Caught Bread Handed (21 page)

“A booze cake?” Mom covered the apples with a lid.

“He said that his customers loved the cakes I brought over yesterday. He wants both of them plus some kind of cake with alcohol. He's going for a bar theme.”

“Smart man.”

“That's what I said. I'm thinking of trying a marzipan cake with Grand Marnier cherry liqueur.”

“How decadent.” Mom looked at Stephanie “I don't know, what do you think, Stephanie? Are we sophisticated enough for marzipan and cherry liqueur cakes?”

Stephanie added vanilla to the egg mixture. “Doubt it. I don't think I've ever tried cherry liqueur.”

“You are in for a treat,” I said. My veggies were diced and ready to sauté. “I'll give you a taste as soon as I get this soup going.”

The key to a flavorful chicken soup is the stock. We make all of our stocks from scratch at Torte. It's an easy process. Whenever we roast chickens we save the bones, skin, and any extra meat, then we simmer them in water with rough-chopped carrots, celery, corn, and onions for an hour. Once the stock is ready, we skim off the fat and store it in plastic containers. It will keep for a week in the refrigerator or can be frozen for months.

I stirred the veggies on low heat and added a container of our frozen chicken stock. Soon the veggies had sweated and the onions had turned translucent and the stock had melted down. Then I added heaps of shredded chicken, salt, pepper, a dash of oregano, and a little water. That would cook for another hour before I added the noodles and finished it off with some sour cream. The end result would be a slightly creamy soup bursting with healthy flavors.

While Mom and Stephanie grilled French toast and continually restocked the pastry cases, I started on my marzipan cake. I planned to soak layers of sponge cake in the Grand Marnier. Marzipan would be the glue for each layer and then I would finish the cake with a simple cherry liqueur glaze. Not only would it be a rich and unique taste, but it should hold up well.

Marzipan is an almond sugar usually used to form into the shape of fruits and vegetables or dipped in chocolate. It can be a beautiful medium to work with. I remember stopping at a candy shop in Germany that was famous for their marzipan displays. It was almost impossible to tell the difference between a real lemon and their artistic rendering of a marzipan lemon.

Marzipan paste can also be used in a variety of cakes, pastries, and baked goods. I pulsed almonds into a fine powder in the Cuisinart. Then I added powdered sugar, almond extract, egg whites, and rosewater. Rosewater is essential in making a good marzipan. The water helps bind the paste together and adds a slight hint of sweetness.

Once the ingredients had been incorporated, I placed waxed paper on the island and worked the paste by hand until it had a firm consistency. I reserved half of it for my cake and rolled the rest of the marzipan into a long roll that I covered in plastic wrap and chilled in the refrigerator. It should last for at least two or three weeks.

“Is that extra?” Mom asked as I walked to the fridge with the extra marzipan.

“You want a taste?”

She shook her head. “Not right now. I'm up to my elbows in apples.” She wasn't kidding. Apple peels piled high in a mixing bowl. She worked the peeler like a pro. Coring and peeling each apple in one quick fluid motion. “What if we do hand-dipped chocolate marzipans for the Chocolate Fest?”

“Great idea. Those will be easy to make.” I paused and caught Stephanie's eye. She was topping an order of French toast with cinnamon apples and whipped cream. “When we get a break later I'll show you how to work with marzipan. In fact, we could get you started making candies for the fest. They'll keep for weeks in the fridge.”

Mom tossed an apple peel into the bowl. “Check off one chocolate item. How many more to go?”

“Just a few.” I smiled. In the front a crowd had begun to gather around the espresso bar.

Andy had talked to Mom and me about hosting weekly coffee tastings in the winter. We decided that Monday mornings would be designated for his “brewology class” as he called it. About fifteen people had shown up for Andy's demonstration on the difference types of grinds. “The kind of filter you use matters,” he said holding up a flat-bottomed filter. “Paper, cone, flat bottom—they all require a different grind.”

A woman raised her hand and asked Andy his recommendation for a gold filter.

