Peach Cobbler Murder (5 page)

“Here comes Daddy!” Tracey called out as Bill Todd, the new Winnetka County Sheriff, came in the front door. Sheriff Todd was accompanied by his former partner and the man who made Hannah’s pulse approximate a ragged drumroll, detective Mike Kingston.

“Are we too late?” Mike asked.

“Just in time,” Lisa said, dishing up two more bowls. Correctly interpreting that Hannah had been rendered momentarily speechless by the warm smile of greeting Lake Eden’s most-wanted bachelor had given her, Lisa told both men to pull up chairs by Delores and Carrie, who’d dashed in from Granny’s Attic next door. Winthrop Harrington the Second, Hannah’s mother’s significant other, sat between Delores and Carrie, and Norman, who’d dropped in between dental appointments, completed the roster of taste testers.

“You’re here to compare our peach cobbler with the peach cobbler they serve at the Magnolia Blossom Bakery,” Lisa repeated the instructions Hannah had given the others. “We need to know if you think it’s better, the same, or not as good.”

”Like anybody’s going to say it’s not as good with Aunt Hannah sitting right here,” Tracey said with a giggle, earning a stern look from her mother. “Sorry, Mommy. I know we’re supposed to give our honest opinion, or it won’t help. Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Bill pulled his chair in next to Tracey and gave her a kiss. Then he accepted his bowl from Lisa and dug right in.

“Yours is better,” Mike said, after taking only one bite. “Their peaches are too mushy.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Bill added. “Theirs taste like canned, but yours taste like fresh. Where did you get fresh peaches in February?”

“I didn’t. They’re frozen. The trick is not letting them thaw all the way before you bake them.”

“I must remember to tell my cook that technique when I return to England.” Winthrop gave Hannah a cordial smile. “It’s brilliant, my dear. And your peach cobbler is simply exquisite.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said in her best effort to be gracious. Winthrop had been the soul of geniality at their infrequent meetings, but she just couldn’t seem to warm up to him. She still missed her father and seeing Delores with anyone else was a jolt.

“I think your spices are just right, dear,” Delores offered up her opinion.

“Perfect,” Carrie agreed. “Their cobbler has so much cinnamon, you can’t even tell you’re eating peaches. It could be . . . practically anything at all.”

”Soda crackers,” Jack Herman said, winking at Lisa.

“What?” several in the group chorused.

“Soda crackers,” Jack Herman repeated. “Lisa’s mother used to make something called ‘Mock Apple Pie.’ It used soda crackers and there wasn’t an apple in it.”

Hannah noticed that Lisa, Marge, and Herb all turned to smile at Jack warmly and that made her feel good. The experimental drug-testing program was working. It wasn’t a cure. He still had Alzheimer’s and nothing could change that. But his memory had improved and it was no longer such a struggle for him to communicate.

“You know that recipe, don’t you, Hannah?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t think so. But apples are available all year in Minnesota. Why would anyone want to make a mock apple pie when they could use real apples?”

”Just to see if they could,” Norman answered promptly. “It’s like training a dog to walk on his hind legs. It’s not that he can do it well . . . it’s that he can do it at all.”

“Samuel Johnson. But it wasn’t a dog,” Hannah countered remembering the story of the woman preacher and bristling slightly.

“Tracey has that book, but there’s nothing in it about dog training,” Andrea said, looking confused.

“What book?”

“Sam Johnson and the Blue Ribbon Quilt. It’s a picture book Mother gave her. It’s about a man who loves to quilt.”

Hannah and Norman locked eyes. The message that flashed between them was clear. Neither one of them wanted to embarrass Andrea by explaining that they’d been referring to Dr. Samuel Johnson, not a character in a children’s book. Hannah was fairly certain that the closest their eighteenth-century literary figure had come to quilting was to sleep under one.

“Sounds like a good book,” Hannah said, because the silence that greeted Andrea’s remark was deafening.

“I liked it a lot when I was little,” Tracey spoke up. Then she picked up her bowl and turned to Lisa. “Can I have seconds, Aunt Lisa? It’s really good!”

Lisa scooped more cobbler into Tracey’s bowl and went around the table with second helpings. When she reached Bill, he watched while she broke the crust with the tip of her serving spoon and lifted it out to top the peaches in his bowl. “What’s the topping? It tastes a little like something I’ve had before.”

“It is,” Hannah said with a laugh. “It’s a variation of the topping on your mother’s coffee cake. I tried to think of what qualities I wanted, and that was the first taste that popped into my mind.”

