Blackberry Pie Murder (A Hannah Swensen Mystery)

by Fluke, Joanne

  “Vehicle identification number,” Hannah told her mother, trying not to react as the roller coaster car continued downward. Stolen car. No vehicle identification number. Even if they got lucky on their search through hundreds of stolen car reports, the man who had driven the car to Lake Eden wasn’t the owner of record.

  “I asked Bill about the man’s body,” Doc said. “The sheriff’s department doesn’t need it for any further testing, so we’ll keep it in the hospital morgue for the present.”

  That meant they could take more photos if they needed them, or check if they thought of something else. Hannah’s emotional roller coaster car stopped its descent and started up the slope again.

  “Of course that will change if some relative comes forward to claim him,” Doc added.

  That wouldn’t be a terrible thing, Hannah thought as the car climbed higher. Then at least we’d know who he was.

  “But I don’t think anyone in Lake Eden will,” Delores continued, sending the roller coaster car downward again. “I activated the Lake Eden Gossip Hotline the moment that you were arrested. We asked everyone in town if they’d anticipated a visitor yesterday, a visitor who hadn’t arrived, but we didn’t get a single positive result.”

  The car on the tracks was descending lower and lower and Hannah gave a deep sigh. No one in Lake Eden knew who the man was.

  “But don’t lose hope, dear,” Delores told her. “We widened the telephone tree to include three neighboring towns.”

  That was good! The car on the roller coaster slowed near the bottom, and started up a steep slope again. Things were looking up.

  “I rode in with Doc,” Delores continued, “and he has to get back to the hospital. We’ll have to leave soon, but I brought you two throw pillows and a flowered bedspread. It’s so dreary in here. And Doc carried in something else I thought you could use to distract you from your surroundings.”

  Distraction was good. Hannah’s emotional roller coaster car climbed toward the top of the slope rapidly as she decided she would be grateful for whatever her mother had brought her. She knew that the pillows and bedspread must be in the bag at her mother’s feet, but the briefcase that Doc had set on the cot was still a mystery. It was large enough to contain a portable DVD player with a half-dozen movies. Or perhaps it was music, a CD player with enough music to see her through two more nights. “Thank you, Mother. What else did you bring?”

  “I brought you this,” Delores said, snapping the briefcase open and lifting the lid. “I have two red pens and some of those marvelous sticky flags to mark the pages.”

  Hannah watched with interest as her mother drew out a thick sheaf of papers, bound together with several rubber bands, and placed them on Hannah’s cot. Her roller coaster car was at the top of the slope now and it was all due to the surprise her mother had brought her.

  “Here it is, dear!” Delores said, beaming at her.

  “Here what is?”

  “It’s the manuscript for my newest Regency romance, A Husband For Holly. Since you’re here for another two days, I knew you needed something to occupy your time and make you feel as if you were accomplishing something useful. Just read it, mark any corrections you have in red, and flag the pages. I wanted to help you, so I worked all night to finish it.”

  Hannah pictured the roller coaster car as it teetered on the very apex of the downslope. There was a moment when time stood still, at least in her mind, and then the car roared downward with full force, lurching, swaying, and descending so rapidly that Hannah felt her stomach drop down to her toes. This was a downswing, a real disaster. She’d been looking forward to reading the mystery she’d started the previous night, but now she had to proof her mother’s manuscript.

  “Aren’t you glad I thought of it, dear? It’s exactly what you needed.”

  Hannah stared at her mother. Delores looked so pleased with herself that she didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.

  “It’s exactly what I needed,” Hannah repeated, hoping she sounded sincere.

  Midway through the third chapter, Hannah’s roller coaster car was on its way up the track again. Her mother’s newest romance was good, very good, and it was definitely well-written. Despite her earlier fit of pique . . . Hannah stopped in mid-thought and laughed out loud. Fit of pique? She was obviously enjoying her mother’s book if she was spouting Regency phrases.

