Christmas Caramel Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Show’s over,” her father said as the screen coalesced into his amorphous shape again. “I love you, Honey-bear. If I’m lucky, they might let me come back again. You’re scheduled for three ghosts just like the ones in the play. The difference is that we don’t need makeup or costumes. We’re really ghosts, and we don’t rely on special effects and fake turkeys. Now go back to sleep like my good girl, and try to remember what I showed you when I visited you.”

  Hannah’s eyelids felt suddenly heavy, almost as if they were weighted. She wanted to stay awake to see her dad leave, but it was impossible. She rolled over, reached out to pet Moishe’s soft fur, and smiled as she slipped into a deep, restful sleep.

  * * *

  Hannah awakened to the scent of hot, strong coffee and something enticing that she couldn’t identify. She sat up in bed, dislodging the cat who’d been sleeping on the pillow next to her head, and felt around under the bed for her slippers.

  “Rowww!” Moishe complained as she thrust her feet into her slippers and got out of bed.

  “I know. I don’t really want to get up either, but something smells really good! Michelle must be making breakfast.”

  That comment elicited a purr from her feline friend. Moishe loved Michelle, especially after all the treats she’d brought with her. He’d even gotten some ham from last night’s sandwiches, one of his favorite meats, and several fish-shaped, salmon-flavored treats that Michelle had given him before she’d gone to bed.

  “Gingerbread!” Hannah exclaimed aloud as she thrust her arms into the sleeves of the gently worn chenille robe that she’d found at Helping Hands, the local thrift store. “At least I think it’s gingerbread. It smells like gingerbread, and I can’t think of what else it could be.”

  Moishe did not offer his opinion as he followed Hannah down the carpeted hallway, taking an occasional swipe at the hem of her robe.

  When they reached the kitchen, Hannah took one step inside the doorway and into her brightly lit kitchen, sniffed the air again, and stared at her sister, who was standing at the stove. “Not gingerbread?” she asked.

  “What?” Michelle looked puzzled.

  “Not gingerbread. I thought you were baking gingerbread, but the oven’s not on. What are you frying?”

  Michelle looked pleased. “You’re close, Hannah. I’m frying Gingerbread Pancakes. One of my housemates got the recipe from her grandmother. She said her grandmother used to make Gingerbread Pancakes every Christmas morning and that it was a family tradition. Since it’s the Christmas season, I thought it was the perfect time for us to try them.”

  “They smell really good,” Hannah complimented her sister. “What kind of syrup do you use on Gingerbread Pancakes?”

  “I don’t know, and my friend didn’t know, either. She thought maybe her grandmother had served them with honey, but she couldn’t really remember.”

  “We can experiment with syrups,” Hannah suggested, heading for the coffeepot to pour herself a cup. “It looks like you’re making a lot of pancakes. Are you expecting anyone else for breakfast?”

  “No, but my friend told me that her grandmother used to freeze her pancakes and then reheat them in the oven between sheets of foil. That sounded interesting and I thought I’d try it to see if it works.”

  “If it does, you could probably reheat them in the microwave, too. The only problem is that you can’t use foil.”

  “You wouldn’t have to use foil. You could reheat one pancake on a paper plate if you covered it with a paper towel. I’ve done that with frozen waffles before.”

  Hannah smiled at her sister. “You’re right, and that would be an easy way to make breakfast on the run. You could thaw a pancake, butter it and sprinkle it with sugar, roll it up in a paper towel the way Great-grandmother Elsa used to do with lefse, and heat it in the microwave. Then you could eat it on your way to school, or the bus stop, or work.”

  “We’ll try that to see if it works. But in the meantime, would you like a couple of Gingerbread Pancakes? This batch on the griddle is almost ready.”

  “Of course I would! You’re the princess of breakfasts, Michelle.”

  “Thanks. I’ll bring the pancakes to you when they’re done, along with the honey, dark Karo syrup, butter and sugar, and molasses. We can try them out and see which topping is best.”

