Snow At Eleven

Yesterday morning around 11 o'clock I was surprised to look out the window to see snow falling--and not just a flew flurrying flakes, but real snowflakes falling in close order.  The snow covered the exposed grass but melted on the pavement.  By suppertime it was all gone again.  It's supposed to snow and/or rain tomorrow, be bitter cold on Friday (thank you, high pressure ridge that's dragging arctic air down from Canada), and then hit 50 or maybe even 60 by Sunday.  This weather is bonkers.


Remember last week when I baked bread?  Well, the two (not new) bread cookbooks I ordered while the dough was rising came.  I can see myself making a lot of the breads in the Healthy Breads book and a few of the Pizza and Flatbreads recipes.  I almost bought another bag of bread flour, yeast, and vital wheat gluten (don't ask what it is, I'm not sure, but the new bread book says it helps whole grain bread dough rise) at the grocery the other day but I held off until time to bake again.  I may need to develop a list of people that I can give bread to so that I don't have to wait until one batch is gone before making another one.  Hm, I wonder if the renters eat bread...



You know, if I wasn't knitting these pillow squares in stockinette (knit every round) and had to purl every other row, this would be in the bin.  Or frogged and the yarn earmarked for another project.  A sock, for instance.  It's picking up stitches on the last square and then casting on a bunch of stitches using the reverse loop cast on that's making me crazy.  That reverse loop is the devil to keep from twisting around the needle and hard to slide the needle into to make a stitch on the next round.  I'm keeping going because I'm stubborn but it sure is frustrating.  I like the yarn though.





04 March--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

It was just after 10:30 PM Monday, June 14 when Kenneth Edwards called the police to report Teddy’s murder.  He’d been dumpster diving down the alley behind the shelter when he heard the struggle and went to investigate.  Unfortunately, the alley wasn’t lit except by a streetlight at the end so he couldn’t see what was going on.  With the arrival of the crime scene crew, strong lights bathed the area in intense illumination.  Again, there were the flashes of the photographer, everyone was in gloves.  Again, Archibald and Graybow got the call.

After completing his examination of the body, the coroner pulled Archibald aside to give his preliminary report.  “Well, it’s the same sort of wound as the two before.  Right at the base of the skull, clean and neat.  Wish I knew what the killer used.  There was a chip of some grey flint in the last wound.  Maybe I’ll find the same here.  Death was instantaneous.  There’s a bruise on the side of the head.  Looks like there was a struggle this time.”

“Find anything else?  Anything that would help us identify the killer?” Archibald asked hopefully.

The coroner sounded defeated.  “Nothing.  No prints, no weapon.”

 “Man, what’s with this?” Archibald exploded. “Three murders in less than two weeks!  I thought that tennis guy killed the Neal woman, but his blood didn’t match the drops on her dress.  It has to be the killer’s blood.  All young women.  All popular and well known in town.  Wonder what ties them together?”

Hopefully the coroner remarked, “There is a witness this time, you know.”

“Witness?  Where?”

The coroner pointed.

“Edwards!  What the hell are you doing here?  I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.”

Edwards shook his head.  “Detective Archibald, I’d give anything not to be here.  I just happened to be down there looking in the dumpster behind that little grocery and heard a fight.”

“What’d you hear?”

“Well,” he said carefully, “I heard a shout and then what sounded like bodies crashing around into things.  You know, cans and such.  Then a big bang like something hit a dumpster, then nothing.”

“See anything?”  Graybow asked, holding his breath.  This could be a break.

“Not much really.  It’s pretty dark in here.  And they were behind that dumpster next to the shelter’s back door.  I just saw a person running.  Down the other end.”

“Man or woman?”

Edwards took his time answering.  “Not too sure.  Might have been a woman.  But like I say it’s dark, so I can’t be sure.”

“What did you do?”

“I shouted, “Hey, what’s going on?” you know, thinking I’d stop a fight or something.  And then the lady took off running in the opposite direction.”

Eagerly Archibald pounced, “Now you say lady.  Why?”

“Well, she ran like a girl.  You know, elbows out...and, oh yeah, she had a purse.”

Graybow asked, “A purse.  Couldn’t have been the victim’s purse?”

Edwards quickly responded, “Nah, Teddy never carried a purse down here.  Briefcase neither, in case you were gonna ask.”

“Then what?”

“I ran down here and saw Teddy lying there and called you guys.”

Archibald looked up and down the alley.  “Where’d you call from?”

Edwards pointed.  “That little Asian restaurant on the corner.  Mr. Moua’s a real nice guy.  Saves leftovers for me sometimes.  Anyway, he was still open, so I used his phone.  I knew Teddy was dead.  She didn’t need me to stay with her,” he ended sadly.

The detective was tired and confused by this string of murders.  Frustrated that he couldn’t find the thread that ties them all together.  He was convinced that they’re related.

“And you stayed to wait for the police to arrive.  Edwards, you’re either innocent or stupid.  It looks bad, real bad, that you were at all three murder scenes.  I think we need to talk more about this.  Why don’t you spend the night with us again and we’ll go over the whole thing one more time?”

