Blackberry Crumble (3 page)

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 1⁄2 teaspoons lemon zest (can use 1 teaspoon lemon juice instead)

2 tablespoons milk

2 cups all-purpose flour

11⁄2 teaspoons baking powder

1⁄2 teaspoon salt

1 cup fresh blueberries, or frozen blueberries (no need to thaw)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In a large bowl, cream the shortening, butter, egg, sugar, vanilla, lemon zest, and milk. In a separate bowl, combine dry ingredients. Add to shortening mixture until just mixed. Fold in blueberries, careful not to crush the berries. The batter might be a little crumbly.

Drop by teaspoonfuls (or 1-inch scoops) onto parchment or silicone-mat baking sheet (blueberries stick like crazy).

Bake 12 to 15 minutes or until muffin tops are golden brown. Cool on cookie sheet for two minutes before moving to a rack to cool. Makes 3 dozen.

Optional glaze

11⁄2 tablespoons butter

1 cup powdered sugar

2 tablespoons lemon juice

Mix all ingredients together. Drizzle over cookies while cookies are still warm.

Note: A streusel topping might taste really good too!

Chapter 2

Sadie blinked at the other woman. “Murdered?” An all too familiar thrill rose up from her open-toed, navy sling-back sandals and left her spine in an all-out tingle.

The woman nodded and wiped quickly at her eyes, seemingly embarrassed over her tears.

“What makes you think he was murdered?” Sadie asked automatically. Before the woman had a chance to answer, Sadie’s eyes were drawn to the newspaper again—“Magnet for Murder?” She started feeling squirmy.

The doors at the back of the gym opened again, and laughter echoed through the room as four women—all Latham Club members—entered, their heads bobbing as they talked to one another while they clicked across the hardwood floor in their heels. Sadie looked at the clock. Ten minutes before the official start.

“My name is May Sanderson,” the woman said, glancing warily at the other women. She opened her purse and began rummaging through it. After a moment she pulled out a pen, then leaned forward, writing something in the margins of the newspaper still lying on the table between them. “This is my cell phone number,” she said when she straightened. “Please call me when you’ve had time to think about what I’ve said. Money isn’t an issue, but time certainly is.” A slight pleading had entered her tone, confirming how serious she was about this.

With that, she turned and headed for the back doors, keeping her head down. The other women glanced at her briefly before returning to their discussion.Sadie’s mind was already filling with questions as she glanced down at the phone number, noting that the first three numbers weren’t a Colorado area code. She looked up again, wondering if she should follow May Sanderson and get more information, but the younger woman was already gone, leaving Sadie to field the questions left in her wake. Why did she think her father had been murdered? When had it happened? What would Pete say when she told him about this?

“Coming through!”

Sadie quickly stepped aside to make way for Pete, whose arms were wrapped around an enormous punch bowl, filled nearly to the brim with dark red punch. Glenda hadn’t been kidding when she said it was too full for the ladies in the kitchen to carry. Pete was taking tiny steps and still the punch threatened to tidal wave out of the bowl at any moment. He began lowering his entire body, bending at the knee but keeping his back straight, so as to put the bowl down on the table without spilling.

Sadie saw the newspaper at the last possible moment, right where the punch bowl was headed. She reached for it quickly, startling Pete in the process. A wave of punch sloshed forward, splashing onto the table, the newspaper, and a cookie tray, before compensating by going backward, soaking Pete’s apron.

Sadie gasped and raised a hand to her mouth while one of the women exclaimed from the other side of the table. Pete set the bowl down on the now punch-covered table.

“I’m so sorry,” Sadie said as Pete stood up, revealing that his apron was completely soaked. He quickly untied it, and Sadie was dismayed to see that the punch had turned his powder-blue shirt a lovely shade of lavender. She looked around for some napkins before realizing they hadn’t been set out yet.

“I’ll get some paper towels,” one of the women said. She came around the table and headed through the door that led to the kitchen. Pete wiped at his shirt with a dry part of his apron, but it didn’t do any good.

“I’m so sorry,” Sadie said again, moving toward him, feeling horrible. The woman returned with a roll of paper towels a moment later, and the other women began blotting and cleaning up the punch. Pete took a few paper towels and backed out of their way as he wiped at his own clothing.

Sadie watched as one of the women picked up the punch-soaked newspaper by one soggy corner, not even glancing at the headline, and tossed it in the big gray trash can behind the table, along with most of the blueberry muffin tops, also ruined.

“What happened?” Pete asked.

“I’m so sorry,” Sadie said for a third time, embarrassed to be the cause of such a mess. “I was trying to get the newspaper out of the way.”

“What newspaper?”

“The
Post,
” Sadie said, her eyes going for the garbage can again. “The red-haired woman who came in before you went into the kitchen brought it.” Her eyes went back to Pete. “I’m in it.”

“Sadie, do you have any more of those cookies we can set out?” one of the ladies asked. The table and floor were mostly cleaned up.

Glenda walked through the doorway. “Sadie, Paul is running late with the meat trays. Has he called you?” She stopped short when she noticed the mess. “What happened?”

The women hurried to explain. Glenda looked at Sadie with surprise and disappointment. “We’ve got five minutes to finish setting everything up!” she said, her voice rising with every word. As if waiting for such an introduction, the back doors opened and another group of club members entered the gym.

“Um,” Sadie said, trying to think of an explanation as Glenda’s hands went to her hips.

“Where’s the punch ladle?” someone called from the kitchen.

Sadie’s head swirled as she tried to triage the situation and determine what was most in need of her attention.

