Key Lime Pie Murder (16 page)

“You don’t know what this means to me,” Mike said, looking at her with what some people might call adoration. “I didn’t have lunch, and once they called me in, I didn’t have time for dinner.”

“You could have had a deep-fried candy bar,” Hannah couldn’t resist saying.

“I know. I probably should have. When I’m working this hard I burn a lot of calories. But I just couldn’t do that to my body.”

“Right,” Hannah said, watching him break open a popover and lather on both honey butter and peach jam.

“You ought to make these down at The Cookie Jar,” Mike said, after his first bite. “They’re great!”

Hannah just smiled. The complexity of serving piping hot popovers at The Cookie Jar for anyone who ordered them was ridiculous. But she was pleased that Mike liked them. It was a compliment.

“Hey, Norman,” Mike hailed his rival for Hannah’s affections. “Why aren’t you having any popovers?”

“Because this is the second batch. And Michelle and I ate the first batch almost single-handedly. I might have one, though.”

“Help yourself. I can’t eat them all.” Mike turned to Hannah again. “I thought you’d like to know that Doc Knight said death was almost instantaneous. The second blow was just window dressing.”

Some window dressing! Hannah thought. She could have done just fine without hearing that. “So why did he do it?”

“To make sure she was dead?” Norman guessed.

“Bingo!” Mike pointed his finger at Norman and nodded. “The perp needed the comfort of overkill.”

Hannah made a face that neither of the two men saw. Their conversation was gruesome. And they were still eating. How could they do that?

“Popover?” Mike held out the basket to her.

“No thanks.” Hannah swallowed hard. It was a human being they were talking about here, someone she’d known and liked.

“Anything else you learned from Doc Knight?” Norman asked, reaching for the orange butter.

“Like what?” Mike broke open another popover and glopped on the raspberry jam. Then he passed the honey butter to Norman. “Try some of this, too. The butters are good together.”

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do. How about defensive wounds. Did she see he was trying to kill her and try to stop him?”

“Doc didn’t think so,” Mike said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “She broke her right wrist, but he thinks it was the way she fell and not an attempt to defend herself.” He turned to Hannah. “The victim was right-handed, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Hannah forced out her answer. How could he call Willa a victim so callously? They were discussing a real live person, at least she’d been alive earlier this evening, and there was something very wrong about going into details while they stuffed their faces.

“Doc thinks it was a man,” Mike said. “Unless you know any woman who can lift a twenty-five pound mallet, bring it up over her shoulders, and smash open the head of a victim who was over five and a half feet tall, it had to be a man.”

Hannah swallowed hard again. No way she could ask another question. Didn’t Mike realize that she’d worked with Willa, laughed with Willa, and considered herself Willa’s friend?

“Was there any maxillary damage?” Norman asked, looking much too interested to suit Hannah.

“Doc said it was extensive.” Mike took another popover, broke it open, and infused it with strawberry jam. “A couple of her teeth were smashed.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t know. I think Doc said it was thirteen and fourteen.” He turned to Hannah. “Gee, these are good, Hannah.”

Norman mulled it over. “It takes a heavy blow to smash a healthy bicuspid and a molar.”

“Doc Knight thought her teeth were in pretty good condition, but he wants to consult with you.”

“He does?” Norman looked very pleased. “I could drive out to the hospital now if he wants me to examine the teeth. And if the left side is intact, we could experiment with thirteen and fourteen’s counterparts, three and four, to see how much force…”

“Out!” Hannah said, standing up and pointing toward the door. She’d had it with talk of victims, and crushed skulls, and broken wrists, and smashed teeth. This was a travesty! It was right that Mike did his job. That was a given. And it was right that Norman helped him if he could. But this wasn’t how she wanted to mourn Willa!

“What?” Mike looked at her, utterly astounded. “You’re asking us to leave now?”

“Yes! You’re ghouls, both of you! You’re talking about Willa as if she’s just a…a body! She was more than that. She was pretty, and nice, and…and she was my friend!”