Kenneth Edwards resignedly held his hands out for the cuffs.

I went to write with ACJ this afternoon but we ended up talking about writing instead of writing writing.  That's okay.  I wasn't clear what I wanted to write so we just talked about it and many other things.  It was a nice afternoon.  Girl Scout cookies came.  I should have just donated the $20 to the troop and skipped the cookies.  I am powerless in the face of cookies.  Peanut Butter Patties are my nemesis.  Arrrgh!
--Barbara

Monday, Monday

It was a good day.  It was sunny and got up to 43 degrees and I got lots of things accomplished today.  I went to lunch with a few of the St. Agnes School Class of 1965.  We tried a new (to us) restaurant that was pretty good.


On my way home I stopped and picked up some chicken breasts so that I could pop them into the slow-cooker for a few hours and make Herbed Chicken Breasts.  Yum.  I'm thinking they'll be good with a little WW marinara sauce on them too, just for variety.  Tonight I had this piece with some fresh asparagus.


I spent a couple hours getting the tax info all organized and delivered to the accountant's office.  And I found out how to transfer the Packer tickets to DS so that he'll get the emails and mail.  See when AJ wanted to sell them, DS wanted to buy them but they had to go to a closer relative than uncle and nephew so AJ transferred them to me.  Now I'll transfer them to DS and get out of the middle.  They have a form to do it and it needs to be notarized.  Sheesh.  Good thing I know that there's a notary at the bank.



Then I buckled down to finish skimming the manuscript, putting in paragraphs so it's easier to read, and trying to get all the parts in chronological order.  I emailed the pdf of it to myself and have an app on the Ipad that I can read and scribble on.  If that doesn't work for me, I'll email it to the Kindle and work it that way.  All these electronic ways to tackle the issue.



Just now I finished March Preemie Hat #1.  It's pretty subdued compared to the yarn I usually use for these but I figure that it'll look good on a brown-eyed little darling.






03 March--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

Nine o’clock Monday, June 14 found Cecilia in The Alchemists going over a petition she’d written the night before.  Picking up the phone she called Marlene Brownloe and asked if she can run over for a few minutes before they both opened their shops.  Marlene told her she was just going down the stairs and would meet her at the front door of Kitty’s Korner.

“Good morning, Marlene, I wanted to show you this petition I made up last night.  I think it’s just what we need to get the city council going to help beef up business for all of us in this area.  See, I’m asking for them to remove the parking meters and put up enhanced lighting to encourage customers.  I figure if I can get most of the businessmen and women in this area to sign it, they’ll have to listen to us.  They just can’t keep pouring money into the mall, that white elephant just a block away, and not do anything to keep the smaller specialty stores in business.  We’re what gives the city it’s character, not that cookie cutter mall.  Honestly, I don’t know what they were thinking of to tear down all those lovely historic buildings and build that place.  Every city you go into has the same stores in the same mall selling the same merchandise!  At least we’re different and give people a choice.”  Cecilia stopped talking, drew a breath, and laughed at herself.  “Sorry, I guess I was practicing my plea to the council.  But I get so angry at the lack of support we get.  The mayor spends all his time courting big money men who want to build apartments along the river and put up hotels and big business complexes and none of his time finding out what the people want.  Oh, man, I’m doing it again.” 

Marlene laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm for the project.  “Cecilia, you’ve got enough guts to move a mountain.  I’m sure the city council will be no match for you.  I like your petition.  Is it ready?  Can I sign it right now?”

 “Sure, it’s as ready as I can make it.  If you see any of the other owners in the neighborhood will you ask them to stop over and see me, please?  I’m going to try to get around to everyone before Thursday.  That’s when the council meets next.  Oh, and I called the Chamber of Commerce.  They’re sending a Sheila Winters around within the next couple of days to talk to all the business owners. They’ve agreed to put together a booklet about our specialty stores, all the unique things we sell, and a bit about us too.  They’ll include that in the packet they give to companies relocating here and to people new to the area.  That should impress the city council too, don’t you think?” 

Marlene nodded her agreement, feeling a little steamrollered by Cecilia’s drive. 

Cecilia kept talking, “I don’t want to waste any more time.  And speaking of wasting time, I’d better get over and get ready to open.  Don’t want to do all this work to get the city to give us a hand and then have no business to run.  Thanks for your signature.  And have a busy day.”

“Cecilia, I know your petition will sway the council in our favor.  And you have a busy day, too.  See you.”  Marlene waved and smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm.

Cecilia waved back, closed the door behind her, and walked across to The Alchemists thinking about what was different about Marlene this morning.  She realized that Marlene was wearing new stylish clothes.  Clothes that actually flattered her.  Clothes that fit and in colors that didn’t wash her out.  She could swear Marlene was wearing more makeup too.  “Wonder what brought that on?” she thought.  “Maybe Lt. Graybow.  Hmm.”  She smiled at the thought that perhaps Marlene had finally found a boyfriend, then the thought occurred to her that Marlene was at Blossoms the night Tiffy was killed and there was a pink Kitty’s Korner bag near Kimmy’s locker and one in Kimmy’s dressing room.  Dwayne Neal even said how Kimmy hated Marlene and hated having to order books from her.  She recalled the times Marlene spoke of her teen years and how “the Y’s” as she calls them made her life hell with their teasing and taunting.  But that can’t be.  She’d even mentioned it to Alan, and he’d discounted her thoughts.  Probably making a mountain out of a molehill.  Cecilia shook her head.  How silly to think Marlene, quiet, reserved Marlene, would kill anyone.  Pushing thoughts of the murders aside, Cecilia unlocked her door and prepared for the day’s business.

