Key Lime Pie Murder (18 page)

While your sausage is browning, cut the crusts from the slices of bread. (You can either save the crusts to feed to the birds, or throw them away, your choice.) Cut the remaining bread into one-inch cubes. Toss them into the bottom of your casserole or cake pan.

Drain the fat from your sausage. Put the drained sausage on top of the bread cubes in the casserole. (Mother used to save the fat from sausage or bacon for Dad—he used it for frying eggs when he had one of his penny-ante poker nights.)

Sprinkle the grated cheese over the top of the sausage.

Sprinkle the chopped onions over the cheese.

Sprinkle the chopped green peppers on top of the onions.

(Or, if you like things spicy, substitute 1/4 cup chopped jalapeños.)

Whisk the eggs with the salt, milk, half-and-half or cream, and prepared mustard in a bowl by hand, or beat them with an electric mixer.

Pour the egg mixture over the top of the casserole, cover it tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate it overnight.

(Michelle says that now you can sleep soundly because you know you’ve got breakfast almost ready to go in the morning.)

The Next Morning, 2 hours before you want to serve breakfast:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

Take the casserole from the refrigerator and remove the plastic wrap. Place it on a baking sheet with sides, if you have it. A jellyroll pan will work beautifully.

Mix the condensed cream of mushroom soup, the sherry (or equivalent,) and the drained, sliced mushrooms in a mixing bowl.

Pour the mushroom mixture over the top of the casserole.

Bake the casserole for 1 1/2; hours at 350 degrees F.

Remove the casserole from the oven and let it stand for 10 minutes to set up before serving.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Michelle told me that she once used some of her roommate’s leftover champagne instead of the sherry and it was really good. I didn’t ask her how her underage roommate got the champagne in the first place.

“But do you really think I’m qualified to do it?” Lisa asked, taking the last two trays of cookies out of the oven and sliding them onto the baker’s rack.

“You’re every bit as qualified as I am. You’ve been baking all your life.”

“But so have you. And your life is a lot longer than mine.” Lisa stopped and made a face. “That was tactless, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not exactly the guru of diplomacy, myself.”

Lisa giggled and Hannah was reminded again of how young she was. Her partner was a study in contradictions. There were times when she was amazingly mature and responsible, especially when it came to the business, her recent marriage, and her father’s care. But there were other times when Lisa still acted like the twenty-year-old she was. There had been several occasions over the past two years when Hannah had come in to find her partner dancing around the workstation with a broom as her partner, humming, Some Day My Prince Will Come.

“So you think I should do it?” Lisa asked again.

“I do. What does Herb think?”

“The same as you. Of course Herb thinks I can do anything, except…” Lisa paused and began to frown. “I was going to say that I’ll be on the judging panel if you’ll do a favor for me. But that’s not really fair, is it?”

“Not really, but of course I’ll be glad to do whatever…” Hannah stopped speaking in midpromise. The last time she’d promised a favor without knowing what it was, Andrea had tricked her into chaperoning a group of her high school girlfriends at a rock concert.

“You were about to make a blanket promise, but you changed your mind, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly. I’ll do it, whatever it is, as long as your favor doesn’t involve a rock concert, or physical pain. And come to think about it, they could be the same thing.”

Lisa laughed. “No rock concert and no physical pain. Unless…are you claustrophobic?”

“I don’t think so. I can hide in a closet, no problem. I’ve done it a couple of times when I was snooping. And I’ve wiggled under my bed on my stomach to fish out one of Moishe’s toys.”

“Oh, good! Then you’re definitely not claustrophobic,” Lisa said, sounding very relieved. “I am.”

“Claustrophobic?”

“Yes. I didn’t know it until I volunteered to be Herb’s assistant and then it was too late. I didn’t want him to think I’d lost confidence in his ability to do the trick. It’s just…the minute he closes that box, I’m absolutely terrified.”

“You’re talking about the lady in the box that the magician saws in half?”

“No. That one doesn’t bother me at all, but it’s really an expensive setup and we’re still saving up for it. As long as my head’s out, I’m fine. It’s just the sword trick that gets to me.”

