Michelle stepped back and Hannah scooped half of the dough out of the bowl and put it in a second bowl that fit their mixer. “Ready for the vanilla,” she said.
As Michelle resumed her position and turned the mixer on low speed, Hannah dumped in the melted vanilla chips. Once that was thoroughly combined with the other ingredients, Michelle shut off the mixer, removed the bowl, and replaced it with the bowl that contained the second half of the cookie dough. “Ready for the butterscotch,” she said.
Hannah poured in the melted butterscotch chips. Michelle mixed and Hannah stood back, watching. When both of them were satisfied with the outcome, Michelle removed the bowl from the mixer while Hannah prepared a lightly floured board.
“Ready to roll,” Hannah said, dividing the half-batch of vanilla cookie dough into fourths and putting one of them on the board. Michelle quickly divided the contents of the second bowl, the one with butterscotch. Then she tore off a length of wax paper and set it on the counter next to the board. It would hold the four ropes of vanilla dough that Hannah was rolling.
Once the vanilla dough ropes were completed, Hannah began to roll the four butterscotch ropes. When that was done, there were four rolls of each flavor. Michelle tore off another length of wax paper and spread it out on the counter.
“I’m ready,” Michelle said.
Together, the two sisters transferred four dough ropes, two of each flavor to the wax paper, with a vanilla and a butterscotch on the bottom and a butterscotch and a vanilla on the top, alternating the colors and flavors. Then Hannah rolled the four ropes together to form one thicker multi-flavored roll. Michelle wrapped the finished roll in the wax paper, twisted the ends to seal them, and they began the same process all over again with the last four dough ropes.
“Done,” Hannah said after Michelle had wrapped the second large roll and placed both rolls on a cookie sheet. “Do you want to put them in the walk-in cooler, or shall I do it?”
“I’ll do it. They might want to film a little interview with you at this point in the competition. I’ll be right back.”
Michelle headed off to the walk-in cooler with the two rolls of finished dough and Hannah glanced at the clock. She knew that chilling the two ropes of dough would take fifteen minutes in the coldest part of the walk-in cooler. She’d tested that in her own walk-in cooler at The Cookie Jar. The blast chiller would be quicker, but she preferred using the method she always used for cookie dough.
Hannah watched the timer tick off the minutes. What was taking Michelle so long? She should be back here so that she could start preparing the cookie sheets.
Two minutes ticked by and stretched into four. Hannah turned to look at the walk-in cooler door. It was open and she could see Michelle standing there, just staring at something.
“Michelle?” she called out, but her sister didn’t react. Michelle just stood there like a statue, motionless and seemingly frozen in place. What in the world was wrong with . . . ?
“Oh, no!” Hannah breathed. The back of her neck was prickling and there was a cold, hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was experiencing the reaction that Mike called Hannah’s slaydar. He’d given an interview to the Lake Eden Journal, their local newspaper, and he’d explained that he used radar to locate speeders, but Hannah used her slaydar to find murder victims.
Hannah tried to convince herself that this time, it wasn’t the case, but there was no denying that something was dreadfully wrong. She wished that she didn’t have to walk over to the cooler and find out what was the matter, but she knew she had to do it.
“Michelle?” she called out again, hoping that it was something like a gallon of cream that had broken open and spilled all over the floor, or something that wasn’t or hadn’t ever been human. But even as she wished it, the back of her neck continued to prickle and the cold hollow feeling in her stomach intensified.
On legs that shook slightly, Hannah walked across the floor to the cooler door. She took a deep breath, stepped inside, and peered over her sister’s shoulder to see what had rendered Michelle incapable of speech or movement.
Alain Duquesne was on the floor of the cooler, splayed out on his back like a Cornish game hen ready for the roasting pan. A big piece of Hannah’s Double Rainbow Swirl Wedding Cake was partially smashed next to his body, and the knife he’d used to cut her cake was buried up to the hilt in his chest.
Hannah put her arms around Michelle. “I’m here,” she said. “It’s okay, Michelle.”
The sound of Hannah’s voice seemed to release Michelle from her frozen state and she drew a deep shuddering breath. “He . . . is . . . is he . . . dead?” she asked in a quavering voice that didn’t sound at all like the confident young woman that she was.
“Oh, yes. At least I’m ninety-nine percent sure he is. Let me take you out to the workstation, Michelle. You should sit down. Then I’ll call Mike.”