Apple Turnover Murder Part 4

"I don't know how to make apple turnovers."

Hannah let out a groan that would have awakened a hibernating bear. "But you promised Stephanie we'd make them."

"I know. Don't worry, Hannah. Marge makes the best apple turnovers I've ever tasted, and she told me it's easier than making pies. She baked over a hundred for our family reunion last year."

Hannah began to feel better immediately. Lisa's mother-in-law was an excellent cook and baker who never did anything fancy. She'd grown up on wholesome home-cooked meals and if she'd baked that many apple turnovers, it couldn't be that difficult to do.

"Will Marge teach us how to make them?" Hannah asked.

"I'm sure she will. I'll give her a call right now and ask. Knowing Marge, she'll probably offer to help us bake them and talk Aunt Patsy into coming along, too."

"That would be great. I'd feel a lot more confident if somebody knew what they were doing."

"Me too." Lisa gave a little smile. "Now I want you to stop worrying about the recipes and the baking, and think of all the money we're going to make on a gazillion apple turnovers!"

It was two in the afternoon and everything was coming up roses. Or at least it was coming up daisies, Hannah amended the old adage. There still weren't enough hours in the day to get everything done to her satisfaction, but Marge and Patsy had offered to help with the turnovers. They'd even suggested a plan. Since Marge's turnovers froze beautifully, they were going to start baking them tonight, right after The Cookie Jar closed for business. Jack, who'd convinced Marge that he was the fastest apple peeler in Minnesota history, would come with them to operate the old-fas.h.i.+oned apple peeler, corer, and slicer that his grandmother had used in her farm kitchen. Hannah would leave once everyone had arrived and drive to her condo to check on the cats and go out to The Corner Tavern with Mike, who'd stopped in at The Cookie Jar to tell her that no one had broken into Norman's house. What his neighbor had thought was a burglar was actually only a burned out lightbulb that Mike had replaced.

"I've got something for you to taste," Lisa called out, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of cookies.

"Chocolate Sugar Cookies?" Hannah guessed, gazing down at the sparkling grains of sugar on the dark chocolate cookies.

"Right. I called Dad and he read the recipe to me over the phone. I just thought I'd try them to make sure they were as good as I remembered."

Hannah bit into one of the still-warm cookies and gave a little sigh of contentment. She was about to take another bite when Jon Walker, the local druggist who'd come in for his early afternoon break, tapped her arm to get her attention.

"How about us?" he asked, making a sweeping gesture that included everyone seated at the counter. "We'll help you test those cookies."

Both Hannah and Lisa laughed. Their customers were always ready to critique new cookies. "Here you go," Lisa said, pa.s.sing the plate to Jon so that he could distribute them.

Stan Kramer, Hannah's accountant, was the first to comment. "Good crunch," he said.

"They're nice and b.u.t.tery," Bertie Straub, owner of Lake Eden's beauty parlor, the Cut 'n Curl, gave her a.s.sessment.

"And the chocolate is just right," Jon said. "It's dark, and sweet and..."

"Yummy!" Hannah finished the sentence for him.

Father Coultas, who was sitting at the end of the counter, gave Lisa the high sign. "I'd give it a ten out of ten," he said. "You'll bring some to our next bake sale, won't you, Lisa?"

Just then the bell on the front door tinkled and Andrea stepped in. As usual, she could have stepped off the cover of a fas.h.i.+on magazine. Her makeup was perfect, and her s.h.i.+ning blond hair was caught up in a barrette, a hairstyle that exposed the back of her slender neck and was perfect for a warm summer day. She was wearing a mint green dress with a full skirt that was decorated with wide black rickrack around the collar and hem. A black leather belt with a rickrack design nipped in Andrea's slim waist, and black leather sandals with tiny heels completed the outfit.

"What an adorable outfit!" Bertie said by way of greeting.

"Thanks, Bertie." Andrea gave her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and then she turned to Hannah. "Could I see you in the kitchen for a minute?"

Uh-oh! Hannah's mind shouted as her sisterly radar went on high alert. Something was definitely wrong. Although Andrea was smiling as she led the way to the kitchen, Hannah could tell by her sister's stiff posture that she was barely holding herself together.

"What is it?" Hannah asked, the moment the swinging, restaurant-style door had closed behind them.

"It's Bill!" Andrea took a deep breath and tried to control herself, but she seemed unable to keep up the facade and she dissolved in tears.

Hannah imagined the worst. "He's all right, isn't he? I mean...he didn't have an accident or anything, did he?"

Andrea shook her head, but she was crying so hard, she couldn't speak.

"You're shaking your head no." Hannah could have kicked herself for asking two opposing questions. "Does that mean no, Bill's not all right? Or no, Bill didn't have an accident?"

Andrea took another deep breath and swallowed noisily. "Bill didn't have an accident. And he's all right...but I'm not!"

