by Joanne Fluke
BUTTERSCOTCH SUGAR COOKIES
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
2 cups salted butter (4 sticks, 16 ounces, 1 pound)
1 cup butterscotch chips (I used Nestle Butterscotch Chips)
2 cups powdered (confectioner’s) sugar (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)
1 cup white (granulated) sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cream of tartar (critical!)
1 teaspoon salt
4 and ¼ cups all-purpose flour (not sifted—pack it down in the cup when you measure it)
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½ cup white sugar in a bowl for coating the cookie dough balls that you will make.
Melt the butter and butterscotch chips in a microwave-safe bowl by putting the chips on the bottom of the bowl and the butter on top of that. Heat for one minute on HIGH, let the bowl sit in the microwave for one minute, and then try to stir it smooth. If you can, you’re done. If you can’t, continue to heat in 30-second increments followed by a standing time of one minute, until you can stir the mixture smooth. (You can also do this in a saucepan on the stovetop at LOW heat.)
After you have stirred the mixture smooth, set it on the kitchen counter or on a cold burner to cool.
When the mixture has cooled to slightly above room temperature, pour it into a mixing bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer.
Add the powdered sugar and the white sugar. Beat until the mixture is smooth.
Add the eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition.
Mix in the vanilla extract. Make sure it’s well combined.
Add the baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix until everything is thoroughly combined.
Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. You don’t have to be precise—just divide your flour into roughly 4 parts. (One very important reason for adding the flour in increments is so that the whole mountain of flour won’t sit there on top of your bowl and erupt like a volcano all over your kitchen when you try to combine it with all the other ingredients.)
Once the dough has been thoroughly mixed, prepare your cookie sheets by spraying them with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. Alternatively, you can line them with parchment paper.
Place a half-cup of white sugar in a shallow bowl.
Roll one-inch cookie dough balls with your fingers. (You can also use a 2-teaspoon scooper to form the dough balls.)
Dip the dough balls in the bowl with the sugar and roll them around until they’re coated.
Hannah’s 1st Note: Work with only two or three cookie dough balls at a time. If you put more than that in the sugar at a time, they may stick together.
Place the dough balls on the cookie sheet, 12 dough balls to a standard-size sheet.
Flatten the dough balls with the back of a metal spatula. This will make them bake evenly. If you leave them on the cookie sheet as dough balls, they will flatten out during the baking process, but the insides will be chewy instead of melt-in-your-mouth crispy.
Bake the Butterscotch Sugar Cookies at 325 degrees for 13 to 15 minutes. (Mine took 14 minutes.)
Yield: approximately 5 to 7 dozen fudgy Butterscotch Sugar Cookies.
Lisa’s Note: Herb says these cookies are like potato chips. You can’t eat just one. They also hold up really well if you stick several in around the sides of a dish of vanilla or chocolate ice cream.
Chapter Seventeen
Hannah had thought it was impossible, but the afternoon had flown by fast. When Michelle had arrived, they’d baked the rest of the Butterscotch Cookie Dough, had a quick cup of coffee, and baked some more. By the time they finished, they had over thirty dozen cookies to take to The Cookie Jar in the morning.
They were sitting on the couch, drinking tall glasses of lemonade when Hannah’s phone rang and she reached out to answer it. “Hello. This is Hannah.”
“Hi, Cookie.”
It was Ross and Hannah began to smile. “Hi, Ross.”
“I just called to tell you that I’m leaving the station now. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes, okay?”
Hannah glanced at the clock on the end table. It was only four in the afternoon. “That’s better than okay. That’s wonderful.”
Hannah knew that if she were a cat, she’d be purring as she said good-bye and hung up the phone. “Ross is on his way,” she told Michelle.
“Good. Is there anything we have to do before he gets here?”
“Yes. I have to put on my dark green sweater and brush my hair.”
“That’s not all,” Michelle said.
“What do you mean?”
“You have to wash your face. You’ve got flour on your nose and there might be some on your left cheek, too.”
It took only ten minutes to wash her face, get into her favorite sweater, and brush her hair. When Hannah returned to the living room, Michelle had switched on the television set and she was watching the Food Channel.
“Nothing about Chef Duquesne yet,” she reported.
“Good.” Hannah picked up her lemonade and took a sip.
“I’m going to run in and take a quick shower,” Michelle said, getting up and heading toward and guest bathroom.
Hannah did her best to relax. She felt a bit like a teenager going on her first date, experiencing a heady combination of nervous energy and extreme anticipation.
The next twenty minutes passed with the speed of a giant tortoise on tranquilizers, but at last there was a knock at her door. Moishe leaped down from her lap, Hannah leaped up from the couch, and both of them ran a foot race to the door. Hannah pulled it open, there were benefits in having opposable thumbs, and threw herself into Ross’s arms. But it wasn’t Ross!
“Mike!” she gasped. “Uh . . . sorry about that. I thought you were Ross. He’s due here any minute.”
“He’s right behind me. He parked in your extra spot. I just left my cruiser at the side of the road.” He gave her a big grin. “And you don’t have to be sorry about hugging me. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
For a moment, Hannah was speechless. “But . . .” she began to sputter.
