Devil's Food Cake Murder (5 page)

Add the flour by half-cup increments, stirring in each increment before adding the next.

Stir in the nuts, if you decided to use them.

Mix in the butterscotch chips if you decided to use them, or any other chips you’ve chosen.

Spoon the batter into the prepared cake pan and smooth out the top with a rubber spatula.

Bake the Butterscotch Bonanza Bars at 350 degrees F. for 20 to 25 minutes. (Mine took 25 minutes.)

When the bars are done, take them out of the oven and cool them completely in the pan on a cold stove burner or a wire rack.

When the bars are cool, use a sharp knife to cut them into brownie-sized pieces.

Yield: Approximately 40 bars, but that all depends on how large you cut the squares.

You may not believe this, but Mother suggested that I make these cookie bars with semi-sweet chocolate chips and then frost them with chocolate fudge frosting. There are times when I think she’d frost a tuna sandwich with chocolate fudge frosting and actually enjoy eating it!

Hannah set her purse down on the landing and unlocked her condo door. Then she backed up one step, made sure she was perfectly balanced on the balls of her feet, and opened the door. The preparations might have seemed strange to anyone who didn’t know her roommate’s habits, but the cat who chose to cohabit her condo had a unique style of greeting her at the end of a day.

“Uff!” Hannah grunted, staggering back a half-step as an orange and white, twenty-three-pound ball of fur hurtled into her arms. She caught her balance, walked through the doorway and carried the cat who shared her domicile to his favorite perch on the back of the couch. “Are you glad to see me?” she asked.

“Rrrow!” he answered, regarding her with one unblinking eye. He was blind in the other and he had a torn ear, a testament to his hard life on the streets before he’d ended up at Hannah’s condo door. It was one of the reasons she’d named him Moishe, after the one-eyed Israeli general who’d triumphed in several wars.

Hannah ducked out to retrieve the scarred leather purse her mother hated, and constantly attempted to replace at Christmases, birthdays, and even once on St. Patrick’s Day. That offering had been a snazzy little green bag that would have held Hannah’s car keys, two aspirin as long as they weren’t in the bottle, and a lace handkerchief.

“Are you hungry, Moishe?” she asked, shrugging out of her parka and tossing it on the chair by the door.

“Rrrow!”

“Okay.” Hannah glanced at the answering machine sitting on her desk and saw that the red light was blinking. “Just let me get my messages and then I’ll fix your dinner.”

“RRRRRROW!”

This time the cry was irate and Hannah stopped in mid-stride. “You’re right. I can get my messages after I feed you. How about chicken? I’ve got some I can cut up for you.”

“Rrrow.”

Moishe’s tone was soft and appreciative, and Hannah smiled as she went off to the kitchen. Whoever said cats didn’t understand words had obviously never met Moishe.

The kitchen was dark and Hannah flicked on the bank of fluorescent lights overhead. With snow white walls and white appliances reflecting the light, this turned her kitchen into something approaching the brilliance of a movie set. Perhaps she should think about painting the walls a darker color, or replacing the bulbs with a lower wattage, but she really needed to see what she was doing when she tested recipes at home.

Moishe’s skinless, boneless chicken breast was in a container on the top shelf of the refrigerator. Hannah got out a cutting board and chopped it into feline-sized pieces. Then she went back to the refrigerator to take out some crumbled bacon she’d had left when she’d made Quiche Lorraine to take to her mother’s house for one of their weekly mother-daughter dinners.

Hannah had just shut the door when she noticed something odd that was perched on top of her refrigerator. It was round and white, and she was sure it hadn’t been there this morning when she’d opened the refrigerator to get a glass of orange juice. She reached up to get it and began to frown as she realized it was a pair of her clean white socks rolled up in a ball. Her socks were supposed to be in her sock drawer in the bedroom. How had this sock ball gotten up on top of her refrigerator?