  In less than five minutes, Hannah had finished her second pancake. She was about to tell Michelle that she liked the molasses best when she thought of something she had to do. She got up to take a new spiral stenographer’s pad from her kitchen drawer, grabbed the pen she’d found on the floor of her bedroom, and flipped to the first page.

  “Is that your murder book?” Michelle asked.

  “Yes.” Hannah wrote the name Phyllis Bates on the first page. “Do you remember Phyllis Bates from school, Michelle?”

  “Vaguely. She was the head cheerleader for the basketball team, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “And for football, too?”

  “That’s right. And don’t forget baseball.”

  “She was the blonde with a ponytail?”

  “That’s right. I know you were still in grade school, but do you remember your impression of her?”

  “I do remember. Phyllis Bates was a bimbo.”

  “A bimbo?” Hannah repeated Michelle’s words in the form of a question.

  “Yes. And that was before I even knew what the word bimbo meant. Andrea called her that, so I did too. Andrea hated Phyllis Bates.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She told me so.”

  “But why?”

  “Because Andrea knew I was too scared to tell anyone else.”

  “Not that. I mean . . . do you know why Andrea hated Phyllis?”

  “Yes. It’s because Andrea had a crush on Ryan Edwards, the football player that Phyllis was dating at the time.”

  “Good heavens! How old was Andrea then?”

  Michelle shrugged. “Maybe seventh grade? I know Andrea was still in junior high because I had Mrs. Carlson in third grade, and she was Ryan’s aunt. Andrea threatened to kill me if I ever mentioned anything about it in school. She would have, too. Andrea was scary when she was mad, and that would have made her really mad.”

  Hannah looked down at her steno pad. She supposed she should write down Andrea’s name as a suspect, but all that was a long time ago and she was sure that Andrea hadn’t harbored a grudge against Phyllis for over ten years.

  “I do know somebody that hated Phyllis, though.”

  “Who?” Hannah was surprised. Michelle had been back in Lake Eden less than twenty-four hours, and she’d already heard more gossip than Hannah had.

  “Mayor Bascomb, that’s who. Mother told me all about it. And the mayor’s got a really good motive.”

  Hannah picked up her pen again. “Tell me.”

  “Okay. Mother took me to Beau Monde to buy me a new jacket before she dropped me off here. She said my old jacket was disreputable.”

  “That sounds like Mother.”

  “I know. The new one she bought me is a nice jacket, though. And she got me a new pair of jeans, too.”

  “That’s nice. Now tell me how you know that Mayor Bascomb had a motive.”

  “I heard Mother and Claire talking about it while I was trying on jeans. The mayor dumped Phyllis when she asked him to set her up in her own furnished condo. And Phyllis got even with him by telling Stephanie Bascomb that she’d been having an affair with the mayor.”

  Hannah didn’t hesitate. She wrote Mayor Bascomb’s name on her list of suspects. “Did you hear any other gossip while you were there in the dressing room?”

  “No, but I’m willing to bet that Claire knows more. And if she doesn’t she can find out. She told Mother that Stephanie bought a whole new wardrobe from her. And Claire said that she had to alter everything before this afternoon because Stephanie was coming in to make sure everything fit.”

  The wheels in Hannah’s mind were churni
ng so fast, she could almost feel a breeze near the top of her head. It didn’t take long for her to formulate a plan, and she began to smile.

  “What?” Michelle asked, noticing the smile.

  “I think we’ll have to pay a visit to Beau Monde this afternoon. I’d like to try on a couple of outfits.”

  “You’d like to try on clothing? Come on, Hannah. Everybody knows that you hate to . . .” Michelle stopped and rolled her eyes. “Never mind. I get it. We’re going to drop by a few minutes before Stephanie is due to come in?”

  “That’s the general idea. Let’s drop by Claire’s shop before The Cookie Jar opens. Claire probably knows what time Stephanie plans to come in.”