I think I'm done investment cooking for the time being.  I've got about 20 meals' worth of food which seems like plenty for now.  Oh, I probably won't blog tomorrow evening; I need to spend time with my assistants and won't get home until late.
--Barbara

I Didn't Mean To

... but I spent part of the afternoon cooking up two recipes, both involving squash.  I went to the grocery after I got back from Artigras and they had squash on sale so I got two acorn squash and two spaghetti squash.  Once I was home it seemed silly to roast them separately so I did them together and then made the Moroccan Chickpeas and Sloppy Joe to fill them.  Needless to say the house smells great.  Now I have four Sloppy Joe-stuffed Spaghetti Squash suppers and three Moroccan Chickpea-stuffed Acorn Squash suppers.  I had one of the Moroccan squashes for supper; it was delicious.  I dug out a recipe for herbed chicken breasts to have alongside that but didn't get the chicken and besides it needs to cook for a few hours in the crockpot.  I'll get that tomorrow after lunch and whip it up on Tuesday.  Make the house smell good again.

I nearly fell off my chair when I opened today's newspaper to find DS's picture on the front page!  There's a huge, almost 3 page article about Zambaldi from the beginning to today.  I am so proud of them that if I had buttons I'd be busting them.  Seeing the whole story laid out like that really brought home the struggles they went through to get their dream launched.  I think he gets his stubborn from my side of the family, but Durwood was pretty stubborn too.  DIL1 can be pretty determined too but I don't know enough of her family to point any fingers.  Let's just say that those two people can make their dreams come true by sheer force of will.  Last weekend I told DS that every time I saw an article by the food/beer reporter or the local business reporter I expected them to be talking about Zambaldi and he said that an article was on the way but I never imagined it'd be so BIG.  So proud of them.



There was a nice steady stream of people walking past the Bay Lakes Knitting Guild booth at Artigras this morning.  KW and I talked to a lot of people and a few said they'd think about coming to check us out.  That's all we can ask.  Again I forgot to take pictures but CS took some and graciously shared them with me.  Thanks, CS, I owe you a beer!  (and I know where to get one!)

To show you how much yakking and not knitting I did at Artigras today I had ten rounds left to knit on this itty bitty hat and I didn't manage to knit them.  And with the cooking and manuscript reading and rearranging I did this afternoon and evening I still haven't managed to finish the darned thing.  Tomorrow!  I'll get it finished tomorrow.  Cross my heart.





01 March--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

Returning to his office in the police station Det. Archibald was surprised to see Lt. Graybow there.  “Len, what’re you doing here today?  I thought you had plans for your day off.” 

“Oh, I just came in to get a few things straight in my mind.  I can’t stop thinking about these two murders.  I keep thinking they’ve got to be connected since the two women were such good friends but for the life of me, I can’t see how they could be connected.”

Archibald stood next to Graybow’s desk, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, a frown of concentration on his face.  

“Yeah, I keep thinking the same thing.  Right now, the only thing that connects them is the fact they’ve been friends since high school and Kenneth Edwards was at both crime scenes.  God, I hate to think he’s the murderer.  I wish the coroner could give us more to go on the murder weapon.  It might be a hunting knife but there’s no distinctive marks in the wounds.  It might be something else.  No defensive wounds so the victims must have known the killer.  We get a story that Tiffany Davis might be expecting a lover, but no one ever suspected it.  Kimberly Neal’s obviously having an affair with the tennis pro, and her husband’s fooling around with some gardening genius bored married woman.  I like the tennis pro for Neal’s murder.  Maybe his blood will match the drops found on her tennis dress.  The husband’s got a good alibi.  Did you go over that video tape Dirk Davis dropped off?” 

“Yeah, the date and time stamp match his story so he’s off the hook for his wife’s killing.  So that lets both husbands in the clear.  Should we bring in that Edwards and see if we can get anything more out of him?” 

Archibald’s face shows his reluctance to believe his old mentor is the one to commit two murders.  “Not right now.  Let’s see what we turn up and what Doc Lange turns up in the autopsies.  Oh, before you leave you might as well call Dirk Davis and tell him he’s no longer a suspect.  Thanks, Len.  I’m beat.  I’m outta here.”  Archibald sketches a wave and leaves the station.

Well, it got up to 46 degrees here today and the sun shone.  Before I left this morning I opened the kitchen window and one of the bedroom windows to air out the house.  Ahh, there's nothing like fresh air in a winter-stuffy house.  Back down in the 30s tomorrow but into the low 40s the next couple days.  Weird weather for a winter in Green Bay.
--Barbara