Cream Puff Murder (9 page)

“Then there’s a correct answer?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure what it is. And if I don’t know the right answer, I won’t be able to tell if you get it wrong.”

“There’s an example of ironclad logic.”

“I’m nothing if not logical. Just think about it, Norman. If I said I was going to break my diet and I really needed you to bring me cookies, would you do it?”

Norman gave a deep sigh, a sigh so powerful that she imagined she could feel the air move next to her ear. “I’d do it, Hannah. I mean, you’re an adult and you know what you want. I trust in your ability to make your own decisions. And if you wanted to break your diet, I’d put on Sabrina and sit on the couch to eat cookies with you.”

“I love you, Norman,” Hannah said, a delighted smile spreading over her face. “You never try to tell me what’s good for me.”

“I love you, too. And I know telling you what to do is a lost cause. You never listen, anyway. I’ll see you in about forty-five minutes with steak and salad and two kinds of cookies.”

By the time Norman arrived, Hannah was hard at work doing some preparation work for Lisa Colleene’s Mini Cheeseburger Cookies. She’d used green food coloring to dye a bowl of shredded coconut the shade of green that came closest to the color of lettuce. She’d also mixed up a thick butter cream frosting that she’d split up into two small bowls. She’d already tinted the frosting in one bowl yellow, and now she was adding red food coloring to the frosting in the other bowl.

“What are you making?” Norman asked, taking two plates from Hannah’s cupboard and gathering the silverware they’d need.

“Cheeseburgers. That’s why I need the cookies.”

Norman turned around to stare at her and then he said, “I’m so hungry, I’m hearing things. I thought you said you needed the cookies to make cheeseburgers.”

Hannah grabbed a stack of napkins and a bottle of diet salad dressing. “I did, but I’ll explain it all later. Let’s go eat before Moishe decides to tunnel through the carryout packs and help himself to our steaks.”

Other than the infrequent request for the saltshaker, the pepper grinder, or another napkin, no conversation took place in Hannah’s living room until they’d become members of the clean plate club. Hannah tossed Moishe a final scrap of the filet Norman had brought for her and gave a satisfied sigh. “Thank you, Norman. That was just what I needed. How about some coffee? It’s all ready to go.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take care of the dishes while you make it.”

Hannah poured water into the well of the coffeemaker while Norman handled their dishes and silverware. After he’d rinsed them and stacked them in Hannah’s dishwasher, he walked over to examine the Kitty Valet that Mike had set up next to Moishe’s old food bowl. “So this is Moishe’s new self-feeding system. I wasn’t sure what Mike meant when he told me about it. Does it work?”

“I don’t know. So far, he hasn’t gone near it. The instructions said to leave out his old food and water bowls for the first few hours to give him time to get used to it. Then you’re supposed to pick up the old bowls and he’ll switch to the new.”

“In theory.”

“Right. In theory.”

“I can see how it works, but what if Moishe doesn’t like it? Can you take it back?”

Hannah gave a little laugh. “Not really. They say that it’s fully returnable as long as the plastic wrapping on the tubes is intact. And you have to remove it to put in the food and the water.”

“So once you try it out on your cat, you can’t return it.”

“Exactly. It’s a win-win situation for the manufacturer.”

Just then Moishe padded into the kitchen and stopped by his Kitty Valet feeding system. He sniffed at the food, sniffed at the water, and then he walked on past.

“Mike may have wasted his money.” Hannah watched as her cat lapped at the water in his old bowl.

“Maybe he’ll try the new bowls once the old ones are empty,” Norman said, following Hannah as she carried two mugs of fresh coffee to the kitchen table. “Now that we’ve eaten, I’ve got a question. You were kidding about using cookies to make cheeseburgers, weren’t you?”

“Not really. I’m making a dessert that looks exactly like a mini cheeseburger, but it’s assembled from store-bought cookies, shredded coconut, and frosting.”

“Really?”

“That’s right. I got the recipe from my college roommate’s sister. Do you want to help me make a batch? Then we can sample them for dessert.” Hannah thought about the eight-ounce fillet she’d eaten and the small dinner salad that hadn’t been very small at all. “Correction. Then you can sample them for dessert.”

“It’s a deal,” Norman agreed, “but don’t expect too much from me. I’m not a baker like you are.”

“There’s no baking involved. All we have to do is stack the cookies and glue them together with the right color of frosting.”