“I know. You’re engaged. Don’t worry, Hannah. I’ll never tell.”
“You’ll never tell what?” Ross asked, coming up the outside staircase.
Mike laughed. “I’ll never tell you how Hannah thought I was you and threw herself in my arms.”
“That’s understandable,” Ross said, arriving at the landing and giving Hannah a hug. “We look so much alike.”
Hannah looked from Ross to Mike and then back to Ross again. Ross was a full four inches shorter than Mike, he had dark hair compared to Mike’s reddish blond, and he had a sophisticated, man-of-the-world look about him, while Mike looked rugged and capable of stopping a fleeing felon by tackling him and rendering him helpless in two seconds flat.
“You’re . . . you’re kidding . . . right?”
“Yes, Cookie. I’m kidding.” Ross turned to grin at Mike. “I guess we should have called her and told her that both of us were coming.”
“That would have been slightly helpful,” Hannah said, recovering her equilibrium. “It’s just that I didn’t expect to see Mike.” She turned to him. “I thought you’d still be out in Sally’s kitchen.”
Mike shook his head. “We cleared it hours ago and the contestants are practicing. The crime scene techs got there fast, and so did the photographer. I told them it was top priority and they were in and out in less than two hours.”
“Because of the Food Channel competition?”
“That’s part of it.”
Moishe made a soft sound of protest and Hannah looked down at him. He was sitting on his haunches staring up at Ross.
“Will you pick up Moishe, Ross. He’s looking up at you pathetically.”
Ross smiled and picked him up, scratching him behind the
ears. “Come on, Mike,” he said as he stepped inside the condo. “You’ve already been greeted a little too well by Hannah.”
Mike laughed and followed Ross and Hannah inside. Hannah motioned toward the couch and asked them, “Drinks, anyone?”
“I’ll take a beer if you’ve got it, but I can only have one. I have an active investigation going, and that means I’m on call.”
“I’ll join you in that one beer,” Ross told Mike. Then he turned to Hannah. “Do you need me to run out for more beer?”
“No, I’ve got a twelve-pack in the refrigerator from the last dinner party. Cold Spring Export, if that’s okay.”
“My favorite,” Mike said, which Hannah already knew.
“Fine with me,” Ross agreed, heading for the kitchen. “Sit down, Hannah. I’ll get the beer and pour you a glass of wine. You probably need to relax after the day you’ve had.”
Hannah was about to tell Ross that she was relaxed, now that he was here, but she thought better of it. Perhaps it wouldn’t be right to say that in front of Mike. Instead, she gave Ross a smile and said, “Thank you. That would be nice.”
“Your guy is a real champ,” Mike said, after Ross had left the living room. “Did you notice that big backpack he was wearing?”
“Yes. But why does that backpack make him a champ?”
“Because he’s letting me watch all the footage they shot in New York and here in Lake Eden.”
“So you can get a good grasp on the personality of the victim and how he interacted with everyone in the competition?”
Mike gave her a thumbs-up. “I knew you’d catch on right away. Do you mind if we watch it right here, Hannah?”
“I don’t mind at all!” Hannah said quickly, since that gave her the opportunity to watch it, too.
“I figured that three pairs of eyes would be better than two.”
“How about four pairs of eyes?” Hannah asked.
Mike raised his eyebrows. “You mean . . . Moishe?”
“No.” Hannah laughed. “I mean Michelle. She’s here, but she just went in to take a quick shower.”
Mike looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should call Lonnie and tell him to get over here. We could all watch together.”
“Sure. Lonnie’s always welcome.” Hannah gave a little laugh. “And since we seem to be having a footage-watching party, maybe you should call Norman, too.”
“Great idea! I’ll do that right away. Norman can stop at Bertanelli’s on his way out here and pick up more pizza. P.K. is only bringing two. And Lonnie can stop at the Quick Stop and get some other snacks we can eat while we’re watching.”
Ross came back into the living room just in time to hear Mike’s comment. “Do you want me to call P.K.? He might have some insights about Chef Duquesne. He was with me when I did all the interviews and he can tell you if he noticed anything unusual last night.”
“How many people does that make?” Ross asked Hannah.
“You, me, Mike, Michelle, P.K., Lonnie, and Norman. That’s seven . . . unless we count Moishe.”
“I’d better go out to the car and get my flat screen monitor and my laptop. My flat screen is twice the size of your television set. I can rig it to play on all three screens, and then everyone will have a good view of one screen or another.”
Mike jumped up. “Great idea. I’ll help you carry things.”
Hannah sat next to Ross on the couch, her steno notebook open in her lap and her pen in her hand.
“You’re taking notes?” Ross asked her.
“Of course she is,” Mike responded before Hannah could open her mouth. “Not only did Michelle find the victim, Chef Duquesne was actually nice to Hannah in the competition. That means she feels honor-bound to solve his murder.”
Hannah locked eyes with Mike. Instead of the glare she expected, he looked amused. “You’re right,” Hannah said, giving him a little nod of acknowledgment. “I’ll be happy to share my notes with you, if you want me to.”
