sherries. I told Tom about being tended to by Amy Bartholomew, nurse lately of ACHMO. “She’s involved with natural remedies now.” That reminded me. I sought out my last four arnica tablets and washed them down with the glass of cream sherry. It may not have been what the homeopaths would have recommended, but I thought it was wonderful.
Tom pulled me into his lap. “Tell me we’re going to have a break from talking about this case tomorrow, Miss G. This guy gets arrested first thing in the morning, and it ends up ruining our entire weekend.”
It could ruin a lot more than our weekend, I thought glumly, but didn’t say so. “You’re always telling me how if a case isn’t solved in the first forty-eight hours, it’s unlikely it’ll be solved at all.”
“Wait. One more thing. Suz Craig did deny Korman his bonus. Late last week.”
I sighed. “That’s what Marla was afraid of.”
“You still don’t think this case is solved?”
“I think this case is far from over. But we won’t mention a word of it tomorrow. Besides,” I teased, “I want to talk some more about the joys of doll collecting. I’m not sure I believe their claims. I mean, best sex times ten?”
“You do have to wonder,” he replied, deadpan, then led me upstairs.
13
You’d think after all I’d been through, I would have slept without a break for twelve hours. Not me. I slept for two. I awoke at midnight damp with sweat, wrenched from sleep by a nightmare starring John Richard. I’d been jolted awake believing I was Suz Craig, and I was being beaten to death. Perhaps my muscles had cramped after my collision with Ralph Shelton. Whatever the reason, sleep was impossible.
I tiptoed to the kitchen, where I made myself a hot chocolate and topped it with a fat dollop of marshmallow cream. Nothing like chocolate and marshmallow to soothe the nerves. When I was eleven and had failed a social studies test, I’d headed straight to the drugstore and ordered chocolate ice cream slathered with spoonfuls of creamed marshmallow. Did they even make that kind of sundae anymore? I wondered.
I sipped the chocolate, booted up my computer, and started a new file: JRK ARRES7: I remembered Arch’s words: He really needs you. Well, I didn’t care about what John Richard Korman needed. But I was interested in the truth. And I needed Arch to believe I cared about him.
It had been a tempestuous day. I had promised Tom we wouldn’t talk about the case on Sunday. Still, the information about the crime now bubbling up reminded me of the schools of minnows that can occasionally be seen at Aspen Meadow Lake. If you don’t get out your net right away, you’re going to lose them.
I began by listing everything I knew about the people involved. Suz Craig had run the Denver office of the AstuteCare Health Maintenance Organization. John Richard Korman, one of the ACHMO providers, had been dating Suz for the past seven months. On the home front, Suz had bought a luxurious house in Aspen Meadow, where she’d been doing an expensive landscape project. On the business front, she had reportedly fired employees without remorse, and refused those she didn’t fire their bonuses. And she had presumably enforced the rules of the HMO, which could have had some implications for Patricia McCracken’s case. Patricia sure thought so. Maybe I had to find out the details of her case, after all.
QUESTION, I typed. Why exactly is Patricia suing both JRK and ACHMO?
QUESTION: Did Suz Craig fire Dr. Ralph Shelton? If so, why?
QUESTION: Was gambling really enough of a reason for Suz to fire Amy Bartholomew, R.N.?
QUESTION: What did JRK and Suz Craig argue about at the country club.?
I sighed. How would I get the answers to these l questions? And why should I? I saved my file, shut down the computer, and sipped the steamy hot chocolate. The marshmallow had melted into a creamy layer on the chocolate surface. I licked it off carefully, the way a child would. Outside my kitchen window, elk bleated. I did not feel the remotest bit tired. I needed to get some sleep. How on earth could I face church in a state of exhaustion? Then inspiration struck.
Cook! That’ll relax you. Put all these people and all these questions out of your head for a while and whip something up. I fingered the containers of Dutch-processed cocoa and the jar of marshmallow cream I’d left on the counter. Why couldn’t you put these together in a cookie? Surely there could be nothing like chocolate and marshmallow in a cookie to soothe the nerves?
I put some hazelnuts in the oven to toast, then melted a jagged brick of unsweetened chocolate in the top of our double boiler. I combined sun-dried cranberries and oversize morsels of semisweet chocolate in a bowl, then scattered the hazelnuts to cool on a plate. I began to feel better. By the time I was beating unsalted butter with sugar and cream cheese, I was humming, and this was a mistake. Jake came bounding into the room on his long bloodhound legs, followed closely by a sleepy-eyed Arch clad in rumpled pajamas. Arch fumbled with his glasses and stared in puzzlement at the bowls, the butter wrappers, and the whirling beater.
Chocolate Comfort Cookies
1 cup chopped hazelnuts
2 cups (1 11 ? - ounce package) extra-large semisweet chocolate chips (Nestle’s mega-morsels)
? cup sun-dried cranberries
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
1 3-ounce package cream cheese, softened
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk
2 ounces best-quality unsweetened chocolate, melted
1 ? teaspoons vanilla 2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (high altitude: add 2 more tablespoons, for a total of 2 ? cups)
? teaspoon baking powder
? teaspoon salt
z cup Dutch-processed cocoa
1 cup commercially prepared marshmallow cream
Preheat oven to 325°. Spread nuts on an ungreased cookie sheet and roast for 7 to 12 minutes, or until they are lightly browned and some skins have loosened. Set aside to cool.
Butter 2 cookie sheets. In a large bowl, combine the chocolate chips, cranberries, and cooled nuts; set aside. In another large bowl, beat together the butter, sugar, cream cheese, and egg until very creamy and smooth. Beat in milk, melted chocolate, and vanilla. Sift together the flour, baking powder, salt, and cocoa, then add to the butter mixture. Blend in the marshmallow cream, stirring until thoroughly combined. Add the chips, cranberries, and nuts. Stir until well mixed. Batter will be thick.
Using a z - cup or a 4-tablespoon ice cream scoop, measure out batter and place 2 inches apart on cookie sheets, putting no more than 6 cookies per sheet. Bake 13 to 17 minutes, until puffed an cooked through. Cool on sheet 1 minute; transfer to wire racks to cool completely.
Makes 2 dozen.
“Gosh, Mom! What are you doing? Did you forget something? Do you have to take cookies to church?”
“Sorry, honey, I just couldn’t sleep. How about some hot chocolate with marshmallow? That’s what I used to have when I was your age and flunked a test. Or when I was your age and couldn’t sleep. It always worked, despite what they now say about the caffeine in chocolate.”
“Well, I could have slept if you hadn’t awakened Jake,” my son grumbled crossly. He shuffled to the back door and opened it, but the elk had stopped bugling and Jake wasn’t the least bit interested in a midnight run. Resigned, Arch closed the door and flopped into a chair. “Sure, I’ll have some cocoa, thanks.” Immediately he was up, offering Jake one of Tom’s homemade dog biscuits. “Yeah, boy, there you go! Don’t worry, I’m not going to have a treat unless you do!” The large, tawny dog wagged his tail, licked Arch’s face, and whined with canine contentment.
I heated more milk and stirred it into a smooth, thick paste of cocoa, sugar, and cream. In his corner, Jake crunched appreciatively. His dark eyes favored my son and me with loving glances. Arch gave him two more dog biscuits, then watched while I generously glopped marshmallow cream on top of his drink. When I put the steaming mug in front of him, I expected him to pounce on the rich treat as expectantly as I had. Instead, he blew tentatively