“Is that how you come up with new recipes?” Carrie wanted to know.

“Yes. I always start out thinking about what it should be and go from there. I decided that this topping should be halfway between a sugar cookie and a sweet biscuit.”

“That’s exactly what you got,” Marge said, plunging her spoon into the topping and smiling as it gave a satisfying crunch. “It’s just perfect, Hannah. Really.”

“Let’s start the poll,” Herb suggested, taking out the small notebook he carried in his pocket to write down the license plate numbers of cars that failed to observe city traffic regulations. The first time a plate number appeared in Herb’s notebook, the owner got a warning. But if the plate number reappeared, Herb issued a ticket. “The three categories are better, the same, or not as good?” He turned to Lisa for confirmation.

“That’s right. Let’s start with you, Herb. What did you think?”

”Better. I’ll mark myself down.” “Mike?” Lisa continued, going around the table in order.

“A lot better.”

Mike looked over at Hannah with a smile. Hannah smiled back politely, hoping he hadn’t heard her heart thudding in her chest. Mike might think that flattery could get him everywhere and perhaps it could with most women, but Hannah wasn’t about to melt down into a little puddle of gratitude every time he decided to pay attention to her.

“If theirs is a one, Hannah’s is a ten,” Bill said.

“Much, much better,” Delores said, turning to smile at Hannah. “The quilting club ladies are going to just love it, especially when I tell Regina that you got the idea for the topping from her coffee cake. It’s good of you to give her credit, dear. Some people wouldn’t, you know.”

Hannah basked in her mother’s approval. It didn’t come that often and when it did, she enjoyed it immensely. Then she noticed that Delores had cleaned her bowl until it was practically spotless. For the woman who believed that it was polite to leave a few morsels on her plate, this was high praise indeed!

One by one, Lisa went around the table and Herb jotted down the answers. The unanimous result was no surprise to anyone. Hannah’s peach cobbler won, hands-down, over Vanessa and Shawna Lee’s signature dessert.

“You might know it,” Bill said, as his cell phone chimed. He glanced down at the readout on the screen and frowned. “We’ve got to run, Hannah. There’s a three-car pileup out on the interstate.”

That was the signal to break up the party. Winthrop left along with Bill and Mike, and Delores and Carrie pushed back their chairs.

“We left Luanne to run the store,” Carrie explained, “and she hasn’t had her break yet.”

“Thanks for coming,” Hannah smiled at both of them. “I’ll see you out.’

Lisa put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “Sit. I’ll walk your mother and Carrie to the kitchen and give them the bowl of peach cobbler is set aside for Luanne.”

Once Lisa was back, Hannah smiled at the friends who were left. “You’ve really been a big help. And as long as you think my peach cobbler is good just the way it is, I’ll write up the final version and put it in my recipe book.”

“What are you going to call it, Aunt Hannah?” Tracey asked.

“I haven’t even thought about that.” Hannah knew Tracey wouldn’t have broached the subject of naming the peach cobbler unless she had something in mind. “What do you think I should call it?”

“Minnesota Peach Cobbler. That way people will know it’s from here, and not from someplace else.”

“Good idea,” Hannah said, giving her niece a thumbs-up. The name was pure genius and it tapped directly into the issue of Minnesota pride. Only a traitor would prefer Southern Peach Cobbler to something from his or her home state.

“Do you think we should have some Minnesota Peach Cobbler at the reception?” Herb asked Lisa.

“That would be wonderful, but Hannah might be too busy to . . . “

“I’ll do it,” Hannah promised, interrupting her partner’s attempt to lighten the wedding workload. She was already making two kinds of cookie cakes, but she’d gladly bake all the desserts for the buffet table if that’s what Lisa and Herb wanted.

“Could you bake one for me tomorrow?” Jack Herman asked. “Marge is taking me in for my final dose of brain juice, and I want to give something nice to the nurses.”

“Brain juice is what Dad calls the drug cocktail they give him in the clinical trial,” Lisa explained, even though everyone had guessed what Jack meant.

“My memory gets better after I take it, and there’s only one drawback as far as I can tell.”

“What’s that?” Andrea asked.

“It makes me remember all the dumb things I did before I took it.”

“That’s ridiculous, Jack.” Marge was the first to defend him. “Your memory wasn’t the best before. We all know that. But you’ve never done anything dumb.”

