Killer Pancake

4 cups broccoli floretsPour the sherry over the chopped mushrooms, stir, and set aside to marinate while you prepare the risotto.In a large saucepan, bring 1 cup of the chicken stock, the water, and the Old Bay Seasoning to a boil. Add the shrimp and poach for 3 to 5 minutes or until just pink. Remove and shell; set aside.Heat of teaspoons of the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed skillet. Add the onion and sauté over medium heat for 2 to 5 minutes or until it is limp. Add the garlic and rice. Cook and stir for 1 minute or until the rice just begins to change color. Continuing to stir over medium-low heat, add the remaining chicken stock ⅔ cup at a time, stirring until the liquid is absorbed. Continue the process until the rice is tender and the mixture is creamy (this can take up to 30 minutes).Heat the other teaspoon of olive oil in a small sauté pan and briefly sauté the marinated mushroom pieces over medium-high heat until they release their liquid. Remove from the heat.Steam the broccoli for 5 to 6 minutes or until it is bright green and tender.Stir the cooked shrimp, fresh thyme, and mushrooms into the cooked risotto and stir over medium-low heat until heated through. Place the broccoli around the edge of a large platter. Fill the center with the risotto.

Serves 4 to 6

I struggled for my bearings. In the midst of the bower, two figures were visible in front of a lighted bank of mirrors at the far end of the room. It took me a moment to realize that the seated person was Babs Braithwaite. With her hair full of rollers, her face covered with pasty-looking goo, and her large body swathed in a pink terry-cloth robe, she looked like a matronly alien in a science fiction movie. Standing next to her, an impeccably restored Harriet Wells wore a crisp white knee-length smock. Below the smock, her legs emerged long and ballerinalike. Harriet turned her sparkling smile on me and I saw a small bandage on her forehead. She sure didn’t look like someone who was sixty-two, much less someone who’d been surprised earlier by a dead body tumbling down on the glass counter in front of her.

“Well, come on in!” Babs called gaily into the mirror. “Have one of Harriet’s herb rolls! I don’t suppose you’d better have any Asti Spumante though. Well, we’ve got juice. Lowcal!” Babs cried impatiently, “Well, come on, Goldy, we’re not going to bite! Where’s that young fellow who works for you?”

“Getting the food set up. Aah, there’s something I need to talk to you—”

“Don’t you think your assistant deserves a snack too?” Babs’s speech was already slurred. When she talked, the facial paste moved up and down.

“Julian’s fine,” I assured her. “He really needs to work on getting things going. As do I, actually.” Call me old-fashioned, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to bring Julian into a rose-filled boudoir where the partially clad hostess was halfway to being plastered, in more ways than one. If Julian was still intent on a career in food service, he’d have plenty of time to discover just how idiosyncratic clients could be. And just how idiosyncratic errant spouses could be.

“Well, you come on, then,” said Babs, disgruntled. “This’ll just take a minute. Have a little snack and come on over, I want to talk to you about tonight.”

Babs allowed Harriet to start wiping off the pink goo. From my newfound knowledge, I recognized that it was a cosmetic masque. I strolled over to the silver teacart. The cart’s top shelf held a globe vase of white and pink roses, a silver ice bucket containing a large green bottle set at a rakish angle, two tulip champagne glasses next to a stack of luncheon plates, a woven silver basket of puffed, delectable-looking rolls, and a silver plate piled with scoops of chèvre and pats of butter. My stomach growled in reproval, so to be sociable I reached for a plate, a roll, a dollop of chèvre, and one of those inviting pats of butter. When I pulled the roll apart, I was surprised to see it was speckled with bits of green.

“The rolls contain rosemary from my garden.” Harriet shot a quick, shy smile in my direction. “You don’t have to guess this time.”

I took a bite. The soft, herb-flavored roll was feathery and light. “Out of this world,” I told her.

Harriet nodded as she told Babs to close her eyes and relax. With her lids shut, Babs asked, “Did you know the police were here all afternoon, Goldy?”

“Aah,” I said, and stalling, took another bite of my roll. Babs was a gossip who was always digging for nuggets, it seemed. I needed to be careful. Not only that, but how I would steer the conversation from the cops visiting to shrimp risotto was going to be tricky. “Seems to me I did hear about that. Harriet probably told you about the terrible thing that happened at the store.”