Death on a Silver Platter (25 page)

Margie picked that exact moment to sail through the room on her way out the door. “Bye, all. I’ll be gone a couple hours.”

“Bye,” called Bram.

“Don’t rush back on our account,” added Sophie. Thankfully, Margie’s apartment would be cleaned up and ready for her to move back in early next week. “You’re my guy,” Sophie said to Bram, kissing him tenderly.

“I wish we didn’t have to be at the police station in less than an hour.” He nuzzled her neck.

She drew her head back. “Are you suggesting something indecent?”

“That was the idea.”

“Well,” she said, flinging her arms out wide. “If we’re a little late, what can they do? Arrest us? Toss us in jail and make us wear hideous orange jumpsuits?”

Bram grinned. “Living on the edge does have a certain allure. As long as you’re there to keep me company.”

“Always,” said Sophie. She put her arms around his neck as he lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.

Every now and then, being a shrimp had its advantages.

36

Danny flew back to New York on Friday night. He’d stayed an extra few days to ensure that the new financial relationship with his siblings was agreed upon and put down on paper. He had no wish to change anything substantially. The truth of his parentage notwithstanding, had his mother outlived him, had her bigotry and anti-Semitism been allowed to run its course, his family would have been cut off without a penny. Of that Danny had no doubt. But it was all in the past now.

He took a cab in from La Guardia and arrived home around ten. Manhattan was ablaze with lights as the cab drove down Second. It was a real sea change after the dark nights he’d spent on the Minnesota prairie. From half a block away, he could see Ruth standing on the steps of their brownstone. The expression on her face was both tentative and expectant. He’d seen that expression so many times before that he’d memorized it.

Once the bags were out of the trunk and the cabbie was paid, he held Ruth in his arms. It was finally over.

“You look tired,” she said, touching his beard with her fingertips. “And thinner. Have you been eating?”

He squeezed her hand, kissed her fingers. “I’m fine now that I’m home.”

They carried his bags inside.

Ruth had prepared a few snacks. Cheese and fruit. His favorite crackers. An unopened bottle of cider rested next to a couple of glasses on the dining room table. But food was the last thing on his mind. He crushed her against him, kissing her hair, her cheeks, her lips. He felt as if they fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll never go away again.”

“Promise?”

“Not even to get groceries.”

“What about picking up the cleaning?”

“Yeah, I suppose I could do that.”

They tumbled onto the couch together, laughing. Ruth always made him laugh. His heart ached, he loved her so much.

“Tell me truthfully,” she said as she leaned against him, cradled in his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“Relieved. And sad.”

“And Alex?”

“How would you feel if your lover had just been arrested for killing your niece?”

“Pretty rotten.”

“That about covers it.”

“Elaine?”

He tipped his head back. “She’s a survivor. But it will take some time to get her feet back under her.”

“She’ll never get over Tracy’s death.”

“No.”

“What about Doc Holland?”

Danny sighed. “He was staying at my mother’s place after she died, you know.”

“I know.”

“The day we found out that he was Alex and Elaine’s biological father, he went back home. I think he was too ashamed to continue staying at the house. He’s so frail now, Ruth. So very frail. Nobody really noticed it until after Mom died. We were all worried about him, so Elaine finally drove over to his place to see how he was doing. The house was a mess. Dirty dishes everywhere. The yard hadn’t been mowed in months. Dirty clothes were piled up because the washing machine is in the basement and he can’t get down there anymore.”

“That’s so sad.”

“He simply isn’t managing very well anymore. So Elaine made him come back to the house with her. She’s going to hire new staff. Part of their duties will be to care for Doc.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah, I am, too. He’s been so good to us for so many years. He wasn’t an innocent bystander, but I can’t help but feel that Mom used him just like she used everyone else.”

“Is that how you see your mother? A user?”

Danny’s eyes filled with tears. “No, not entirely. If I lived to be a thousand, I don’t think I’d ever figure her out. She wasn’t a bad mother, not all the time, but I think she was a horrible human being. Does that make sense?”

“I suppose,” said Ruth. She brought his hand up to her lips. “Did you ever tell your family about—”

“My cancer? That it’s come back?”

She nodded.

“No. And I don’t plan to. I beat it once, Ruth. I’m going to beat it again.”

“But the chemo. You’re supposed to start next week. You’ll be sick again, and you can’t exactly hide it.”

“Sure I can. Elaine and Alex have their lives, I have mine. I can talk to them on the phone, or e-mail them. It will be fine.” And it would be fine, now that he knew his family would be taken care of after . . . well, in fifty years, after he died at the ripe old age of ninety-four. After he finished his seventeenth novel and had won the Pulitzer for his literary genius.

Danny had always reached decisions by thinking of himself as a character in a book. That’s how he’d come to the decision about returning to Minnesota. He never outlined his stories, so he was never absolutely sure what would happen. And that’s what his real-life story had been like. He hadn’t been certain what he would do until he came face-to-face with it, until his pragmatism—and his fear—had to fight it out with his ethics. He’d never considered himself an evil man. But he was evil, in the same way so many people were. Quietly. Harboring dark thoughts, secret desires, secret hatreds, but gutless, without the courage to become the hero—or the villain—in his own life.

“You seem tired, honey,” said Ruth. She stifled a yawn.

“I think you’re the one who’s tired.”

“It was a long day. Two classes and then I had office hours until six.”

He got up, pulling her up with him. “You go get ready for bed.”

“What will you do?”

“I’m still kind of wired from the flight. I think I might go out for a short walk.”

She turned to him, a worried look on her face. “You won’t be gone long?”

“No, just a few minutes. I need some fresh air, a little exercise. Otherwise I won’t be able to sleep.”

