Breach of Crust: A Charmed Pie Shoppe Mystery (21 page)

“You found me,” she whispered to him now.

“Yes.” Hugh bent over and kissed her ring finger. “And I’ll never let you go.”

They sat there for a long time, holding hands and listening to the lake whisper. Keeping its secrets
close.

VANILLA WAFER PIECRUST

40 vanilla wafers, crushed

⅓ cup butter, melted

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

CHOCOLATE LAYER

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

2 tablespoons light corn syrup

⅔ cup heavy whipping cream

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

PEANUT BUTTER MOUSSE LAYER

1 cup cold heavy whipping cream, whipped to soft peaks

1 cup creamy peanut butter

½ cup plus 3 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar

Optional: 1 cup extra whipping cream for top and chocolate sauce for drizzling

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Prepare the crust by crushing the wafers in a bowl or using the pulse button on your food processor. Add the melted butter, sugar, and vanilla. Stir until combined. Press the crumb mixture into the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie pan and bake in the preheated oven for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the edges are lightly brown. Cool completely before filling.

Combine all the ingredients required for the chocolate layer in a microwave-safe bowl and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stopping every 30 seconds to stir together. When the chocolate is completely melted, stir the mixture until smooth and pour over the cooled crust. (You can reserve 2 to 3 tablespoons of the chocolate mixture for drizzling over the top of the pie.) Cover and freeze for 30 minutes. Place a large bowl and the metal beaters of an electric mixer in the freezer for a few minutes as well. You’ll use these to make your whipped cream.

In the chilled metal bowl, use the electric mixer to beat 1 cup heavy whipping cream into soft peaks. Set aside. In another bowl, mix the peanut butter and confectioners’ sugar together. Add ⅓ of the whipped cream to lighten the mixture. Once it is nicely blended, gently fold in the remaining whipped cream. Pour the peanut butter mousse over the chocolate layer. If desired, whip another cup of heavy cream into soft peaks for the top and drizzle with chocolate sauce.

Chill at least 1 hour and up to 1 day before serving.

SHORTBREAD PIECRUST

1 cup salted butter, softened

½ cup confectioner’s sugar

2 cups all-purpose flour

FILLING

1 cup fresh blueberries

¼ cup water

3 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon light corn syrup

¾ teaspoon cornstarch

Pinch salt

½ teaspoon lemon juice

1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, at room temperature

¾ cup confectioners’ sugar

1½ cups heavy whipping cream

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, cream the butter and confectioners’ sugar. Blend the flour into the butter mixture. Press the mixture into the bottom and sides of 9-inch pie plate. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the edges are lightly brown. Cool completely before filling.

In a saucepan, stir together the blueberries, water, sugar, corn syrup, cornstarch, and salt. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low; cook until the mixture begins to thicken and the berries begin to burst, approximately 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat; stir in the lemon juice. Transfer the mixture to a small bowl, and let cool. When cooled, cover and refrigerate until chilled (1 to 2 hours).

In a large bowl, add the cream cheese and confectioners’ sugar. Beat at medium speed with an electric mixer until smooth. Add the cream and vanilla; beat at high speed until stiff peaks form. Gently fold in the blueberry mixture. Spoon the filling into the prepared crust. Lightly cover, and freeze until firm. Garnish with fresh whipped cream, sprigs of mint, or fresh blueberries.

*You can easily substitute other berries for the blueberries in this pie. For example, 1 cup of strawberries with a chocolate cookie crust is a delicious twist on this recipe. A triple berry pie with a graham cracker crust is another winner. Use Ella Mae’s recipe as your base and have fun experimenting!

VANILLA WAFER PIECRUST

40 vanilla wafers, crushed

⅓ cup unsalted butter, melted

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

FILLING

3 egg yolks (keep the whites for the meringue)

1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons cornstarch

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

1¼ cups water

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

½ cup fresh or bottled key lime juice

1 teaspoon lime zest

MERINGUE TOPPING

3 egg whites (saved from the filling)

¼ teaspoon cream of tartar

8 tablespoons sugar

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Prepare the vanilla wafer crust by crushing the cookies in a bowl or using the pulse button on your food processor. Add the melted butter, sugar, and vanilla extract. Stir until combined. Press the crumb mixture into the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie pan, and bake for 6 to 8 minutes. Cool completely before filling.

