Wedding Cake Murder (36 page)

“Ross just waved at you,” Michelle said, nudging her older sister.

“Thanks.” Hannah smiled and waved back. She wished she could be as confident as Michelle seemed to be, but she was simply too nervous and the butterflies in her stomach had soared into the sky once again.

“Ready?” Michelle asked, as the announcer walked to center stage.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Hannah managed to say, a scant second before the camera focused on them.

“Miss Hannah Swensen and her assistant, Miss Michelle Swensen. You’re up first, ladies. Please present your entry to the judges.”

Hannah walked forward. Thank goodness she didn’t have to pour the champagne! As nervous as she was right now, she’d probably spill it on one of the judges. She managed to keep the smile on her face, and her nervousness began to abate slightly as she pushed her serving cart toward the judging table.
I did my best, I did my best, I did my best
, she repeated her personal mantra for the night in her mind.

“What is this lovely creation?” Helene Stone asked when Hannah presented her with an antique crystal dessert dish containing Lisa’s mother’s favorite vanilla custard recipe. The dessert dish sat on a crystal plate and Butterscotch Sugar Cookies were arranged artfully around it.

“The dessert dish contains Emmy’s Vanilla Custard. The recipe came from my partner’s mother and it’s the best vanilla custard I’ve ever tasted.” Hannah turned to give Michelle a nod. They’d decided, on the drive to the competition, to take turns speaking.

“And the cookies are Butterscotch Sugar Cookies,” Michelle continued smoothly. “They’re Hannah’s own creation.”

“Champagne?” Jeremy Zales asked, accepting the flute Michelle had just poured for him.

“Yes,” Hannah answered. “There’s a half-ounce of DeKuy-per Buttershots in the bottom. That’s a butterscotch liqueur. The remainder of the flute is filled with domestic champagne. We used Korbel Brut tonight.”

“Are you trying to influence us with champagne?” LaVonna Brach asked.

Michelle laughed. “Would it work?” she asked, clearly teasing the whole judging panel.

“It might, but I see a couple of coffee carafes,” Christian Parker said. “Is that for us?”

“It is. We’ll serve from the first carafe and we’ll leave the second carafe with you so that you can have refills,” Hannah told him. “Since we’re in Minnesota and sweets are usually accompanied with a strong cup of coffee, we decided we’d better stand on Minnesota tradition and provide strong coffee for you.”

“And we’re glad you did,” Jeremy Zales said, accepting a cup of coffee from Hannah. “Now let’s see how well your cookies go with this vanilla custard.”

The next few moments were filled with no comments, none at all. Hannah was beginning to get worried when LaVonna Brach put down her spoon and asked a question.

“Is there any butterscotch flavor in this pudding?”

“No,” Hannah answered. “Michelle and I thought it would be too overwhelming and take away from the flavor of the cookies.”

“And you were right,” Christian Parker said.

“Agreed,” Jeremy Zales offered his opinion. “As far as I’m concerned, the cookies are a stand-alone, but the vanilla custard is a very good accompaniment.”

“Thank you, Miss Swensen and Miss Swensen,” Helene Stone said, smiling at them. “Just as a matter of curiosity, have you ever thought about using cardamom in this vanilla custard?”

“Yes,” Michelle answered. “We tried that, but both of us decided that the compelling flavor of the cardamom overshadowed the butterscotch in the cookies.”

“And you were right,” Christian Parker said again. “Cardamom is its own unique flavor.” He turned to Helene Stone. “Wouldn’t you agree, Helene?”

“I would,” Helene Stone said, giving him a smile. “I just wanted to know if they’d tried it. The mark of a good dessert chef is to try new flavors and judge whether or not they enhance the original creation.” She turned to face Hannah and Michelle. “Please leave your cookies. I’d like to have more later.”

“Well, it’s pretty clear that Helene Stone liked our cookies,” Michelle said, once they’d finished straightening their workstation and were on their way to the greenroom. “At least it seemed that way to me. What do you think?”

“I agree. Of course, both of us could be wrong about that.”

“I don’t think so.”

Hannah smiled at her youngest sister as she opened the door of the greenroom. It was deserted, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t feel like making polite conversation with anyone else right now. Being the first to present their entry was a big advantage as far as she was concerned. It gave them a little breathing space before the other contestants presented their entries, straightened their workstations, and came to the greenroom.

