Raspberry Danish Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “And I can’t decide if it’s worse or better if it turns out that Ross was the intended victim.”

  “I know.” Michelle reached across the table to give Hannah a hug. “There’s only one thing I know for sure.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That we have to catch the killer.”

  “I agree,” Hannah said. “We have to catch P.K.’s killer, and that’s doubly complicated this time.”

  Both sisters sat there staring down at their coffee cups as if, by some sort of magic, the answer to the killer’s identity might suddenly appear there.

  “There’s got to be some way we can cope with this,” Michelle said, looking up at Hannah. “Do you know how we can do that?”

  “Yes, I do. We have to be intuitive and logical. And be both of those at the same time. And we have to be perfectly neutral about how we want this case to turn out. We can’t even think about that aspect of it.”

  “Right. Anything else?”

  “We have to be suspicious of everyone who had any sort of quarrel or resentment toward either P.K. or Ross, or disliked either one of them for any reason, real or imagined.”

  “That makes sense, but . . . how do we do that?”

  “We have to interview everyone who had any kind of relationship with either one of them. And we need to learn about their lives from birth to the present. All we really know is that we have to collect all the information we can, listen to everyone attentively and critically, and wait for something to make some kind of sense.”

  “That’s a tall order. Will it help us catch the killer?”

  “Not necessarily, but that’s the only way I know to proceed. It could take us a while, but it’s like a giant jigsaw puzzle. Once we shake all the pieces out of the box and figure out how they fit together, we’ll get a clear picture of the killer.”

  “I hope so! It sounds almost impossible, but I promise I’ll do my best to help.”

  “I know you will. You always do. There’s just one more thing, a very important thing, that we have to do.”

  “What is it?”

  “We have to eat a lot of chocolate so we don’t get discouraged.”

  Michelle just stared at Hannah for a moment, and then she began to laugh. “That I can do!” she declared, jumping up to get more cookies from the bakers rack.

  CHOCOLATE BUTTERSCOTCH CRUNCH COOKIES

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

  1 cup salted butter (2 sticks, one-half pound)

  6 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (I used Baker’s)

  1 cup powdered sugar (not sifted – pack it down when you measure it)

  1 cup white (granulated) sugar

  2 large eggs

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  1 teaspoon salt

  3 cups flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  1 cup (6-ounce by weight package) butterscotch

  chips

  2 cups crushed corn flakes (measure after crushing)

  Melt the butter and chocolate squares in a saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly, or in the microwave. (I melted mine in a quart measuring cup in the microwave on HIGH for 3 minutes.) Once the butter and chocolate are melted, stir them smooth, transfer them to a large mixing bowl, and add the powdered and white sugars. Stir thoroughly and set the mixture aside to cool.

  When the mixture is cool enough that it won’t cook the eggs, add the eggs, one at a time, stirring after each addition. (You can use an electric mixer at this point if you like.)

  Mix in the vanilla, baking soda, and salt. Mix it all up together.

  Add flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. You don’t have to be precise. (One very important reason for adding flour in increments is so that the whole mountain of flour won’t sit there on top of your bowl and spill out all over the place when you try to stir it in.)

  Scrape out the bowl, take it out of the mixer if you used one, and give it a good stir by hand with a wooden spoon. Then add the cup of butterscotch chips and the cups of crushed corn flakes. Mix them in thoroughly.

  Once the dough has been thoroughly mixed, roll one-inch dough balls with your fingers. (You can also use a 2-teaspoon scooper to form the dough balls).

  Place the dough balls on a greased cookie sheet (I usually spray mine with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray,) 12 dough balls to a standard-size sheet. Flatten the dough balls a bit with your impeccably clean palm so that they won’t roll off the cookie sheet on the way to the oven.

  Bake the Chocolate Butterscotch Crunch Cookies at 350 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes. (Mine took 12 minutes.) Cool them on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove the cookies to a wire rack to finish cooling.

  Yield: Approximately 5 to 6 dozen delicious chocolate butterscotch cookies that everyone will love.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ten batches of assorted cookies and bar cookies later, Hannah and Michelle sat down at the work station again. “We did it,” Hannah said, smiling at her sister. “You really helped a lot, Michelle.”

  “It was fun. Do you think that Sally will let us into the conference center to check out our booth?”

  “I’m sure she will. I talked to her on the phone today and she’s really excited about having us there. She said that having refreshments and setting up tables and chairs in the center like a food court will make a huge difference in how much longer people will stay and shop.”

  “She’s right about that. Airports and malls have food courts. And so do county fairs. People need to rest, to re-energize.”

  “That’s right. I can’t think of a single large company that doesn’t have a break room for their employees. Just look at us. We’re sitting here at the work station drinking coffee right now.”

  “And waiting for Norman.” Michelle glanced up at the clock on the wall. He should be here any minute.”

  As if on cue, there was a knock on the back kitchen door. Michelle laughed and rose to her feet. “There he is. I’ll go let him in.”

  “Thanks, Michelle,” Hannah heard Norman say as he hung his parka on the hook by the back kitchen door. A moment later, he walked over to the work station. “Hi, Hannah.”