Reset the oven temperature to 425 degrees.

Separate the eggs, setting the whites aside in a mixing bowl for later. In a medium bowl, beat the yolks.

In a saucepan, add the sugar, vanilla extract, flour, cornstarch, and salt. Over medium heat, gradually add the water. Cook, stirring constantly, until thickened (approximately 5 minutes). Reduce the heat and add the beaten egg yolks. Cook another 2 minutes. Add the butter, lime juice, and lime zest. When the mixture is smooth, remove the pan from the heat.

Beat the egg whites you set aside earlier until frothy. Add the cream of tartar and continue beating. Gradually add the sugar and continue beating until stiff peaks form. Your mixture should look shiny.

Pour the key lime filling into your vanilla wafer crust and top with meringue. Make sure to spread the meringue all the way to the edges. Use a spatula or the back of a spoon to create peaks once the meringue has been spread.

Bake for 5 minutes or until the meringue is golden brown. To check, use your oven light. Do not open your oven door. When the desired look is achieved, remove the pie from the oven and cool on a wire rack for at least 1 hour. Chill for at least 4 hours before serving. Occasionally, key lime pies can “weep.” If this happens, carefully pour off the excess liquid and put in the freezer for an hour.

*To make this a dairy-free pie, use a butter substitute wherever the recipe calls for butter.

WHITE CHEDDAR PIECRUST

2½ cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for rolling

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon sugar

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, very cold, cut into ½-inch cubes (place in the freezer for 15 minutes before use)

6 to 8 tablespoons very cold water

1 cup grated sharp white Cheddar cheese

FILLING

6 to 8 Roma tomatoes, peeled, sliced, salted, and drained

½ cup chopped fresh basil

3 scallions, thinly sliced

8 slices cooked bacon, chopped

½ teaspoon minced garlic

1 teaspoon dried oregano

2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

¼ cup sour cream

Combine the flour, salt, and sugar in a food processor; pulse to mix. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse meal and you have pea-sized pieces of butter. Add the water 1 tablespoon at a time, pulsing until the mixture begins to clump together. Add the cheese and pulse again until it is worked into the mixture. Put some dough between your fingers. If it holds together, it’s ready. If it falls apart, you need a little more water. You’ll see bits of butter in the dough. This is a good thing, as it will give you a nice, flaky crust.

Mound the dough and place it on a clean surface. Gently shape it into 2 disks of equal size. Do not overknead. Sprinkle a little flour around the disks. Wrap each disk in plastic wrap. Refrigerate one disk for at least 1 hour. (Put the other disk in a plastic bag in the freezer for up to 3 months. Or double the filling recipe and make two pies at once.) Remove the first disk from the refrigerator. Let it sit at room temperature for 5 minutes or until soft enough to roll. Roll it out with a rolling pin on a lightly floured surface to a 12-inch circle. (Ella Mae uses a pie mat to help with measurements.) Gently transfer it into a 9-inch pie plate. Carefully press the pie dough down so that it lines the bottom and sides of the pie plate. Use kitchen scissors to trim the dough to within ½ inch of the edge of the pie dish.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Prick the crust with a fork or use pie weights. Place the pie dish on a parchment-lined baking tray and bake the crust for 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool.

When the crust is cool, add alternating layers of tomatoes, basil, scallions, and bacon. Set aside 5 or 6 tomatoes and enough basil to garnish the surface of the pie. Top with garlic and oregano. In a small bowl, blend the mozzarella and sour cream. Spread the mixture over the top of the pie. Add the remaining tomatoes and basil. Cover loosely with aluminum foil.

Bake for 30 minutes. Remove the foil. Bake another 30 minutes. May be served warm or cold.

Keep reading for a special preview of Ellery Adams’s next Book Retreat Mystery . . .

Murder in the Secret Garden

Coming soon from Berkley Prime
Crime!

“I don’t like killing things,” Hemingway “Hem” Steward told his mother as she handed him a garden trowel.

