Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (10 page)

"What kind of idiot does something like this?" Bridget nudged a vegetarian soup cookbook with the toe of her nude-colored pump. "Why would someone do this to your store?"

Had Amy and Sophie stopped the intruder before he could do this sort of damage at Riverbend? A chaotic mess wasn't as ominous as a noose, but it could be sending the same message. "To prove that there are consequences if demands aren't met," Amy guessed.

Kendra inhaled loudly. "How did you know?"

"Like Bridget said, your business isn't the only one being hit by the extortionist. Did you get a message on your computer, demanding money, before this happened?"

"Yes," Kendra said. Her voice was barely audible above the drone of the miniature refrigerator. A bowling ball-sized dent dimpled its side wall. It sounded as if the appliance's fan had been damaged in the assault, judging from the metallic clanking sound rattling from it. "But it's gone. I didn't erase the email, but I can't find it now. I thought it was some kind of weird spam, like those emails you get from dying people who want to give you their inheritance. So I didn't think anything of it…until now."

The torment wasn't consistent, but the contact method was. What other similarities were there? "Do you have security cameras that could've filmed the person who did this?"

Bridget raised one eyebrow. "After the trouble at Cornerstone restaurant I had cameras installed at all of my properties. I checked the footage when Kendra called this morning. Somehow the cameras were shut off during the time the vandalism was being committed. I have my security specialist looking into it, but right now we have no idea what happened."

Chances were the security systems Bridget installed were even more high-tech than the ones at the menswear shop and café, since both of those businesses were in buildings not owned by her corporation. Maybe the specialist could figure out what was happening. Amy placed her hand on Kendra's shoulder.

"It looks like you've already started cleaning up. Have the police been here? Won't you need a breaking and entering report to claim the damage on your insurance?"

The ruddy redness faded from Kendra's cheeks. Her gaze bounced back and forth between Amy and Bridget. "I don't think many of the books are damaged. They just need to be put back on the shelves. So I don't need to go to my insurance agent. Plus, I can't call the police." She tugged at the bottom of her white cotton blouse. "I found another message on my computer when I turned it on. It says not to involve the police, or I'll end up like Luke Crowe. I have no idea who did this or what I did to provoke the person."

Bridget and Amy stayed for another fifteen minutes, trying to convince Kendra to call the police and helping pick up some of the mess. By the end of the stay, Bridget could no longer mask her frustration with the situation. Her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line interrupted by random twitches. It appeared that the outspoken landlady was making a great effort to keep her mouth shut.

When they emerged from the store Bridget asked Amy to sit in the Mercedes with her so they could talk privately. Thanks to the remote starter on Bridget's key chain, the vehicle rumbled to life before they even reached it. After settling into the passenger seat, Amy was amazed that the accumulated heat from the black car sitting in the sun was already mostly dissipated courtesy of the pleasantly cool breeze pouring out of the air-conditioning vents. The chilled sanctuary of the vehicle felt wonderful after working up a sweat hefting stacks of thick, hardcover cookbooks from the floor.

"Do you have any idea who could be doing this?" Amy asked as she tucked her honey-blonde hair behind her ear.

"Somebody who knows their way around computer systems, that's for sure. I pay a lot of money to monitor my properties. It isn't easy to shut the surveillance cameras down, since they are tied into my corporation's main computer system." Bridget's head slowly turned as she watched a man walk by. He appeared to be in his late twenties, wore a Superman T-shirt, and had a large, red backpack hanging by one strap from his shoulder. "I know this is profiling, but I'd bet that guy could take apart a computer with a blindfold on."

Amy twisted in the leather seat to watch as he crossed the street then disappeared into The Inkwell. She squinted at the smaller print on the sign over the store's window—
Comics and Graphic Novels
. Bridget said, "That store just moved in a month or two ago. They aren't my tenants, but I would imagine the place attracts some unique customers, not the standard bookstore crowd. I realize I could be wrong, but I tend to think that an adult who reads comic books might also be a whiz with computers."

"A stereotypical nerd." Amy had to admit she had the same impression, grouping comic fans in with tech nerds. Since she had no interest in either hobby, she had no idea if the association was valid or not. "You just don't know what people do behind closed doors."