"What's wrong with you?" Hannah asked, her anxiety growing. It was obvious that Andrea was very upset.

"I'm afraid Bill will make the wrong decision. Or maybe it'll be the right decision for him, but it'll turn out to be the wrong decision for me." Andrea sniffled and wiped her eyes with a tissue that was so wet and ragged, it was almost unrecognizable.

"Here," Hannah said, grabbing a stack of napkins from the supply cart against the wall and handing them to her sister.

"If he says yes, there aren't enough tissues in the whole world!" Andrea wailed, grabbing several napkins from the top of the stack and wiping her eyes.

This was a crisis of the highest magnitude. Hannah knew that because Andrea had just smeared both eyeliner and mascara. "Hold on," she said. "We need coffee."

It only took a moment for Hannah to fill two cups from the kitchen coffee pot and carry them to the workstation. Then she made another trip to the baker's rack beside the oven, scooped up a half-dozen of Lisa's Chocolate Sugar Cookies, and transferred them to a plate.

"Eat," she ordered, setting the plate in front of her sister.

"I'm not h...hungry."

Hannah could tell that more tears were imminent by the quaver in her sister's voice. "You don't have to be hungry. Just eat a cookie. It's medicinal."

The I'm-your-big-sister-and-I-know-best tone in Hannah's voice must have been convincing, because Andrea picked up a cookie and ate it. When the first cookie had disappeared, Hannah pushed the plate closer, and Andrea took another.

"Coffee," Hannah instructed, pointing to the mug she'd set in front of her sister. "Take a sip of coffee to wash down that second cookie, and then tell me all about it."

Andrea didn't argue. She just did as Hannah directed. And then she let out a quavering sigh. "It's Bill," she said, repeating what she'd said earlier.

"You told me that. What about Bill?"

"He's been..." Andrea stopped and cleared her throat. "He's been offered a new job!"

"As Managing Sheriff of the Tri-County Area?" Hannah hazarded a guess.

"No! That'd be wonderful. If they offered him that job, I'd want him to accept right away. But they didn't. And this job isn't wonderful. This job is just...just awful!"

"If it's that awful, he shouldn't take it," Hannah said reasonably.

"I know that. But I'm not sure Bill knows that. You see, it's almost double the money, and he'd have his own practically unlimited expense account. And the benefits are even better than the ones he has now."

Hannah began to frown. "I must be missing something here. What you just described sounds like everybody's dream job. What's so awful about it?"

"It's not the job that's so awful. It's just that it's for Tachyon."

"What's Tachyon?" Hannah asked, managing, somehow, to curb her impatience. Getting information from Andrea could be a long, painful process.

"It's a big security corporation. Bill got a call from them this afternoon and they offered him a job heading up their quality control division."

Hannah felt a bit like someone trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together without the picture on the cover of the box. Andrea was feeding her pieces of information, but she was far from seeing the whole picture. "Why is Tachyon interested in Bill?" she asked, hoping for another piece to help her complete the puzzle.

"They liked the work he did for them last year. Tachyon makes security devices, and they test them by sending out samples to law enforcement agencies all across the country. The feedback they get tells them how to make the products better."

Hannah remembered the security cameras that Mike had been testing. "Did Tachyon make the security cameras that Mike was testing for the department?"

"Yes. They make all sorts of things for home and office security. Bill brought home one of their touchpad locks, but that didn't work out for us."

"Why not?"

"Peanut b.u.t.ter gums up the whole thing and there's no good way to clean it out. Bill put that in his notes. Not recommended for families with small children. He was in charge of compiling all the reports from the Minnesota law enforcement agencies and transmitting them to Tachyon. They were so impressed with his suggestions they called him up to offer him the job."

"He didn't accept, did he?"

"No, but he hasn't turned them down yet, either." Andrea's eyes began to glisten and she blinked back fresh tears. "I know it's a great opportunity, but I don't want to move!"

She'd finally struck pay dirt with her questions! Hannah came close to shouting Eureka! but she managed to restrain herself. Instead she posed a question. "Why would you have to move if Bill takes the job with Tachyon?"

"Because they want him to work at headquarters, and Tachyon headquarters is in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I don't want to move away when my whole family is here in Lake Eden!"

"Of course you don't." Hannah reached out to pat her sister's hand.

"And...and besides, they've got crocodiles in Florida!"

"Alligators, not crocodiles," Hannah corrected her.

"Whatever. They're slimy green things with big teeth, and sometimes they even knock on the door. I saw that on the news. A woman went to answer the door and when she opened it, there was a big crocodile!"

"Alligator. I saw that, too."

"Then you can understand how I feel. What if Tracey answered the door. Or Bethie. She can turn the k.n.o.b now, and Grandma McCann can't kept an eye on her every minute of the day. If we moved to Florida, Bethie could end up being some crocodile's dinner!"

