Free Death is Semisweet by Lou Jane Temple Page A

new chocolate recipe for the evening and all the recipes will be printed in a cookbook. All the sales from the book will also benefit Harvester’s. Representing the hundred chefs around the country who are participating are these four to my left. I’m sure you all recognize Kansas City celebrity Heaven Lee,” Junior said, and Heaven got up and gave a big wave. Next the other three chefs were introduced and the crowd clapped. The camera operators shot a few feet of film, in case this turned out to be the big moment of the whole morning.
    Junior motioned to some workers hovering at the back of the chairs. They started rolling two dollies forward, one on each side of the room. There were stacks of what Heaven recognized as ten-pound blocks of chocolate on them, but they were wrapped in a hot pink foil that Heaven didn’t recognize. Miss Hostess and her crew, with big smiles, were passing these out to the assembled group.
    Now the mayor had the microphone. “Until a year ago, I knew very little about the chocolate business. I still don’t know much, but I do know that Foster’s is the biggest boxed candy maker in America. Those guys backthere in Hershey, Pennsylvania, beat Foster’s out for sheer volume with their bar candy. But from now on, watch out, Hershey’s.” The mayor, a great speaker, was priming the pump. “Foster’s is joining Hershey’s in not only making great candy, but now Foster’s will process their own cocoa beans, what is called second-tier chocolate production. This will provide two hundred new jobs for the Kansas City area.” A nice round of applause greeted this news.
    That means the city gave Foster’s a big tax break on this new build-out, Heaven thought. She felt superior in her knowledge of the chocolate terms the mayor had bantered about since she’d already had a chocolate production lesson from Stephanie. She could actually follow along. From the looks on the faces of the rest of the crowd, most of them just understood the general drift that would lead their stories or be something they could brag about to their constituents: new jobs. “Now,” the mayor said, wrapping up, “Harold Foster is going to give us a tour of the new operation so we’ll know what the heck second-tier chocolate production means. Harold, thank you for placing this facility here in Kansas City.” The mayor led the group in another round of clapping.
    Junior Foster took the cordless mic back from the mayor. “Please take this commemorative block of Foster’s semisweet chocolate home with you. Attached to it is the recipe for the wonderful chocolate chunk cookies you’ve been enjoying this morning, a recipe that will be in the Harvester’s cookbook. Why don’t you just leave your chocolate on your chairs for a few minutes while I show you how we made those ten-pound blocks.” He stepped off the little platform. His brother and the mayor followed. Miss Hostess gestured to the chefs tofall in behind and they did, with everyone else straggling along. Two workers, big black men speaking to each other in a language Heaven didn’t even recognize, removed the first tarp.
    “The first step in turning cacao into chocolate is to roast the beans. This state-of-the-art oven roasts the beans at a low temperature, 100 to 150 degrees Celsius, or 212 to 302 degrees Fahrenheit. This brings out the chocolate flavor in the beans, much as roasting brings out the flavor in coffee beans,” Junior explained as they hovered around the big ovens, the smell of chocolate strong in the air.
    All of a sudden, someone goosed Heaven and she whirled around to find Sergeant Bonnie Weber standing behind her with an impish grin on her face. “Shhh,” Bonnie said with a finger to her lips. She could just imagine Heaven using a loud and colorful phrase after that pinch. Heaven gave her an “I’ll get even with you later” look and they walked on to the next station, where another tarp was being removed.
    “This is the winnowing