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Authors: Josi S. Kilpack
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thrill of discovery rush through her.
“Detective Cunningham?” Sadie asked quickly. The other heads in
the room turned toward her as well and she swallowed, not wanting to make a
scene. She had the distinct impression that she was now slowing the detective
down.
“I wonder if anyone turned off the oven,” she said, shifting
her weight uneasily from one foot to another. Every head in the room turned to
look at the oven, which showed no lighted display or indication it was still
on. Then, as if watching a tennis match in slow motion, they all turned back to
look at her.
“Why do you ask?”
She felt as if she were on stage and straightened her spine
just a little. Her shoulders were beginning to ache from holding her hands
behind her back. “Well, I was thinking about my lemon tart recipe, which was
the first thing I ever taught Anne to cook.” She looked at the people watching
her and smiled. “It was my mother’s recipe—and Anne wanted it
to become her signature dessert,” she explained, not wanting to sound arrogant
but feeling it necessary to explain why she believed it was hers. She looked at
Detective Cunningham. “Anyway, the timer went off at exactly 9:40, which means
Anne must have set it at exactly 9:00. But Anne’s rarely awake before ten.”
No one said anything, which she took to mean they had no idea
where she was going with this. “So I wondered if maybe she had the oven on time
cook.”
“Time cook?” Cunningham asked.
“Yeah, you put something in a cold oven and then set the oven
to turn on at a certain time. I showed Anne how to do it months ago so that she
could put a frozen dinner in the oven before she went to work and come home to
a hot meal. She was eating a lot of fast food before then.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to leave the oven on when you’re not home?”
Malloy broke in. “Suppose she didn’t come home on time.”
Sadie smiled at him as if he were a student and she was
teaching him something of great importance. “Well, see, that’s the thing. You
can do a stop time as well, so the oven shuts off after a certain period of
time. And the food stays warm as the oven cools off. If no one turned off the
oven this morning, maybe it was set to start at 9:00 am with a stop time exactly forty minutes later. Normally
you cook the filling for about thirty minutes, but she could have added ten
minutes to account for the crust not being hot and to preheat the oven. But
anyway, if she got up at her usual time of ten or eleven the tart would be
done. Although I’d never do that with a tart.” She looked at the detective.
“Tarts require more supervision than a frozen lasagna.” She paused for a
moment. “And I’m not sure why she’d go to the trouble. I mean, what did she need
the tart for at ten in the morning?”
The room was silent, seeming to consider the question.
“So time cook sets the timer as well?” Detective
Cunningham asked as he stepped over to the oven and looked at the digital
display.
The lemon tart was still on the stove top, and Sadie wondered
for a moment what would happen to it. It needed to be dusted with powdered
sugar soon, and it would be a shame for it to go to waste but it didn’t seem
appropriate to ask for it. “Mine does—and someone set the timer for the
tart. It’s the fact that it was set at exactly 9:00 that seems odd.”
“Hmmm,” Detective Cunningham said, then he looked at Malloy.
“Find out if anyone turned off the stove.” He turned to Sadie again while
Malloy went out through the back door, leaving two other officers still in the
kitchen. “So she could have put it in the oven at any time?”
“I think there’s a limit—mine is ten hours. But
the tart has eggs in it so it would be irresponsible for her to leave it
sitting in the oven for too long. You know, salmonella and all that.” They were
all watching her, nonplussed. “Once, at a family reunion, my cousin Pam—she’s
named after our maternal
“Detective Cunningham?” Sadie asked quickly. The other heads in
the room turned toward her as well and she swallowed, not wanting to make a
scene. She had the distinct impression that she was now slowing the detective
down.
“I wonder if anyone turned off the oven,” she said, shifting
her weight uneasily from one foot to another. Every head in the room turned to
look at the oven, which showed no lighted display or indication it was still
on. Then, as if watching a tennis match in slow motion, they all turned back to
look at her.
“Why do you ask?”
She felt as if she were on stage and straightened her spine
just a little. Her shoulders were beginning to ache from holding her hands
behind her back. “Well, I was thinking about my lemon tart recipe, which was
the first thing I ever taught Anne to cook.” She looked at the people watching
her and smiled. “It was my mother’s recipe—and Anne wanted it
to become her signature dessert,” she explained, not wanting to sound arrogant
but feeling it necessary to explain why she believed it was hers. She looked at
Detective Cunningham. “Anyway, the timer went off at exactly 9:40, which means
Anne must have set it at exactly 9:00. But Anne’s rarely awake before ten.”
No one said anything, which she took to mean they had no idea
where she was going with this. “So I wondered if maybe she had the oven on time
cook.”
“Time cook?” Cunningham asked.
“Yeah, you put something in a cold oven and then set the oven
to turn on at a certain time. I showed Anne how to do it months ago so that she
could put a frozen dinner in the oven before she went to work and come home to
a hot meal. She was eating a lot of fast food before then.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to leave the oven on when you’re not home?”
Malloy broke in. “Suppose she didn’t come home on time.”
Sadie smiled at him as if he were a student and she was
teaching him something of great importance. “Well, see, that’s the thing. You
can do a stop time as well, so the oven shuts off after a certain period of
time. And the food stays warm as the oven cools off. If no one turned off the
oven this morning, maybe it was set to start at 9:00 am with a stop time exactly forty minutes later. Normally
you cook the filling for about thirty minutes, but she could have added ten
minutes to account for the crust not being hot and to preheat the oven. But
anyway, if she got up at her usual time of ten or eleven the tart would be
done. Although I’d never do that with a tart.” She looked at the detective.
“Tarts require more supervision than a frozen lasagna.” She paused for a
moment. “And I’m not sure why she’d go to the trouble. I mean, what did she need
the tart for at ten in the morning?”
The room was silent, seeming to consider the question.
“So time cook sets the timer as well?” Detective
Cunningham asked as he stepped over to the oven and looked at the digital
display.
The lemon tart was still on the stove top, and Sadie wondered
for a moment what would happen to it. It needed to be dusted with powdered
sugar soon, and it would be a shame for it to go to waste but it didn’t seem
appropriate to ask for it. “Mine does—and someone set the timer for the
tart. It’s the fact that it was set at exactly 9:00 that seems odd.”
“Hmmm,” Detective Cunningham said, then he looked at Malloy.
“Find out if anyone turned off the stove.” He turned to Sadie again while
Malloy went out through the back door, leaving two other officers still in the
kitchen. “So she could have put it in the oven at any time?”
“I think there’s a limit—mine is ten hours. But
the tart has eggs in it so it would be irresponsible for her to leave it
sitting in the oven for too long. You know, salmonella and all that.” They were
all watching her, nonplussed. “Once, at a family reunion, my cousin Pam—she’s
named after our maternal
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