The Case of the Missing Deed (15 page)

After they left, Grandma went for a nap. Sébastien turned to the others. “Don’t you think there was something funny about Rachel and Chad?”

“Like what?” Claire asked.

“Why were they so interested in
Brown Sugar Spice Cake?”
Sébastien said.

Geneviève rolled her eyes. “Duh. Because they want to make it for their party.”

“Maybe not.”

“Sébastien, what are you talking about?”

“Maybe they know something. Maybe that recipe is the key to the deed. Maybe they want to find it before we do.”

“What!” all the others said at once.

Sébastien blushed. Okay, it sounded pretty silly now that he said it out loud … but there still might be something to it.

“Look, we know they’re thinking about selling their property to Tantalus.”

“Yeah. So?” Alex said.

“Well, maybe they’re actually on their side. Maybe they want the mine to go through.”

“But we heard them say they don’t want to sell,” Olivia said.

“But maybe that was just a line. And if they do want the mine to go through, they don’t want Grandma to find her deed because it would make the project go easier without all these people holding out. And if they know something about that recipe, then they might find the deed before we do.”

Geneviève corkscrewed her finger beside her head. “You’ve really done it now, Seb. First you suspect Charlie. Then Shane. Now Chad and Rachel. You’re paranoid!”

“It does sound pretty far-fetched, Seb,” Alex said, looking at him with pity.

“Then why did they come over here to get the recipe, when they could have just looked on the Internet for one like it?” Sébastien replied. “And why did they go through the recipes like they were searching for something?”

“Now that you put it that way …” Olivia began.

“Liv!” Geneviève cried. “Not you too.”

Olivia shrugged. “It sounds crazy … but when Seb explains it, I can’t help but wonder. What if they
do
know something? What if they
are
working against us?”

Geneviève rolled her eyes. “Okay, you great detectives, let’s suppose just for a moment – which I don’t believe at all, but let’s just suppose – that Seb’s right. Then what? What do we do?”

“Well … we could try making that recipe and see what happens,” Sébastien said.

“But we’re supposed to be looking for clues, not making
Brown Sugar Spice Cake,”
Alex said.

“But we need to beat them!” Sébastien said. “We can’t let them figure it out first.”

“I don’t believe this,” Geneviève said. “The survey stakes are up. The mine is getting closer. And you want to waste time making some copycat recipe? You’re the one who flipped out because Shane ‘wasted our time’ looking for that glowing stuff in the water!”

“He did waste our time,” Sébastien said under his breath.

“Forget it. I’m not making some cake just because Sébastien has a wild idea about Rachel and Chad.” Geneviève left the kitchen.

Claire shook her head and followed. Alex did the same, giving Sébastien a sorry look.

Brown Sugar Spice Cake

Ingredients:

4 1/4 cups cake and pastry (or all purpose) flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon allspice

zest of 1 lemon (finely shaved peel)

2 cups brown sugar

1 cup vegetable oil

2 teaspoons vanilla

4 eggs

2 cups buttermilk

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°.

2. Sift flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice. Set aside.

3. Beat the brown sugar, lemon zest, vegetable oil, and vanilla. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well between each addition. The batter will thicken and start to lighten in color. Beat for 1 minute once all eggs have been added.

4. Add the dry ingredients in 3 additions, alternating with the buttermilk and finishing with an addition of dry ingredients. Scrape down sides of bowl between each addition. Beat lightly for 30 seconds after last addition of dry ingredients.

5. Butter two 9″ cake pans, then dust with flour, tapping out extra. Scrape batter into pans, and bake until a skewer inserted into center of each cake comes out clean and surface of cakes springs
back lightly when touched (approximately 1 hour).

6. Remove cakes from oven. Cool 5 minutes, then turn cakes out of pans and cool on wire racks. Serve at room temperature with caramel sauce, whipped cream, or fresh cherries.