“I’m sorry, Hannah.” Norman was the first to speak. “I didn’t realize we were being so callous. I really do apologize.”

Norman reached out to put his arm around her, but Hannah moved out of reach. No way she was going to make up with either of them right now. “Leave,” she said, still pointing to the door.

“Okay. ’Nuff said.” Mike stood up and looked down at the basket of popovers. “Is it okay if I take the rest of these?”

“Out!” Hannah shouted and clamped her mouth shut. The phrases that were running through her mind right now were far from complimentary.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Norman said, opening the door and stepping out. “I’m really sorry I was so insensitive.”

Mike followed right behind Norman. When he cleared the doorway, he turned around to say, “Yeah. Sorry about that, Hannah.”

When the door had closed behind them, Hannah shut her eyes for a moment and let the silence soothe her. Then she walked over to throw the deadbolt and double lock the door.

Something warm and furry rubbed against her ankles, and Hannah looked down to see Moishe. He must have sensed that she was upset and left Michelle’s warm bed and the allure of his favorite butterfly coverlet to come out and comfort her.

Hannah scooped him up and buried her nose in the soft fur on the back of his neck. “Thanks, Moishe. You’re a perfect roommate. You always come around when I need you, and you never say anything to make me mad.”

“Rowwwwwr,” Moishe gave a soft little yowl of acknowledgment. And then he turned his head and licked her nose. Hannah was so surprised, she came dangerously close to dropping him. She knew he loved her, but he wasn’t this affectionate very often.

“Time for some shuteye,” she said, carrying him off to her bedroom and placing him on the special goose-down pillow she’d bought especially for him. “Remind me of this in the morning in case I forget, but I think I just found out why I shouldn’t marry either one of them.”

FANCY BUTTERS FOR POPOVERS

Hannah’s 1stNote: Make these fancy butters the day before you plan to serve them. Take them out of the refrigerator an hour before serving.

Cashew Butter:

1/2 cup softened butter (1 stick, 1/4pound)

2 Tablespoons (1/8cup) finely chopped cashews (measure AFTER chopping)

Soften the butter and place it in a small mixing bowl.

Chop the cashews (salted or unsalted—it doesn’t really matter) in a food processor with the steel blade until they’re as close to a paste as you can get them. (If you don’t have a food processor, you can grind them in a food mill, chop them by hand and then crush them with a mortar and pestle, or grind them in a blender.)

Measure 2 Tablespoons of crushed or finely chopped cashews. Mix the cashews with the butter, scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate. When you uncover the bowl, place one perfect cashew on top of the cashew butter so everyone will know what it is.

Honey Butter:

1/2 cup softened butter (1 stick, 1/4pound)

1 Tablespoon honey

Soften the butter and place it in a small mixing bowl.

Add the honey and stir until well blended. Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: I usually make a double batch of honey butter because everyone loves it so much.

Almond Butter:

1/2 cup softened butter (1 stick, 1/4pound)

1 Tablespoon finely chopped or crushed blanched almonds (measure AFTER chopping or crushing)

1/2 teaspoon almond extract

Chop the blanched almonds in a food processor with the steel blade until they’re as close to a paste as you can make them. (If you don’t have a food processor, you can grind them in a food mill, chop them by hand and then crush them with a mortar and pestle, or grind them in a blender.)

Measure 1 Tablespoon of crushed or finely chopped almonds. Mix the almonds with the butter.

Add the almond extract and mix well.

Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate. When you uncover the bowl, place one perfect almond on top of the almond butter so everyone will know what it is.

Date Butter:

1/2 cup softened butter (1 stick, 1/4pound)

8 pitted dates, finely chopped

1 teaspoon flour

Cut the dates into three pieces with a sharp knife and place them in the bowl of a food processor. Sprinkle them with flour and chop them with the steel blade until they’re as finely chopped as you can make them. (You can add a little more flour if they stick together too much.) If you don’t have a food processor, you can try this with a blender, or chop them with a shap knife by hand.