Pete’s hand at her elbow caught her attention, and she looked at him. His calmness helped ease the frantic feelings welling up inside of her. “I’m going to go home and change,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “Call me if you need me to pick something up on the way back, okay? I’ll help them find the ladle on my way out; it was in the box you brought from home, right?”

Oh, bless him,
Sadie thought to herself as she nodded. They made such a great team.

“Good,” Pete said, smiling to let her know he wasn’t angry. “You do what you need to do. I’ll be back.”

He didn’t wait around for any more discussion, allowing Sadie to turn her attention to the other expectant faces. “I have more blueberry muffin tops,” Sadie said. “They’re on top of the fridge, in the blue Tupperware.” Glenda nodded and headed back to the kitchen. Sadie turned to assess the table. “We’ll need some damp paper towels to wipe down the table so it isn’t sticky. Heather and Savanna, will you take care of that?” The two women nodded and followed Glenda. “Shanna, can you help me adjust the punch bowl?” Sadie asked. “Between the two of us, we ought to be able to move it without making another mess.”

Shanna nodded but stepped back as far as she could, probably to protect her cute floral skirt. They carefully adjusted the bowl, and then Sadie headed to the kitchen to retrieve her cell phone so she could call Paul and see where he was with the meat trays. He should have been here half an hour ago.

It wasn’t until the phone was ringing that she thought about the newspaper article again, and about May Sanderson asking for her help. It would be a couple of hours before she could get her hands on another paper to see what the article said, but the headline flashed through her mind again, and her stomach clenched. “Modern Miss Marple: A Magnet for Murder?”
What was the article about?

It took two tries to call Paul; she’d bought a new phone a few months ago, but she still didn’t know how to use it very well. Finally, she got the touch screen to work and put the phone to her ear.

Paul answered and spoke before Sadie could even say hello. “I’m coming, Sadie. I swear.”

“Sadie?” Glenda called from the kitchen while Paul explained about a mix-up at the delicatessen and how he’d almost run out of gas. Glenda continued, “Do we have more forks? I don’t think this will be enough!”

Sadie closed her eyes and forced her brain to slow down. She simply
had
to focus on the luncheon right now. The article and May Sanderson would have to wait until later. She glanced at the clock on her way to the kitchen while Paul continued his explanation. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 3

The first indication of trouble was the embarrassed smile Harriet Shub gave Sadie when she put her salad on the table. She dropped eye contact almost immediately, turning back to her sister, Leslie, who looked at Sadie with an uncomfortable expression before looking away as fast as Harriet had. Sadie adjusted the salad bowl and pulled off the plastic wrap while letting her gaze span the room. Another group was watching her and leaning in toward one another in such a way that made Sadie’s stomach sink even further. Sadie knew gossip when she saw it; she was an expert on the subject, even if she preferred to call it “staying informed.”

Don’t overreact
, she told herself. A moment later, Paul came in, and she busied herself with prepping the meat trays. Baskets of rolls appeared as though from nowhere, and then Ben Lancaster, the Latham Club president, stood up front and welcomed everyone. Sadie, as well as the rest of the kitchen crew, moved back toward the wall—out of the way, but still on hand should anyone need anything.

As she looked at the crowd, she caught the eyes of two different people, who both quickly looked away. It did nothing to calm her growing fears that there were a number of people in this room who knew something she didn’t—something that wasn’t necessarily complimentary. It had to be that article. She only took the Sunday paper; why hadn’t someone called her if she’d been featured? She immediately answered her question. If it were negative, people would be hesitant to tell her about it. Her stomach sank further.

Ben droned on and on while Sadie continued experimenting with eye contact. Several people smiled back when she held their eye, helping her feel better, but there were a few who pretended not to see her.

Finally, Ben finished speaking, and people began to line up at the food tables. Sadie was unsure what to do and decided to retreat to the kitchen. Maybe she could call Pete and ask him to get another paper on his way back so she’d know what she was up against.

Smiling tightly, she was just stepping over the kitchen threshold when someone saying her name in conversation caused her to come up short. The open door blocked the room from seeing her, but didn’t protect her in any other way.

“Sadie and that locksmith?” Glenda’s voice said, tsking. “And here she’s going around as though she’s a good Christian woman.”

Instant heat overtook Sadie’s chest. The locksmith—Eric Burton.

“It’s a new world,” a voice Sadie didn’t recognize said. “Even so-called conservatives are embracing more and more liberal lifestyles. I heard she told the women at church she’d visited a roommate that weekend.”

“And we all fell for it,” a third voice said as Sadie’s whole body seemed to catch fire. “I can tell you one thing, she’s not going to be the speaker at the youth campout this summer if I have anything to say about it. No way am I having her stand up in front of my daughter and voice her opinions on taking the moral high ground.”

Sadie was too stunned to notice the voice drawing closer to the doorway until Brenda Norton was suddenly in front of her. Brenda’s eyebrows went up and for a split second her expression showed embarrassment, but almost as quickly her face settled back into one of judgment. “Excuse me,” she said in a perfectly polite tone.

Sadie was the first one to look away, which she feared made her look guilty, but she
felt
guilty. She stepped aside, letting Brenda leave before she entered the room. Glenda and the other woman, Jackie something, looked at her with embarrassed surprise.

They know about Eric
, she said to herself, feeling her heart rate increase.
They know I didn’t visit a roommate
. Sadie’s eyes focused on her purse by the door, and she hurried toward it. She had to get a copy of that article!

She dialed Pete’s number, despite her stomach being in her shoes. “Pete,” she said when he answered. Her voice cracked, and she took a breath, turning away from the other women in the room, who were silent as they went about finding serving spoons for the salads.