Jane Steward—single mother of twin boys and manager of Storyton Hall—gave her firstborn a skeptical look.

“I don’t,” Hem insisted. “Except for mosquitos and flies. And everybody hates them. I should get paid to kill them.”

“What about spiders?” Hem’s lookalike, Fitzgerald Steward, otherwise known as Fitz, poked his brother with the tines of the hand rake Jane had given him. “You squish them because you’re scared of them.”

Hem glared at Fitz. “Am
not
.”

“Are
too
.”

Jane stepped between her sons before their argument turned physical. “You shouldn’t hurt spiders, Hem,” she said. “Many species eat the mosquitoes and flies we dislike so
much. And since Fitz is so comfortable with spiders, ask
him
to relocate them outside from now on.”

Fitz paled slightly over this suggestion, but with both his mother and brother watching him, he adopted a display of bravado. “Fine,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m not afraid.”

“Good.” Jane picked up the first of three plastic buckets lined up in the maintenance shed and beckoned for her sons to follow suit. “Let’s get going. I’d like to finish this chore while we still have some cloud cover. It’s supposed to be really hot today.”

As they walked, the twins grumbled over having to work on a Saturday, especially since school had only let out for the summer yesterday. However, their complaints weren’t very impassioned and Jane knew that they looked forward to digging in the dirt. Her boys loved being outdoors, and though they occasionally griped about their chores, they usually settled into a given task by turning their work into a game. Jane noticed that even the most mundane job could become the equivalent of swabbing the deck of a pirate ship or sweeping out a dungeon prison cell. She put her sons’ vivid imaginations down to their constant exposure to books and book lovers. Even at the tender age of seven, they were reading, and understanding, books meant for a much older audience.

The three Stewards lapsed into silence as they walked to their cottage, which was formerly the estate’s hunting lodge. Like the behemoth manor house it faced, the lodge had been dismantled in the 1830s and transported from its original seat in the English countryside to a remote valley in western Virginia. These days, the house served a dual purpose. The front half was occupied by Sterling, the head chauffeur, and the back, by Jane’s little family.

One of the things Jane loved about her home was its walled garden. Because she and her sons lived on the grounds of a
resort where the majority of the guests enjoyed long strolls, it was difficult to secure much privacy. Luckily, both an evergreen hedge and a low wrought iron fence protected their small yard from nosey parkers. The only way to gain entry was to pass through their gate, and as Jane now unlatched it and pushed against it with her right hip, it squeaked in protest.

She winced. “I need to oil those hinges.”

Fitz patted the gate as though it were an obedient dog. “Isn’t it kind of like a burglar alarm? When it squeaks, we know someone’s coming in.”

“Yeah, and then we can show them our moves!” Hem dropped his bucket to better demonstrate a series of air punches. Jane and the boys had been taking tae kwon do lessons from Sinclair, the head librarian, and the twins were always looking for an excuse to show off their latest punch, kick, or defensive maneuver.

“Save your energy for the weeds,” Jane advised. “I’ve let them go for too long, and with all the rain we’ve had, they’re threatening to overtake the entire vegetable patch.” She pointed at a dandelion growing next to a potato plant. “Just look at the size of this one! Its roots probably go all the way to China!”

Hem and Fitz exchanged glances of amazement, but then Hem frowned. “No, Mom, it couldn’t do that. Fitz and I read a book about dinosaurs and it had a picture of what the middle of the earth looks like.”

“A giant fireball. It would burn roots like that!” Fitz snapped his fingers.

Jane smiled. Over the past winter, the twins had devoured every book they could find about dinosaurs, but by the end of the school year, their interest in the resplendent reptiles had waned. These days, only magic and wizardry captivated
them. Their nightstands were stacked with books they’d purchased with their allowance, and they were listening to the Harry Potter series on CD. These were a birthday gift from Aunt Octavia. Jane liked to play them while she was cleaning up after supper. This way, the boys could spend an hour with Harry with the lights on and their mother moving about in the kitchen. There were some frightening scenes in those stories, and though the twins adored being scared by fantastical tales, Jane deemed it best that they listen to Mr. Potter’s adventures in her presence.

