Free The Main Corpse by Diane Mott Davidson Page B

doubted very much, given yesterday's fiasco at the mine. But Marla was my closest friend, and I couldn't bear to disappoint her. Besides, it was the only way to get her off the phone. "I've made a couple of unexpected bookings, and Friday's the first time I can manage. Now please, I have to - "
     
     
"What, go feed the dog? How come I can't hear the mighty canine? Usually he's in the background singing away."
     
     
"He's out with Tom and Arch."
     
     
"In this weather?"
     
     
"Don't remind me." I removed the wrappings from several packages of milky-white chevre and started to cut it into small cubes. "No, I'll let you go if you'll just promise you'll come to Cherry Creek with me tomorrow morning. Be the buffer at the Prospect office."
     
     
I inhaled deeply, turned away from the chevre, and stirred the dark Bolognese sauce. "If I come with you, promise you won't lose your temper again with Albert Lipscomb."
     
     
"I'll be like Mr. Rogers. On Librium," she added, and signed off. As the former wives of a doctor, Marla and I always laced our similes with drugs.
     
     
"Okay, look," I said to Macguire, but stopped. "Macguire, what are you doing?" I cringed as a large chunk of dough just missed the ceiling. "Macguire!"
     
     
Macguire held his hands out for the dough, but it landed on the counter. "Oops." He gave me a sheepish look. "You know how you see those pizza guys..." He scooped up the dough and began to press it into a jelly roll pan. "Never mind. How's Marla? Has she recovered from that big argument? Did that guy explain what he was up to?"
     
     
Provencal Pizza
     
     
1 ¬ ounce envelope active dry yeast
     
     
1 cup warm water
     
     
« teaspoon sugar
     
     
« teaspoon salt
     
     
2 teaspoons olive oil
     
     
2 « to 3 cups all-purpose flour
     
     
« cup prepared pesto
     
     
12 ounces ripe tomatoes, thinly sliced and seed pockets removed
     
     
3 « ounces chevre
     
     
4 ounces best-quality fresh mozzarella, grated
     
     
In a large mixing bowl, sprinkle the yeast over the warm water. Add the sugar, stir, and set aside 10 minutes, until the mixture is bubbly. Stir in the salt and olive oil. Beat in 2 « cups of the flour, then add as much extra flour as needed to make a dough that is not too sticky to knead. Knead on a floured surface until the dough is smooth and satiny. (Or place the dough in the bowl of an electric mixer and knead with a dough hook until the dough cleans the sides of the bowl, (approximately 5 minutes.) Place the dough in an oiled bowl, turn to oil the top, cover with a kitchen towel, and let rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.
     
     
Preheat the oven to 425ø. Brush a little olive oil over the bottom and sides of a 10- by 15-inch pan. Punch the dough down and press it into the bottom of the pan. Spread the pesto over the dough. Lay the tomato slices in even rows over the pesto. Dot the surface evenly with the chŠvre, an sprinkle the mozzarella over the entire surface. Bake for 15 to 25 minutes, or until mozzarella is bubbly and dough has cooked through.
     
     
Serves 6.
     
     
"No, he's doing that tomorrow morning." I let water gush into my pasta pentola and set it on the stove. "I'm going down to the Prospect office with her and try to keep things sane."
     
     
He stopped reading the pizza recipe and gave me a look. "The two of you are going down there together? Alone? Are you taking a referee's uniform and a whistle? Can I come?" He was hoping for fisticuffs, apparently.
     
     
The phone rang again and I begged Macguire to : answer it so I could start on the salad. Instead of giving my customary greeting, however, my ever-helpful assistant barked, "Yeah, this is Goldilocks' Catering! What do you want?"
     
     
Even across the room I could hear Mrs. Kirby-Jones' hysterical voice over the wire. I gestured desperately for the phone.
     
     
Macguire cupped his palm over the receiver and opened his eyes wide. "I'm never going to learn how to