Joanne Fluke - Apple Turnover Murder

“He didn’t accept, did he?”

“No, but he hasn’t turned them down yet, either.” Andrea’s eyes began to glisten and she blinked back fresh tears. “I know it’s a great opportunity, but I don’t want to move!”

She’d finally struck pay dirt with her questions! Hannah came close to shouting Eureka! but she managed to restrain herself. Instead she posed a question. “Why would you have to move if Bill takes the job with Tachyon?”

“Because they want him to work at headquarters, and Tachyon headquarters is in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I don’t want to move away when my whole family is here in Lake Eden!”

“Of course you don’t.” Hannah reached out to pat her sister’s hand.

“And…and besides, they’ve got crocodiles in Florida!”

“Alligators, not crocodiles,” Hannah corrected her.

“Whatever. They’re slimy green things with big teeth, and sometimes they even knock on the door. I saw that on the news. A woman went to answer the door and when she opened it, there was a big crocodile!”

“Alligator. I saw that, too.”

“Then you can understand how I feel. What if Tracey answered the door. Or Bethie. She can turn the knob now, and Grandma McCann can’t kept an eye on her every minute of the day. If we moved to Florida, Bethie could end up being some crocodile’s dinner!”

“Take it easy, Andrea.” Hannah didn’t bother making the alligator correction a third time. It didn’t really matter what Andrea called the carnivorous swamp dweller. It was still scary, and Hannah could understand why Andrea was upset.

“You understand, don’t you?” Andrea paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t want to move. I just know I’d hate it there. But at the same time this could be a big career move for Bill, and I don’t want to stand in his way.”

“I understand perfectly,” Hannah said, wondering what she’d do if she were faced with a similar dilemma. Andrea was caught between husband and family, torn between her duty and her desire. Hannah hadn’t thought it could ever happen, but it made her own dilemma of trying to choose between the two men she loved seem practically trivial in comparison.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

2 cups melted butter (4 sticks, one pound)

4 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (I used Baker’s)

2 cups powdered sugar (not sifted)

1 cup white sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla

1 teaspoon orange zest (optional)

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cream of tartar (critical!)

1 teaspoon salt

4¼ cups flour (not sifted)

½ cup white sugar in a small bowl (for later)

Melt the butter and chocolate squares in a saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly, or in the microwave. (I melted mine in a quart measuring cup in the microwave on HIGH for 3 minutes.) Once the butter and chocolate are melted, stir them smooth, transfer them to a large mixing bowl, and add the powdered and white sugars. Stir thoroughly and set the mixture aside to cool.

When the mixture is cool enough so it won’t cook the eggs, add the eggs, one at a time, stirring after each addition. (You can use an electric mixer at this point if you like.) Then mix in the vanilla, orange zest, (if you decided to use it) baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix it all up together.

Add flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. You don’t have to be precise-just divide your flour into roughly 4 parts. (One very important reason for adding flour in increments is so that the whole mountain of flour won’t sit there on top of your bowl and spill out all over the place when you try to stir it in.)

Once the dough has been thoroughly mixed, roll one-inch dough balls with your fingers. (You can also use a 2-teaspoon scooper to form the dough balls). Dip the balls in the bowl of white sugar and roll them around until they’re coated.

Place the dough balls on a greased cookie sheet, (I usually spray mine with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray,) 12 dough balls to a standard-size sheet. Flatten the dough balls a bit with your impeccably clean palm so that they won’t roll off the cookie sheet on the way to the oven.

Bake the Chocolate Sugar Cookies at 325 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes. (Mine took 12 minutes.) Cool them on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove the cookies to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 7 to 8 dozen fudgy, melt-in-your-mouth, sugar cookies.

“Remind me not to order that again,” Mike said, pulling into the alley that ran past the back of The Cookie Jar.

“You didn’t like your peanut butter pepper burger?”

“It was…interesting.”

Hannah laughed. “That word covers a multitude of put-downs.”

“That’s true.” Mike pulled into the parking lot at the back of The Cookie Jar, parked next to Hannah’s cookie truck, and grabbed the bag of burgers they’d brought for what Hannah thought of as the Beeseman-Herman clan. “Beautiful night,” he said, looking up at the night sky.

“Yes.” Hannah looked up at the myriad of stars shining brilliantly overhead. After a day that had topped the eighties, the temperature had dropped to the low seventies and the air felt cool, a rarity in Minnesota where the difference between the high and low in the summer was seldom more than a few degrees.

There was a low sound as Hannah passed Herb’s cruiser. It was midway between a whimper and a bark, and she moved a few steps closer. The windows were down, and she could see Herb and Lisa’s puppy on a rug in the back bench seat. “Hi, Dillon,” she said. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Dillon stared at her with sad puppy-dog eyes, and Hannah would have reached in to pet him, but she knew that Herb was training him and she didn’t want to break any rules. “I’ll come back with a treat,” she promised, “if Daddy says it’s all right.”

“Poor little guy’s probably lonely out here,” Mike said. “Why don’t you ask Herb if he can come in?”

“I would if you weren’t here. It’s against health board regulations.”

“I’m not the health board.”

“Then it’s okay?”

“It’s okay by me. Besides, Herb’s training him to be a police dog. Police dogs can go anywhere they’re needed.”

“And Dillon is needed inside?”

“I’d say so. Somebody might break in and try to steal those apple turnovers you’re making. If that happens, Herb and I might need a little police dog assistance.”

Hannah gave Mike an approving look. When he’d first come to Lake Eden, he’d been a “by-the-book” cop. He’d moved here from Minneapolis, and big city police departments had to be stricter and their officers were expected to follow regulations to the letter. It had taken quite a while for Mike to learn that things were more relaxed in Lake Eden, and the rules were tempered by common sense.

When Hannah and Mike opened the back door of The Cookie Jar, a delightful scent rolled out to meet them. Hannah identified cinnamon, cardamom, and apples baking in what she was sure was a buttery crust.

“Mmmm,” Mike said with a sigh, taking a big gulping breath of the heady scent. “Nothing smells better than apple pie in the oven.”

“They’re apple turnovers,” Marge corrected him.

“I know, Mrs. Beeseman. Hannah told me. But it smells like my mom’s kitchen during apple-picking season. She used to make at least a dozen pies a day.”

“Did she sell them?”