  “And if Claire doesn’t know, maybe she can call to arrange a time,” Michelle suggested.

  “Exactly right.” Hannah got up from the table, rinsed off her plate, and put it in the dishwasher. “Go get your jacket, Michelle.”

  “Okay. Are we going where I think we’re going?”

  “You’d better believe it! Claire’s probably at the shop early, working on Stephanie’s alterations.”

  “Do you want me to take Claire some pancakes for breakfast? I know she’s got a microwave in her back room and I can reheat them for her.”

  “That’s a great idea. And don’t forget to bring some toppings, too. Claire’s got a real sweet tooth.”

  GINGERBREAD PANCAKES

  1 large egg

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  ¼ cup molasses (Michelle used Grandma’s)

  1 and ½ cups water

  1 teaspoon ground ginger

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  ¼ teaspoon ground cardamom (if you don’t have it, just add a little more cinnamon)

  ¼ teaspoon nutmeg (freshly grated is best, of course)

  1 and ½ cups all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  ¼ teaspoon baking soda

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  In a small bowl, whisk a large egg with the vanilla extract.

  Add the quarter-cup of molasses and whisk that in.

  Add the cup and a half of water and whisk that in.

  Hannah’s 1st Note: You’ll be adding the spices next, but Michelle says that’s easier if you mix them together first. She uses a disposable paper bowl. Then you can add the spice mixture to your egg mixture all at once.

  Combine the ground ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg. Stir them around until they’re mixed.

  Add the spice mixture to your egg mixture and whisk everything together until they’re thoroughly combined.

  Hannah’s 2nd Note: Michelle says to remind you to rinse off your whisk and put it in the sink. If you let the egg dry on the whisk, it’s really difficult to get clean.

  Get out your favorite stirring spoon. You’ll be using it from here on out.

  In a larger mixing bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Mix them until they’re well incorporated.

  Add the egg mixture to the flour mixture and stir until just incorporated. The batter may be a little lumpy. That’s okay. You’ll stir it again before you fry it.

  Hannah’s 3rd Note: If you’ve made pancakes from scratch before, you know that they’re tastier if you “season” them by covering the mixing bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerating the batter overnight. This is why I always mix my batter the night before.

  When you’re ready to fry your pancakes, prepare your griddle or your frying pan by oiling it before you heat it, or using a mixture with equal parts of oil and butter.

  Set your heat at MEDIUM-HIGH. You can test your frying surface to see when it’s ready by putting a few drops of water on the surface. If the droplets of water skitter around and then evaporate, your pan is the right temperature to fry pancakes.

  If you’re using a griddle, you may want to pour on your pancakes rather than use a spoon. Simply transfer the batter to a pitcher and use that to pour. If you’d prefer to dip a large spoon or a small cup into the bowl and transfer the batter to the griddle or the frying pan that way, that’s fine, too. (Michelle used my quarter-cup plastic measure that has a little spout on the side. I measured this once, and when she empties the cup of batter in the frying pan, approximately 3 Tablespoons come out of the measuring cup.)

  Fry your pancakes until they’re puffed and they look a bit dry around the edges. If you look closely, little bubbles will form at the edges. If you’re not sure they’re done, lift one edge with a spatula and take a peek. It will be golden brown on the bottom when it’s ready to flip.

  Turn your pancakes and wait for the other side to fry. Again, you can test your pancake by lifting it slightly with a spatula and peeking to see if it’s golden brown.

  If you don’t have people sitting at your table waiting to eat breakfast, you can fry all your pancakes now and keep them warm until everyone comes to the table by separating them with layers of foil or paper towels, placing them in a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan, covering the pan loosely with another piece of foil, and keeping them in a warm oven set at the lowest temperature.

  Serve with plenty of soft butter and your choice of honey, dark Karo syrup, or molasses. These Gingerbread Pancakes are also good buttered, spread with jam, and topped with a dollop of sour cream.