“Um … I’m not very good at this,” Sébastien said, opening and closing cupboard doors, looking for a mixing bowl.

“Me neither,” Olivia said. “But how hard can it be? We just follow the recipe, right?”

“Right,” Sébastien said uncertainly. “Does this look big enough?” He held out an enormous ceramic bowl.

Olivia laughed. “I think we could make eight cakes in that one, Seb.”

They took turns reading out the directions. Olivia found an eggbeater in a drawer and used it to beat the eggs with the butter and sugar. She clanged the blades against the side of the bowl, and a glob of batter sprayed up and spattered her glasses. “Oops,” she said, wiping the surface with her shirt sleeve. Greasy streaks smudged the glass.

“Okay, that looks mixed enough,” Sébastien said. “What’s next?”

Olivia peered at the recipe. “Four and a quarter cups of sifted flour.”

Sébastien found a sifter and dumped the flour in. As he enthusiastically pulled the handle, a fine white cloud floated up and coated the smudges on Olivia’s glasses.

They measured out the spices, and Olivia added them to the flour.

“Mmm, smells good,” she said. “I bet it’ll be delicious.”
She held up the recipe. “Last ingredient. One and a half cups of baking soda.”

Sébastien measured it and stirred it into the flour and spices. Then they mixed the wet and dry ingredients together, alternating with the buttermilk and finishing with the dry mixture, just like the recipe said. The batter was nice and bubbly, a beautiful rich shade of brown. Carefully, they poured it into the pans and slid it into the oven.

They surveyed the kitchen. Mounds of flour, globs of the sugar-butter-and-eggs mixture, puddles of buttermilk, and dustings of spice littered the counters, table, and floor.

“We’re not exactly the neatest cooks,” Olivia said with a laugh. She filled the sink with soapy water while Sébastien gathered up the dishes.

“Turn off the water for a sec,” he said. “Do you hear something?”

Olivia listened. There was a faint popping sound coming from the oven. “Just the cake baking, I guess. Doesn’t it smell good?”

Sébastien nodded. “Do you think we should check on it?”

She shook her head. “I heard Gen say that you shouldn’t open the oven door too much while a cake is baking. Makes it go flat or something.”

She continued filling the sink. Sébastien started wiping the counters.

The popping sound grew louder. They exchanged a look. “Maybe we’d better.” Olivia said.

Sébastien carefully opened the oven door. The surfaces of the cakes were bubbling. Small burps rose to the top and burst, sending bits of batter shooting up to the oven ceiling,
where they scorched with a hissing sound.

As Sébastien and Olivia watched in disbelief, the bubbles became larger. They exploded in larger bursts, with louder splats. Acrid smoke, smelling of burned sugar, started wafting out of the oven.

“Oh no,” Sébastien said, overcome with growing horror, yet unable to do anything but stand there and watch.

“I think we’d better take–” Olivia began.

The largest burst yet arose from the middle of one pan. It shot up to the oven ceiling, dripped down onto the cake, and splatted onto the floor of the oven, where it instantly scorched, sending more smoke billowing out into the room.

The smoke alarm started buzzing, a piercing blast that shrilled over … and over … and over …

While Sébastien stood there, paralyzed, Olivia sprang into action. Running to fetch oven mitts, she carefully pulled out the pans and set them down in the sink. Along the way, more explosions burst over the edges and splatted onto the floor.

Grandma, Eve, Charlie, Geneviève, Alex, and Claire came running.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?”

“What did you do? Is there a fire?”

“What a mess!”

It took two hours to scour the oven, not to mention scrubbing the counters, floors, table, and sink.

When they had finished cleaning, Sébastien flopped into a chair. Olivia washed her face and her filthy glasses, then joined him at the table.

“I can’t imagine what we did wrong,” Sébastien said. “We
followed the recipe exactly, right?”

Olivia started laughing.

“What?” Sébastien asked.

Olivia could only shake her head and point to the recipe.

