Murder by Cheesecake

“‘I suppose you could make an appointment to meet one, but I met this one in an elevator,’ Blanche said. ‘You just have to put yourself out there. Go where the doctors are!’”

Blanche’s joke here establishes her own quick with and near-obsessive focus on dating—even an elevator ride is a romantic opportunity for her. Blanche’s confidence and self-assertion are key aspects of her personality and contrast her with Rose’s naiveté and Dorothy’s cautious cynicism. Blanche insists through her day-to-day life that she continues to have romantic desires and pursue them avidly, regardless of stereotypes that older women should abandon sexuality.

“It wasn’t just about appearances, either. She wanted someone to dance with. To talk to during the long reception, to share jokes with. Someone to tell her she looked nice. Someone to pull out a chair for her. Even her octogenarian mother had more romantic suitors than she did, and Dorothy was a woman still in her prime.”

The repetitive nature of Dorothy’s thoughts here reveals the persistence of her longing, bordering on desperation. She sees romance as a seders of actions—dancing, conversation and chivalry. Even as she admits to vulnerability, Dorothy sees herself as in her “prime” insisting, like Blanche, that her age is not a liability, but a source of strength. The anaphora of “someone to… someone to…” enacts her yearning rhythmically, emphasizing how ordinary gestures become charged with meaning in later life. This connects to Agency in Later Life and Overcoming Stereotypes, as Dorothy reframes age not as loss but as the grounds for asserting vitality.

“‘They are so…unique, and a bit old-fashioned. It’s all too much.’ ‘Nonsense, sweetheart,’ Rose said, thinking of how important each practice was. Even if some of them were silly—like the Bridal Ribbon Ballet, or the Sharing of the Soup—she couldn’t help but feel that each one had somehow contributed to the happiness of her own marriage to Charlie.”

Rose’s early exchange with Nettie sets up the novel’s core conflict between modern sensibilities and older cultural norms. Rose dismisses her instantly. Her usual empathy disappears when her hometown is disparaged. In the thoughts, she admits that some traditions are absurd—but she associates them with the happiness and security of her own marriage, now only a memory due to her widowhood. As hyperbolic as St. Olaf traditions are, they are also sources of deep emotional resonance, raising the novel’s emotional stakes. The juxtaposition of “silly” rituals with marital happiness highlights how symbols, however arbitrary, accrue emotional weight through lived experience.

“Dorothy tried to keep her face neutral, even though her chin wanted to tremble. Henry had clearly left their date on purpose. There wasn’t a long line in the bathroom, or an emergency of some sort. This was even worse than being stood up. It was embarrassing, and Dorothy wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.”

In this moment, it is clear that Dorothy’s lack of romantic success is her greatest vulnerability. She nearly gives in to a public display of disappointment, so unlike her usual sharp wit. Dorothy feels humiliated and small, and her impulse to escape telegraphs just how much hope she had attached to her date. The trembling chin functions as metonymy for suppressed emotion, symbolizing how bodily cues betray even the most guarded personalities. Her shame highlights the theme of Agency in Later Life and Overcoming Stereotypes, since humiliation here is not about age per se but about the persistence of desire in a society that assumes it should have waned.

“‘But a true gentleman prefers something real to grab on to.’ Blanche sniffed as she straightened her posture to show off her own unique assets. ‘Let’s hope at least some of them do,’ Dorothy whispered back. Even though Blanche always seemed so confident and in touch with her own sensuality, Dorothy could hear the note of insecurity in her voice. Dating after a certain age—or at any age—wasn’t easy on anyone.”

Blanche’s snarky comment at Patricia’s expense reveals that despite her public bravado, she is well aware that younger women are more readily appreciated. Dorothy gives voice to her doubts and realizes that her friend shares them. For all their other differences, they feel uniquely vulnerable in a culture that valorizes youth, and Dorothy seems to draw some strength from these shared preoccupations. The irony of Blanche’s statement underscores the double bind of female aging, as bodily confidence coexists with cultural diminishment. Their whispered exchange literalizes the theme of Friendship as a Source of Strength and Security, since mutual acknowledgment of insecurity creates solidarity.

“When they all finally stopped screaming, they looked at each other in disbelief for several moments. ‘Do you think we can revive him?’ Rose said, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. ‘Maybe help him…defrost?’ ‘He’s not a pot roast,’ Sophia pointed out.”