In an effort to keep from getting in each other’s way, Hannah and Norman formed an assembly line. She started by covering the slightly rounded top of a vanilla wafer with red frosting. Then she handed the cookie to Norman. He stuck on the chocolate-covered cookie and covered the top of it with yellow butter cream frosting, letting a bit drip down over the sides. Hannah took the cookie back, sprinkled on green coconut to resemble shredded lettuce, and clamped another vanilla wafer on top, rounded side up.

“They’re cute,” Norman said when they’d run out of hamburgers, or in their case, cookies. “I never thought that yellow frosting would look like cheese, but it does.”

“And the coconut looks like shredded lettuce.”

“Exactly. And the red frosting you made is the exact color of ketchup. They’re all done now, aren’t they?”

“Not quite. We still have to brush the tops with egg white and sprinkle sesame seeds on the tops of the buns.”

Once the cookies were finished, Hannah and Norman watched the older version of Sabrina while the egg whites dried. Then Norman tasted a cookie, and pronounced it perfect for a children’s party.

“I don’t think I can stay awake for the second Sabrina,” Hannah said with a yawn. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t you call home and see if your answering machine picks up?”

Norman looked perplexed for about half a second. “That’s clever, Hannah. If the machine picks up, my power’s back on. If it doesn’t, it’s not.”

“Right. And if your power’s still out, you can stay here for the night.” Norman’s face brightened and she hurried to explain. “The bed in the guest room’s all made up.”

Norman gave a little sigh as he picked up the phone, and Hannah knew he’d hoped for a different outcome. He punched in his number, listened for a moment, and then he hung up the phone. “Power’s back on,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’d better go. I’ve got an early appointment tomorrow. Do you want to keep the Sabrina we didn’t watch?”

“I don’t know when I’d watch it. Maybe you can rent it again when both of us have more time.” Hannah stood up too, and gave him a little hug. “Thanks for dinner and the movie.”

“Thank you for the cookies. They’re going to be a big hit at the birthday party.”

“I hope so.” Hannah pulled him down for a good night kiss. And when it ended, she opened the outside door for him. “See you tomorrow, Norman. Lisa’s looking for her mother’s recipe for cream puffs. If she finds it and you drop in around two, you can sample the mini cream puffs we’re making for Mother’s book launch party.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Hannah.”

Norman gave a little wave and went down the stairs. Hannah watched him step over the planter that separated the buildings and walk off to the visitors’ parking lot. When she stepped back inside and closed the door behind her, she gave a little sigh and went over to the couch to pet Moishe. If she’d offered to share her bedroom, Norman would have stayed regardless of the status of his electricity. Of course she hadn’t. There was no way anyone was going to place her in the Ronni Ward category. But Norman had left, and now she felt lonely.

“Come on, Moishe. It’s time for bed.” Hannah flicked off the lights and headed to the bedroom. “It’s going to be an even longer day tomorrow.”

Five minutes later, her teeth were brushed, her face was washed, and she was dressed in the oversized sweats she always wore for pajamas when the mercury dipped below freezing. She climbed under the covers and gave a long sigh. Alone again.

She was in the throes of feeling terribly sorry for herself when Moishe jumped up on the other pillow and started to purr. It was such a comforting, soothing sound that it made Hannah smile as she drifted off to sleep.

MINI CHEESEBURGER COOKIES

DO NOT preheat oven—these cookies don’t need to bake.

FOR THE BUNS:

12-ounce box round vanilla wafers (I used Nilla Wafers)

FOR THE HAMBURGER PATTIES:

approximately 3 dozen slightly larger round chocolate-covered cookies (I used 2 packages of Keebler Fudge Shoppe Caramel Filled Cookies—18 cookies to a package)
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FOR THE SHREDDED LETTUCE:

½ cup shredded coconut (pack it down when you measure it)

green food coloring

FOR THE CHEESE AND THE KETCHUP:

½ cup salted butter (1 stick, 8 ounces, ¼ pound) at room temperature

¼ cup milk (2 ounces)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

16-ounce (1 pound) box powdered sugar (approximately 3 ½ cups)

yellow food coloring

red food coloring

FOR THE TOP OF THE BUN:

¼ cup sesame seeds

1 egg white

Prepare your shredded “lettuce” first. It will need time to air dry. Dump the coconut into a large plastic Ziploc bag. Hold the bag open and add three drops of green food coloring to the coconut. Squeeze out some of the air and seal the bag.

