Cherry Cheesecake Murder (30 page)

“She doesn’t, at least not as far as I know. I’m talking about stockbroker in the original sense of the term. Each year Mrs. Henderson auctions off her prizewinning cattle. And each year she gets far less than she should for such magnificent animals. I told her I’d handle the cattle auctions for her and my salary would come from the extra profit we’d make.”

There was no way Hannah could hide her smile. It seemed as if Winnie had attracted yet another man with her gooseberry pie. She just hoped that Connor was as honest as he seemed and his time in prison had nothing to do with a conviction for fraud, or embezzlement, or…

“Since you’re Winnie’s friend, you probably want to know why I was in prison,” Connor said, leaning across the table to lock eyes with Hannah. “It doesn’t sound good and I’m the first to admit it. I almost killed the guy who beat up my baby sister and left her for dead.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment and then she reached out to pat Connor’s hand. “I’d probably be tempted to do the same to anyone who hurt Michelle.”

“Thanks, but just knowing that should shoot me to the top of your suspect list. I was really angry with Dean and I admit that I thought about landing a few punches. I controlled my anger by driving out to Winnie’s farm, but she wasn’t home and I don’t have any way of proving where I was when the revolver was switched.”

Ross spoke up, “Maybe not, but you do have a way of proving where you weren’t. And that wasn’t anywhere near Granny’s Attic or the set.”

Both Hannah and Connor turned to look at Ross. They’d been so intent on their conversation, they’d almost forgotten he was sitting in the booth with them.

“I had Frances make a list of everyone who came in the door,” Ross said, “and your name isn’t on it. You weren’t there so you couldn’t have done it.”

Connor looked very pleased to hear that. “Then…I’m off the suspect list?”

“That’s right. And you don’t have to worry about anyone else holding your prison record over your head. Michelle gave me the personnel file Dean kept on you, and I shredded it.”

Hannah started to smile. She was proud of her baby sister. Maybe Michelle shouldn’t have absconded with Connor’s personnel file, but it had all turned out right in the end.

“Now, how about dessert?” Ross continued, turning to Hannah. “Sally’s got a terrific lemon torte, and she told me you gave her the recipe.”

“I did. My Grandma Ingrid used to make it and I haven’t had it for ages.”

“This might be the night for memories,” Ross said, capturing Hannah’s hand under the table.

“Perhaps,” Hannah said, doing her best to downplay the tingles that ran from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, and concentrate on something that was supposed to be more important…solving Dean’s murder.

When Hannah emerged from the dining room and turned down the hall that led to the ladies’ room, she found Amber Coombs waiting for her.

“Thank goodness!” Amber said, giving a sigh of relief. “I thought you’d never leave that booth!”

“You were waiting for me?”

“Yes. Sally said you were investigating…”

“I’m not really investigating,” Hannah broke in. “I leave that up to the…”

“Professionals,” Amber supplied the word before Hannah could say it. “That’s what you always say, but we all know better. I talked to Sally and she said to tell you what I overheard when I delivered coffee to Mr. Lawrence’s office on Wednesday morning.”

Hannah motioned toward the door of the ladies’ room. “Step into my office and tell me all about it.”

The ladies’ room at the Lake Eden Inn was spacious. Sally had placed several chairs around a round table opposite the sinks and the mirrors, and there was even a phone on the wall. Hannah had spent too many minutes thinking about how that phone might be used. She’d come up with several scenarios, including a woman on an unpleasant date who might use it to call a taxi and leave before her escort could become any more unpleasant.

“Have a chair,” Hannah said, taking a quick peek in the other room to make sure they were completely alone and then sitting in the chair directly opposite the teenage waitress she was now beginning to think of as her informant. “Why did you take coffee to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer?”

“He forgot to pick up the thermos Sally had at the desk for him. And since I was scheduled to work breakfast and I had a car, Sally asked me to run it into town for her.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, pulling her shorthand notebook from her purse and flipping it to the right page. “What time did you get to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer?”

“Eight-thirty. I was listening to KCOW radio and Kelly was just about to bang the gong for the half-hour when I pulled in and parked.”

Hannah jotted down the time and decided not to ask about the gong. Jake and Kelly were the half-comedy, half-news team who hosted KCOW’s News at O’Dark-Thirty, and they could get a bit strange. “What happened next?”