Though the emphasis on shrieking in shock adds some hyperbolic humor to an alarming scene, it also confirms the shift away from comedy toward a humorous mystery. Rose, naively, suggests that the man is merely immobilized, while Sophia’s usual caustic wit returns quickly. She points out that their situation is much more serious than dinner preparation, establishing just how far out of their depth the four women are. The grotesque humor here demonstrates how ordinary domestic language collides with death, making the intrusion of violence into a domestic cozy space palpable.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bryant seemed more open than she’d expected to Rose supplying all the food, but perhaps that was due to their kitchen being renovated, she thought. She hadn’t exactly told them yet about all the things they’d need to bring in for the wedding itself, including the live donkey for Jason to ride down the aisle. One thing at a time, she reminded herself. For now, she’d have to put on a brave face. Not the face of a woman who’d just discovered a dead man.”

Even after discovering a body, Rose has clearly retained her more trusting nature, as she is grateful the Bryants are willing to let her take on wedding labor rather than seeing this as sign they are happy to exploit her. Rose herself is not without guile, however, as she refrains from telling the Bryants how elaborate the wedding preparations are—hinting at more conflict over tradition to come. Rose resolves that tradition matters more than her own emotions or needs, hinting at the frantic desperation animating her wedding preparations.

“‘It seems to be all about nightlife and dancing and nothing to do with family and community! Plus, there’s all sorts of criminal activity, drug cartels, and smuggling. Haven’t you seen the television show Miami Vice?’ ‘Oh no, it’s nothing like that,’ Rose said. ‘It’s more like…Miami Nice!’”

Gustave’s sharp words about Miami reveal the depth of his fears of the unknown, as well as his naiveté. He insists that Miami Vice corresponds to reality, and sees it as hyper individualistic, implying that Rose is somehow tainted by her new surroundings. Rose puns on his pop culture reference, defending her hometown in her usual optimistic way and underscoring the 1980s setting of the text. This contrast will come to dominate much of Rose’s struggles with the wedding, as her relatives struggle to accept their circumstances and she is forced to consider whether she has lost touch with her roots. The punning wordplay dramatizes the clash of perceptions, showing how language itself mediates the theme of Tensions Between Individual Desires and Collective Traditions. Miami, for Gustave, epitomizes decay; for Rose, it is transformed through optimism into continuity and belonging.

“‘And they could have been having an evening of mature passion. An elderly encounter, as it were.’ Officer Pierno’s eyes widened so much they looked like they’d bounce from their sockets. ‘That happens?’ he said, looking at Dorothy with a new appreciation in his eyes.”

Detective Silva’s words here overemphasize Dorothy and Henry’s ages to the point of absurdity. In her rendering, passion has age limits and dating might be its own transgression, akin to the crime she suspects Dorothy of committing. Pierno’s shocked reaction is further proof of the ways older women are both undervalued and underestimated.

“She’d pull her chin up and try again. There were more wedding events to plan, and perhaps if each one went swimmingly, everyone would forget about the one that happened to have a dead body. She’d throw her all into making the rest of this wedding week so joyous, so celebratory, and so full of all the right foods and songs and games and traditions that no one would have time to feel anything other than happy.”

This scene reaffirms Rose’s near relentless optimism and obsessions with the perfect wedding. She insists that celebratory tradition can somehow erase memories and reshape reality. The repetition of “so” builds a sense of her perfectionism, her insistence that only happiness is permissible. At the same time, her very vehemence reveals how much the murder has unsettled her and reveals that her own emotions are in a kind of turmoil. The hyperbolic listing of sensory elements—foods, songs, games—shows her reliance on ritual as substitution for interior stability.

“All this pressure to have the perfect St. Olaf wedding wasn’t coming from the town elders. It was coming from herself. Unless… ‘Gustave,’ she said slowly, ‘it sounds to me almost as if you don’t want Nettie to get married and complete all the St. Olaf wedding traditions. Is there a reason for that?’”

Here, Rose pauses to truly consider the wedding and its consequences, admitting to the depth of her obsession. Rose’s somewhat cynical question underlines how the case has changed her outlook, making her see her family less as security and more as threats. Rose has not yet agreed to become a detective, but she is already looking for sabotage. The ellipsis and halting speech capture her dawning self-awareness. This moment illuminates Friendship as a Source of Strength and Security indirectly, since her investigative stance echoes Dorothy and Sophia’s rationality and signals that friendship has expanded her way of seeing.

