Key Lime Pie Murder (10 page)

“Andrea told me it was five hundred dollars. Did you really pay that much?”

“You bet I did.”

Hannah turned to Norman. “And you charged him that much?”

“I didn’t charge him. That’s the price the judges set. All the photographs get auctioned off on the final day of the fair, and the money goes to charity. If you want to buy an entry before that, you have to pay the price the judges set.”

Hannah turned to Mike. “Why didn’t you wait for the auction? You might have gotten it cheaper.”

Mike shook his head. “It’s a silent auction and you only get one bid. Somebody could have outbid me and then I would have lost you.”

“Then you would have lost a photograph of me,” Hannah corrected him, “a photograph that your friend Norman took. I’m sure he would have made you a copy if you’d asked him.”

“I didn’t want to ask. You really look good in that picture, Hannah. You’ve got this…I don’t know…kind of dreamy expression on your face. I know you were thinking about me.”

Norman shook his head. “No, she wasn’t. She was thinking about me.”

Uh-oh! Hannah thought, Let the games begin. She had to stop them both in their tracks and there was only one way to do it.

“Wrong!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t thinking of either of you. I was remembering how Grandma Ingrid’s chocolate cashew pie tasted and wondering if I could make it.”

“It must have been really good,” Mike said, and Hannah could tell he didn’t completely believe her.

“It was. Unfortunately, she didn’t write down the recipe and I’m still trying to recreate it.”

“Let us know when you get it,” Norman said, giving her a look that told Hannah he hadn’t bought her explanation either.

Hannah mentally kicked herself as she wiped down the already immaculate counter. What on earth had possessed her to rave about a pie her grandmother had never baked? Was there such a thing as a chocolate cashew pie? Hannah had never heard of one, but now that she’d stuck her foot in her mouth, she’d better come up with a recipe.

“Did you buy it?” Lisa asked when Hannah came back from Beau Monde.

“Of course.”

“Are you going to wear it to the fair tonight?”

Hannah shook her head. “No. I’m going out there at seven to watch Michelle in the bathing suit competition, but nobody’s going to pay any attention to me. And later, when I judge the pies, I might spill something on it. It’s gorgeous, Lisa. When Claire says she has something that would look great on you, she means it.”

“I know. She picked out the dress I wore for the wedding. And that reminds me of Marge. Just so you won’t be surprised, Marge submitted a pie for the baked goods contest tonight.”

“She did?” Hannah was surprised. Marge baked wonderful cakes, but she wasn’t known for her pies. “What kind of pie did she bake?”

“She used one of Mom’s apple pie recipes. I couldn’t do it myself because I’m your partner and that makes me a professional baker. But Marge tasted it, and she thought it was so good she wanted to enter it.”

“I can hardly wait to taste it. But Lisa…I can’t give it any special consideration just because it’s your mother’s recipe.”

“I know that, and so does Marge. We just wanted to tell you that it was coming.”

“Thanks, Lisa.”

“Herb and I are going out to the fair at six with Marge and Dad. Do you want me to take the boxes of cookies to the Cookie Nook booth?”

“That would be great.” Hannah was glad to be relieved of the task. “Then I’ll have time to stop by the hospital and bring Edna some cookies.”

“I’ll pack them up for you. How many do you need?”

“Six dozen assorted ought to do it.”

Lisa’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s a lot of cookies for just one person.”

“Oh, it won’t be just one person. I told Doc’s secretary I’d bring cookies, and she’s probably told the nurses by now. They’ll be in and out of Edna’s room until the whole six dozen are gone. Edna’s going to get round-the-clock nursing care, even if she doesn’t need it.”

Hannah couldn’t seem to keep the smile off her face. Michelle had taken second place in the bathing suit competition, and she was proud of her baby sister. That was enough to make anyone smile, but she had a second reason. Hannah was having a great time tasting pies. She liked them almost as much as she liked cookies.

All in all, it had been a good day. Hannah cut off the tip of an entry, a piece of peach pie with a little vanilla custard in the filling. The crust was tender and flaky, the peaches still held their shape and weren’t overbaked, and the custard was so rich and creamy it could have gone solo and starred in its own pie.

“I take it you like this one?” Pam asked, pulling Hannah out of her reverie.

“Yes, it’s delicious.”