“Hold on,” Hannah said as a dreadful vision flashed through her mind. She pictured herself blindfolded and shackled in front of a wooden backdrop while an insane magician threw daggers at her. She could understand the terrified part, especially since Herb had never been able to hit the broad side of a barn when they’d played softball in high school. But that wouldn’t make Lisa claustrophobic, would it? Perhaps she’d gotten her tricks mixed up.

“What?” Lisa asked, watching the expressions cross Hannah’s face.

“You said sword, not dagger, right?”

“Right.”

Hannah came close to sighing in relief, but she knew she wasn’t safe quite yet. “Will you describe the trick for me?” she asked.

“The assistant gets in the box and the magician closes it up. It’s like an old-fashioned wooden coffin standing upright, and it’s called the magic cabinet. The assistant gets in the position that’s printed on the inside of the lid. It’s really easy, Hannah. There are little handholds and footholds and everything. You really can’t do it wrong.”

That remains to be seen, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. “Then what happens?” she asked.

“Then Herb pokes these long swords all the way through the box. He leaves them in and by the time he’s through, you think it’s impossible for the assistant to survive. But she does, and that’s because she gets into the right position before he starts poking in the swords.”

“It’s an optical illusion?”

Lisa shrugged. “I’m not really sure how it works. All I know is that every time I get inside and Herb shuts the door, I have to bite my lips to keep from screaming for him to let me out. I’m really relieved that he doesn’t want me to do it for amateur night. But I promised I’d try to find him a replacement assistant.”

“You said Herb doesn’t want you to do it?”

“That’s right. We showed the trick to Dad and Marge last night, and they said it would be better if Herb found someone else.”

“Why?”

“I’m too little. It’s a big coffin…I mean, box, and they thought the audience would be more impressed with Herb’s act if we found a really big woman to be his assistant.” Lisa stopped and gave a little groan. “I put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

“You could say that.”

“What I meant to say was that it would be more impressive if Herb had a tall assistant who filled out the box…heightwise, that is.”

Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. Lisa looked so chagrinned.

“Maybe I’d better rephrase that. What I meant was…”

“Stop!” Hannah held up her hand in the universal gesture that meant halt in any language. “Don’t make it worse. I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Sure. It’ll give me more time to nose around at the fairgrounds.”

It took Lisa a second, but then she nodded. “So you’re going to try to find Willa’s killer?”

“Of course. Willa was my friend. I can’t just leave everything up to an official detective who calls her the victim instead of her name.”

“Uh-oh. Somebody’s in the doghouse.” Lisa took one look at Hannah’s angry face and changed the subject. “So when can you practice with Herb?”

Hannah countered with her own question. “When is the contest?”

“Tomorrow at five, right after the rodeo’s over. It’s on the same stage as the Miss Tri-County competition.”

“Fine. I can practice this afternoon if we decide to close early, or…” Hannah stopped and started to smile. “If Herb can bring everything here, we can practice in the coffee shop. Any customers we have can be the audience. And if we don’t have enough customers, we can recruit some from Bertie. She always has ladies waiting to have their hair done.”

“That’ll be fun. Let me call Herb and set it up. He can do it on his lunch hour if one o’clock is okay.”

“It’s fine. And then you can run up and tell Bertie. And stop in at Granny’s Attic on your way back. Mother and Carrie are out at the fairgrounds, but I’ll bet Luanne would like to come.”

“How about the senior center?” Lisa asked, looking hopeful. “Dad’s seen the act before, but the other seniors haven’t.”

“Sure. The more the merrier.”

“Thanks, Hannah. You’re the best friend ever!”

Hannah smiled, but when Lisa left to put on the coffee in the coffee shop and make her call to Herb, her smile slipped a bit. She hadn’t exactly told the truth to her partner. She hated small, cramped spaces. She could endure them for a few minutes, but being closed up in something that looked like an old-fashioned coffin wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.

“Oh, well,” she said, shrugging slightly. Anything for her partner. And the trick would take only a few minutes, so there was really nothing to worry about, was there?

