Carrot Cake Murder (3 page)

“Do what?” Hannah asked, even though she knew exactly what her mother meant.

“Say Hello, Mother before you really know who it is. What if it was someone else?”

“Then I’d be wrong.”

“Yes. And you’d feel very foolish, wouldn’t you?”

“Not really.”

“Well!” There was a long pause while Delores considered it. Finally, she spoke. “You’re right. You wouldn’t. But I really wish you’d just say hello like a normal person.”

“I know you do.” Hannah felt a little niggle of guilt for annoying her mother. “It’s just that I can’t seem to resist.”

Delores sighed so heavily, it sounded like a little explosion in Hannah’s ear. “You do it because you know it bothers me, don’t you?”

“In a way. It’s become almost like a game. I say, Hello, Mother. You say, I wish you wouldn’t do that. And I say, Do what? And then you give me a reason not to answer the phone that way. It’s what we always do before we really start to talk.”

“So it’s our own private greeting? A mother-daughter ritual?”

“That’s exactly right.” Hannah nodded even though she knew her mother couldn’t see it. There were times when Delores was amazingly perceptive.

“Then we’d better continue to do it, dear. Rituals are important. They’re patterns for us to follow to bridge awkward moments.”

“That’s extremely insightful, Mother.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ve been researching the English Regency period and the number of formal traditions they practiced was truly amazing. Did you know that the dress a debutante wore to be presented at court had to follow strict guidelines? And her curtsy had to be just so?”

“I didn’t know.”

“And did you know that the number of removes at a formal dinner was dictated by the family’s social status?”

“No. What are removes?”

“They’re similar to courses, dear.”

Hannah nodded. Unlike some Regency conventions, this one was aptly named. When a meal was served formally, the server removed the plates from the previous course before presenting the next. And sometimes the plate or bowl had a cover that was removed with a flourish. “Are you doing this research for your Regency Romance Club?”

“Only partially, dear. And that reminds me…we’re thinking about serving high tea as a fundraiser. Do you think you could help us with the pastries?”

“Sure. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet, but it won’t be before Christmas. I’ll do more research on exactly what they served and how it was presented. Perhaps, if they had scones in Regency times, Sally could make some of hers.”

It was clearly going to be a long conversation. Hannah stretched out the phone cord, put a frying pan with butter on the burner, and turned on the heat. “I didn’t know Sally made scones.”

“Today was her first batch. She served them to us at brunch, and they were delicious.”

“You went out to the Lake Eden Inn for brunch?” Hannah tipped the pan so the butter would melt faster.

“Yes, with all the relatives who arrived early for the reunion. Carrie and I were standing there talking to Marge after you left the church, and Gus practically had to invite us.”

“Gus York? Or Marge’s brother, Gus?”

“Marge’s brother. He asked Marge to recommend a good place for brunch, and then he invited us all.”

“That was nice of him.”

Delores gave a little snort that Hannah could hear clearly over the receiver. “It was the least he could do. He practically broke Marge’s heart when he left town in the middle of the night. And Marge’s mother and father never stopped hoping that he’d come home. He was the youngest, you know.”

“Why did he leave in the first place?” Hannah asked, holding the phone between her neck and her shoulder and cranking her head to the side so it wouldn’t fall as she got her plate of uncooked salmon cakes and carried them over to the stovetop. She dropped them into the frying pan and stood back slightly to avoid being splattered by the sizzling butter.

“No one knows why he left, dear.” Delores stopped speaking for a moment, and then she asked, “What’s that noise?”

“What noise?”

“It’s a frying noise. I’m on my cell phone, and it must need recharging. Anyway…the real reason I called is to ask you if you have any crackers.”

Hannah glanced at the pantry. The door was ajar, and she could see a large package of assorted crackers sitting on the shelf. “I’ve got some.”

“Good. Lisa needs you to bring them. Mike made his Lazy Day Pâté for the potluck tonight, but he doesn’t get off work until six and he won’t have time to run back into town for crackers.”

“Consider it done. Anything else anyone needs?” Hannah flipped a Salmon Cake and it sputtered as it landed on its uncooked side.