Sébastien looked. For the amount of baking soda, it said “one and a half teaspoons.”

He started laughing too. “You mean we … one and a half
cups?
Oh my goodness.”

They both roared.

“Kaboom!” Sébastien said.

et me guess,” Geneviève said smugly, “by making the cake you discovered that Rachel and Chad were secretly planning to blow up the island.”

“Very funny,” Sébastien said, gritting his teeth.

“Rachel and Chad – bird-watching terrorists,” Geneviève added.

“All right already,” Sébastien began angrily, but Olivia chuckled. “It
was
hilarious,” she admitted. “And it was all my fault. My glasses were so dirty, I read the recipe wrong.”

“Yeah, I’d say putting in about twenty times too much baking soda was a little mistake,” Geneviève said.

Everyone laughed.

“So …” Geneviève went on, “do you admit you were completely wrong about Rachel and Chad? Can we forget about them now?”

“No,” Sébastien said.

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

“Just because Liv and I blew it with the cake doesn’t mean that they aren’t up to something. I still think they were a little too eager to get that recipe. We need to find out what they’re up to.”

“For crying out loud, Sébastien! Let it go,” Geneviève said.

But he couldn’t. So after Geneviève, Alex, and Claire left – having decided to look one more time for the door that fit the key – Sébastien and Olivia climbed on their bikes and started pedaling to Rachel and Chad’s house.

“Today’s Chad’s birthday,” he reminded her. “With a crowd around, we might be able to sneak in undetected and do a little sleuthing.”

“You mean crash the party?” Olivia said, eyes wide behind her glasses.

“No!” Sébastien said. “They can’t know we’re there. I don’t want to tip them off. We just want to look around and see if we can find anything suspicious.”

“Like?”

“No idea,” he admitted, riding along. “A note from Tantalus about the mine? Scribbles on the recipe they borrowed? Anything.”

“I’m on the case, sir,” Olivia said, giving a little salute, but then she stopped her bike short.

“What?” Sébastien said, braking to a stop beside her.

“Look at those violets,” she said, pointing to a clump of flowers beside the road. “Did you ever see them in that shade before? What would you call that? Teal? Turquoise? Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Liv!”

“Sorry, one minute.” She hopped off her bike, picked a few of the blooms, and tucked them in her shorts pocket. “I’ve got to show these to Grandma.”

By the time they dropped their bikes in the trees behind Rachel and Chad’s, they could tell that the party was in full swing. Several cars were parked in the driveway, country and
western music was blaring from the windows, and delicious smells were coming from the kitchen.

Sébastien looked left, right, then dashed to the back wall, Olivia on his heels. Hugging the house, they made their way around the back wall and then along the side. A deck, festooned with balloons and
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
banners, wrapped around the house from the side and continued around the front. Sébastien straightened up slowly and peeked over the deck floor, which was at the level of his chest. The kitchen was at the front of the house; standing on tiptoes, he could see the refrigerator through a side window. The kitchen seemed to be empty. Apparently the guests were all out on the deck on the other side of the house.

“This is our chance to look for the recipe and see if they’ve written anything on it,” Sébastien whispered.

“Are you going in?”

“Not sure. Just want to peek through the window first.”

“Me too!”

Hooking their feet on the deck floor and holding onto the wooden railing, they managed to pull themselves up onto the deck, then climbed up on the railing and flattened themselves against the side of the house. From the other end of the deck, a child’s voice called over the music, “Look, Uncle Chad, I can balance a jellybean on my nose!” There was a peal of laughter.

Olivia, who was nearer the front of the house, carefully peeked around the corner. As they had suspected, all the guests were at the other end, where a picnic table and chairs had been set up. She nodded to Sébastien, and they inched their way sideways along the railing, moving closer to the kitchen window. Carefully they peered inside. All they could see was
a mess of dishes, glasses, and serving trays strewn with the remains of cheese and crackers, veggies and dip, a broccoli casserole, and the skeleton of a large fish.