"Take it easy, Andrea." Hannah didn't bother making the alligator correction a third time. It didn't really matter what Andrea called the carnivorous swamp dweller. It was still scary, and Hannah could understand why Andrea was upset.

"You understand, don't you?" Andrea paused to take a deep breath. "I don't want to move. I just know I'd hate it there. But at the same time this could be a big career move for Bill, and I don't want to stand in his way."

"I understand perfectly," Hannah said, wondering what she'd do if she were faced with a similar dilemma. Andrea was caught between husband and family, torn between her duty and her desire. Hannah hadn't thought it could ever happen, but it made her own dilemma of trying to choose between the two men she loved seem practically trivial in comparison.

CHOCOLATE SUGAR COOKIES.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

2 cups melted b.u.t.ter (4 sticks, one pound) 4 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (I used Baker's) 2 cups powdered sugar (not sifted) 1 cup white sugar 2 eggs 2 teaspoons vanilla 1 teaspoon orange zest (optional) 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon cream of tartar (critical!) 1 teaspoon salt 4 cups flour (not sifted) cup white sugar in a small bowl (for later) Melt the b.u.t.ter and chocolate squares in a saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly, or in the microwave. (I melted mine in a quart measuring cup in the microwave on HIGH for 3 minutes.) Once the b.u.t.ter and chocolate are melted, stir them smooth, transfer them to a large mixing bowl, and add the powdered and white sugars. Stir thoroughly and set the mixture aside to cool.

When the mixture is cool enough so it won't cook the eggs, add the eggs, one at a time, stirring after each addition. (You can use an electric mixer at this point if you like.) Then mix in the vanilla, orange zest, (if you decided to use it) baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix it all up together.

Add flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. You don't have to be precise-just divide your flour into roughly 4 parts. (One very important reason for adding flour in increments is so that the whole mountain of flour won't sit there on top of your bowl and spill out all over the place when you try to stir it in.) Once the dough has been thoroughly mixed, roll one-inch dough b.a.l.l.s with your fingers. (You can also use a 2-teaspoon scooper to form the dough b.a.l.l.s). Dip the b.a.l.l.s in the bowl of white sugar and roll them around until they're coated.

Place the dough b.a.l.l.s on a greased cookie sheet, (I usually spray mine with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray,) 12 dough b.a.l.l.s to a standard-size sheet. Flatten the dough b.a.l.l.s a bit with your impeccably clean palm so that they won't roll off the cookie sheet on the way to the oven.

Bake the Chocolate Sugar Cookies at 325 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes. (Mine took 12 minutes.) Cool them on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove the cookies to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 7 to 8 dozen fudgy, melt-in-your-mouth, sugar cookies.

Chapter Five.

"Remind me not to order that again," Mike said, pulling into the alley that ran past the back of The Cookie Jar.

"You didn't like your peanut b.u.t.ter pepper burger?"

"It was...interesting."

Hannah laughed. "That word covers a mult.i.tude of put-downs."

"That's true." Mike pulled into the parking lot at the back of The Cookie Jar, parked next to Hannah's cookie truck, and grabbed the bag of burgers they'd brought for what Hannah thought of as the Beeseman-Herman clan. "Beautiful night," he said, looking up at the night sky.

"Yes." Hannah looked up at the myriad of stars s.h.i.+ning brilliantly overhead. After a day that had topped the eighties, the temperature had dropped to the low seventies and the air felt cool, a rarity in Minnesota where the difference between the high and low in the summer was seldom more than a few degrees.

There was a low sound as Hannah pa.s.sed Herb's cruiser. It was midway between a whimper and a bark, and she moved a few steps closer. The windows were down, and she could see Herb and Lisa's puppy on a rug in the back bench seat. "Hi, Dillon," she said. "What are you doing out here all alone?"

Dillon stared at her with sad puppy-dog eyes, and Hannah would have reached in to pet him, but she knew that Herb was training him and she didn't want to break any rules. "I'll come back with a treat," she promised, "if Daddy says it's all right."

"Poor little guy's probably lonely out here," Mike said. "Why don't you ask Herb if he can come in?"

"I would if you weren't here. It's against health board regulations."

"I'm not the health board."

"Then it's okay?"

"It's okay by me. Besides, Herb's training him to be a police dog. Police dogs can go anywhere they're needed."

"And Dillon is needed inside?"

"I'd say so. Somebody might break in and try to steal those apple turnovers you're making. If that happens, Herb and I might need a little police dog a.s.sistance."

Hannah gave Mike an approving look. When he'd first come to Lake Eden, he'd been a "by-the-book" cop. He'd moved here from Minneapolis, and big city police departments had to be stricter and their officers were expected to follow regulations to the letter. It had taken quite a while for Mike to learn that things were more relaxed in Lake Eden, and the rules were tempered by common sense.