“Just your Special Carrot Cake. Lisa and Herb were raving about it at the brunch, and everybody’s looking forward to trying it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hannah said, flipping the other three Salmon Cakes.

“I’ll see you there, dear. I’ve got to go now. That frying noise is getting louder, and I just know we’ll get cut off.”

Hannah said goodbye and rubbed her sore neck as she walked over to hang up the phone. She supposed she should have admitted that her stove was the source of the frying noise her mother thought was a waning battery, but her lunch was almost ready. Since it was past two in the afternoon and she still had to assemble several veggie and dip platters, there wasn’t a lot of time to waste. She had just dished up her first helping and was placing it on the coffee table in the living room when her doorbell rang.

Hannah muttered a few choice words she never would have used around either of her nieces. Whoever it was had lousy timing. Then she picked up her plate (she knew better than to leave one of Moishe’s favorite entrees within kitty reach) and carried it to the door. “Who is it?” she asked, rather than squint through the peephole.

“Mike. I need you, Hannah.”

Those four little words were definitely the key to Hannah’s heart. She couldn’t resist a plea for help, even from the ugliest, meanest person in Lake Eden. And Mike Kingston was about as far from that description as you could get. He was ruggedly handsome, a tall Viking-type of a man, and although he was tough and fit and could pulverize an opponent in a fight, she was fairly sure there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. “Come in,” she invited, unlocking the door and holding it open for him.

“Thanks, Hannah. I had to run out here to talk to your downstairs neighbor, and I thought I’d drop by to pick up those crackers, if you’ve got them.”

“I do. But Sue and Phil aren’t in any trouble, are they?”

“Not at all. Phil witnessed an accident on the freeway when he was coming home from his night shaft at DelRay Manufacturing. I just took his statement.” Mike glanced down at the plate in her hand and his eyes widened. “That looks good! What is it?”

“Salmon Cakes, hot off the stove…or the cell phone, in Mother’s case.”

“Huh?”

“I was talking to her when I was frying them and she thought…never mind. It’s not important. Sit down and eat. I’ve got plenty for two.”

There was a yowl from the feline who was watching Mike with half-narrowed eyes, and Hannah turned to reassure him. “That’s two and a cat. I have enough for us, and for Moishe.”

“You heard her. Relax, Big Guy.” Mike gave Moishe a scratch under his chin as he sat down on the couch. Then he cut off a tiny piece of the Salmon Cake and held it out on the palm of his hand. “Here you go. This should tide you over until you get yours.”

Hannah watched as Moishe licked it up daintily. She could hear him purring all the way across the room, and she ducked into the kitchen to dish up another plate.

“What’s this sauce on top?” Mike asked when she emerged from the kitchen with her own plate. “It’s great!”

Hannah didn’t want to tell him, but she couldn’t lie outright to a man she’d come within a hair’s breadth of marrying. “It’s one of Edna Ferguson’s tricks,” she explained, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details.

“Tell me. Whenever I visit my sister, she sends me home with fried chicken. It gets kind of dry when I heat it in the microwave, and I bet this sauce would be good on it.”

Poor handsome bachelor who had to bring home leftovers from his sister’s table! Hannah almost felt sorry for him until she remembered that scores of Lake Eden ladies would jump at the chance to let him taste their home cooking. But he did need her, if only for cooking advice, and Hannah couldn’t resist telling him the truth. “Okay, I’ll let you in on the secret, but you can’t tell anyone else.”

“If I do, you’ll have to kill me?” Mike quipped, flashing the mischievous grin that always made her feel weak in the knees.

“Oh, I wouldn’t kill you. I’d lock you up in a closet and…” Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Some things were better left unsaid.

“And what?”

“And leave you there until I decide what to do with you,” Hannah finished her sentence with the best ambiguity she could think of on the fly.

“Okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone Edna’s secret. What is it?”

“Well, I usually make my own dill sauce with fresh baby dill, mayo, and a little cream, but it’s better if you make it the night before, and I didn’t know I’d be frying Salmon Cakes today.”

“Okay. I’ve had your fresh dill sauce with your Salmon Loaf. It’s great, but tell me what this is.”

“Campbell’s Cream of Celery soup.”

“What?”