“We could tell. You were practically purring when you tasted it.” Pam turned to Willa. “What do you think?”

“I’m still deciding. I need another taste to be sure.” Willa ran one hand through her hair, a gesture Hannah had seen her make before when she was considering the merits of a particular entry. But instead of causing her hair to tangle, as it had in the past, Willa’s new layered haircut bounced right back into place.

“Have I told you I like your new haircut?” Hannah asked.

“Yes. I told Bertie I wanted a new look, and this is what she came up with. I really like it, too. And it’s a good thing I do, because I’m going to be eating nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the next month and a half.”

“That’s a new outfit, isn’t it?” Pam asked, turning from the sideboard, where she was cutting into the next pie, to look at Willa.

“Yes. Everybody down at the Cut n’ Curl said my new look wouldn’t be complete without a new outfit. I bought it this morning right after I got my hair done.”

“It’s a gorgeous dress,” Hannah said a bit enviously, “and it’s perfect for you. Claire has something like it down at Beau Monde.”

“Not anymore. I bought it.”

Hannah was surprised. Clothing at Claire’s boutique was expensive, even if you got a good neighbor discount the way she did. And everything Claire carried was classic. Willa’s new summer sundress was a throwback to the fifties with a circle skirt and a sleeveless top with a matching bolero jacket. It was made of polished cotton in a gorgeous shade of light coral that Hannah wished she could wear.

“New hair and a new dress?” Pam looked very surprised. “Did you come into some money you didn’t tell me about?”

“No. I put this on my credit card, and I’ll have my check from the beauty contest organizers before the bill comes in. I really hated to max out my card, but…I just had to do it.”

Pam cocked her head and gave Willa a scrutinizing look. “There’s got to be a man involved,” she said. “How about it, Willa?”

“There’s always a man involved, isn’t there?” Willa gave a little laugh.

Hannah could see that Willa was embarrassed. Her cheeks were turning pink. But Pam didn’t seem to want to let it go.

“Remember when we went to see Madame Zaar at the school carnival?” she asked Willa.

“Of course.” Willa looked a bit relieved, and Hannah could tell she thought that Pam had changed the subject. “I thought Mrs. Purvis was perfect as a fortune teller.”

“It was a great outfit,” Hannah agreed. The principal’s wife, Kathy Purvis, had looked so different in her costume that hardly anyone had recognized her.”

“She predicted that a tall, dark, handsome stranger would come into your life,” Pam reminded her with a grin. “I’ll have to tell her that she was right.”

“She wasn’t right. He hasn’t come into my life…at least not yet.”

Hannah watched as the color rose in Willa’s cheeks again. She was trying to be flippant, but it was obvious she didn’t want to discuss the man in question. To save her the discomfort of further probing by her supervising teacher, Hannah decided to change the subject. “Whoever he is, he’s going to love the color of your dress,” she said. “I wish I could wear that color, but my dad won’t let me.”

“Your dad?” Pam looked confused. “But…didn’t your father die a couple of years ago?”

“He did, but his red hair lives on through me. I can’t wear red, pink, maroon, coral, or peach unless I want to cause traffic accidents. I guess I’ll just have to eat my heart out. And speaking of eating…I’m ready for the next entry. How about you, Willa?”

“I’ll be ready just as soon as I fill out this scorecard.” Willa filled it out quickly and handed it to Pam. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s the next pie?”

“Key lime.”

Willa gave a little sigh. “I love key lime pie, but I bet it’s not made from real key limes.”

“Then you lose,” Pam said, flipping over the card. “It says so right here…key limes, freshly squeezed.”

“But are they really?” Willa wanted to know.

“Yes. Here’s a letter from the contestant. She says her daughter flew to Mexico on vacation and brought the key limes back with her.”

“Mexico?” Willa sounded surprised. “I thought key limes came from Florida.”

Hannah shook her head. “Not so much anymore. There are still a few growers down there, but key limes aren’t an easy crop to produce. They’re susceptible to all sorts of things. They grow much better in Mexico. If you see key limes in a grocery store, that’s probably where they’re from.”

“Here’s a photo,” Pam said, passing it over to them. “The little ones are key limes, and they’re right next to a lemon so you can see how small they are.”

“They look like Rainier cherries before they turn color, except they’re a little bigger. And I bet they’re harder to pick.”