I stopped and listened in for a minute. Andy chatted easily with each coffee connoisseur and he knew his stuff. I was impressed. I thought that he was going to offer customers tastes of different blends and coffee concoctions. He wasn't kidding about brewology. He was teaching a collegiate-level course on coffee.

How had Mom and I gotten so lucky?

I was about to return to the kitchen when I noticed Thomas crossing the plaza toward ShakesBurgers. I wanted to talk to him about Reggie, so I motioned to Andy that I would be right back and hurried across the street.

Thomas was clicking pictures of the front of the restaurant on his iPad.

“Morning,” I called as I came up behind him.

He clicked off the iPad and greeted me with a bright smile. “Morning. What are you doing out and about at this time of the day? Shouldn't you be slaving away in the kitchen?”

“I'm always slaving away.”

“Oh sure, we all know that you sit around and eat bonbons, Jules, come on. Come clean.”

“You got me, officer.” I threw my hands in the air. “Hey, speaking of coming clean, that's kind of why I came over here. I wanted to talk to you about something I found out that might be important in the case.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It's about Reggie, the cook that Mindy hired at ShakesBurgers.”

“What about him?”

I checked to make sure that no one was around. “Have you looked into his background? I heard that he was just released from jail.”

Thomas nodded. “The Professor and I are on it. It's standard procedure to do background checks on every suspect.”

“Even me?”

“Even you. Especially you.” Thomas grinned. “No, but seriously, we have our eye on Reggie. He was arrested on assault-and-battery charges.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“He got into a bar fight. Knocked a guy unconscious. The guy lost hearing in one ear and suffered minor brain damage.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“Yeah, bad stuff, Jules. Stay away from him.”

“Are you planning to arrest him?”

Thomas shrugged. “That's the Professor's call, not mine. But the Professor told me to keep Reggie in my sight. We've got a team staked out at the Merry Windsor where Reggie is staying. We're waiting for the coroner's report and a few other things to come in. Between you and me I think that we're close to making an arrest. I know the Professor is trying to tighten up Reggie's motive.”

“Did Alan come talk to you?”

“Why?”

“He told me that Mindy offered him the job as head chef and a percentage of the business. If Reggie found out, don't you think that's motive?”

Thomas nodded. “It's possible. We need evidence, though.”

Thomas stiffened. I watched his gaze shift from me to something across the street. I turned to see what or who he was looking at. I knew immediately—Carlos.

 

Chapter Twenty-two

Carlos caught my eye and started to saunter toward us. I said good-bye to Thomas and left as quickly as I could. The two of them hadn't exactly been on the best terms since Lake of the Woods. In a town the size of Ashland it was nearly impossible to keep them apart, but I'd been doing my best. It wasn't as if Carlos had anything to worry about. Thomas and I dated when we were kids. We were friends now, nothing more. I had told Carlos that repeatedly. He insisted that Thomas was still in love with me. There was a chance that was true, but I didn't see any reason to feed into Carlos's suspicions. We had enough to work out between us without adding Thomas to the mix.

“Julieta, you look lovely this morning. Did you sleep well?” Carlos reached for me the second I was within his grasp and pulled me into his arms.

I wondered if Thomas was watching us embrace.

“Not bad,” I lied, returning his hug.

“You are a terrible liar,
mi querida.
” Carlos kissed the top of my head. “When will you learn this?”

“Never.” I pulled away from him. He was leaving tomorrow. How was that possible? It felt like he just arrived. Things were finally starting to feel normal between us. Maybe Lance was right. Maybe I couldn't have both. Was it Torte or Carlos?

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” I lied again.

Carlos took my hand and kissed it. His lips lingered on my skin. I inhaled. “I will miss you too.”

“How did you know?”

“It is in your eyes. They do not lie.”

I leaned into his chest. “I don't want you to go, Carlos.”

“I do not want to leave.”

We stood together in a comfortable silence for a minute. People passed by. I didn't care. Being with Carlos felt right. Was I making a huge mistake?

Finally Carlos kissed my hand again and said, “Come. We must get to work. It is a busy day,
sí
?”

I sighed. “It is.”

“Then we will cook and make some beautiful food in the kitchen.”