“Well, I got out of the car with the thermos and the first thing I heard was yelling. It was coming from the trailer and I recognized Mr. Anson’s voice.”

“Are you absolutely positive it was Mr. Anson?” Hannah asked, her pen poised over the page.

“Oh, I’m sure. And I saw him leave a couple of minutes later, so that proves it.”

That was good enough for Hannah and she jotted down Burke Anson’s name. “And Mr. Lawrence was in his trailer at that time?”

“Oh, yes. He was yelling too. That’s why I waited to knock on the door. I didn’t want to go inside in the middle of a fight.”

“A wise decision,” Hannah said, hoping that Amber had overheard something useful. “So you sat in your car and waited?”

“That’s right. But I did something I’m a little ashamed of. I left the door open a little so I could listen.”

“Of course you did!”

“But I know I shouldn’t have done that. I was eavesdropping on a private conversation and that’s never nice.”

“Of course it’s not, but I don’t think you could find a single person in Lake Eden who wouldn’t have done exactly what you did.” Hannah stopped to give Amber an encouraging smile. “And you had a good reason for listening.”

“I did?”

“Absolutely. You had to know when Dean and Burke stopped yelling so that you could deliver the coffee.”

“That’s right.” Amber smiled right back. “I really like the way you think, Miss Swensen.”

Hannah glanced down at her notebook. “All right. While you were sitting in your car waiting for them to end their altercation, what did you hear?”

“Mostly it was just yelling at each other about who did something. You know how that goes.”

“I probably do, but tell me anyway.”

“Mr. Anson was saying, ‘I know you did it, Dean!’ And Mr. Lawrence was saying, ‘You’re crazy. I had nothing to do with it.’”

“Did you ever find out what they were arguing about?”

“Not really. It just went back and forth after that and each time it got louder. Mr. Anson kept telling Mr. Lawrence to remember last Tuesday, and Mr. Lawrence kept saying that he had nothing to do with it.”

Hannah jotted down Last Tuesday with a question mark. “And they never mentioned what happened last Tuesday?”

“Not once. But something must have, Miss Swensen. They were sure hot under the collar about it. The only other thing that Sally thought you might want to know is what Mr. Anson said right before he stormed out of Mr. Lawrence’s trailer.”

Hannah leaned forward, her pen poised to record something of great import. “What did he say?”

“If I find out you did it, you’re going to pay!”

“Okay, Amber.” Hannah jotted down Burke’s final threat and returned the notebook to her purse. “Thanks a lot for telling me.”

After Amber left, Hannah just sat there for a minute, thinking about what she’d learned. The fight between Burke and Dean was interesting, but it didn’t shed any real light on Dean’s murder. Burke certainly hadn’t switched the prop gun for a real one, not when he was about to hold it up to his own head and pull the trigger. It had to be someone else, perhaps another person who was involved in whatever had happened the previous Tuesday. She’d ask Ross about that and if Ross didn’t know, she’d ask Michelle to quiz the other members of the crew about it.

LEMON CREAM TORTE

Preheat oven to 250 degrees F., rack

in the middle position

(Not a misprint—two hundred and

fifty degrees F.)

Hannah’s Note: Try to choose a day when the humidity is low to bake this. Meringues don’t crisp up as well if the air is too humid.

Meringue:

4 egg whites (reserve the yolks in a bowl for the filling)

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Cover a cookie sheet with parchment paper. (You can use brown parcel-wrapping paper, but parchment works best.) Draw two 8-inch diameter circles on your paper, using a round 8-inch cake pan as a guide. Spray the paper with Pam, or other non-stick cooking spray, and sprinkle it lightly with flour.

Beat the egg whites until they are stiff enough to hold a soft peak. Add 2/3 cup of the sugar gradually, sprinkling it in and beating hard (on high speed with an electric mixer) after each sprinkling. Pour in the vanilla extract and sprinkle in the rest of the sugar (1/3cup.) Mix it in very gently (on low speed with an electric mixer), or fold in with an angel food cake whisk until the meringue is smooth.

Spoon half the meringue neatly into one of the 8-inch circles. Smooth the top—it should be about ¾ inch thick. Spoon the remaining meringue into the second circle and smooth the top.

Bake at 250 degrees F. for one hour, or until slightly golden on top and the surface is hard when touched.