“You’re right, the roots don’t go to China, but they do go surprisingly deep. You can’t just yank the plant out by its top or the whole weed will just regrow.”

“Like a lizard’s tail,” Hem said, studying the dandelion with admiration.

After casting a brief glare at the offending plant, Fitz lunged at it. “I bet I can get it out.”

Before Jane could protest, he gathered the weed in his fist and pulled. The dandelion snapped at the base, leaving a white eye of root staring up at them.

Seeing the dismayed look on her son’s face, Jane squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, it happens to the very best of gardeners. What you need is the proper tool.”

Fitz took the item she proffered. “It looks like a stick for s’mores.”

“It does,” Jane agreed and showed her sons how to push the divided head of the weeder into the ground. Grasping the remains of the root with one hand, she worked the tool under the root until it finally released its hold of the soil and slid free. She placed it in the bucket with a triumphant flourish and then, with the boys on their knees beside her, pointed out which plants should be removed.

“All this grass has to go, but it’s tricky stuff so leave it
to me,” she said. “You two focus on the dandelions and chickweed. See which ones I mean?” She pointed at multiple examples. “Bad, bad, bad. Got it?”

“
Bad?
That’s not true,” said an unfamiliar voice in a critical tone.

Jane glanced up to see a woman standing at the edge of the garden bed. She wore a black dress, black boots, and a black sun hat with a large brim. With the sun behind her, her face was completely cast in shadow. The hair that framed her face was dark and wiry. The stranger had come upon them without having made a sound and now loomed over them, as though she had every right to be there.

“Take the dandelion, for example. You can eat the young leaves, make wine out of the flower, and roast the root to produce coffee,” she said in a deep, authoritative voice. She pivoted her head slightly, addressing the boys. “The root can also be turned into very useful medicine. It can help people with kidney or liver problems. Those are organs, which are located right around here and here.” She indicated the areas on her torso. “Pretty handy for a
bad
plant, wouldn’t you say?”

Jane, who’d been momentarily entranced by the dandelion trivia, looked over at her sons and saw that they were staring at the woman with a mixture of fascination and alarm. Their expressions put Jane’s maternal protective instincts into high alert, and she swiftly got to her feet, weeder in hand, and took a step toward the intruder.

“May I help you?” she asked. There was something innately sinister about the woman’s black garb and the manner in which she’d noiselessly appeared. “This is a private residence,” Jane continued. She struggled to maintain a cordial tone. After all, she was the manager of Storyton Hall. She couldn’t allow a stranger—and possible guest—to note her discomfort. “But maybe you didn’t notice the sign on the gate.”

“Oh, I saw it,” the woman replied breezily.

The twins exchanged anxious glances.

Hem pulled on Fitz’s sleeve and muttered, “The gate didn’t squeak. How did she get in without it squeaking?”

And before Jane could ask another question, Fitz squinted up at the lady in black and whispered, “Are you a witch?”

Jane’s eyes widened in horror. Despite the fact that the same word had also crossed her mind, alibiet briefly, she glowered at her son and intoned, “Hemingway Steward! Apologize this instant!”

The woman startled them all by tossing back her head and laughing heartily. The movement caused her sun hat to slip, revealing brown hair threaded with filaments of gray and a freckled forehead. “Young sir, you wouldn’t be the first person to call a lady with a keen knowledge of plants a witch. Personally, I prefer the term ‘cunning woman.’ Such women used herbs to heal people during the Middle Ages. I’m better at healing gardens.” She smiled at Jane. “That’s why I’m here. To help with your garden.”

“I’m sorry?” Jane was totally confused.

The women held out her hand. “I’m Vivian Cole, a member of The Medieval Herbalists. I came a day early for our gathering because I wanted to read, explore the area, and spend a little time with Mrs. Hubbard before the scheduled activities begin.”

Jane relaxed a little. “You’re a friend of Mrs. Hubbard’s?”

“A new friend, yes,” Vivian replied. “After our president, Claude, booked this event, he told me that our celebratory feast was being combined with a wedding reception. The bride-to-be needed assistance coming up with a medieval menu, so I volunteered to handle it. Mrs. Hubbard and I have been pen pals ever since.”