  A few pages later, Hannah was actually disappointed at the interruption when the deputy came to tell her she had another visitor. She marked her place with a sticky red flag, and gazed down the hallway to see who would appear.

  “Hi, Hannah,” Lisa called out, hurrying toward the cell.

  “Hello, Lisa.” Hannah waited until the deputy had opened the cell, Lisa had entered, and they were both locked in. “Have a chair.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been on my feet all morning. Marge and Dad are helping Michelle in the coffee shop, so I decided to take my lunch now.”

  “You came here for lunch?”

  “Yes, and I brought some for you, too. I stopped at Hal and Rose’s Café right after I delivered the cookies to Winnie. You ought to see her dining room, Hannah. She’s got those chocolates that look like gold coins scattered all over the tablecloth and placemats that look like pirate flags. And I saw the life-size standing cutout of Jack Sparrow. It looks just fantastic!”

  “I’ll bet it does!” Hannah eyed the bag that Lisa was carrying. “What did you bring for lunch?”

  “Egg salad sandwiches and a big bag of Rose’s French fries. She sent along mustard for me and a container of blue cheese dressing for you.”

  “Perfect,” Hannah declared. She was hungry even though she’d eaten breakfast less than four hours ago.

  “I almost forgot.” Lisa stopped in the act of laying out their lunch on the seat of the empty chair she’d pulled up to the side of the cot, and reached into the bag again. “Winnie sent two copies of her Fresh Blackberry Pie recipe. Here’s yours. It’s really simple, Hannah. She gave me some blackberries, too. I’m going to go home tonight and make a pie so I can bring you a piece tomorrow.”

  “That would be nice,” Hannah said, reading through the recipe quickly. “You’re right, Lisa. It’s a simple recipe, but I’ll bet it’s good.”

  “I know it’s good. She let me taste a piece in the kitchen.”

  Lisa sat down and took a bite of her sandwich. Hannah did the same and they chewed in silence for several moments.

  “Oops!” Lisa exclaimed, reaching in the bag again. “I almost forgot our milkshakes. They’re chocolate. I figured you could use some chocolate about now.”

  “You figured right.” Hannah picked up her straw, poked it through the slit on the lid, and took a big swallow. “I didn’t realize how much I missed chocolate until right now.”

  The two partners ate for several minutes without speaking and then Lisa said, “I’ve got an idea about that man we hit.”

  Hannah heard the plural Lisa had used and shook her head. Lisa was sharing the blame and that wasn’t fair. “I hit the man, not you. I was the one behind the wheel.”

  “Yes, but I was riding shotgun. I should have seen him and warned you.”

  “Impossible. You couldn’t see any more than I could. It was raining too hard.”

  “Okay, but I still wish I’d seen him.”

  “So do I,” Hannah said, “but we didn’t. There’s no sense in wishing if there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “I guess.” Lisa took a swallow of her milkshake and sighed. “I want to help you find out who he was, Hannah. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Okay,” Hannah said, agreeing quickly with Lisa’s offer since it might make her partner feel better.

  “Good. What can I do?”

  Hannah thought fast. What could Lisa do? And that was when a radical idea occurred to Hannah. “Tell the story of how I hit him.”

  “What?!”

  “Tell it. The more people who hear it, the more buzz there’ll be about it.
You saw the man. Describe him. Describe his clothing and once you see the photo Norman took of the ring and the diamond in his tooth, describe those, too. Make it exciting and scary, and we’re bound to get a crowd. If it’s really exciting, everyone will repeat it.”

  “But are you sure you want me to talk about . . . killing him?”

  “Yes. I’m already in trouble and we might as well take advantage of it. People will talk. They always do. And there’s bound to be someone who knows who he is. We just don’t know who that someone is yet. If the word gets around, whoever it is may come forward.”

  “Okay . . . if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “All right then. I’d better get back and start baking cookies. I’ll rehearse tonight and begin telling the story tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday, Lisa.”