Amy sprinkled quinoa over the chunks of sweet peppers. The Mason jar salads were like a food version of sand paintings. Jagged stripes of black olives, green onions, yellow corn, orange peppers, and beige quinoa topped off with a thick layer of vibrant green shredded romaine lettuce. The jars of super healthy whole grains mixed with rainbow-colored veggies were another one of Amy's contributions to the wedding. Carla was surrounded by sick people at the hospital. The added anxiety of planning the nuptials put her at even more of a risk of becoming sick herself. Loading Carla up with nutrient-dense salads would hopefully fend off any nasty, honeymoon-ruining viruses.

It was almost 10:00 p.m., but Amy was nowhere close to settling down for bed. Instead she was using the repetitious tasks of chopping vegetables and assembling salads to try to settle her mind. She knew for certain that three downtown businesses were being targeted by the ruthless extortionist. None of them had any idea why. Or who was sending the threats. It didn't seem to be some hacker on the other side of the world playing stupid computer tricks for fun. Someone local was apparently behind the cyber-attacks since the businesses were being physically broken into. And that person wasn't afraid to kill to get their point across.

Amy finished packing the Mason jars and screwed on the lids. She cradled four of the glass containers in her arms to ferry them to the refrigerator. Her cell phone, sitting on the charger dock on the small desk in the corner of the kitchen, began playing "Crazy" by Patsy Cline. The jars clanked together as Amy struggled to set them back down on the counter without casualties. Her heartbeat whooshed in her ears. It was Carla's ring tone. She never called that late unless something was wrong.

A few minutes later, Amy hung up the phone. Something was totally wrong, but not with Carla. Shepler was heading to Sophie's duplex, and he wanted Amy's help. Someone had broken into her home. He was on his way to do detective duties by himself, in plain clothes, because Sophie was too scared of the consequences of having uniformed officers show up. Amy had been enlisted to help calm down Sophie.

"Alex!" Amy called as she raced through the house looking for her husband. He wasn't in his office, so she widened her search to the den. She found him sleeping in his leather recliner, a movie with slime-spewing aliens playing on the big-screen TV. "Alex! I need to go to Sophie's house."

His arms and legs jerked as if he was being zapped with one of the alien's ray guns. "What? What's going on?"

"Sophie's apartment was broken into. Shepler's going there, but he had Carla call me so I could meet him to take care of Sophie while he looks around for clues."

He ground his fists into his eyes. "Why is Shepler investigating a break-in?"

Amy looked at the Roman numerals on the giant, round clock on the wall. The over-sized timepiece was the only item she had been allowed to pick out for the den, Alex's domain. She didn't have much time to explain. Sophie needed her. "Because it is most likely connected to Luke Crowe's murder."

Alex flipped down the footrest of the chair and stood up. He knew that she was trying to help Shepler out, as she had during several of his other murder investigations. "That's not good. Let me drive you there. I don't like that you're so closely involved with another homicide."

She shook her head. "You were just sound asleep while the TV was blaring. Obviously you're tired. Besides, Sophie doesn't know you very well. It might make her more upset having a stranger hanging around when the whole point of me going is to try to comfort her. Shepler is probably there already. I promise I'll be careful."

He sighed then kissed her cheek. "Go take care of Sophie. Don't get out of your car unless you know Bruce is there, okay?"

"I'll call you when I arrive and then when I'm in the car coming home." She turned to leave but stopped. "Can you make sure the guest room is ready…new towels, mugs by the coffeemaker, stuff like that? Sophie will probably need someplace to stay tonight."

Twenty minutes later, Amy squeezed Mimi the Mini beside Shepler's pickup truck in Sophie's narrow driveway. All of the lights in her side of the duplex were on. A
For Rent
sign was stuck in the lawn in front of the other unit. That considerably cut down on the chance of witnesses to the break-in. A porch light at the back of the house glowed like a miniature moon in the darkness. Amy checked in with Alex, as she had promised, then grabbed her purse and the sea salt caramel-filled chocolate bar she had snatched from her candy stash as she ran out of the house. The treat wouldn't fix anything, but it could soothe a jangled nerve or two.

She pulled her fleece jacket tighter around her torso as she walked across the driveway. Amy stared at the dark shadows hanging out in corners of Sophie's backyard. What if one of the bushes was concealing the person who had broken in? She shivered as she rang the doorbell. There were muffled voices and then the thumps of oddly paced footsteps on the other side of the door. She blinked when Shepler swung open the wooden door. Amy stepped into the destroyed kitchen. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Thanks for coming," Shepler said as he nodded at Sophie. She sat on a stool at the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Be careful. There's broken glass all over the floor."