“Let's do it,” I agreed as Carlos led me toward Torte. I wasn't sure how I was going to concentrate for the rest of the day, but I would give it my best effort. “I didn't even ask how the rest of your night was.”

Carlos shook his head. “It was terrible. That hotel is in terrible shape. It does not smell good. And Mr. Lord would not let me to my room without asking about Jose. He thinks we are planning something. He asked me again and again what I know about Jose's vineyard and wanted to know why Jose was at Torte yesterday. That man is horrible.” He scowled and continued. “And the police, they were around all night and this morning. I got no sleep.”

“I'm so sorry. We should have found somewhere else for you. Mom offered to have you stay at her place.”

“No, no, it is fine. I wanted to be close to you. I look out my window last night and see the light on in your apartment. It made me feel good to know that I was so close.”

I squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek before opening the door at Torte. “It makes me feel good too.”

Andy had small paper tasting cups lined up on the espresso bar when Carlos and I walked inside. The crowd had grown. “Okay, give this a shot.” He motioned to the tray. “This is my newest creation, the chunky monkey. It's not for the sweet of heart, as my mom likes to say. If you don't like sugar this one might not be for you, but I think it's pretty good and kind of funky.” He laughed. “Get it, funky—chunky.”

Carlos whispered in my ear. “He is a good teacher and he knows his coffee. He is so young to know this much, no? Did he learn this from your mother?”

I shook my head. “I don't think so. Maybe some of it, but he's self-taught. He's a very motivated student. Every time a new coffee vendor visits the shop he always sits in on the meetings and asks really good questions.”

“Julieta, do you understand how special this staff is? We do not have staff this good on the ship. We do not have culinary graduates who are this dedicated and know so much at such a young age.”

“I know. That's why I can't leave.” I met his eyes.

His jaw flexed. “I understand this,” he said quietly.

Andy's chunky monkey was an instant hit. “Is there banana in this?” someone asked.

“Yep. You like it?” Andy asked.

The woman held up an empty tasting cup. “Can I have seconds?”

“I can make you a sixteen-ounce if you want.”

“Yes, please,” the woman said.

“Me too!” someone else shouted.

Andy winked at me and started pulling espresso shots. I walked to the back. Carlos followed me. He stopped near the office where Mom was working on paperwork. “I need to talk to your mother for a moment. Will you excuse me?”

I nodded but as I continued on to wash my hands I wondered what Carlos wanted to talk to Mom about. Was he trying to get her on board with the idea of me returning to the ship with him? I hoped he wasn't putting her in an awkward position.

Whatever they were discussing they wanted to keep private. Carlos shut the office door behind him. I'd have to ask Mom later. I knew that she would speak for herself, but I didn't want her to feel like she was in the middle of my problems. She had enough to worry about. Which reminded me that I wanted to check in with her later and find out if she and the Professor had had a chance to talk too.

Right now I needed to assemble my marzipan cake. I sliced thin layers of sponge cake and soaked them in cherry liqueur. The alcohol permeated the light sponge.

Sterling showed up as I began rolling the marzipan into sheets. “It smells like a bar back here, Jules.”

I reached across the counter to high-five Stephanie. “That's exactly what we're going for.”

Stephanie and Sterling shared an amused look. “If that's what you're going for, I guess that's good.” Sterling wore a gray hoodie with a retro peace symbol on the front. “Do you need any help with lunch prep or should I work the counter?”

“Why don't you work the counter? Andy's been doing his brewology class and it looks like all of his coffee students are sticking around.”

“Works for me,” Sterling said. Before he left to wash up and get an apron, he said something under his breath to Stephanie. She actually smiled. A genuine smile from Stephanie was almost unheard of. What had Sterling said to crack her sullen exterior? Maybe Carlos's advice was paying off.

I returned to my cake, placing the first layer of sponge. Then I covered it with a thin sheet of marzipan and piped almond–whipped cream between each layer. I continued to stack each layer this way until I reached the top layer. I had reserved some Grand Marnier and brushed it over the top and side of the cake. Once it had soaked into the sponge I piped the rest of it with whipped cream and decorated it with cherries. Craig would need to store this cake in the refrigerator.