While Ruth was taking a shower, Danny removed his shaving kit from his suitcase. He unpacked a few things into the medicine cabinet, then placed a small package in the breast pocket of his jacket. Glancing at Ruth for a moment standing behind the steamed glass, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She would be safe now. So would Zoe and Abbie. Even if he died, they would be taken care of. And that’s all that mattered.

He left the house and walked along Madison Avenue until he came to a small bistro where he and Ruth often had lunch. Taking the package from his inner pocket, he checked the contents to make sure nothing had been left behind. “One syringe,” he said to himself. “Two empty vials of insulin.” That was it. The final detail. He tossed the package into the garbage can, then turned, glancing at a familiar neon sign across the street, and walked on.

Chez Sophia’s Torta Milano

This is a spectacular cake! It’s fun to make and well worth the extra effort.

Serves 12 (or eight pigs).

Sponge Cake

8 eggs, separated
1 cup granulated sugar
2¼ tablespoons orange juice
2 teaspoons orange zest
½ teaspoon salt
1½ cups flour

Cut a piece of parchment paper to fit the bottom of a 13-by-9-inch cake pan. Butter the pan, then place the parchment on top of it. Butter the parchment.

Preheat the oven to 325˚F.

After separating eggs, beat egg whites until soft peaks form. Slowly add 1 cup of sugar, beating until thick and shiny stiff peaks form.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg yolks with ¼ cup sugar until they turn pale and the texture becomes ribbonlike. Add the orange juice, zest, and salt and beat well.

Using a rubber spatula, fold the egg yolk mixture into the egg whites. Sift flour over the mixture and fold in.

Pour the batter into the pan. Bake until the top is golden and the cake begins to pull away from the sides, about 30 minutes. Remove the cake and cool, at least 20 minutes. Invert the cake onto the platter. Choose a platter that’s a good 2 inches wider than the cake. (A silver platter is recommended, of course.) Cool completely before removing the parchment paper.

Simple Sugar Syrup

½ cup water
½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup light rum
¼ cup orange liqueur (triple sec or Cointreau)

Place water and sugar in saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Stir occasionally to dissolve the sugar. Boil one minute. Remove from heat and cool.

Combine the sugar water, rum, and the orange liqueur.

Pastry Cream

2½ cups milk
½ cup granulated sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
pinch of salt
6 egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup finely diced dried apricots
½ cup heavy cream

Heat 1½ cups of the milk in a saucepan over medium heat until bubbles form around the edges of the pan. In a bowl, whisk together the ½ cup sugar, the cornstarch, the salt, and the remaining 1 cup of cold milk until the cornstarch is all dissolved. Pour about half the hot milk into the cold milk, whisking constantly until the sugar is dissolved. Scrape the mixture in the bowl into the pan and heat over medium flame, stirring constantly until the mixture comes to a boil and gets thick, about 2 or 3 minutes.

Whip the egg yolks together in a bowl until mixed well. Slowly add a bit (⅓ to ½ cup) of the milk mixture, beating the yolks constantly. Then add the egg mixture slowly to the milk mixture in the saucepan and return to the heat, stirring constantly until thickened. Remove immediately and stir in vanilla.

At this point, it’s a good idea to strain the pastry cream. Then add the diced apricots. Cool to room temperature covered with plastic wrap directly on the surface. This prevents a skin from forming on the top. Chill.

Whipping Cream

2 cups heavy whipping cream
½ cup granulated sugar

Whip the cream and sugar before assembly.

Assembly

With a long, preferably serrated knife, cut the cake horizontally into three even layers. Brush the bottom layer with about a third of the syrup. Spread half the pastry cream over the top. Next, spread about one cup of the sweetened whipped cream. Top with the middle layer of the cake. Repeat—one third of the sugar syrup, one third of the pastry cream, and one cup of whipped cream. The final layer goes on next. Top with the rest of the pastry cream and all but ½ cup of the whipped cream. At this point, the cake needs to be refrigerated for 2 hours, or up to a day.

To serve, pipe the ½ cup reserved whipped cream decoratively around the top. Serve with fresh blueberries, strawberries, apricots, raspberries, or whatever fresh fruit is available. Arrange the fruit decoratively around the sides.

Enjoy!

Don’t miss this tasty mystery from Ellen Hart

DIAL M FOR MEAT LOAF

“This is a hearty, satisfying meal of a mystery, with chunks of good characters and more than a dash of wit.”

—Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine

As Minnesota housewives race to meet the deadline for the
Times Register
’s meat loaf contest, an unsavory small-towner is blown to smithereens by a car bomb. Days later, the town’s former mayor, John Washburn, near death from a stroke, confesses to the killing. As his family vehemently denies it, Sophie Greenway, food maven and friend of the family, happens upon an old snapshot, a bundle of letters, and a tattoo of a red-eyed snake, and begins to wonder about Washburn’s innocence. This murder is seasoned with spicy secrets and a generous portion of scandal, which Sophie dares to bring to a roiling boil.

Published by Fawcett
Available wherever books are sold

Another culinary delight from Ellen Hart

Slice and Dice

“The pace quickly bubbles from simmer to boil. . . the complexity of Hart’s novel is admirable.”

—Publishers Weekly

If all goes according to plan, Connie Buckridge’s culinary empire will soon boast a cooking academy and restaurant in her home town of Minneapolis-St. Paul. But just when the kitchen queen and her entourage embark on a publicity tour, so does a bestselling investigative writer who, primed by an anonymous email informer, is cooking up an exposé of Connie’s strategies for success. The one missing ingredient in the unsavory stew is murder, and when food critic Sophie Greenway finds a cooking colleague stabbed with his own kitchen knife, a fire that has been smoldering for forty years suddenly bursts into flame.

Published by Fawcett
Available wherever books are sold