Cool completely on the cookie sheet on a wire rack.

When the meringues are cool, gently loosen them by peeling off the paper. Put them back on the paper loose, and move them to a cool, dry place. (A dark cupboard is fine—The refrigerator is NOT FINE.)

Filling:

4 egg yolks

½ cup white (granulated) sugar

3 Tablespoons lemon juice

2 teaspoons lemon zest (finely grated peel—just the yellow part)

½ cup whipping cream

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

¼ cup white (granulated) sugar (you’ll use ¾ cup total in the filling)

Beat the egg yolks with ½ cup sugar until smooth. Add the lemon juice and zest.

Cook in the top of a double boiler, over gently boiling water, until the egg yolk mixture is smooth and as thick as mayonnaise. (That’s a little thicker than gravy and takes about 3 minutes or so.) Move the top part of the double boiler to a cold burner and let the mixture cool while you complete the rest of the recipe.

Pour the vanilla into the cream. Whip the cream just until it holds a peak. Don’t overbeat. Beat in the remaining ¼ cup sugar. Slowly stir the whipped cream mixture into the warm lemon mixture until you have a light, smooth sauce. (Lick the spoon—it’s yummy!) Cover it and refrigerate the sauce until you’re ready to serve.

To assemble, get out the meringues and the lemon filling. Decide which meringue looks best and set that aside for the top. Place the other meringue on a cake plate.

Spoon half of the lemon filling over the top of the meringue on the cake plate. Spread it with a rubber spatula so it’s almost out to the edge.

Put the best-looking meringue on top. Spoon the rest of the lemon filling on top of that meringue and spread it out with a rubber spatula.

To serve, cut pie-shaped wedges at the table and transfer them to dessert plates. This is a light, sugary but tart, totally satisfying summer dessert.

Yield: Serves 4 to 6 people (unless you invite Carrie—she always has thirds.)

Another Note From Hannah: This dessert is certainly yummy, but it’s not gorgeous. When Sally serves it at the Lake Eden Inn, she slices it in the kitchen because the meringues tend to crumble. Then she puts it on a beautiful dessert plate or in a cut glass dessert bowl, tops it with a generous dollop of sweetened whipped cream, and places a paper-thin lemon slice on top to make it look fancy.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Delores asked. Her mother’s question yanked Hannah out of the contented daydream she’d slipped into after finishing the baking and back to reality, where she was sitting across from Delores in the kitchen of The Cookie Jar. Since telling her mother that she’d been thinking about Ross, the fun they’d had the previous evening, and the possibility of more fun in the future might encourage her matchmaking matriarch much too much, Hannah pretended she hadn’t heard. “What did you say, Mother?”

“Why were you smiling like that?”

“Smiling like what?”

“Like the cat that got into the cream pot.”

Hannah’s ears perked up. It was another Regency expression from the mother who’d been spouting them left and right for the past few weeks. In less time than it took to mix up a batch of Oatmeal Raisin Crisps, Delores had used three Regency expressions and the cat and the cream pot counted as the fourth. She’d said high in the instep to describe someone who was snooty, she’d called the new sweater she’d bought all the crack to mean that it was fashionable, and she’d explained that one of her customers had suffered an attack of the megrims when she went into a severe depression over her daughter’s divorce. Hannah was used to hearing Regency expressions for a day or two after a meeting of the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club, but the meeting this month had been canceled so that the members could try out for parts in the movie.

“What’s with all this Regency-speak?” Hannah asked, answering a question with a question in an effort to throw off her mother’s game.

“It’s just so much more colorful, isn’t it?” Delores also answered a question with a question, and mother and daughter began to volley.

“Do you really think so?” Hannah lobbed the question ball right back over the net. She must have landed a good one, because her mother didn’t reply. “So how many Regency expressions do you think you know?”

“Hundreds, I’m sure,” Delores answered, not even trying for a return.

Hannah felt the thrill of victory. She’d served and scored on that last question. But just as she was relishing her win, a dire thought crept into her mind. Delores had a computer, and she was using a lot of Regency expressions. Had her mother found another Englishman who piqued her interest, perhaps someone she’d met in some international chat room on the Internet? Delores had already shown that she wasn’t such a good judge of character when it came to handsome Englishmen who liked to dance.