  “Hi, Norman.”

  Norman gave her a little hug. “I hope I’m not too early. Are you getting hungry?”

  Hannah laughed. “I’m starved.”

  “That’s exactly what Michelle said when she opened the door. Is there anything you want to take out to the conference center tonight? My trunk’s practically empty.”

  “I don’t know.” Hannah turned to Michelle. “Can you think of anything we should take?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay then.” Norman held out his hand for Hannah. “Let’s go eat. When I called, Sally said to go ahead and come out early. She can’t fit us into the dining room until seven, but Dick’s making his Pizza Dip in the bar and it’s not karaoke night until after nine.”

  “That’s great!” Hannah exclaimed, and then she laughed. Norman was staring at her as if she’d gone stark, raving mad. “I’ll tell you why it’s so wonderful on our way out to the Lake Eden Inn.”

  After a smooth, cozy ride through the cold, snowy night, Norman pulled into a parking spot marked DELIVERIES ONLY in back of the Lake Eden Inn. “Sally said to park back here,” he told them. “She left the back door open for us. All we have to do is lock it behind us when we come in.”

  “This is perfect,” Michelle said, slipping out of her boots and switching to her shoes. “It’s only a couple of steps to the door, and we don’t have to wear our boots.”

  “It might be snowing when you come out,” Hannah warned her youngest sister.

  “I know, but I’ll take the chance. It’s so nice not to have to switch from boots to shoes and then back again.”

  “You’re right,” Hannah agreed. “I’ll take the chance, too. How about you, Norman?”

  “I’ll
play it safe. That way I can wade out here to get your boots if a blizzard blows in . . . unless, of course, you think I have absolutely no spirit of adventure. If that’s the case, I’ll go in barefoot!”

  Hannah laughed and so did Michelle. “Wear your boots, Norman,” Hannah told him. “That’s the gentlemanly thing to do. And if there happens to be an unseasonable heat wave, you can always throw down your parka for us to walk over.”

  All three of them were smiling as they went inside, locked the door behind them, and walked down the narrow hallway that passed Sally’s gigantic kitchen. As they went through the lobby and approached the bar, Norman turned to Hannah.

  “Go ahead and get a table unless you’d rather sit at the bar. And save a chair or a barstool for me. I’ll take our parkas and hang them up, switch to my shoes, and come right back.”

  Hannah and Michelle shrugged out of their parkas, handed them to Norman, and went through the swinging saloon-style double doors to Dick’s bar. There were already quite a few people at the tables, but only a few customers at the bar.

  “Where do you want to go?” Michelle asked Hannah.

  “The bar. Dick’s bartending, and it’ll be easier to talk to him there.”

  “You’re going to ask him about Scotty and P.K.?”

  “That’s my plan. Dick’s a very observant guy. I told him that once, and he said that good bartenders had to be observant, that it was part of the job. I want Dick to tell me his impression of the way Scotty and P.K. were getting along the last time they were here.”

  “Okay,” Michelle agreed. “I’ll follow your lead, Hannah.”

  Hannah walked up to the bar and motioned to a stool. “Take this one, Michelle. I’ll put my purse on the barstool on the other side of me to reserve it for Norman.”

  When Hannah and Michelle were seated, Dick hurried over to them. “Hi, girls,” he greeted them both with a smile, and then he turned to Hannah. “You’re a little early for karaoke, Hannah.”

  “You’d better thank your lucky stars for that, Dick. Have you ever heard me sing?”

  Dick thought about that for a moment, and then he shook his head. “I don’t think so, at least not that I can remember.”

  “Oh, you’d remember!” Michelle told him emphatically. “Hannah’s really loud, and she can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Believe me, I know. When I was young, she used to try to sing me to sleep.”

  “And it didn’t work?”

  “It worked just fine,” Hannah said. “Michelle listened for about thirty seconds, and then she went to sleep to get away from my singing.”

  Dick laughed. “I think you’re both pulling my leg, but I’ll consider myself warned. Actually Hannah, your singing might be a big relief tonight.”

  There was a grin on Dick’s face and Hannah knew that she was about to be the recipient of his leg-pulling. “What makes you so sure we won’t stop in for an after-dinner drink?”

  “Alice Vogel and Digger Gibson are coming in. They always sing duets.”

  “Digger can’t sing?” Michelle guessed.

  “And neither can Alice?” Hannah added her question to the mix.

  “You can say that. But since I’m their bartender, my lips are sealed . . . along with my ears.”

  “Ear plugs?” Hannah asked him.

  “Far be it from me to say anything unkind about a paying customer. Let’s just say that Digger and Alice love to . . .” Dick paused, searching for the right word. “They love to perform together.”

  The two sisters exchanged glances. It was obvious to both of them that Dick was avoiding use of the word sing.

  “We get it,” Michelle told him. “Do Digger and Alice think they’re really good . . . uh . . . performers?”

  “They think they’re a terrific duo, especially when people applaud much longer and louder than they do for anyone else. Neither one of them realizes that their audience is applauding the fact that they’re finished with the song.”