  “I know, but we can still open the shop. I’ll ask your mother to activate the gossip hotline and we’ll do a special cookie sale, maybe a two-fer on Fresh Blackberry Cookies. That’ll draw customers in.”

  “Fresh Blackberry Cookies? We don’t make those, do we?”

  “We do now. Winnie gave me the recipe. That’s how she uses up the extra blackberries she doesn’t bake in her pies. She told me they freeze really well and everybody loves them. If they’re as good as she says they are, they’re going to go like hotcakes. By the time you get out of here on Monday morning, almost everybody in town will know what happened. Maybe we’ll even know who the man was by then.”

  “I hope so,” Hannah said, but the car on her emotional roller coaster was starting down the slope again. What if no one knew? Would they ever know what her victim had been doing by the side of the road and why he’d come to Lake Eden?

  WINNIE’S FRESH BLACKBERRY PIE (“Blackbeard Pie”)

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  Hannah’s 1st Note: Winnie told me to decide which top I wanted to have on my Fresh Blackberry Pie before I started. There are THREE ways to top your pie.

  The Latticework Crust on top (like the one pictured on the cover) takes the most time and is the most difficult to do. Written instructions are confusing. There is a lattice cutter that you can order from cooking catalogues. That looks nice, but it’s not woven. You can also use my friend Trudi’s shortcut. She cuts little leaves out of piecrust and arranges them in lines that crisscross on top of her pies. If you choose to do a lattice top, you will need two rounds of piecrust to make this pie.

  The French Crumble is easy and you need ONLY ONE round of piecrust if you decide to use it.

  The Crust with the Slits cut in it is the easiest and fastest as long as you buy ready-made frozen pie crusts. You will need two rounds of piecrust for this top.

  a package of 2 frozen 8-inch deep dish piecrusts (or make your own from your favorite recipe)

  3 heaping cups whole blackberries (approximately 3 grocery square berry boxes)

  ¾ cup white (granulated) sugar ¼ cup all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

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

  ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon (if it’s been sitting in your cupboard for years, buy fresh!—cinnamon loses its flavor when it’s old)

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  ½ stick cold salted butter (¼ cup, 2 ounces, pound)

  Prepare your crust(s) according to the following instructions:

  If you decided to use homemade piecrust, roll out one round and use it to line an 8-inch deep-dish pie pan (or a 9-inch regular pie pan).

  If you bought frozen piecrusts, leave one right in its pan and let it thaw on the counter. You’ll use that for the bottom crust. If you decided to make the top Crust with Slits, loosen the second crust a bit in its pan, but leave it in the pan on the counter to thaw. If you decided to use the French Crumble top, return that second frozen piecrust to your freezer for the next time you bake a pie.

  Rinse the blackberries, pat them dry with a paper towel, and put them in a large bowl.

  Mix the sugar, flour, nutmeg, cinnamon, and salt together in a small bowl.

  Dump the small bowl with the dry ingredients on top of the blackberries and toss them to coat the berries. (Again, use your fingers and be as gentle as you can. You don’t want the berries to break open so the juice runs out. There will be enough juice given off when your pie bakes.)

  Place a layer of coated blackberries in the bottom of the pan lined with piecrust. Arrange them with your fingers if there are any noticeable gaps. (You want a nice foundation for the rest of the berries.)

  Place the rest of the coated berries in the pie pan. There should be enough to mound the top slightly. (These berries will fill in and settle during baking.)

  There will probably be some leftover dry ingredients at the bottom of the bowl you used to mix the berries. Just sprinkle the remainder of the dry ingredients on top of the blackberries in the pie pan.

  Cut the cold butter into 4 pieces and then cut those pieces in half. Place the pieces on top of the blackberries just as if you were dotting the blackberries with butter.

  Top your pie with your choice of the Latticework Crust, the Crust with the Slits, or the French Crumble.