“You’ve seen cherries growing?” Pam turned to look at her in surprise.

“Oh, yes. I learned more about cherries than I ever wanted to know when I was in Washington.”

“D.C.?” Hannah asked.

“Washington State. We picked cherries in the Yakima Valley for a couple of weeks. A Rainier cherry is a cross between a Bing cherry and a Van cherry. It was developed at Washington State University over fifty years ago, and the mother tree is still there.”

“I’ve heard of Rainier cherries,” Hannah said. “They’re sweeter than Bing cherries, aren’t they?”

“A lot sweeter. Washington State won’t let you sell cherries that aren’t at least seventeen brix. The orchard we worked for didn’t pick them until they were at least twenty brix.”

“Bricks?” Pam asked, looking totally puzzled.

“Brix with an X,” Hannah explained. “It’s a measure of sweetness. Peaches are around thirteen brix.”

Pam still looked puzzled. “What were you doing in Washington State?”

“Working. I took some time off and traveled with…a friend. And whenever we got low on money, we worked. Can we have that sample now, Pam? I want to see how sweet it is.”

“Okay,” Pam said, carrying the samples to the table and setting them down. “Let’s see if those key limes really make a difference.”

Willa looked down at hers and frowned. “Are you sure this is the right pie?”

“It said key lime on the entry form. Why?”

“I saw a lot of key lime pie when I was in Florida. I think it’s the state pie, or something like that. But those pies were green.”

Pam looked surprised. “You were in Florida, too?”

“Yes. We went down south during the winter and we stayed a while in Florida. Almost every restaurant has it on the menu down there.”

“It’s supposed to be only as green as key lime juice,” Hannah said, examining her slice. The key lime filling under the meringue was yellow with just a hint of green. It was exactly the way key lime pie was supposed to look.

“If you see a slice that’s green, the baker used food coloring,” Pam told Willa. “Some restaurants do that.”

Willa looked thoughtful. “That makes sense. It’s probably so the waitresses can tell at a glance that it’s not lemon meringue. The restaurant where I worked had both. I might have mixed them up if the key lime pie hadn’t been green.”

“This one’s a little more yellow than the others I’ve seen,” Hannah said, glancing down at her piece again. “I wonder how many egg yolks she used for the filling?”

Pam flipped the card over to read the recipe. “Two whole eggs plus three yolks. No wonder it looks so yellow.”

“I’ll bet it’s good,” Hannah said. “Let’s taste.”

For a long moment all was silent and then Hannah gave a blissful sigh. “Wonderful!”

“It’s real key lime pie,” Willa said, licking her lips. “It’s not quite as sweet as the one we served, and I like that.”

Pam agreed. “I’d say this is almost perfect. And the contestant’s made a little note here. She says that if you can’t find key limes, you can also make this pie with regular limes. The lime flavor won’t be quite as intense, but it’ll still be delicious.”

“Too bad she didn’t bake one with regular limes,” Willa said. “I’d like to taste the difference.”

Pam went back to the table and picked up three more plates. “She did. This one has regular lime juice.”

Again, there was silence as all three of them tasted. Hannah was the first to speak. “She’s right. The flavor from the regular limes isn’t as tangy, but it’s really delicious.”

“Agreed.” Willa gave a little nod. “I like her crust, too. It tastes like shortbread cookies.”

Pam looked up with a smile. “And the meringue is perfect. I’m giving it perfect scores right across the board.”

“Me, too,” Hannah said, handing over her scorecard.

“I’m with you two.” Willa handed in her scorecard. “It’s the best pie I’ve tasted tonight. How many more do we have to go?”

Pam got up to check. “The key lime was the last of the meringue pies. We’ve already done the one-crust pies with crumb toppings and the one-crust with whipped cream toppings like the pumpkin and the sweet potato.”

“Right.” Hannah leaned back and took a sip of water. “We did the latticework crust pies, too. The blueberry won, remember?”

“It was good,” Willa said. “Usually they’re much too sweet. And the first group we tasted was the two-crust fruit pies. Does that mean we’re through?”

“Not quite,” Pam answered her question. “We still have to taste the novelty pies.”

Hannah began to frown. “Wait a second. Lisa told me that Marge Beeseman entered an apple pie. I don’t remember tasting it.”

“Neither do I,” Willa said. “We tasted five apple pies, and none of them were hers.”