise." Keanu had dark wavy hair, a natural tanned look to his skin, and crystal blue eyes the same color as the ocean. Although he was slim, powerful muscles bulged underneath the short-sleeved white T-shirt that said Loco Moco Café on it. The jeans he wore fit him perfectly everywhere, and I do mean everywhere. He was tall, but anyone was tall when compared to my five-foot-four-inch stature.
Before we could exchange any more pleasantries, the sound of a woman shrieking met our ears. I glanced around. There was now one lone customer at the counter, reading the newspaper, and he seemed disinterested.
"I don't care what he did," Hale yelled. "The customer is always right. And since you have no idea how to treat the public, you're fired."
"You're not firing me because of that idiot, and you know it."
Hale's voice was similar to a low, angry growl. "Get your stuff and leave."
The woman's tone was menacing. "I would advise against firing me, Hale. For your own sake."
"It's Mr. Akamu to you now. And your empty threats don't bother me. You're no longer an employee here. Pick up your things and get out."
I expected more sobbing, but instead the woman's tone was venomous. "You'll be sorry for everything you did to me. I'll make you sorry."
Hale laughed. "Threatening me, huh? Yeah, like that's the first time I've heard that line before. Get your pathetic self out of here."
Keanu's expression was grim while his eyes remained focused on the swinging doors.
Less than a minute later, a woman who looked to be in her midthirties pushed through them, a purse in one hand and a tote bag in another. She turned and lifted her middle finger in salute toward the kitchen. "You haven't heard the last from me, you freaking tyrant."
Only she didn't say freaking.
As I watched the woman depart amidst a sea of sobs, my insides filled with dread. I turned to Keanu. "Why did he fire her?"
Keanu sighed. "A patron left her a nickel tip, and she made a snide comment to them. Hale overheard and went nuts. It's nothing new. Believe me. He fires someone at least once a month. It's like he needs to make a quota or something."
A giant knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Do I really want to work here? Uh, no. But then again, what other choice did I have? All of my life I'd wanted to escape from my hometown and had dreamed of living on a tropical island. When my boyfriend had landed a position as a surfing instructor, I'd asked if I could tag along. Although his reaction had been less than favorable, he'd agreed.
Brad and I had been dating for close to a year, but instead of becoming closer over time, it seemed as if we were growing apart. He'd come out a few months ago to get settled and had recently started to ask around about a job for me. Another surfer had told him there might be an opening at the café.
Keanu broke into my thoughts. "It sounds like your chance for a job might have improved."
Before he could say anything further, Hale pushed through the swinging doors and strode back over to us. He had papers in one hand and a giant coffee mug that read Hale Rules in the other. He placed the papers in front of me.
"Carrie, is there any chance you could start work right now?" Hale pointed outside to where the tables were starting to fill. "Our dinner rush will be starting soon, and as you might have overheard, we're suddenly shorthanded."
I wasn't a superstitious person. Plus, I needed the job. Yet I had a bad feeling about coming to work at a place where the owner was obviously disliked. Plus, what if he came on to me? I didn't need that hassle. Maybe I could accept the position for now but still look around for something better.
Hale waved an impatient hand in front of my face. "Hello? Are you still with us, Miss Jorgenson?"
I gulped and forced the words out before I had a chance to change my mind. "Ah, yes, I can start right away."
He nodded and pointed at Keanu. "Good. Take her into the kitchen and show her around until Vivian frees up. Then she can shadow her around for the rest of the day—get drinks and stuff for the customers. A little later on you can show her how to run the register."
Keanu nodded. "Sure thing."
Hale pointed at the papers on the table. "Fill out your W-4 and I-9 and give these to Keanu before you leave."
"Of course. Thank you very much."
He looked down at me, but it felt more like a leer and practically made my skin crawl. When he reached for my hand again this time, I flinched. It was moist and clammy and sent a shudder of repulsion through me. Ick. I hastily pulled away.
"I look forward to having you here."
Before I could muster a reply, he was over at the register, laughing with a customer who had come inside to pay his bill. Hale slapped him on the back and rang the man's credit card through the machine, between taking sips of coffee from his egotistical mug. He then turned and disappeared into the kitchen again. I turned to Keanu, who gave a slight shrug.
"I guess congratulations are in order. Come with me. I'll show you where you can put your purse and find you an ap
ron. I'll get a name tag made up for you too."
I followed him through the swinging doors into the shining kitchen, still shocked that I actually had a job. I couldn't wait to tell Brad.
"You're an import, aren't you?"
It took me a moment to realize that Keanu was talking to me. "Yes, I've lived in Vermont my whole life."
Keanu grinned, and for the first time, I noticed the adorable dimple on the left side of his mouth. "Did you get tired of all that white stuff?"
I laughed. "Something like that. Plus, I've always wanted to live in a tropical paradise."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, and I found myself wondering if it was as soft as it looked. "Tropical, yes. Paradise—eh, not so much. So tell me, what's snow like? I've never seen it."
"Shut up."
He smiled. "I'm dead serious. I've always wanted to ride a snowmobile. Maybe I'll go check out Vermont sometime."