“Brooke’s up,” Michelle announced, watching the large monitor on the wall in front of them. “Her cookies are really pretty.”

“Good. I hope she does well,” Hannah said, and she meant it.

“Do you think she did it?” Michelle asked.

The question was ambiguous, but was Michelle referring to Brooke’s cookies, or something more ominous? Hannah thought she knew exactly what her sister was asking. But was it another case of sisterly telepathy, or was she reading more into the question than Michelle had meant when she’d asked it? There was only one way to find out, and Hannah turned to her sister. “Are you talking about Chef Duquesne’s murder?”

“Of course. What did you think I was talking about?”

“Chef Duquesne’s murder, but I didn’t want to assume that without asking. No, I don’t think she did it. I like Brooke. I don’t
want
to think she did it.”

“But you’re planning to question her anyway?”

“Of course I am. I can’t let my likes and dislikes get in the way of a murder investigation.” Hannah glanced at the screen and smiled. “Look at the judges, Michelle. All four of them are smiling. That’s a good sign for Brooke.”

There was a close-up of Brooke’s cookie platter, and Michelle glanced at Hannah. “Are those cookies deep fried?”

“Yes. Brooke used a rosette iron. Do you remember that metal, flower-shaped iron with a handle on the end that Great-Grandma Elsa used to make pretty cookies sprinkled with powdered sugar?”

“No. I guess I was too young to remember.”

“I’ll show you what it looks like when we get back to the condo. Great-Grandma Elsa gave me hers when she stopped making rosette cookies. I haven’t seen those cookies in a long time. They’re very fragile, and taking them off the rosette iron without breaking them is difficult.”

“Do you think Brooke’s cookies have a chance of winning?”

“I don’t know, but I think they’ll certainly place higher than her last entry.”

“Because no one makes cookies like that anymore?”

“That would be part of it. But Brooke’s cookies are unusual in another way. It looks to me as if they’re chocolate. The dough is a lot darker than the recipe that Great-Grandma Elsa used. If they’re chocolate, that’s a real advantage. I’ve never seen a recipe for chocolate rosette cookies before.”

“Brooke’s going back to her station and she’s smiling,” Michelle commented. “I think she’s pleased with what happened.”

“And Jeremy Zales just took another cookie. That bodes well for Brooke.”

Gloria Berkeley was up next, and Michelle turned up the volume on the monitor so that they could hear about her entry. After Gloria had finished describing her cookies, perfectly shaped rounds with colored bits of fruit on top, Michelle turned to Hannah. “LaVonna Brach just took a bite, and I don’t think she looks impressed.”

“Neither does Christian Parker. And look at Helene Stone. She put her cookie down after only one bite.”

“Maybe she’ll come in last this time,” Michelle said. And then, when she noticed Hannah’s expression, she began to explain. “I know it’s not very nice of me, but I haven’t liked Gloria ever since I found out about Brooke’s marshmallow sauce.”

The door to the greenroom opened and Brooke walked in. She was holding a plate with two cookies on it, and she was smiling. “I brought these for you,” she said, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of Hannah and Michelle.

“Thanks!” Michelle said, reaching for one of the cookies immediately. “They looked great on the monitor and they look even more delicious in real life.”

“Chocolate!” Hannah exclaimed as she picked up the remaining cookie on the plate, took a bite, and confirmed her earlier speculation. “These are wonderful, Brooke! My great-grandmother used to make these, but she didn’t make chocolate. She just used the recipe that came in the box with the rosette iron.”

“That’s a good recipe. It’s the one I’ve always used in the past. And the only reason these are chocolate is because of Loren.”

“Loren Berringer?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. We were talking about the competition, and I told him I was going to make rosette cookies. Just like you, Loren knew what they were right away. He said his grandmother used to make them for Christmas. He told me he’d tried it once with his grandmother’s rosette iron, but he could never get them off the iron without breaking them. And then he asked me what recipe I was using.”

Hannah wiped her hands on one of the napkins Brooke had provided. The chocolate rosette cookies had been sprinkled with powdered sugar just like the vanilla ones that Great-Grandma Elsa had made. “What did you tell Loren?” she asked.