Toss the coconut around inside the bag. Squeeze it, play catch with it, roll it around on the counter, whatever. The object is to evenly color the coconut. Once it’s a uniform color, decide if it’s the color of lettuce. If it’s too light, add a few more drops of green food coloring and repeat the mixing process until you think it’s right.

Line a cookie sheet with wax paper and dump out the green-coated coconut. Use a spoon to spread it out as evenly as you can. Let it sit out on the counter to dry, stirring it around every so often.

Once the coconut is dry, it’s time to assemble your cookies.

Line another cookie sheet with wax paper. Lay out 40 vanilla wafers, rounded side up.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, or simply in a medium-size mixing bowl, combine the softened butter, milk, vanilla extract, and powdered sugar. If you’re using a stand mixer, beat on LOW for 2 minutes. If you’re using a handheld mixer, beat on LOW for 3 minutes. If you’re mixing by hand, use a wooden spoon and beat like crazy for 4 minutes, or until the frosting is smooth, with no lumps.

Divide the frosting into two parts, using your original bowl and another bowl. Add three drops of yellow food coloring to the first bowl and mix it in thoroughly. If it’s not bright yellow, add a few more drops of food coloring, mixing them in until it is. This frosting will be the cheese for the Mini Cheeseburger Cookies.

Add three drops of red food coloring to the second bowl and mix it in thoroughly. If it’s not bright red, add a few more drops, mixing them in until it’s the color of ketchup.

With a rubber spatula or a frosting knife, spread the curved side of a vanilla wafer with red frosting. Pile it up around the rims of the wafers so it will form flat beds for the “hamburgers.”

Place a chocolate-covered cookie, faceup, on top of the red frosting on the wafer. Press the chocolate-covered cookie down slightly so it’ll stick to the frosting.

Frost the top of the chocolate-covered cookie with yellow frosting. Use just a bit too much so it’ll drip over the sides of the “hamburger” like melted cheese.

Sprinkle on some green coconut “lettuce.” It’ll look more realistic if you let a few strands stick out on the sides.

Clamp on the second vanilla wafer, rounded side up. Now your Mini Cheeseburger Cookie is complete, except for the sesame seeds on the bun.

Repeat until you run out of “buns” or “hamburgers.”

Whip up the egg white in a small bowl. Use a pastry brush to brush the tops of the vanilla wafers. Sprinkle on a few sesame seeds, and you’re finished.

Let the cookies dry thoroughly. Once dry, they will keep just fine in a loosely covered container until it’s time to serve them.

Hannah’s Note: There’s a photo of the Mini Cheeseburger Cookies on Jo Fluke’s Web site. The address is: www.MurderSheBaked.com, and the photo is on the “Recipe” page.

M orning came much too early for Hannah. She was experiencing the loveliest dream, all about frothy milkshakes in peach, strawberry, blueberry, and lemon, dancing Viennese waltzes with dozens of handsome chocolate-dipped biscotti. It was a wedding, or perhaps it was a book launch party. She really couldn’t tell which. The guests, in formal clothing, were chatting merrily, eagerly waiting their turn to capture their favorite refreshment as it dipped and whirled past. Of course she knew it was a dream. Milkshakes couldn’t dance, with or without chocolate-covered biscotti, but the beauty of dreams was that they were impervious to logic.

“Weird,” Hannah mumbled, opening her eyes. But once she’d glanced at her radio alarm, she realized that it wasn’t as strange as it had seemed at first. Instead of pushing the button for alarm, she’d hit the button for wakeup music, and the local classical music station was playing Strauss.

Hannah reached out to shut off the alarm before electronic beeping rudely interrupted “The Skater’s Waltz.” At least she tried to reach out to shut it off, but a bolt of pain that had her gasping for breath shot up from her wrist and found a home in her shoulder.

“Must have slept wrong,” Hannah mumbled, turning on her side and attempting to reach out with her other arm. But that arm hurt almost as much as the first one had! Was she having a heart attack? What were the symptoms? Pain…yes, one of the symptoms was pain. She remembered Hank Olson, the bartender at the municipal liquor store, telling them about the symptoms of his heart attack. She definitely had shooting pains going up both arms, but if she recalled Hank’s description correctly, his arm pains had reached all the way to the center of his chest, squeezing and constricting like a steel band.