She thought about that as she added the crumbled bacon to Moishe’s food bowl. She remembered putting the laundry away on Sunday afternoon. There had been two loads to fold and her laundry basket had been heaped high with clean clothing for the coming week. She was sure she’d put all of her rolled socks away in her bedroom dresser drawer, but perhaps one pair had fallen out of the basket on her way to the bedroom, and she’d noticed it on the floor on her way to the kitchen to get a cold drink. Although she didn’t remember doing it, she could have picked up that sock ball and stowed it on top of the refrigerator while she poured herself a glass of lemonade. Out of sight, out of mind was a saying with a lot of merit to it. She’d forgotten all about the sock ball, and that’s why she’d been so surprised to see it there. People did things like that all the time. They got distracted, set things down in odd places, and then forgot they’d done it. Her own father had once confessed that he’d found his reading glasses in the refrigerator and had no recollection of putting them there.

The mystery was solved. That must be what had happened. Hannah couldn’t think of any other explanation. She set Moishe’s food bowl on the floor, watched as he eagerly buried his face in its contents, and carried her socks to the bedroom to put them away in the proper place.

Exactly one hour and thirty minutes later, Hannah was sitting in a booth at the Lake Eden Inn, dining on Sally Laugh-lin’s excellent apricot glazed Cornish game hen, butterflied and served on a bed of pork sausage, wild rice, button mushrooms, and lightly sauteed baby snow peas. Mike, her dinner companion, was eagerly devouring lamb shank with an array of perfectly cooked spring vegetables.

When they’d finished their last bite of food, Sally came up to their booth. She was wearing one of her unique chef’s aprons in a winter country print that was sprinkled with snowmen, pine trees, red barns with snow on their roofs, and old-fashioned wooden sleds. There was a rectangle of red material sewn to the bib with the words LAKE EDEN INN embroidered in white. Sally had recently hired another chef who was working behind the glass window that separated the kitchen from the dining room, and he was wearing an apron that matched Sally’s. The sous-chefs on the line were dressed in solid green aprons to match the pine trees in the print, and the colorful display turned the preparation of food into dining entertainment.

“How was the game hen?” Sally asked Hannah.

“It was so wonderful it made me glad I’m an omnivore.”

Sally laughed and turned to Mike. “And you enjoyed the lamb shank?”

“Delicious.” Mike pointed down at his empty plate. “That sauce was just great. I didn’t want to leave anything, so I mopped it up with a couple of your rolls.”

“Good for you! I think the sauce is the best part. And you’re right, that plate is so clean I could almost put it back in the cupboard and use it again.” Sally noticed Mike’s expression and reached out to pat his shoulder. “Of course I wouldn’t. I’m just teasing.”

“Better be careful who you say that to. We got word that the health board hired another inspector and they’re going to be coming around again. Those guys have no sense of humor.”

“True. Well, I guess I’d better get back to the kitchen before …”

“Wait just a second,” Mike stopped her. “Do you have another minute? I’d like to show you a couple of pictures.”

Sally slid into the booth next to Hannah. “I take it they aren’t pictures of your nieces and nephews?”

“No. It’s police business.” Mike opened his briefcase, which sat beside him in the booth, and pulled out a file folder. He extricated a sheaf of photos and handed them to Sally. “These are from the Minneapolis P.D. Look through them and if you spot anyone wearing any jewelry that looks like this, call me immediately.”

“Stolen?” Sally asked, paging through the photos.

“Yes, and someone was killed in the process. That means I want you to be careful if you spot anything. Don’t ask questions and don’t let on you noticed. Just call me and we’ll be out here right away.”

“Got it.” Sally rose to her feet, but she held on to the photos. “Do you mind if I show these to my waitresses? They’re out here on the floor more than I am.”

“I was hoping you’d do that while Hannah and I have dessert.”

When Sally had left, Hannah turned to Mike. “Do you really think the jewelry will show up out here?”

“Not really, but anything’s possible. The burglars got some cash, too. It was in a drawer in her dressing table, and it was enough to stay out here at the inn until they can make arrangements to turn the jewelry into cash. I don’t really think they’d come to a small place like this, but I’ve got to cover the bases.”

“Then you’d better show those photos to the jeweler out in the mall. He buys antique jewelry and resells it.”

“I was planning to stop there after dinner if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Hannah said. She didn’t get out to the mall very much, and Andrea had mentioned a new cheese shop that had opened last week, and raved about the aged mozzarella she’d sampled.

Their waitress appeared a moment later, bearing two dessert bowls topped with whipped cream and chocolate curls. “This is Sally’s latest creation,” she explained, “and it’s on the house.”

“What is it?” Mike asked, not waiting for an answer before he spooned up a mouthful and tasted it.