It was twelve noon when Mike came into The Cookie Jar. Hannah’s heart leapt. There was no other way to describe the sensation. It reminded her of the kiss-me-quicks her dad had driven over when she was a child. Hannah had no idea how the term originated, and the town of Lake Eden seemed evenly divided on naming them. Some, like Hannah’s father, called them kiss-me-quicks. Others, like Lisa’s family, called them tummy-ticklers. They were gradual rises in the road, small hills with a gentle rise and a steep descent. If you gunned the engine just right and backed off on the accelerator the instant you reached the top of the hill, the resulting drop left you with a sudden breathless feeling. It was the same feeling Hannah experienced every time she saw Mike.

“Hannah,” he said, hanging his sheriff’s baseball cap on the coat rack by the door.

“Mike,” she replied, watching as he strode to the counter. How could any ordinary human being walk with so much assurance? He exuded self-confidence.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, taking a seat at the deserted counter.

You’re the detective. You figure it out, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it. The customers scattered at the tables were staring at them, and all conversation had ceased the moment Mike had approached the counter. Every man and woman in the place was hoping to overhear something new about Willa’s murder investigation.

“Well?” Mike prodded.

Hannah shook her head. The lie simply wouldn’t pass her lips. And then she put on a smile for the benefit of her customers and said, “I know you like coffee, and I made a new batch of cookies I think you’ll like. Do you want to try one?”

“Well, sure!” Mike smiled right back “What do you call them?”

“Cappuccino Royales. They’re coffee cookies with milk chocolate chips.” Hannah took two cookies from the display jar for Mike. “Let me know what you think.”

Mike chewed thoughtfully, and then he started to grin. “I really like the strong coffee flavor. They’d be great on a stakeout. They’d also be a hit out at the station this afternoon.”

“What’s going on at the station?” Hannah asked.

“We’re having a strategy meeting about…” Mike glanced around and he seemed to realize, for the very first time, that every other customer in the place was silent. “Um…police business. You know.”

And Hannah did know. Mike was meeting with the other detectives to discuss a plan for solving Willa’s murder. “I’ll be happy to provide the cookies for your meeting. How many do you need?”

“There’ll be six at the meeting, but I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t buy enough cookies for everybody. And I’ll buy them, Hannah.”

“But I’ll be happy to give them to you. I believe in supporting our local police.”

“And this local detective believes in supporting you. I won’t take no for an answer. I’m paying and that’s that. I figure I can use four, maybe five dozen. Do you have that many?”

Hannah glanced at the display jar again. There were about a half-dozen left, and Lisa had brought them all out from the kitchen. “What time is your meeting?”

“Three-thirty, but don’t put yourself out on my account. If you don’t have enough of those coffee cookies, just give me what you’ve got and fill in with another kind.”

Hannah debated the wisdom of that a moment, and then she shook her head. Mike hadn’t said a word about the victim, and he was being very careful not to offend her. He deserved to be rewarded for good behavior. “I’ll bake another batch for you.”

“Will they be ready in time?”

“Absolutely. They might be slightly warm, but that won’t bother you, will it?”

Mike shook his head. “I bet they’ll be even better that way.”

“It’s a deal, then. I’ll drop them off at the sheriff’s station no later than three-fifteen.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Mike popped the last of the second cookie into his mouth, raised the mug of coffee to his lips and drained it, and stood up. Then he pulled some money out of his wallet and left it on the counter. “This should cover it. If it doesn’t, just let me know. I’ll see you at three-fifteen. If you’re there a little early, I’ll even buy you a cup of coffee.”

Hannah shuddered. She still hadn’t made up her mind where to find the worst coffee. The last time she’d cared to research it, it had been a three-way tie between Doc Knight’s hospital vending machines, the pot that Jon Walker never washed in his office at the Lake Eden Neighborhood Pharmacy, and anything that was brewed anywhere within the confines of the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Station.

“Thanks, but I have a lot to live for,” she said.

“What?”

“Never mind.” Hannah gave a wave as Mike retrieved his cap and headed out the door. And then she hurried to the kitchen to mix up another batch of Cappuccino Royales.

CAPPUCCINO ROYALES