“I said I was using the recipe that came in the box, and I was a little worried about that. I mentioned that I wanted to make chocolate rosette cookies, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.”

“And he told you how to make them?” Michelle guessed.

“No. He said he didn’t know either, but maybe we could figure it out. And we did! If I do well in the judging tonight, Loren is the one who deserves all the credit.”

Hannah shook her head. “The two of you collaborated on the recipe. And Loren said he’d tried to make them, but he couldn’t do it without breaking the cookies. It sounds like a joint effort to me.”

“Me, too,” Michelle said. And then she looked slightly worried. “You didn’t tell the judges that, did you?”

“No. Loren told me not to say anything like that when the judges interviewed me, that as far as he was concerned, the idea for chocolate rosette cookies was mine since I was the one who’d made it work. He said that all he’d done was encourage me and that was what friends should do for each other.”

Hannah exchanged glances with Michelle. Brooke had been much more animated than usual when she’d talked about Loren, and she looked much happier than she had earlier in the competition. It sounded as if there might be a bit more than simple friendship involved in Brooke and Loren’s relationship. She gave a little nod to Michelle and got up to get herself a glass of water from the cooler at the far end of the greenroom.

“You like Loren, don’t you?” Michelle asked Brooke.

Hannah turned slightly, so that she could see Brooke’s face, and she saw the blush that began to color Brooke’s cheeks. If Delores had written this scene in one of her Regency romance novels, she would have described it as a
telling blush
.

“Yes, I do,” Brooke admitted. “He really helped me out.”

“Loren seems like a really nice guy,” Hannah said, walking back so that she could join the conversation. “He was very supportive when he helped you with the rosette cookies you made tonight.”

“That’s true, and he was also very supportive after . . .” Brooke stopped and took a deep breath. “I might as well tell you what happened. Maybe you can help me decide what I should do.”

“We’d be happy to try,” Hannah told her, and then she fell silent. It was a psychological tactic that had been used in one of the books Mike had given her to read. She glanced at Michelle, and Michelle gave her a slight nod to let her know that she’d realized what Hannah was doing.

There was a long silence. The only sound in the room was from the television monitor, and Hannah had deliberately turned down the volume.

The tension grew, and Hannah had almost come to the conclusion that the interviewing tactic she’d read about hadn’t worked when Brooke gave a deep sigh.

“Alain Duquesne was my father,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-six

B
oth Hannah and Michelle were shocked speechless for another long moment. This was a development that neither one of them had expected. Brooke’s statement had all the conversation-killing power of a bug bomb on a colony of ants.

Hannah was the first to recover. “Tell us about it,” she said.

“I didn’t know anything about it for years.” Brooke’s voice was shaky as she began to explain. “I always thought that my father was . . . my father. I had an older brother and a younger sister. There was no reason for me to doubt that it wasn’t true. Honestly . . .” she stopped and cleared her throat. “You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t know!”

“We believe you,” Hannah reassured her. “How did you find out that Chef Duquesne was your father?”

“My mother told me. It was after my older brother entered my name in the
Dessert Chef Competition
and the Food Channel sent me a letter saying that they’d chosen me as one of the contestants. My mother was . . .” Brooke stopped speaking and took a deep, shuddering breath. “She was in the hospice ward at the hospital, and I thought . . . I thought it would make her happy. And instead it . . . it really upset her!”

“Oh, Brooke. I’m so sorry.” Hannah moved over to give Brooke a hug. “But it really wasn’t your fault. How could you have guessed that telling your mother about the competition would upset her?”

“That’s true, but I still feel terrible about it. I would never have guessed that I had a different father. You see, my mother hadn’t told anyone. My brother didn’t know. My sister didn’t know. And my mother said that she’d never told my father. None of us knew. She was the only one who knew, and she would have kept that secret forever if I hadn’t been chosen as a contestant!”

Hannah gave Brooke another hug and moved back a bit. “What did your mother want you to do about all this?”

“She wanted me to make up some excuse to drop out of the competition. You see, it says right in the rules that relatives of the judges or the organizers are ineligible. And at the same time, she made me promise to keep her secret and never to tell my sister and brother that we had different fathers. She thought that if they knew, it would break up our family. And she said that when she was gone, the three of us would be the only family that was left and we would need each other.”