  The Latticework Crust:

  You’re on your own with this one!

  The Crust with Slits:

  If you used a frozen piecrust, simply tip the pan it came in upside down over the berries in the bottom crust. Smooth it out with your impeccably clean fingers.

  Squeeze the edges from the top crust and the edges from the bottom crust together. (Use a little water for “glue” if the crust just won’t cooperate.)

  With a sharp knife, cut 4 slits in the top crust about 3 inches long, starting near the middle of the pie and extending down toward the sides of the pie. (This is a very important step. Not only does it let out the steam when the pie bakes, releasing a delicious aroma that’ll have the neighbors knocking at your door, it also provides a way to sneak in those pieces of butter you forgot to put on the blackberries before you covered your pie with the top crust. Don’t laugh. I’ve done it.)

  The French Crumble:

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  ½ cup cold butter (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound)

  ½ cup brown sugar (pack it down when you measure it)

  Put the flour into the bowl of a food processor with the steel blade attached. Cut the stick of butter into 8 pieces and add them to the bowl. Cover with the ½ cup of firmly-packed brown sugar.

  Process with the steel blade in an on and off motion until the resulting mixture is in uniform small pieces.

  Remove the mixture from the food processor and place it in a bowl.

  Pat handfuls of the French Crumble in a mound over your pie. With a sharp knife, poke several slits near the top to let out the steam.

  Winnie’s 1st Note: If you used the Latticework Crust or the Crust with the Slits, you can make your pie look prettier by brushing a little water, milk, or cream on top of the crust and then sprinkling it with a little bit of white sugar. This will give it a sugary crunch with every bite.

  Bake your Fresh Blackberry Pie at 350 degrees F. for 50 to 60 minutes (mine took 55 minutes), or until the top crust or the French Crumble is a nice golden brown and the blackberries are tender when you pierce one with the tip of a sharp knife.

  Cool your pie on a cold stove burner or a wire rack. This pie can be served warm with ice cream or sweetened whipped cream, or cold right out of the refrigerator.

  Be sure to refrigerate any leftover pie. (I’ve made this pie countless times and there have NEVER been any leftovers!)

  Winnie’s 2nd Note: My grandson calls this “Bluebeard Pie” because he’s crazy about pirates.

  Chapter Eleven

  “All rise!” the bailiff called out in a loud voice, startling Hannah out of her worried thoughts.

  Everyone in attendance in the small courtroom, not that many at eight o’clock on a Monday morning, rose as Judge Colfax wal
ked in and took his place at the bench.

  Hannah and Howie listened to the bailiff tell them that court was now in session, the honorable Judge Colfax presiding, and then they sat down again. Hannah felt the butterflies flutter wildly and churn into a miniature tornado in her stomach. What if Judge Colfax refused to give her bail? She’d be stuck in a cell until it was time for her trial. And Howie had told her that her trial could be delayed as long as six months, depending on the status of the court calendar. She could spend six months in jail. Or even worse, she could be found guilty of vehicular homicide and she didn’t want to know how long a sentence that charge might have!

  Could she survive six months in jail? Or could she endure even more time if she were convicted of the charges against her? After two grueling days in the holding cell at the sheriff’s station, Hannah wasn’t at all certain she’d make it. It had been bad enough in the larger holding cell, just knowing that she wasn’t free to walk down the street, get into her truck, and drive anywhere she wanted to go. County lockup would be much worse. She’d heard horror stories about people going stir-crazy in the county jail and trying to put themselves out of their misery by repeatedly banging their heads against the concrete walls, hoping that they’d injure themselves so badly that they’d be taken to the hospital and would at least have a window in the room.

  There was a rustle in the back of the courtroom and Hannah craned her neck to see her mother and Andrea enter through the double doors and take seats in the rear. They looked very solemn and Hannah felt a lump grow in her throat. Were they also worried that Judge Colfax wouldn’t grant her bail?