As they neared the condo building, Marla received a frantic text from Kitty.
Help! Take a break from crime-busting to save my life!
She read the text to Rex.
“Is she serious?” he asked.
“I have no idea. It could be anything from a broken nail to a trip to the hospital with Kitty. Can we postpone our discussion long enough for me to check on her?”
“Sure. I’ll even come with you in case she needs my help too.”
Kitty met them in the kitchen, where she was staring at some of the same ingredients Marla had used for making the apple pies. “Thank goodness you were able to break away from tracking down the killer. I need you here right now.”
“I don’t see any blood,” Marla replied.
“And you’re standing upright,” Rex added.
“How are we supposed to save your life?” Marla asked.
“I need to bake an apple pie by seven thirty,” she responded, motioning toward the items lining the island. “Or rather, you need to bake one, with me helping enough to claim ownership.”
“That’s the emergency?” She wasn’t surprised, just a little irritated. She’d been through Kitty’s so-called emergencies more than once before.
“It is to me,” Kitty said, running a hand through her hair. “Somehow Hub got the idea I was an excellent pie baker.” She turned to Rex. “That’s Hub Sherman, the guy I’m currently seeing socially.”
Marla knew exactly how Hub got the wrong idea about Kitty’s baking skills, but more to the point, why hadn’t Kitty set him straight? Surely that wouldn’t have ended their relationship. Baking another pie might be just the kind of break she needed right now but not before she gave Kitty grief for interrupting their investigation. “You want Rex and me to put our investigation on hold to help you impress your boyfriend? To seemingly save you from once again skating over the truth?”
“Uh, yes. You’re here now, and it won’t take long. Especially because this pie has to bake and cool in the next two and a half hours.” Her jaunty tone hadn’t changed one bit after Marla’s questions.
Although she knew she’d cave eventually, Marla wasn’t about to help Kitty until she let her know her request was ill-timed. “We’ve had a full day talking to people associated with the victim, and our heads are full. We were just about to have a bite to eat at Rex’s condo and rehash what we’ve learned. Baking a pie might throw us off.”
Kitty got that look on her face, the one where she lit up like she’d just had the brightest of ideas. “On the contrary, this little break is exactly what you need for all that info to gel so you can go back to it later and examine it in a clear light.”
Kitty wasn’t one to admit defeat. Instead, she invented ways to get herself out of or around the scrapes she created. This was one of those times.
Before Marla could hassle Kitty further, Rex came to Kitty’s aid. “Can I help? I know a little about how to bake a pie. My grandmother taught me. Haven’t made one in years, though.”
So much for chastising Kitty further. “Okay. We’d better get started if this pie is going to get baked and cool in this short span of time we have,” Marla said.
“Thank you, guys! I’ll be in your debt. I’ve already peeled and quartered the apples for the filling to save us time,” Kitty gushed.
“The ones I’d put aside to make an apple crisp,” Marla said. Goodbye to that plan.
“That woman getting herself murdered has put that project on hold indefinitely,” Kitty said. “They would’ve spoiled waiting for you to solve the case.”
So much for Kitty’s confidence in their investigative talents.
“What kind are they?” Rex asked.
“Honeycrisp,” Kitty replied. “That’s all our mom used when she could get them. Granny Smith are a little too tart for me, even with added sugar.”
Rex nodded his approval. “Good choice. Why don’t you add the other ingredients to the apples, Kitty, while we get the rest of the crust ready?”
Since all Kitty had to do was prepare sugar, cinnamon and a touch of nutmeg to sprinkle over the apples, she agreed to take on that task. Marla and Rex headed to the island for the main event.
Marla gathered flour, shortening, salt and a cup of cold water. After she’d measured out the flour, she began to cut in the shortening with a pastry cutter.
“Wait. That’s how you mix the ingredients?” Rex asked.
Marla held up the pastry cutter. “With this, yes. I had to order one online when I made some pies for Kitty last week. Our mom always used one, but Kitty’s stock of kitchen equipment is sadly lacking.”
“That’s because I rarely do any baking, which is why you two are helping me now,” Kitty said from the sidelines.
“You don’t have a food processor?” Rex asked.
“I have a blender I never use in the pantry. Will that work?” Kitty replied.
“Maybe.” He shot a look at the assembled ingredients. “Where’s the butter?”
“I tried adding butter a few times a while back when I was baking pies more often,” Marla said. “My crusts browned too fast. One even burned. So I stopped using it.”
“Was it at room temp or still refrigerated?” he asked.
She thought back. That was a long time ago, right after she and Carson had first been married. “I’d just assembled all my ingredients. But the butter may have softened a tad by the time I added it.”
“Did you cut it up before adding it?”
What was with all the questions? “Rex, you’re not interviewing suspects right now. Yes, I cut it up so I could mix it with the shortening.”
“You mixed the two together before cutting them into the flour and salt?”
“That seemed to make sense.”
Rex hesitated, as if weighing whether to say something more or just get on with prepping Kitty’s masterpiece.
