Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(7)

"What is it, Edna?"

"It's this tea bread dough. It's not right. Come over here and stir it and you'll see what I mean."

Hannah hurried to the workstation and gave the bowl a stir. The dough was as thin as crepe batter. "See what I mean?"

"I see. Are you sure you followed the recipe exactly?"

"I'm positive," Edna said, nodding so vigorously her tight gray curls bounced.

"I'm positive, too," Linda Gradin spoke up. "I did the measuring and I watched while Donna mixed it all up."

Donna Lempke nodded. "We even talked about the flour. It just didn't seem like it would be enough and we had Edna double check the recipe. That's what it says, Hannah. A cup and a half."

"Let's see." Hannah took the recipe that Edna handed to her and frowned as she read it. There was definitely a discrepancy between the amount of liquid and dry ingredients.

"Should I add more flour?" Edna asked. "It'll never turn out right this way. I think another cup'll be just right."

"No, you'd just be guessing at the amount. This is Helen Barthel's recipe. Let's call her and check."

"I'll do it," Charlotte Roscoe volunteered.

"Thanks, Charlotte," Hannah said, smiling at the school secretary. "We'll just wait while you run up to your office."

Charlotte drew a cell phone from her pocket. "This is faster. Does anybody know Helen's number off the top of their head?"

One student was reciting the number when Hannah heard Gail Hansen call out from the group at the next workstation. "Could you come here for a minute, Hannah? We don't know if these cookies are big enough."

Hannah walked over to look. Gail's group was testing the Boggles she'd developed. "They look just perfect, Gail."

"Good!" Gail slipped the cookies into the oven and motioned for Irma York to start the timer. "I'm a little worried about one thing in the recipe, though."

"What's that?"

"You say to form the dough into walnut-sized balls. That just won't fadge in some parts of the state."

"Won't what?"

"Won't fadge." Gail gave an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry, Hannah. I went to a Regency club meeting this afternoon and I'm still talking that way. I just mean it won't work, that it might confuse a lot of people. I'll bet there are plenty of folks in the big cities who'll think you mean a shelled walnut."

"Really? I never thought of that, but you could be right. I'd better reword it."

"I just talked to Helen," Charlotte called out. "She checked her recipe book and it's two and a half cups, not one and a half cups. Edna was right when she wanted to add another cup."

Hannah gave Edna a thumbs-up for guessing the amount of flour correctly. Of course that wasn't all that surprising. Edna had been baking almost every day for the past forty-plus years.

Hannah had just turned to group three to see how their pie was coming when she heard a bloodcurdling scream.

"What was that?" Hannah gasped, her eyes darting around the room to make sure that none of her students was hurt.

"I don't know!" Edna sounded thoroughly shocked. "Should we call the police? I'm almost sure it came from the classroom next door."

Hannah laughed, her fears put to rest. "If it came from next door, it is the police. Mike Kingston's in there with his self-defense class. He's probably teaching his students to scream if someone tries to mug them."

The words had just left Hannah's mouth when more screaming ensued from the classroom next door. This was followed by blasts on whistles and instructions to back off. It was definitely Mike's class making all that noise. Hannah and her students shared another laugh and then they went back to their baking.

It wasn't easy to concentrate on testing recipes when the class next door was so noisy, but Hannah's students managed to do it. By the time nine o'clock rolled around and the class officially ended, they had divided up the baked goods so that everyone could have some to take home, cleaned the workstations, and decided which recipes they wanted to test in their own kitchens as homework. Five minutes later, Hannah's classroom was deserted and she was just doing a final check of the pantry when Mike knocked on the open door.

"Hi, Hannah. Are you ready for that steak?"

"I've been dreaming about it all day." Hannah turned to look at him and her breath caught in her throat. Steak wasn't the only thing she'd been dreaming of. Tall, rugged, and handsome, it was no wonder that every single woman in town, and some that weren't so single, were staying awake nights trying to think of ways to attract Mike's attention. If the Winnetka County Sheriff's Department wanted to put out one of the beefcake calendars that so many other groups were doing to raise money, all they'd have to do was put Mike on the cover and they'd have a bestseller. "Did Sheriff Grant catch you on your way in? He stopped by here and he said he had some handouts for you."

"He was waiting for me when I pulled into the parking lot. I told him I wouldn't pass out the flyers."

"Why not?"

"They were Grant for Sheriff flyers."

"They were?" Hannah started to chuckle. "No wonder he didn't want to leave them with me! And isn't there some kind of rule about passing out political flyers in school?"