This comment earned a frown from Mike. “Thanks, but I’m taking my own notes. Since we’re watching the same footage, I doubt that you’ll catch anything that I miss. I’m used to analyzing evidence like this. You’re not.”
“Very true. You’re the expert and I’m not.” Hannah gave him a sweet and what she hoped was guileless smile.
“Knock it off, you two,” Ross said, tightening his arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “This isn’t a competition. It’s a murder investigation, and all that matters is that someone catches Chef Duquesne’s killer.”
“You’re right,” Mike said, surprising Hannah. “Sorry, Hannah. I didn’t mean to get testy with you. Of course I’d like to go over your notes with you.”
Hannah just smiled. Perhaps Mike’s sudden change of heart had something to do with Ross’s intervention, but she highly doubted that was the case. He’d probably realized that she might spot something he’d miss because she was familiar with the other contestants, their assistants, and the judges. And he wanted to know exactly what clues she might discover because of that knowledge. The Food Channel Dessert Chef Competition wasn’t the only competition she had entered. Mike regarded her as his rival in the race to solve Chef Alain Duquesne’s murder case.
“They loved the Butterscotch Sugar Cookies,” Michelle said as soon as the door had closed behind Ross, Mike, Norman, Lonnie, and P.K.
“I know. Did you have one?”
“One?” Michelle gave a rueful laugh. “I had four, and my jeans are going to know it when I try to zip them up tomorrow morning.”
“Stretch out on your back on the bed to do it,” Hannah advised.
“Does that work?”
“Like a charm. I’ve been using that trick for years when I put on extra weight.” Hannah switched gears. “Let’s take a second to talk about the competition tomorrow night. We’re serving the cookies, that’s a given, but I thought the flavor of the White Chocolate Mocha was a little sweet with the butterscotch. What did you think?”
“I think you’re right, but I have a solution. We can serve the same champagne cocktail that Sally served at Mother and Doc’s wedding reception. That wasn’t as sweet as the White Chocolate Mocha. But if we do that, we’ll lose the benefit of coffee in the drink.”
Hannah thought about that for a moment. “That’s true, but we can serve the coffee after the champagne cocktail.”
“Great idea!” Michelle said, smiling at Hannah.
“Thanks.” Hannah yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really tired. It’s almost midnight and we have to be at the Lake Eden Inn at six-thirty to practice.”
“That’s more sleep than I usually get, but it’s probably a good thing. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day with the practice so early in the morning and the competition at night. I’m almost sorry the producers gave us an extra practice session to make up for the one we didn’t get to finish.”
“Me too. I’m so tired, I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.” Hannah got to her feet. “I’ll see you in the morning, Michelle. I’m too tired to talk about the footage tonight, but let’s compare notes tomorrow. Ross isn’t stopping by on his way to work in the morning, so all we have to do is make a pot of coffee and drink it on our way out to the lake. We can eat breakfast at the Corner Tavern on our way back from the practice session, and we’ll talk about the footage then.”
“That sounds good to me.” Michelle looked around the living room as they headed for the hallway and the bedrooms beyond. “Where’s Moishe? He didn’t get out, did he?”
“No. He’s on his pillow sleeping. He conked out about halfway through the footage.”
“You mean when the last piece of pizza was gone?”
“That’s exactly when. And I don’t think that was a coincidence.”
The two sisters parted ways near the end of the hallway. Michelle turned right to go into the guest room, and Hannah went straight into the master bedroom. Just as she’d told her sister, Moishe was stretched out on a f
eather pillow, but it wasn’t his feather pillow.
“Not again,” Hannah sighed, but she was smiling. She had bought a second expensive feather pillow, the exact duplicate of her pillow, to keep Moishe from stealing hers in the middle of the night. The two pillows were interchangeable, but he always stole her pillow anyway.
“Fine. I’ll get yours later,” she said, heading off to the master bath to take her shower before she went to bed, so she wouldn’t have to shower in the morning.
Ten minutes later, Hannah had toweled dry and she was dressed in her oldest pair of flannel pajamas. They had been marked down to five dollars at CostMart and after one glance, Hannah had immediately known why. The pajamas sported the most hideous tartan design in bright yellow, screaming pink, and neon green that Hannah had ever seen.
“Note to self,” she said after one glance in the mirror. “Do not take tartan pajamas on your honeymoon.”
When Hannah reentered her bedroom, Moishe was still in the same, cat-run-over-by-a-snowplow position on her pillow. He was snoring softly, making little beeping noises that she found endearing. She watched him for a moment until her eyelids started to feel very heavy and then she carefully removed his pillow from his side of the bed, pulled hers, complete with snoring, sleeping cat on top, over to his side of the bed. She plunked his pillow down on her side, and crawled in under the covers. She was happy, she was in love, and she knew what she was baking for the competition tomorrow. Life was good in Lake Eden, Minnesota . . . if you didn’t count the latest murder.
WHITE CHOCOLATE MOCHA
5 and ½ ounces white chocolate chips (Michelle used half of an eleven-ounce net weight bag of Ghirardelli Classic White)
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
2 and ½ cups whole milk
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
1 Tablespoon instant coffee granules (Michelle used Taster’s Choice)
Sweetened whipped cream to garnish