“Go on. What aren’t you saying?” Marla asked. Whatever it was would come out sooner or later. Might as well deal with it now.
“Since you asked … I dice the butter into small pats and then douse it with some of the flour before mixing them in. That’s after I’ve combined most of the flour and all of the salt and shortening in a food processor. After that, I add the flour-coated butter. I started doing this after I read somewhere that the flour on the butter prevents the water from saturating the flour to form too much gluten. I guess you get a flakier crust with less gluten.”
“Listen to you,” Kitty said, admiring Rex’s input. “You could easily be a pastry chef in some fancy restaurant.”
“Hold off the praises until you’ve tasted the proof of my efforts,” he replied. “That is, if your sister wants to try some of my suggestions?”
Marla didn’t know whether to be insulted by his input or relieved to have someone else assisting her. The two pies she’d made for Kitty’s lesson turned out okay, but they hadn’t been particularly tasty. “Okay, if you think her blender can substitute for a food processor?”
“Let’s give it a try,” he said.
He did the honors, mixing the ingredients per his recommendations. A lovely ball of dough resulted, which he divided in two.
“You need to chill them for at least an hour,” Rex said. “Marla and I have to leave, so let’s talk through your next steps. Do you have a pie crust mat?” he asked once the circular balls were in the fridge.
“No,” Kitty replied. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“She does have parchment paper,” Marla said. “I got a box at the grocery store when we bought the other ingredients.”
“Okay, beats rolling it out on just a flat flour-covered surface,” Rex said. He addressed Kitty. “I don’t suppose you have a French-style rolling pin?”
Kitty gave Marla a pinched look, not tracking.
“I had one years ago,” Marla said. “Kitty has the more conventional style. That was actually here when I checked her inventory.”
“Guess you’ll have to use that style then,” he said, discouraged.
“What’s so great about the French style?” Kitty asked.
“It has a smaller circumference, so it gives the rolled-out crust a smoother surface. The ends of the pin are flattened out, making it easier to hold on to,” Marla said.
They all agreed on the need to flour the parchment paper and the rolling pin to keep the dough from sticking. “It will work best to roll the same direction,” he said.
“Won’t the crust become a longer strip rather than a round circle?” Marla asked.
“Not if you turn the parchment paper after each roll,” he said. “How about a slider? Do you have one of those, Kitty?”
“I don’t even know what one is,” she replied.
“A long knife will probably work. You’ll need it to keep the underside of the dough from sticking to the parchment paper,” he told her.
“I’ve always kept the underside floured to prevent sticking,” Marla said.
“You need that, too,” he replied.
“I suppose you have tips on making the perfect filling too,” Marla said, trying to keep her tone from sounding sarcastic, because so far he had produced what looked like pretty good crusts. Maybe not world-class, but then, he didn’t have all the tools he needed.
“Can’t help you there. My granny was very particular about her fruit fillings. I got to watch, but she never trusted me to handle them on my own.”
Marla had to chuckle. “I’m trying to picture you letting your grandmother take charge.”
“She knew what she wanted and how to get it. Her grandson was there to observe and learn. She was a great teacher.”
“She must’ve been,” Marla said. “I can see how you picked up on those traits.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he returned, refusing to be insulted.
“You’re on your own for the rest of the process,” Marla told Kitty, since this pie-baking lesson had already cut into her time to debrief with Rex.
“You’re leaving me?” Kitty cried, panic underlying her tone.
“We did the hard part,” Rex said. “Just roll out one crust at a time. Once you’ve placed your chopped-up apples in the bottom crust, do your thing sprinkling sugar, cinnamon and a touch of nutmeg. Let that sit out while you roll out the top crust and then bake. As easy as apple pie,” he added with a sardonic smile.
“Take great care removing the pie from the oven on time,” Marla told her sister as she and Rex prepared to leave.
Kitty put a hand over her chest. “I’m not a complete novice, Marla. I cooked for two kids and a picky husband for years. I just haven’t done much cooking or baking since the kids moved out.”
She was right. While Kitty had been fending for her family, Marla had counted on a cook and housekeeper so she could make films and later appear on TV. “What I meant,” she attempted to explain, “was that you’ll probably be getting ready for your date when it’s time to take the pie out. Just set the oven timer and the one on your phone and you’ll be fine. Send us a photo of the finished product and let us know about Hub’s reaction.”
“Will do. Thank you both. I’ve ordered a pizza to be delivered to Rex’s condo in about five minutes as my small token of appreciation.”
“It was actually a pleasure to take a break and relive some of my fonder memories from my boyhood,” Rex told her.
Kitty turned to Marla. “The two of you worked well together. Maybe you should get Rex to partner up with you on your video.”
Marla groaned inwardly. They’d almost escaped without any more discussion of the ill-fated video.
Rex pivoted toward Marla. He lifted a brow. “That’s right. I heard you were working on a video.”
Marla attempted to wave it off. “I’ve just been playing around with the idea. “C’mon, let’s go check on this pizza Kitty ordered for us.”