Read Online No Use Dying Over Spilled Milk by Tamar Myers - Free Book Online
Authors: Tamar Myers
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Detective and Mystery Stories, Humour, Genre Fiction, Women Detectives, Crime Fiction, Pennsylvania, Cookery, recipes, Hotelkeepers, Cozy Mystery Series, Cookbook, Pennsylvania—Fiction, Mennonites—Fiction, Magdalena (Fictitious Character), Cookery - Pennsylvania, Mennonites, Magdalena (Fictitious Character) - Fiction, Amatuer Sleuth, Pennsylvania Dutch Country (Pa.), Hotelkeepers - Fiction, Amish Recipes, Yoder, Pennsylvania Dutch Country (Pa.) - Fiction, Amish Bed and Breakfast, Pennsylvania Dutch, Amish Mystery, Amish Cookbook, Amish Mystery Series, Women Detectives - Pennsylvania - Fiction
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the first to leave after the meal. She left sometime in mid-afternoon, which just goes to show that she had been exaggerating about those Irish wakes. Even I stayed on until after dark.
Okay, I will confess to being the second to leave. Too much food and the body heat generated by all those mourners had combined to make me sleepy. I know you expect me to say that I was bored, like Harriet, but I truly wasn’t. Emma Hertzler saw to that when she accidentally spilled a bowl of cole slaw on the bishop’s lap, and if things lagged off a bit after that, they certainly picked up when Jonas Mast choked on a chicken bone and I had to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Unfortunately, Jonas is a widower, quite handsome, and about my age. Even more unfortunate is the fact that no one who witnessed the incident had ever heard of the Heimlich maneuver, and until that bone popped out of Jonas’s mouth and bonked Esther Gingerich on the nose, my reputation was at stake.
Even after the procedure, when the more astute were hailing me as a humble hero, tongues wagged mercilessly about the implications of such a thing. No, I assured them, I did not expect Jonas to propose marriage, and yes, it was the first time I had ever put my arms around a grown man other than my father. To fortify myself against the inquisition I had two pieces of pie and three pieces of cake for dessert. So I was both stuffed and sleepy when I staggered out into the starlit night. But I was certainly not bored.
The air temperature must have been about ten, and I remember the crunching sound my shoes made on the frozen grass. I never lock my car doors in weather that cold, lest the locks freeze shut, and so I didn’t get my keys out of my purse until after I had slid behind the wheel. I was fumbling around trying to fit the key into the ignition when I felt a tap on my right shoulder.
My scream was almost loud enough to wake the dead. Had it been any louder, the funeral would have all been in vain.
Chapter Ten
Sarah Yoder’s Amish Sauerkraut Salad
3 cans (approx 16 oz.) sauerkraut, drained and chopped
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
1 large red onion, diced
3 stalks celery, diced
Combine the sauerkraut and diced vegetables.
Dressing for sauerkraut salad:
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup salad oil (extra-light olive oil may be substituted)
2 cups white vinegar
3 cup water
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
Heat and stir the above five ingredients until the sugar is dissolved and the mixture is well blended. Pour over the vegetable mixture and toss to combine. Refrigerate 24 hours before serving. If kept in glass container, the salad will keep in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.
Chapter Eleven
“Shhhhh!” Stayrook clamped a beefy hand over my mouth. “Somebody might hear you. If I take my hand away, will you promise not to scream?”
I nodded.
Stayrook removed his hand, which, by the way, smelled curiously like licorice.
“Do that again, buster,” I hissed, “and somebody will be digging your grave.”
My vehemence must have taken Stayrook aback some. He didn’t say anything until he’d slipped out of the backseat and around to the front.
“Drive,” he ordered.
I’m no expert on Ohio, but I doubt that even there it is customary for Amish men to hijack cars. If I laughed, it was because I was feeling such immense relief that it was only Stayrook who had waylaid me. That, and I could appreciate how ridiculous the situation was.
Stayrook could not. “Do you want my help, or do you just want to laugh at me?”
I bit my tongue, and my laugh sputtered to a stop. Even in the dark I could see the hurt look in Stayrook’s eyes. “Yes, I want your help.”
“Then drive. We can’t talk here.”
“Where to?”
“That way,” he said, pointing north. “When we get to the second crossroads, turn left. Then your first right.”
Stayrook’s directions brought us to the end of a narrow gravel road that petered out
Okay, I will confess to being the second to leave. Too much food and the body heat generated by all those mourners had combined to make me sleepy. I know you expect me to say that I was bored, like Harriet, but I truly wasn’t. Emma Hertzler saw to that when she accidentally spilled a bowl of cole slaw on the bishop’s lap, and if things lagged off a bit after that, they certainly picked up when Jonas Mast choked on a chicken bone and I had to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Unfortunately, Jonas is a widower, quite handsome, and about my age. Even more unfortunate is the fact that no one who witnessed the incident had ever heard of the Heimlich maneuver, and until that bone popped out of Jonas’s mouth and bonked Esther Gingerich on the nose, my reputation was at stake.
Even after the procedure, when the more astute were hailing me as a humble hero, tongues wagged mercilessly about the implications of such a thing. No, I assured them, I did not expect Jonas to propose marriage, and yes, it was the first time I had ever put my arms around a grown man other than my father. To fortify myself against the inquisition I had two pieces of pie and three pieces of cake for dessert. So I was both stuffed and sleepy when I staggered out into the starlit night. But I was certainly not bored.
The air temperature must have been about ten, and I remember the crunching sound my shoes made on the frozen grass. I never lock my car doors in weather that cold, lest the locks freeze shut, and so I didn’t get my keys out of my purse until after I had slid behind the wheel. I was fumbling around trying to fit the key into the ignition when I felt a tap on my right shoulder.
My scream was almost loud enough to wake the dead. Had it been any louder, the funeral would have all been in vain.
Chapter Ten
Sarah Yoder’s Amish Sauerkraut Salad
3 cans (approx 16 oz.) sauerkraut, drained and chopped
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
1 large red onion, diced
3 stalks celery, diced
Combine the sauerkraut and diced vegetables.
Dressing for sauerkraut salad:
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup salad oil (extra-light olive oil may be substituted)
2 cups white vinegar
3 cup water
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
Heat and stir the above five ingredients until the sugar is dissolved and the mixture is well blended. Pour over the vegetable mixture and toss to combine. Refrigerate 24 hours before serving. If kept in glass container, the salad will keep in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.
Chapter Eleven
“Shhhhh!” Stayrook clamped a beefy hand over my mouth. “Somebody might hear you. If I take my hand away, will you promise not to scream?”
I nodded.
Stayrook removed his hand, which, by the way, smelled curiously like licorice.
“Do that again, buster,” I hissed, “and somebody will be digging your grave.”
My vehemence must have taken Stayrook aback some. He didn’t say anything until he’d slipped out of the backseat and around to the front.
“Drive,” he ordered.
I’m no expert on Ohio, but I doubt that even there it is customary for Amish men to hijack cars. If I laughed, it was because I was feeling such immense relief that it was only Stayrook who had waylaid me. That, and I could appreciate how ridiculous the situation was.
Stayrook could not. “Do you want my help, or do you just want to laugh at me?”
I bit my tongue, and my laugh sputtered to a stop. Even in the dark I could see the hurt look in Stayrook’s eyes. “Yes, I want your help.”
“Then drive. We can’t talk here.”
“Where to?”
“That way,” he said, pointing north. “When we get to the second crossroads, turn left. Then your first right.”
Stayrook’s directions brought us to the end of a narrow gravel road that petered out
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