30

Wheat Germ and Buttermilk Cakes with

Peach and Cinnamon Maple Topping

1½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

½ cup wheat germ

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon baking soda

1¾ cups buttermilk, or more as needed

4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter, melted

1 large egg

Cinnamon Maple Topping (recipe follows)

1. Combine the flour, wheat germ, sugar, salt, and cinnamon in a large bowl. Sieve the baking soda into the flour mixture. Stir to blend.

2. In a separate bowl, whisk the 1¾ cups buttermilk with the butter and egg until blended. Add to the flour mixture and stir just until blended. If the batter thickens too much while standing, stir in a little more buttermilk, about 1 tablespoon at a time, to thin slightly.

3. Heat a large nonstick griddle or skillet over medium heat until hot enough to sizzle a drop of water. Brush on a thin film of vegetable oil, or spray with nonstick cooking spray. For each pancake, pour ¼ cup batter onto the griddle or into the skillet. Adjust the heat to medium-low. Cook until the tops are covered with small bubbles and the bottoms are lightly browned. Carefully turn and cook the other side until lightly browned. Repeat with the remaining batter.

4. Serve the pancakes warm with the warm topping.

MAKES ABOUT TWELVE 4-INCH PANCAKES.

Cinnamon Maple Topping: Melt 1 tablespoon unsalted butter in a medium skillet over medium-low heat. Peel and cut 2 large peaches into thin wedges. Add the peaches to the butter and cook, stirring, to coat and heat through. Sprinkle with 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice and ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon. Stir to coat. Add ½ cup maple syrup, or more, to taste, and stir to blend. Gently heat. Do not boil.

31

Agnes Mishler would love to live in town, but she feels responsible for her two elderly uncles. They have to live in the country; after all, the Mishler brothers are nudists who spend a great deal of time outside playing badminton, horseshoes, and shuffleboard. Even on this relatively balmy late April morning, I could tell at a glance that neither man had converted to the Jewish faith since last I’d seen them.

I waved at the uncles as I zoomed past them, and then I abruptly squealed to a stop in front of Agnes’s back door. The uncles fled like a pair of wild albino chimpanzees, but Wanda and Agnes struggled to be the first to reach me. Wanda, being a good deal thinner-and meaner, I might add-made it through the kitchen door first.

“Don’t listen to a word she says, Magdalena. I don’t know anything about this case; I was just going on a hunch. Don’t you have a saying about that?”

“Hunching is not good for your back,” I said. “If you don’t believe me, just ask that fellow at Notre Dame.”

“Remind me to laugh, Magdalena. Honestly, I don’t know why people say you’re such a wit.”

“They do? Well, if so, they’re wrong by half.”

By then Agnes had squeezed through her own kitchen door and caught enough breath to speak. “Tell her everything, Wanda, just like you told me.”

When Wanda recoils, her beehive hairdo shoots like a launched rocket ship. “Nobody-and I mean nobody-tells Wanda Hemphopple what to do.”

“Fine, then I’ll tell her myself. You see, Magdalena, Wanda here has been having an affair with-”

“I was having a late cup of coffee after closing hours when Chief Ackerman happened to stop by.”

“What time was that?” I interjected.

“Three-maybe three thirty. Anyway, he looked really tired, and like he could use some coffee as well, so I let him in. That’s when he told me about Elias Whitmore and the steamroller.”

“Just like that? He’s a policeman, for crying out loud; he can’t be spilling the beans to civilians.”

“And what are you, Magdalena, an officer of the law?”

“There’s something dripping from your chin, Wanda. Here, let me give you a tissue.”

She actually reached for it, but Agnes intervened at the last second. “She’s being sarcastic as well. Ladies, we’re wasting precious time. Wanda, tell her what else happened so that we can get on with it.”

Wanda sighed like a teenager when asked to clean up her room. “Okay, just don’t be so pushy. Anyway, it didn’t exactly happen just like that. Maybe I fudged just a little. But he did come in for coffee, and he was asking questions, like had I seen anything unusual drive by, on account of the Sausage Barn sits right on the main road into Hernia. And I said that as a matter of fact, I had. When I was locking up the garbage cans after closing-you gotta do that, or else the raccoons will get in-I heard kind of a roar, and I looked up, and there was this flatbed with a steamroller on it, just flying by.”

“Did you get a good look at the driver?”

“Only a glimpse. He was wearing a hat-like a baseball cap. And he was real short. Or maybe he was slumping. So even if he’d been driving slowly, there wouldn’t have been anything to see.”

“What time was this? I need to know exactly.”

“Sometime between eleven thirty and twelve.”

“And then after you told the Chief what you saw, he told you about Elias?”

“Not right away. First he had a good cry in booth eight. Then I served him a piece of cinnamon apple pie à la mode, and then he told me about Mr. Whitmore. He said it would be on the news anyway the next day, so what was the point of holding back? Nice boy, that chief. If I was ten years younger-no, make that fifteen-”

“You’re married, Wanda, and Chris bats for a different team. Besides, aren’t you having an affair?”

“Oh, right, my affair with Mr. Sudoku. Unlike Miss Fecund at forty-eight, here, I’m already going through menopause, and I’m only forty-seven. A lot of nights I have trouble sleeping, so I sit up and amuse myself with Sudoku. I’ve gotten really hooked.”

“You’re seeing a Japanese gentleman?”

“Why, Magdalena, you sound almost jealous.”

“Curious, that’s all. Where did you meet this gentleman?”

Wanda and Agnes both laughed. I could tell that it was at my expense, so I decided to laugh along with them. In fact, I may have outdone them, because not only did I get several dogs to howl, but the Bontragers’ donkey began to bray.

“That ass has always had a thing for me,” I said.

“He’s probably smarter than you,” Wanda said. “Sudoku isn’t a person; it’s a type of puzzle. Sort of like a crossword, but with numbers.”

“Oh, that,” I said. “I’ve seen those books for sale at Pat’s IGA. Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Ladies,” Agnes hissed, “let’s get back to Mr. Whitmore’s murder.”

“Indeed,” I said. “But frankly, Agnes, I fail to see why you called me over. I already knew that a steamroller was involved, and since Wanda couldn’t identify the driver of the flatbed…” I let my voice trail off.

“The driver was a woman,” Wanda snarled.

“Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere; my ellipse was eclipsed by an assertion! On what do you base that, Wanda?”

“Because what I didn’t tell you was that I barely made it to the garbage cans in time. There was a family of raccoons crossing the road, single file, just as that flatbed roared by. They were all in the opposite lane by then, except for the last little cub. Whoever was driving that flatbed swerved just the tiniest bit, to keep from hitting it. A woman would have done that.”

Agnes gasped. “Wanda, now I’m surprised. That’s very sexist of you. Are you saying a man would have hit the cub?”

“No, I’m only saying that a woman would not have hit it. We’re nurturers. Why, even Magdalena has a maternal side.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Do you really believe that a woman, on her way to squash a man with a steamroller, would swerve to avoid hitting a raccoon?”