“Mocha Trifle. Sally got the recipe from her friend Linda Sifuentes. She owns a bed and breakfast in Illinois. This is her original recipe.”

“Yum!” Hannah said, sparing no extra words in order to save her time for eating. The strong heady taste of the coffee complemented the smooth dark chocolate perfectly. The texture was nice with soft, moist cake and crunchy pecans, and the semi-sweet chocolate curls were a wonderful foil for the sweetness of the whipped cream.

“Sally says Linda calls it Death by Caffeine because you can’t stop eating it. And it only takes fifteen minutes to make if you buy the cake. Of course Sally doesn’t. She always makes her own sponge cake.” The waitress reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a printed recipe. “Here,” she said, handing it to Hannah. “Sally said you’d want it.”

“Sally’s right.” Hannah read through the recipe while the waitress poured their coffee, and then she set it on the table so that she could finish her dessert.

Mike reached for the recipe and quickly read through it. “I thought so!” he said.

“You thought what?”

“This calls for coffee liqueur and chocolate liqueur. I hope Sally’s not serving it to minors.”

“Of course she’s not!” Hannah said, frowning at him. “Sally and Dick are very careful about things like that.”

Mike looked slightly embarrassed. “I know that. I guess it’s just a case of once a cop, always a cop. Sometimes I take my work too seriously.”

You said it! Hannah wanted to say, but of course she didn’t. Mike already knew his faults, and he didn’t need her to point them out to him. “Have you ever had an alcohol-related complaint about the Lake Eden Inn?” she asked instead.

“Never. And I’m almost positive that no one coming from here has ever been pulled over for a D.U.I.” Mike tapped the recipe with his finger. “Can you make this?”

“I’m sure I can. It doesn’t look complicated since you layer everything in a trifle bowl.”

“Could you make it for me next Sunday?”

Hannah shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Lisa and I are really busy getting ready for Valentine’s Day, but it only takes fifteen minutes. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s a birthday party.”

Hannah swallowed hard. The last time she’d made something for Mike to take to a birthday party, the birthday girl had wound up dead. But she’d created plenty of other desserts for birthday parties since then, and no one else had experienced an unexpected and unwelcome last birthday. She was just being silly, borrowing trouble, acting paranoid, or all three of the above.

“How about it, Hannah? Will you?”

“Sure, I’ll do it,” Hannah agreed, convincing herself that nothing would happen if she made the trifle for Mike. “Booze? Or no booze?”

“You can make it without booze?”

“Of course. All I have to do is add an equal amount of liquid that’s as sweet and thick as liqueur. I could use coffee mixed with corn syrup for the coffee liqueur, and chocolate syrup for the chocolate liqueur.”

“But would it taste the same?”

“No, but it would still be good. So is it liqueur? Or no liqueur?”

“Liqueur. There isn’t that much in it, and there won’t be any kids. I’ll buy something down at the Municipal and drop it off tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Hannah said, hoping that the Lake Eden Municipal Liquor Store had a decent brand of liqueur. And then she asked the question that had been at the forefront of her mind ever since Mike had asked her to make the trifle for someone’s birthday. “Whose birthday is it?”

“It’s Bev’s. You know Doctor Bev, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Hannah said, leaving it at that. Of course she knew Beverly Thorndike. She’d met her the night that Norman had introduced his new partner to the Swensen family. She’d seen her a couple of times after that, but only in passing. Hannah didn’t really know her personally since she hadn’t been into the dental office to visit Norman since Doctor Bev had started working there. She certainly wasn’t interested in becoming a friend of the woman who’d changed her relationship with Norman!

“Norman asked me to organize something since she won’t be going home to her mother’s place until after her birthday,” Mike continued his explanation. “We thought she might be lonely having a birthday here in Lake Eden without some kind of celebration.”

Hannah was glad he hadn’t told her earlier, or she might have refused to make the trifle for Doctor Bev. The diabolical side of her mind told her that this could be the perfect opportunity to get rid of Norman’s new partner for good. That was when the practical side jumped in and pointed out that not only was it illegal to lace a birthday trifle with poison, it would be much too obvious who’d done it. The diabolical side was just suggesting less lethal but still nasty additives when Mike smiled and leaned across the table toward her.