Candy Cane Murder (Hannah Swensen #9.5)(21)

Spread the red and green pepper pieces out in the bottom of your pastry-lined pie pan.

Sprinkle the cup of herb-seasoned stuffing mix over the top of the peppers.

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Spread the grated Swiss cheese and the grated Monterey Jack cheese on top of the stuffing mix.

(Put the meat in here if you want to use it, or the anchovies.) Sprinkle on the onion powder and the salt.

Grind the pepper on top.

Put a drip pan under your pie plate. (I line a jellyroll pan with foil and use that.) This will catch any spills that might occur when you fill your quiche with the custard mixture.

Give your custard mixture a good whisk. Then pour it over the top of your quiche, filling it about half way.

Open the oven, pull out the rack and set your pie plate and drip pan on it. Pour in more custard mixture, stopping a quarter-inch short of the rim. Carefully push in the rack, and shut the oven door.

Bake your Holiday Quiche at 350 degrees F., for 50 to 60 minutes, or until the top is nicely browned and a knife inserted one-inch from the center comes out clean.

Let it cool for 15 to 30 minutes on a cold stovetop or a wire rack, and then cut and serve.

I think this quiche is better when it’s warm, but Lisa says Herb likes it cold.

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Chapter


! Six #

“This is really sweet of you, Norman,” Hannah said, opening the back door of his car and placing the bags of cookies she’d prepared on the seat. Once she’d stashed the goodies, she got into the front seat and smiled. It was warm inside Norman’s car. And warmth was a luxury in the winter in Minnesota. Even though Mike had fixed the heater on her cookie truck, it was still drafty and the cavernous space in the back was always cold in the winter months.

“I enjoy going places with you, Hannah.” Norman backed out of the parking spot and headed down the alley that ran in back of Hannah’s shop. “You know I like helping you investigate, and Doc Bennett’s filling in for me for the rest of the day at the clinic.”

Hannah glanced at Norman’s profile as he drove down the alley and turned onto Third. He wasn’t what any woman would call a heartthrob, but he was nice looking. It was his personality that catapulted him straight to the top of the handsome category. Her great grandmother Elsa used to say, Handsome is as handsome does, and it was true. Norman was kind, intelligent, sweet, and caring. They were qualities that Hannah held dear, right along with Norman’s sense of humor, his kindness, and his willingness to indulge her chocolate-loving soul.

The afternoon sun sparkling on the snow that had fallen CANDY CANE MURDER

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the previous night was so bright that Hannah almost wished she’d worn sunglasses. And then, before she could do more than think it, Norman had opened the glove compartment and was handing her a pair.

“Here,” he said. “It’s really bright out today.”

Hannah slipped on the sunglasses. “So how long have you been doing it?”

“Doing what?”

“Reading my mind.”

Norman waggled his eyebrows at her. “As kindred souls we share our thoughts in a way that others can only envy.”

“Very poetic!”

“I know. It must be a reaction to all that flowery language at the Regency luncheon.”

“That could be. But you did read my mind.”

“Not really. I just noticed that you were squinting, that’s all.”

Norman clicked on his turn signal and they made a left turn at the bright green shamrock-shaped sign that spoke of Cyril’s heritage. Hannah’s truck hadn’t required Cyril’s services for several months and she hadn’t had occasion to visit the garage. During this time, a new building had been erected between the huge corrugated shed that housed the used cars Cyril sold, and the garage itself. The garage was a fairly large structure containing four work bays in the rear and gas pumps out in front. The new building was attached to the side of the garage and there was a bright green sign just under the roof that read, SHAMROCK LIMOS. The building had a door that was presently rolled up and Hannah could see three sparkling white limousines parked inside.

“Looks like Cyril is branching out,” Norman said, pulling past the pumps and parking at the side of the new building.

“The last time I was out here, he had just one limo.”

“Business must be good,” Hannah said, reaching in back to select one of the bags while Norman got out and walked around the car to open her door. They had arrived at an un-74

Joanne Fluke

spoken arrangement over two years ago. Norman knew that Hannah could open her own car door, but he liked to do it for her. And although Hannah bristled slightly, sitting there and waiting for him to do something she could perfectly well do for herself, she let him do it because it pleased him.

Norman took her arm and Hannah let him. This time it wasn’t an unspoken arrangement; it was necessity on both of their parts. It was icy and their chances of falling were greatly diminished if they hung on to one another. Slipping and sliding, they made it around the side of the building and through the door to the garage.

Cyril was sitting behind the counter, talking to one of his mechanics. Hannah knew he was a mechanic because everyone who worked at Murphy’s Garage wore shamrock-green coveralls. Cyril gave them a wave to acknowledge them, said something about rotors, tolerances, and millimeters, and the mechanic hurried back into the first work bay.