The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,76

salt, and baking powder. Slowly add this to the wet ingredients, careful to scrape up everything from the side of the bowl. When this is thoroughly mixed, add the dried fruit and nuts with a wooden spoon lingering over the bowl to take in the sweet smells and how delicious the batter looks.

Wet hands with cold water and divide dough into two portions, making a log out of each one. Logs should be 2 inches wide and about a foot long. Take your time making the logs as perfectly as you can. Get into it. The process will focus you. Place the logs on a parchment lined cookie sheet. Pat each one down just a bit and bake for 35 to 40 minutes. Logs should be lightly browned and the smell in your kitchen should put you in a candy-sweet mood.

Remember to enjoy the moment.

Remove the logs from the oven, cover with a lovely dishtowel and allow them to cool for ten minutes. Meanwhile, reduce oven heat to 275 degrees.

Carefully move logs to a cutting board, and allow them to rest for another five to ten minutes. Using an electric knife, or a very sharp blade, cut logs into 1 inch thick slices. Lay on their sides on a parchment lined cookie sheet. Bake about 8 to ten minutes more, or until dry. Can drizzle one side with white or dark melted chocolate.

Cool on rack and enjoy dunked in coffee or tea anytime you need a treat.

FIFTEEN

Sex, Lies and a Double-Cross

“Wait a minute,” Lisa ordered, standing next to the island between us, arms stretched wide. “Somebody’s going to get hurt.”

We stopped just long enough for me to come to my senses. I was participating in the madness. This had to stop, although the fact that Babe had the ring while the killer was busy planning his next attack on Lisa and me made me want to hurl more than cakes.

“That’s the point,” Hetty quipped and flung a glop of red preserves, using a huge spoon like a catapult, right at Lisa. She ducked and it landed on the six burner stove behind her.

Hetty reloaded and flung the glop at Babe. Hetty made contact and grinned her success.

“She’s full of bunk,” Babe yelled after the red preserves splashed on her now pink hair. “She’s the one who snuffed out Dickey and now she’s trying to pin it on me just because I have that damn ring.”

She threw a plate of almond biscotti at Hetty. Fortunately, the plate was of the thin plastic variety, so when it crashed into my nose spilling the biscotti all around me, it didn’t hurt . . . much.

Lisa was up and grabbed at Hetty’s arms. “You ladies have to stop. What about, you can poke an eye out?”

“Two eyes would be better!” Babe retorted.

“You’re full of dog doo, Babe,” Hetty yelled. “You know you did it, you little vixen. Admit it before I go for what’s in the walk-in.”

The walk-in contained anything they may have baked for an event, such as a wedding. I knew for a fact they had two weddings coming up that weekend. The walk-in would be full. This had to end or we’d have the wrath of two bridezillas on our hands, not to mention two mamazillas, who, I was sure, would be much worse.

I ran for Babe just as she was about to hurl an entire perfectly frosted Snoopy sheet cake, with the words Happy Birthday Sammy emblazoned on Snoopy’s belly in bright red letters.

“Put Snoopy down and step away from the table,” I ordered in my most commanding voice.

She poised Snoopy for launch, his little smile looking almost sinister as he bobbed up and down next to Babe’s head. “I will if she’ll admit the truth.”

“You did it, and that’s the truth,” Hetty said.

“Whore,” Aunt Babe yelled.

“Liar,” Aunt Hetty countered, her eyes narrowing to tight little slits.

I thought I’d go for the heartstrings. “You don’t want to do this. Little Sammy will be so disappointed without his Snoopy cake. He might cry all day.”

“It’s Sammy Nagossi,” Babe told me.

“Isn’t he in his nineties?” I asked.

“Ninety-four. He’s lucky if he knows it’s his birthday,” Hetty quipped.

“But it’s Snoopy. You can’t fling Snoopy. That’s like a sin or something.”

“She doesn’t care one hoot about Snoopy or Sammy or anybody,” Hetty protested. “After all these years, I finally figured out that my sister is heartless. The only thing she cared about is her personal vendetta—getting even because the bastard cheated on her with