“Once everyone had piled into the shower area, Rose led the group in a rousing sing-along, starting off with ‘Scrubenrinsedottir,’ an old St. Olaf folk song to the tune of Bobby Darin’s ‘Splish Splash.’ After many songs, much laughter, and the liberal use of Ivory soap, the shower finally ended. Rose wiped her face dry with the fluffy towel. She dabbed at her eyes, realizing she’d been crying a little bit with happiness.”

This scene broadcasts the determined anachronism of St. Olaf, as even American pop culture classics must be rendered into Norwegian. Rose’s emotional reaction helps affirm that her adherence to tradition is sincere, however intense it may be. She is truly overjoyed to be in community with her family and friends, finding a brief moment of respite in ritual.

“‘I’m a woman on vacation with her difficult mother. We’re here to see the sights. I have a pet parakeet at home in Akron whom I miss terribly. I’m newly divorced and I’m wondering if I’ll ever find love again.’ ‘There it is,’ Sophia said, pointing a finger at Dorothy. ‘That kernel of truth.’”

The exchange here turns to another core relationship among the central characters: Dorothy’s inability to resist arguing with her mother, even into late middle age. She plays along with Sophia’s ruse only reluctantly, but clearly shares her mother’s flair for the absurd, crafting her own story about a parakeet with no prompting. At the same time, Sophia immediately recognizes her emotional confession, demonstrating that while they argue, they also know and each other well. The “kernel of truth” metaphor affirms that candor and performance need not be opposites but can mutually reveal hidden vulnerabilities.

“‘It did look suspicious, now that you mention it, Tiffani,’ Sophia said. ‘I thought we’d stumbled onto the set of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf!’ ‘But what if it was just a lovers’ quarrel?’ Blanche interjected. ‘Or something about the running of the hotel? Are we really going to suspect everyone we see?’ Rose bit her lip. She hated suspecting anyone, let alone the sister of the person her niece was about to marry.”

In this scene, Sophia is clearly relishing the subterfuge, emphasizing Dorothy’s alias and dramatically comparing Chip and Patricia to characters in a classic play of family dysfunction. Blanche is more skeptical, in keeping with her doubts about the investigation’s success. Rose, for her part, is horrified at the idea of distrusting others, insistent that even a relative of a relative should be someone she is generous and kind to. The allusion to Albee’s play highlights how suspicion transforms ordinary domesticity into theatrical dysfunction.

“‘Let’s make a list,’ she said. ‘Everything we do know, and what we know we don’t know. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start. What do you think?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Blanche said. ‘How do you know what you don’t know, you know?’”

Dorothy relies intensely on her rational side as she attempts to preserve her freedom but finds herself struggling with the role. The emphasis on “we” and “know” builds into a cascade of absurdity, as Blanche repeats her questions back to her doubtfully. This helps establish the cozy mystery’s lighter tone and that the women’s gift for witty repartee is unchanged by the task before them. The recursive repetition enacts epistemological uncertainty, parodying detective logic.

“Sometimes, St. Olaf people can be so dense! She stopped that thought in its tracks. This was exactly what people said about her. Simple. Gullible, when they were being kind. Stupid, dumb, slower than a cart with square wheels—a brainless hayseed—but it just wasn’t true.”

In this moment, Rose is forced to confront that Miami has changed her in some ways, as she finds her relatives frustrating in the same ways Dorothy or Sophia express frustration with her. Rose is clearly familiar with insults to her intelligence, establishing that she may be trusting but she is aware of the world around her and her place in it. She realizes that if she trusts her own intelligence, she must meet her relatives on their own terms, which ultimately yields investigative success. The self-interruption dramatizes a shift in self-perception, revealing interior strength. This connects to Agency in Later Life and Overcoming Stereotypes, as Rose asserts her intellect against caricatures of gullibility.

‘“But the name didn’t match the first ID made at the scene—the only ID we could make.’ Pierno glared at Dorothy. Henry nodded and staggered to his front porch. He sat heavily on the wooden porch swing with Jayne beside him. He put his head in his hands and let out the saddest sigh that Dorothy had ever heard.”