Mix the chopped dates with the butter, scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate. When you uncover the bowl, place one pitted date on top of the date butter so everyone will know what it is.

Orange Butter:

1/2 cup softened butter (1 stick, 1/4 pound)

1 Tablespoon frozen orange juice concentrate

1 teaspoon orange zest*
(optional)

*
Orange zest is finely grated orange peel—only the orange part, not the white part.

Measure out one Tablespoon of frozen orange juice concentrate and let it come up to room temperature.

Mix the orange juice concentrate with the softened butter. Add the orange zest if you decided to use it. (It adds a lot!)

Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.

Lemon Butter:

1/2 cup softened butter (1 stick, 1/4pound)

1 Tablespoon frozen lemonade concentrate

1 teaspoon lemon zest*
(optional)

*
Lemon zest is finely grated lemon peel—only the yellow part, not the white part.

Measure out one Tablespoon of frozen lemonade concentrate and let it come up to room temperature.

Mix the lemonade concentrate with the softened butter. Add the lemon zest if you decided to use it. (It adds a lot!)

Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.

When Hannah’s alarm clock went off the next morning at five-thirty, she was still mad at Mike. Norman wasn’t fully back into her good graces yet, either, but he had apologized several times and she was sure that he was genuinely sorry. Mike didn’t have a clue why she’d gotten angry with him. His apology had been perfunctory and an afterthought.

Hannah looked over at Moishe’s pillow, but he wasn’t there. There was a deep indentation where he’d stretched out and a few orange-and-white hairs on the pillowcase, but he’d obviously defected in the middle of the night. She crawled out of bed, stretched her back, and found her slippers under the bed. She was padding down the hallway in search of her morning infusion of caffeine when she smelled something wonderful.

The lights were on in the kitchen. Hannah’s nostrils flared as she caught the scent again. Sausage. Eggs. Cheese. Onions. Had her fairy godmother arrived bearing breakfast?

“Morning,” Hannah said, spotting her youngest sister at the table the moment she entered her gleaming white cooking and baking domain. She’d been too tired to clean up after making two batches of popovers last night, but Michelle had done it for her. The sink was empty of dirty dishes, the counters were sparkling after a fresh wipedown, and her mixer was spotless and denuded of bowl.

“Morning, Hannah.” Michelle gestured toward the coffee mug that sat at Hannah’s place. “I heard you get up, so I poured your coffee. Breakfast will be ready in…” She paused to look up at the apple-shaped clock that hung over the kitchen table. “Three minutes. It’s just cooling now.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, taking a huge swig of coffee that might, if she drank enough, render her capable of more than one-word sentences.

“It’s a recipe one of my roommates gave me for a breakfast omelet. She said her mother always makes it for Christmas morning because you can put it all together the night before, refrigerate it, and bake it the next morning.”

“Did you?” Hannah asked. Now she was up to two words. She reached for her mug of coffee again in the hopes of increasing her sentence length even more.

“I did.”

Two words. Michelle must be catching it from her. Hannah took another big gulp coffee and forced out her next question. “Where was it?” And then she drew a deep breath of relief. Three words. She was getting better.

“In the refrigerator.”

She’d brought Michelle up to three words, too. Now it was time to do even better. “Down at the bottom?” she asked.

Four words! She was almost cured. All it took was concentration.

“In the meat drawer.”

Hannah took a deep breath. Their morning conversation, if you could call it that, reminded her of trying to start an outboard motor. You gave it a yank and a little gas, and it gave you a couple of putt-putts. You gave it a harder yank and a little more gas, and it produced more putt-putts. Then, when you gave it all you had and the level of gas was just right, it actually started with a roar and it took you across the lake.

Without another word, Hannah got up and refilled her coffee mug. She needed more gas. She drank it down despite the fact that it was piping hot, and her eyelids popped all the way open. “I don’t have any meat in the meat pan, so that’s why I didn’t see it.”