Vivian shifted position. Sunshine fell on her dress, and
Jane realized that it wasn’t solid black at all. The cotton fabric was actually dotted with tiny white flowers. The light also washed over Vivian’s face, revealing a woman in her late fifties with sun-speckled skin and a generous number of laugh lines.

Something clicked in Jane’s memory. She suddenly recognized the woman standing before her.

“Of course!” she exclaimed, reddening. “Vivian Cole! You restore historic gardens. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize that. I’m so sorry.” To hide her embarrassment, Jane hastily introduced herself and the boys. “Weren’t you in charge of the restoration of the magnificent gardens at The Mount, Edith Wharton’s home?”

“It was one of my favorite projects,” Vivian said with a nostalgic sigh. “I particularly loved the walled garden. There’s nothing like being inside a walled garden at night. You employ all of your senses in the dark, and even the most ordinary plants are transformed by moonlight. Their scents, their shapes, the shadows they cast—the plants can either turn into complete mysteries, or they can reveal their secret selves.”

Jane didn’t quite know how to respond to this unusual remark. Judging from the way her sons were gaping at Vivian, they still believed she was a witch.

With a rather forced laugh, Jane gestured at her modest vegetable patch and said, “This is hardly comparable to a garden bed at The Mount. I’m sure you have better things to do than—”

“Examine your spinach?” Vivian smiled. “I love diagnosing sick plants. It’s a hobby of mine. May I?” She pointed at the row of spinach.

Jane nodded in assent.

Vivian knelt in the dirt and cradled a spinach leaf in her
hand. She peered at it intently before gingerly folding it inward and peering at it some more.

“Infected,” she murmured gravely and then waved for the boys to come closer. She tapped the leaf. “Do you see how the veins have turned yellow?”

“Yeah,” said Fitz. Jane nudged his rump with the toe of her shoe and he quickly amended his answer to, “Yes, ma’am.”

“This is caused by a disease spread by leafhoppers,” Vivian explained.

Hem cocked his head quizzically. “Is that like a grasshopper?”

“More like a cicada.” Victoria touched the leaf’s paler underside with the tip of her index finger. “When the leafhopper feeds, they inject toxic saliva—their drool—into the plant. They also carry teeny tiny virus bugs around with them that they spread from plant to plant.”

“Gross,” Fitz grimaced, but leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with interest.

Jane, on the other hand, was genuinely repulsed by the idea of insects spreading disease among her vegetables. “What can I do?”

“We’ll start by removing the infected plants. It’s time to harvest the healthy ones before they bolt. You can plant another lettuce variety in its place.” Vivian looked at the boys. “The leafhoppers can’t jump all around the garden like it’s a big hopscotch board if we make life tougher for them. To do that, we need to get rid of all the weeds. Are you up for the challenge?”

The twins responded with a unified cry of, “Yes, ma’am!”

She smiled widely at them before fixing her attention on Jane again. “Once we’re done with the harvesting and weeding, you can plant marigolds around the perimeter and in
the center of the vegetable patch. Marigolds deter a host of garden pests. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful. Thank you so much.” And before Jane could offer Vivian a cold glass of water or escort her to the gate, the expert gardener had helped herself to one of the hand trowels and was already digging up one of the diseased spinach plants. “Please,” Jane said, feeling uncomfortable. “You’re a guest of Storyton Hall. You shouldn’t be working in my garden.”

“But this is where I’m most content,” Vivian said. “Let me stay, won’t you? I’ll sit on the other end and be very quiet. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Having no choice but to acquiesce, Jane offered to get Vivian a set of tools and a pair of gloves. When she returned from the maintenance shed, Vivian and the twins were chattering away like old pals. Clearly, if the boys still considered her a witch, they’d come to the conclusion that she performed white magic, not dark.

“What about mosquitos and flies?” Hem was asking her. “There were a billion last summer!”

“You could plant basil,” Vivian said. “Those bugs hate basil. Your mom could also use the leaves to make a salad with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella cheese.”

Jane handed Vivian her tools. “Sounds delicious.”

Fitz pointed at the small pile of dandelions in his bucket. “Can we use these, Ms. Vivian? Didn’t you say they weren’t bad?”