Pierno’s relative haplessness and anger at Dorothy affirms that in cozy mysteries, it is the amateur sleuth who is truly capable. At the same time, the depth of Henry’s grief and his love for his dog affirms that Dorothy’s initial interest in him was not misplaced. Dorothy emphasizes with his grief, a subtle signal that she is still interested in him and hoping for romance. The image of the porch swing emphasizes liminality: Henry is caught between companionship and loss, echoing Dorothy’s own oscillation between cynicism and hope.

“‘But I had no idea that Morty even existed until today!’ ‘Exactly,’ Silva said. ‘He could have been posing as Henry, especially since they look so much alike.’ Dorothy slumped against the cold tile of the precinct wall. It was starting all over again! She couldn’t take it. At this point, just turn her into a cockroach already.”

Dorothy’s fruitless attempt to establish her innocence, where even a mistaken identity cannot exonerate her, helps further establish that the police are not the rational actors here. Her fatigue and exasperation affirm that while she is capable of gathering evidence, she is also exhausted by having to constantly prove herself. The allusion to being turned into a cockroach, however, indicates that fatigue has not dimmed Dorothy’s intellect, as she is still able to allude to Kafka’s Metamorphosis as the best way to describe her predicament.

“Dorothy had really wanted the fondue pot when she bought Little League raffle tickets last spring, but she had figured she’d hold on to the baseball bat she’d won instead and give it to some neighborhood kid. Holding it now, she tested its weight in her hands. If whoever killed Morty or tried to kidnap Rose and Nettie showed up at their house, they would have to contend with her.”

The reference to fondue pots, popular in the 1970s and ’80s, helps anchor the setting of Dorothy’s predicament. She cannot rely on modern methods, only traditions and sheer force of will. Her ferocity testifies to the depth of her love for her friends. Despite her age and fears, she is willing to defend her family of choice, however unlikely her weapon.

“Ever since the day she found a corpse in her cheesecake, she’d grown a little less naive and trusting. Right then and there, Rose made a vow to herself that she wouldn’t let everything that happened stop her from thinking the best about people.”

The alliteration of “corpse” and “cheesecake” alludes to the novel’s title while highlighting the absurdity of the murder plot. At the same time, Rose’s observations about the case’s effect on her character are profound and sincere. She decides to remain true to what she values most, rather than let her recent setbacks change her fundamental nature.

“Dorothy said with a snap, then wrapped the pantyhose around Chip’s midriff, pinning his arms in place. Dorothy pulled her own pantyhose off, regretting that she’d worn the control-top ones when the operation started proving difficult. Rose removed her white stockings and then helped Sophia roll down her thick compression hose. ‘At least buy me dinner first’ Sophia grumbled.”

The use of pantyhose to secure their safety makes one of the novel’s themes literal: Older women may be underestimated, but they are resourceful and creative. Sophia’s quip about buying her dinner first is a wry allusion to undressing and sex, affirming that she has not lost her zest for life even after facing danger. While the visuals of pantyhose removal are comedic, they also establish that the women come to their own rescue, without relying on the police or younger people to find them.

“After being fully checked out by paramedics, Sophia and Blanche had gone straight to sleep, but Dorothy and Rose spent the entire night talking, putting together the last missing pieces of the puzzle as they ripped seams and hand-stitched a very special garment together.”

The description here conveys how solving the case has restored domestic harmony. Sophia and Blanche are resting, while Rose’s friendship with Dorothy is repaired. Rather than griping over Dorothy’s dating life, they work together on Nettie’s wedding dress, affirming that the wedding’s success is due to Rose’s strong reliance on the friends she loves. The sewing imagery ties mystery-solving to acts of creation and mending, aligning with Friendship as a Source of Strength and Security. The tactile, painstaking work demonstrates how emotional rifts are repaired through shared labor.

“Their hopeful earnestness was so far from the cynicism she’d occasionally had about romance because of her experience with Stan; seeing this couple with so much love between and around them made her optimistic that sometimes relationships could be different. After all, they’d had to overcome feuding in-laws, a sabotaged wedding dress, a kidnapping, and even a murder to get to this point.”

Dorothy’s painful and near-loveless first marriage is why she doubts romance, not because she truly devalues it. Nettie and Jason restore some other faith in love, as she catalogues the adversity they have faced without giving up on one another. Dorothy’s cynicism thus emerges as a kind of self-protective mechanism, one that a true partnership can easily challenge.