  “That sounds like me,” Hannah admitted. “I thought I was good until my class was singing a song for a school program, and the teacher asked me not to sing, but just to whisper the words instead.”

  Dick’s grin grew wider. “That wouldn’t work with Alice and Digger. They’re firmly convinced that they’re incredibly musical.”

  “And no one’s ever told them they’re not?” Hannah asked.

  Dick shook his head. “Everybody likes Alice and everybody likes Digger. And no one wants to hurt their feelings. To tell the truth, there’s only one good thing about their performance.”

  “What’s that?” Hannah asked, aware that she was falling into Dick’s trap, but unable to resist hearing the punch line.

  “It’s like this. When Digger and Alice push back their chairs, everybody in the bar knows that they’re going to get up on stage. That makes everybody in the bar order doubles of whatever they’re drinking, even if they are drinking beer!”

  “How do you double a beer?” Michelle asked.

  “You order two bottles at once.”

  “I wonder if that helps,” Hannah wondered aloud.

  “It sure does! And it doesn’t hurt that all of my waitresses pass out disposable ear plugs with every double.”

  Hannah and Michelle had just finished laughing when Norman pushed through the swinging doors of the bar. Hannah waved at him and Norman walked over to sit down on the stool she’d saved.

  “Sorry that took so long,” he apologized. “I ran into one of my patients and she asked me to tell her all about implants.”

  Hannah was curious. “I thought implants were highly specialized. Do you do implants?”

  “No, but I told her to come in for an exam to see if she was a good candidate. And I said that if she was, I’d give her the name of a good oral surgeon.”

  “What’ll it be, everybody?” Dick asked, placing blue and green striped cocktail napkins with the words LAKE EDEN INN in bold black letters in front.

  “I’ll have a glass of your house chardonnay,” Michelle said. “I had it the last time I was here, and it was good.”

  “It’s Clos du Bois,” Dick told her, and then he turned to Hannah. “And for you, Hannah?”

  “I’d like an Arnold Palmer, heavy on the iced tea,” Hannah said.

  “You’re not drinking?” Norman asked her.

  “Not until dinner. I’ve been running around all day, and if I have more than one glass, it’ll probably put me to sleep.”

  Dick looked over at Norman. “What about you, Norman?”

  “Hot lemonade with cinnamon, please.”

  “Good choice,” Dick said, smiling at him.

  “Dick?” Hannah claimed his attention before he could leave to prepare their drinks. “Later, when you get a chance, I’d really like to talk to you for a couple of minutes.”

  Dick leaned a bit closer to her. “About P.K.’s murder?”

  “Yes. I have a couple of questions for you.”

  Dick smiled. “Of course you do, Hannah. You always do. Let me get your drinks and check the rest of the people at the bar. Then I’ll come over and we can talk.” He glanced at his watch and continued. “We’re having Hockey Playoff Pizza Dip at the bar tonight, and it’s almost ready to come out of the oven. Would you like to try it?”

  “I don’t know about them, but I would,” Norman said. “I’m really hungry.”

  “I’d like to try it,” Hannah agreed. “Michelle?”

  “Count me in.” She turned to Dick. “You said it was a dip, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What do you dip in it?”

  “Almost anything. It’s my friend John’s recipe. We rented rooms in the same house when we were in college, and we used to all get together to watch hockey games on television. John always made his dip and the girls brought something to use as a . . .” he paused and glanced at Hannah. “What do you call potato chips when you have them with a dip?”

  “Potato chips,” Hannah said with a perfectly straight fa
ce.

  Everyone laughed and Dick gave a little sigh. “I should have known better than to ask it like that, but I still want to know.”

  Hannah thought about that for a moment, and then she shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I guess you could call them dippers or scoops, but that doesn’t sound very appetizing. And if there’s a culinary term for them, I’ve never heard it. Why don’t you just sidestep the problem by putting whatever you’re using in a bowl or a basket and serving it along with the dip? People are used to eating dips, and they’ll know how to use whatever it is. You could even say something like, ‘Here’s a bowl of whatever-it-is to use for dipping.’ ”

  “Okay, that’s easy,” Dick said, glancing at his watch again. “I’ll get your drinks now, and then I’ll serve your dip.”

  JOHN’S HOCKEY PLAYOFF PIZZA DIP (An Appetizer)

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

  8-ounce package brick cream cheese, softened to room temperature (I used Philadelphia in the silver rectangular package)

  ½ teaspoon dried oregano

  ½ teaspoon dried parsley

  ¼ teaspoon dried basil

  1 cup (about 4 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese

  1 cup (about 4 ounces) shredded Parmesan cheese

  ½ teaspoon onion powder (or 1 Tablespoon finely minced fresh onion)

  ½ teaspoon garlic powder (or 1 teaspoon finely minced fresh garlic)

  1 cup spaghetti sauce with meat (I used Prego)

  2 ounces of pepperoni slices

  2 to 3 Tablespoons sliced black or green pitted olives

  1 small can of button mushrooms

  1 loaf store-bought garlic bread (the kind wrapped in foil) (or 2 packages of refrigerated soft bread- stick dough)