Page 3 of Murder By the Millions

“You’ve got to be kidding.” She consulted her iPhone. “Pineapple upside-down cake? How prosaic.”

“It was big during the Roaring Twenties.” I’d done my research. “Around 1925 the Hawaiian Pineapple Company held a contest, and many entries featured pineapple upside-down cake. Judges from Miss Farmer’s School of Cookery,Good Housekeeping,andMcCall’s Magazinechose the winner.”

Tegan added, “Twenty-five hundred of the sixty thousand entries, to be exact!” A history buff and trivia nut, she’d enjoyed doing a deep dive into the era with me.

“What about this one?” Vanna referred to her cell phone. “Tomato soup cake? Ugh. How pedestrian.”

“I know tomato soup is an odd ingredient for a cake, but no one will guess what the secret ingredient is,” I said. “In the late 1920s or early 1930s the Campbell Soup Company created the recipe using their condensed tomato soup. Canned foods were all the rage.”

“Fine.” Vanna made a dismissive gesture. “Next! Deviled eggs. Totally plebeian.”

“Everyone loved them back then,” I said, “especially when Hungarian immigrants helped popularize paprika.”

Vanna sniffed. “And small plates of pasta pomodoro? Pedantic.”

“Gee, Sis, do you know only adjectives starting with the letterp?” Tegan teased.

Vanna’s gaze shot daggers at her. Tegan did not cower. She had pluck in spades.

I said, “All Italian food grew in popularity during that time, because it was considered exotic and cultured. The simplest way for people to enjoy pasta is with a pomodoro sauce.” I loved deglazing tomatoes and adding something as fresh and lively as basil. My mouth was watering contemplating it. “What would you like to serve?” I asked.

“Oysters Rockefeller.”

Tegan snorted. “The oysters will spoil sitting out on a buffet and will make our guests sick.”

“Fine. Then a Waldorf salad made with julienned Granny Smith and Fuji apples, halved red and green grapes, and candied walnuts. I’ll emulsify a mixture of Dijon mustard, olive oil, champagne vinegar, egg yolk, and white truffle oil for the dressing.” She twirled her hand with a flourish.

I bit back a smile. Vanna couldn’t help herself. A perfectly goodsimplesalad, in her opinion, always needed tweaking.

“As for our other business,” Vanna said, pressing on.

Our?She meantmine,thank you. I was including her as a favor.

“We need a larger ghost kitchen.”

“The one we …I… have is fine.” A ghost kitchen, or virtual kitchen, was a place where chefs could cook for delivery or pickup. I rented my modest space on a month-to-month basis. “We’re rarely in it together.”

“We need to double the space.”

I hated how pushy Vanna could be. When she wasn’t partnering with me, she cooked at a well-known restaurant that leased her a corner of its kitchen. “If you help me double the business, we’ll talk.”

She huffed and started for the door but halted when Chloe Kang, the twenty-something junior clerk at the shop, who could be as energetic as a toddler experiencing a sugar high, rushed in.

“Stop the presses!” Chloe yelled. “He’s here. Jason Gardner is here. In town. He’s, like, wow.” She wagged her hands frantically. “You know who I’m talking about, right?”

I shook my head. So did Vanna and Tegan.

“He’s been on magazine covers and everything.” Chloe sounded like she’d been dashed with stardust.

“Is he an actor?” Tegan asked.

“No. He’s not an actor, silly.” Chloe’s almond-shaped eyes sparkled with impishness. “He’s a builder. A really famous builder.”

How famous could he be if none of the rest of us had heard of him?

“He’s purchasing the lots across the street from the Congregational church,” Chloe added.

The Congregational church was the first church built in Bramblewood and the one I used to go to with my grandmother before she passed away. “There are no vacant lots across the street,” I said.