in a mumbled just-woke-up kind of way.
“Sorry to bug you, but there’s a bit of a situation up here.”
“Situation?” Thomas sounded clearer.
“Well—uh—there’s been a murder.”
“A murder? Wait. Aren’t you up at Lake of the Woods? When I stopped by Torte for my morning coffee yesterday your mom said you were catering an event for OSF.”
“I am, and I found a body this morning.”
“Whoa. Slow down, Jules. A murder? Why are you calling me? Hang up and call the police.”
“You are the police, Thomas.”
“Jules, you know what I mean. Lake of the Woods isn’t my jurisdiction.”
“I know. I called the local police, but they can’t get here. The roads are blocked.”
“What?”
“It’s snowing like crazy.”
“It is?”
“It’s snowing in Ashland, too. Look out your window.”
“Hold on.” Thomas must have gotten up. I heard him whistle. “You’re right, it is. Okay so walk me through this. What happened?”
I filled him in on everything that had happened from Tony’s dramatic exit last night to finding the body and how Sterling was roping off the crime scene and the timeline we’d put together.
“Slow down, Jules. You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Let me call dispatch and see what I can find out. Can I reach you at this number?”
“Yeah, I’m on the lodge’s landline. Cell phones don’t work up here.”
“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll call you back in a few.”
The Professor and Thomas were on it. I had no doubt that not only would they get back to me, but that they would give me a clear direction on what to do next. Until then, I knew exactly what I needed to do: bake.
Chapter Twelve
I wanted to be able to hear the phone ring when the Professor and Thomas called back, so I propped the kitchen door open with a chair. In the blur of discovering Tony’s body, breakfast had been put on hold. We’d have to scrap the sausage casserole. There was no way I was going to retrieve them from the chest freezer now. Unfortunately the sausage is what gives it a nice spicy kick. Without it the potatoes and eggs would be bland.
Sterling, I love you, I thought as I stepped into the warm kitchen. He had started a fire in the pizza oven, peeled and sliced potatoes, and had them resting in a water-and-vinegar bath so they didn’t turn brown.
I dumped my cold coffee in the sink and washed my hands. The fire needed tending. After I added another log and stoked the flames, I checked my yeast. It had risen so high that it spilled over the sides of the glass measuring cup. If I could make it work, it would save me time.
Speaking of time, breakfast was due on the table in just over two hours. I needed a new plan. Instead of the sausage casserole we could toss the potatoes in olive oil, rosemary, and sea salt and wood-fire them. I knew we had peppers and sundried tomatoes. When Sterling returned, he could make an egg scramble with cotija cheese.
The question was what to do with the yeast? There wasn’t time to make an assortment of pastries. We could do that tomorrow. I decided to make a simple sweet bread instead. We had plenty of oranges. I could pair them with cardamom. The sweet spice should balance nicely with a citrus glaze, and I could add chopped pecans and walnuts to a couple of the pans. I’ve learned over the years to make sure to have nut-free options for people with allergies and for the rare guest who just doesn’t like nuts.
I sifted flour, salt, and sugar together, and began incorporating my monster yeast. Fingers crossed that it would rise again. Yeast can be fickle. If it failed, I didn’t have time to make another round. Fortunately, this recipe was nearly foolproof.
The dough is extremely versatile. We use it every day at Torte. I like to experiment with flavor combinations. Customers come back for our standard cinnamon rolls that ooze cinnamon and are packed with walnuts and raisins. We serve them warm with a healthy dose of cream cheese frosting. Mom
“Sorry to bug you, but there’s a bit of a situation up here.”
“Situation?” Thomas sounded clearer.
“Well—uh—there’s been a murder.”
“A murder? Wait. Aren’t you up at Lake of the Woods? When I stopped by Torte for my morning coffee yesterday your mom said you were catering an event for OSF.”
“I am, and I found a body this morning.”
“Whoa. Slow down, Jules. A murder? Why are you calling me? Hang up and call the police.”
“You are the police, Thomas.”
“Jules, you know what I mean. Lake of the Woods isn’t my jurisdiction.”
“I know. I called the local police, but they can’t get here. The roads are blocked.”
“What?”
“It’s snowing like crazy.”
“It is?”
“It’s snowing in Ashland, too. Look out your window.”
“Hold on.” Thomas must have gotten up. I heard him whistle. “You’re right, it is. Okay so walk me through this. What happened?”
I filled him in on everything that had happened from Tony’s dramatic exit last night to finding the body and how Sterling was roping off the crime scene and the timeline we’d put together.
“Slow down, Jules. You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Let me call dispatch and see what I can find out. Can I reach you at this number?”
“Yeah, I’m on the lodge’s landline. Cell phones don’t work up here.”
“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll call you back in a few.”
The Professor and Thomas were on it. I had no doubt that not only would they get back to me, but that they would give me a clear direction on what to do next. Until then, I knew exactly what I needed to do: bake.
Chapter Twelve
I wanted to be able to hear the phone ring when the Professor and Thomas called back, so I propped the kitchen door open with a chair. In the blur of discovering Tony’s body, breakfast had been put on hold. We’d have to scrap the sausage casserole. There was no way I was going to retrieve them from the chest freezer now. Unfortunately the sausage is what gives it a nice spicy kick. Without it the potatoes and eggs would be bland.
Sterling, I love you, I thought as I stepped into the warm kitchen. He had started a fire in the pizza oven, peeled and sliced potatoes, and had them resting in a water-and-vinegar bath so they didn’t turn brown.
I dumped my cold coffee in the sink and washed my hands. The fire needed tending. After I added another log and stoked the flames, I checked my yeast. It had risen so high that it spilled over the sides of the glass measuring cup. If I could make it work, it would save me time.
Speaking of time, breakfast was due on the table in just over two hours. I needed a new plan. Instead of the sausage casserole we could toss the potatoes in olive oil, rosemary, and sea salt and wood-fire them. I knew we had peppers and sundried tomatoes. When Sterling returned, he could make an egg scramble with cotija cheese.
The question was what to do with the yeast? There wasn’t time to make an assortment of pastries. We could do that tomorrow. I decided to make a simple sweet bread instead. We had plenty of oranges. I could pair them with cardamom. The sweet spice should balance nicely with a citrus glaze, and I could add chopped pecans and walnuts to a couple of the pans. I’ve learned over the years to make sure to have nut-free options for people with allergies and for the rare guest who just doesn’t like nuts.
I sifted flour, salt, and sugar together, and began incorporating my monster yeast. Fingers crossed that it would rise again. Yeast can be fickle. If it failed, I didn’t have time to make another round. Fortunately, this recipe was nearly foolproof.
The dough is extremely versatile. We use it every day at Torte. I like to experiment with flavor combinations. Customers come back for our standard cinnamon rolls that ooze cinnamon and are packed with walnuts and raisins. We serve them warm with a healthy dose of cream cheese frosting. Mom
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