  Chapter Six

  “Keep your eye on the time,” Hannah advised as she took another batch of cookies from the industrial oven at The Cookie Jar and placed the cookie sheets on shelves in the baker’s rack. “We have to get to Claire’s before Stephanie does, or our plan won’t work.”

  “We’ve still got an hour,” Michelle replied. “And I’m ready with a batch of Angel Jellies that we can bake first.”

  “Good, they’re a favorite out front. Which flavor?”

  “Raspberry. You had a whole big jar of seedless raspberry jam.” Michelle stopped speaking and walked a bit closer to the swinging restaurant-type door that separated the kitchen from the coffee shop. “Lisa must be telling the story of the murder again. There’s not a peep from any of the customers out there, and we’ve been packed ever since we opened this morning.”

  “I know. Everyone loves to hear Lisa tell stories. She keeps the customers mesmerized.”

  “And eating cookies,” Michelle reminded her.

  “That’s right. It makes me feel a little strange to say it, but Lake Eden murders are good for our business.”

  Michelle raised up on tiptoe so she could see through the high window in the door. “She’s got them all on the edges of their seats. Babs Dubinski is leaning forward so far, it’s a wonder she doesn’t tip over. And Grandma Knudson has her hand cupped around her ear so she doesn’t miss a word. Lisa’s a great storyteller, Hannah. She really ought to try out for the Lake Eden Players. I’ll bet Tory Bascomb would love to have her.”

  “Agreed. Lisa could be the star of every show. She’s a better actress than anyone else in town.”

  The phone on the kitchen wall rang, and Michelle hurried to answer it. They’d promised to answer the phone while Lisa was performing.

  “The Cookie Jar,” Michelle informed the caller. “This is Michelle speaking.” She listened for a few moments, and then she said, “I’ll tell her, Mother. Does Lisa know yet?” There was another moment of silence, and then Michelle laughed. “You might know that the Lake Eden Gossip Hotline would get it first. And he’s on his way here now to tell her?” There was a pause, and then Michelle spoke again. “Okay, Mother. Thanks for telling us. We’ll give Lisa a heads-up.”

  “What?” Hannah asked, the moment that Michelle had hung up the phone.

  “That was Mother. Mayor Bascomb is on the way over here to tell Lisa that she’s the new Mrs. Claus.”

  “How did Mother know that?”

  “Luanne’s mother was cleaning Mayor Bascomb’s office this morning, and she heard him mention it on the phone to Rod McRae. She called Luanne from her cell phone to tell her, and Mother just happened to be at Granny’s Att
ic when Luanne took the call. Mother asked Luanne what Mrs. Hanks wanted, and Luanne told her all about it. Mother figures she knew less than five minutes after Mayor Bascomb ended his call to Rod and hung up the phone.”

  “That’s fast, even for the Lake Eden Gossip Hotline. The news on those jungle drums travels fast.”

  Michelle’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me you got up in the middle of the night to watch Jungle Drums on the old movie channel!”

  Hannah sighed. “I did, but it didn’t start out that way. I watched Scrooge, the nineteen fifty-one film with Alistair Sim. But I still wasn’t sleepy so I stayed up to see what would come on next.”

  “And it was Jungle Drums?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you actually watched it?”

  “Yes, but I fell asleep about halfway through.”

  “That was probably a blessing. I can’t believe you watched that long!”

  “I didn’t want to,” Hannah admitted. “I really wanted to change the channel, but the remote was on the other side of the couch and I didn’t want to disturb Moishe. He was sitting in my lap, purring so loudly that I could barely hear the dialogue.”

  “Moishe did you a favor. You should give him a shrimp. What woke you up in the first place?”

  “Nothing woke me. I couldn’t get to sleep in the first place. When I went to bed, I started thinking about Phyllis and who might have killed her. I was so busy going through lists of suspects in my head that I couldn’t fall asleep.”

  “So you made yourself a cup of hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows, settled down on the couch with Moishe, and flicked on the television.”