“It’s Campbell’s Cream of Celery soup, undiluted. It makes a good sauce in a pinch. Really. All you have to do is heat it in the microwave, and it’s even better if you mix in a little dry sherry, but I’m helping Lisa with the potluck buffet tonight, and I thought I’d better not.”

“What time are you going out to the lake?”

“Four. I’m stopping by The Cookie Jar first to pick up my cakes, and then I’m heading out. How about you?”

“I should be there by six-thirty as long as I remember to take your crackers with me. Save me a dance tonight, will you?”

“Absolutely,” Hannah said, hoping her heart wasn’t beating so hard that he could see it through the light sleeveless shell she’d worn to church.

“Tell Andrea, too. And Michelle. I’m crazy about the Swensen sisters.”

Hannah smiled, but she would have liked it a lot more if he’d said that he was crazy about just her. Whatever. Mike was Mike, and you had to either take him the way he was or not take him at all.

SALMON CAKES

1 small can salmon*

2 slices bread, crusts removed (you can use any type of bread)

1 beaten egg (just whip it up in a glass with a fork)

1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce (or hot sauce, or lemon juice)

½ teaspoon dry mustard (that’s the powdered kind)

¼ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon onion powder

2 Tablespoons butter

*
Check the weight on your can of salmon. It should weigh between 7 ounces and 8 ounces—red salmon is best, but pink will do.

Open your can of salmon and drain it in a strainer. Remove any bones or dark skin. Flake it with a fork and put it in a small mixing bowl.

Cut the crusts from two standard-sized slices of bread and tear the middle part into small pieces. Add the pieces to the bowl with the salmon.

Add the egg and mix it all up with a fork.

Mix in the Worcestershire sauce (or lemon juice, or hot sauce,) the dry mustard, salt, and onion powder.

Stir it all up until it resembles a thick batter with lumps.

Divide the batter into thirds. (You don’t have to be exact—nobody’s going to measure them when you’re through. They’ll be too busy eating them.)

Spread a sheet of wax paper on a plate and pick up one of the lumps of batter. Squeeze it together with your hands to form a firm ball. Place it on the wax paper and flatten it like a hamburger patty. The patty should be about a half-inch thick.

Hannah’s 1stNote: If you flatten your Salmon Cakes too much and you’d like to make them thicker, just go ahead. All you have to do is gather the batter into a ball again and start over.

Shape the other two lumps of batter into balls and then patties. Let them sit on the wax paper for a minute or two to firm up even more.

Melt the two Tablespoons of butter in a frying pan over medium heat.

Place the Salmon Cakes in the pan and fry them over medium heat until they’re golden brown on the bottom. (That should take approximately 2 minutes.) Flip the patties over and brown the other side. (Total frying time will be approximately 4 to 5 minutes.) Remember that all you’re doing is frying the egg. Everything else has already been cooked.

Drain the Salmon Cakes on a paper towel and transfer to a serving platter. Serve with Dill Sauce, or Edna’s Easy Celery Sauce. They’re also wonderful with creamed peas, or creamed corn.

Hannah’s 2ndNote: When I do these for the family, I use my electric griddle and triple the recipe so I have nine Salmon Cakes. If you don’t have an electric griddle or you prefer to use a frying pan, you can fry them and then put them in a single layer in a pan in an oven set at the lowest temperature to keep them warm until you’ve fried them all. Make sure to refrigerate any leftovers. I’ve put leftover Salmon Cakes in the refrigerator overnight and heated them in the microwave the next day for lunch. They’re not quite as good as freshly fried, but they’re still very good. (They’re also good cold.)

Hannah’s 3rdNote: You can also make Tuna Cakes, Shrimp Cakes, Crab Cakes, Chicken Cakes and any other “cake” you can think of. All you need to do is substitute 6 to 8 ounces of the canned, or cooked and chopped main ingredient of your choice for the salmon. (This is why I always keep a can of salad shrimp, a can of tuna, and a can of chopped chicken in my pantry.)

Yield: Serves 3 if you team it up with a nice green salad and a slice of something yummy for dessert. (If you serve it alone, as a total lunch, it’ll work for one person with a big appetite, one person with a little appetite, and a cat.)