“Oh yes, I have. And it’s something I’m probably going to regret for the rest of my life.”

Jack looked very serious and Hannah reached out to pat his arm. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is. Tell us about it and maybe we can help.”

“I don’t think anyone can help. You can’t unring a bell.”

“I know that one!” Tracey spoke up. “I heard a lawyer use it on Court TV, but the judge ruled against him.”

“What particular bell are you talking about?” Hannah asked, quite amazed that Lisa’s father was speaking figuratively. Before the clinical trial had begun, Jack had taken everything literally.

“I was so excited that Lisa and Herb were getting married, I invited someone who wasn’t on Lisa’s guest list.”

“That’s okay, Dad,” Lisa was quick to assure him. “There’s always room for one more . . . right, Andrea?”

“Absolutely,” Andrea responded with a smile. “Don’t concern yourself for a second, Jack. St. Peter’s can seat over two hundred and I reserved the whole restaurant at the Lake Eden Inn for the buffet reception.”

“Oh, I figured there’d be room for one more at the church and the reception. That’s not the problem. It’s just . . . I don’t think Lisa wants this person at her wedding.”

Lisa gave a merry little laugh. “I don’t know who you could be talking about, Dad. I invited practically everyone in Lake Eden already.”

“Not this one. I checked the list.”

“Really?” Lisa frowned slightly. “Well . . . if I forgot someone we know, it’s probably a good thing you remembered. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

Andrea set her laptop computer on the table, unzipped the carrying case, and powered it up. “Really, it’s no problem, Jack. Just let me pull up the file. This laptop comes in so handy. I absolutely couldn’t live without it!”

Hannah just shook her head. Although there were things she’d hate to lose, food and oxygen were the only two she absolutely couldn’t live without.

“Here we are. I pulled up the guest list,” Andrea announced, after a symphony of important-sounding multitoned beeps. “Just give me the name and I’ll add it. And then I’ll hand-deliver an invitation this afternoon.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Jack glanced at his daughter. “You’re not going to like this.”

Lisa gave him a reassuring smile. “Sure I am. One more guest is no trouble at all, and I like everyone in town. Who is it?”

“Someone I invited before I knew I shouldn’t.”

“I understand, Dad. Just tell us who is it.”

Jack took a deep breath and let it out again. Then he cleared his throat and complied. “Shawna Lee Quinn.” And when Lisa’s smile slipped, he said, “I’m sorry, honey. I knew you weren’t going to like it.”

MINNESOTA PEACH COBBLER

Preheat over to 350 degree F., rack in the middle position.

Note: Don’t thaw your peaches before you make this — leave them frozen.

Spray a 13-inch by 9-inch cake pan with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray.

10 cups of frozen sliced peaches (approximately 2 ½ pounds, sliced) 1/8 cup lemon juice (2 Tablespoons) 1 ½ cups white sugar (granulated) ¼ teaspoon salt ¾ cup flour (no need to sift) ½ teaspoon cinnamon ½ cup melted butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

Measure the peaches and put them in a large mixing bowl. Let them sit on the counter and thaw for 10 minutes. Then sprinkle them with lemon juice and toss.

In another smaller bowl combine white sugar, alt, flour, and cinnamon. Mix them together with a fork until they’re evenly combined.

Pour the dry mixture over the peaches and toss them. (This works best if you use your impeccably clean hands.) Once most of the dry mixture is clinging to the peaches, dump them into the cake pan you’ve prepared. Sprinkle any dry mixture left in the bowl on top of the peaches in the pan.

Melt the butter. Drizzle it over the peaches. Then cover the cake pan tightly with foil.

Bake the peach mixture at 350 degrees F. for 40 minutes. Take it out of the oven and set it on a heat-proof surface, but DON’T TURN OFF THE OVEN!

TOP CRUST:

1 cup flour (no need to sift) 1 cup white sugar (granulated) 1 ½ teaspoons baking powder ¼ teaspoon cinnamon ½ teaspoon salt ½ stick softened butter (1/4 cup, 1/8 pound) 2 beaten eggs (just stir them up in a glass with a fork)

Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt in the smaller bowl you used earlier. Cut in the softened butter with a couple of forks until the mixture looks like coarse cornmeal. Add the beaten eggs and mix them in with a fork. For those of you who remember your school library with fondness, the result till resemble library paste but it’ll smell a whole lot better! (If you have a food processor, you can also make the crust using the steel blade and chilled butter cut into 4 chunks.)