Amy looked down. The stem of a shattered wine glass sat on the terra cotta tile near her feet. Broken red ceramic dishes and shards of clear glass glittered in the spaces between the boxes of pasta, dented cans of tomatoes, and bags of dried mushrooms that littered the floor. All of the kitchen cupboard doors were open, revealing bare shelves. Glass crunched under the soles of her tennis shoes as Amy picked her way through the mess to get to Sophie. "Are you hurt?"

Sophie stared at the black granite countertop as she shook her head. "Matt and I went out for a late dinner after I closed the café. My back door was locked when I came home, so I had no idea what had happened until I turned on the kitchen light. What am I going to do? He knows where I live."

"You need to find someone to stay with until I put this person behind bars," Shepler said as he snapped a picture of one of the wooden dining chairs that had been smashed into a pile of splinters. "It isn't safe for you to be alone."

Amy nodded in agreement. "Like I told you yesterday, there is an excellent security system at my house. You'll be safe with me." She gently placed her hand on Sophie's shoulder. "Why don't you pack some clothes? We can leave as soon as Shepler says you can."

Sophie jumped when the doorbell bonged again. Shepler looped the camera strap over his neck and said, "That would be the forensic team. I told them to come in their own cars." He picked his way across the kitchen to the back door. "Sophie, I know you're afraid of what will happen if whoever did this knows the police are involved, but I need some help collecting evidence. Forensics isn't my specialty. If the person who did this is still watching, I'm hoping he'll think you called friends over to help clean the mess. I have enough information, so you can go as soon as you're ready. I'll make sure to lock everything up when we leave."

A man and woman wearing jeans and T-shirts entered the kitchen. The woman shook her head as she scanned the destruction. Sophie planted her hands on the counter and pushed herself off the stool to reveal that the black fabric cushion on it had been slashed. White Poly-Fil stuffing oozed from the wound. She stood there, propped up against the bar, for a few seconds. As if standing was too much effort. Amy stood close by, ready to grab her arm if she got wobbly. Pictures had been ripped off the wall and smashed onto the carpet in the middle of the room. The white fabric couch looked as if it had been attacked with a machete. Finally Sophie straightened and began to creep toward the hallway, trekking along the debris-free zone close to the wall.

"Would you like some help packing?" Amy asked as she followed Sophie.

"No thank you. I can do it."

Amy expected to find a pile of clothes in the middle of the bedroom, to match the devastation in the rest of the duplex. Sophie flipped on the light. The room hadn't been touched. Amy stood in the doorway to give her shell-shocked friend some space as she pulled shirts from the closet and pants from the dresser. The bright light from the ceiling fixture in the middle of the room illuminated part of the darkened bathroom across the hall. That room didn't seem to have been touched either. Bottles of hair spray, hand cream, and perfume were neatly lined up on the vanity. Why had the person stopped after trashing only two rooms? Did Sophie surprise him in the act again?

Before Amy could ponder that question, Sophie emerged from the bedroom with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "I just need to grab my makeup bag and toothbrush. Please get me out of here."

"I can do that." Amy stepped to the side. Sophie crossed the hallway and gathered her things in the bathroom. When she came out, Amy asked, "Do you want to stay with me or do you want to be with Matt?"

"You." Tears rolled down Sophie's cheeks as she leaned against the wall for support. "Matt has enough problems dealing with Luke's death and the effects the murder has had on the business. I haven't even told him the extortionist has contacted me."

While Amy understood Sophie's reason for not letting her boyfriend in on the problems, that didn't mean she thought it was a good idea. That was a huge secret to keep from a lover who might not appreciate being kept in the dark. Let alone the added stress on Sophie to keep the trouble hidden. "I know he's upset about Luke, but don't you think he'll be more upset once he finds out what has been happening to you?"

"But he'll want to protect me…have me move in with him. I'm just not ready for that step in our relationship."

Amy lifted the bag off Sophie's shoulder. At least she could relieve some physical burden. "You can stay with me as long as you like, but I have to say there is a difference between moving in with Matt for your protection and moving in with him as a next step in your relationship."

Sophie stared at something over Amy's shoulder. She didn't say anything. It was time to get her out of the wrecked house and into a bed.

"Let's go," Amy said as she turned toward the living room. A laptop sat on the coffee table. Robbery obviously wasn't the motive for the break-in. That made the situation even more disturbing. "Do you want to take your computer?"

"That would be a good idea." Sophie wove through the broken pictures frames and ripped open pillows spewing clouds of fiberfill on the carpet. As she picked up the laptop, her finger brushed the touchpad. The computer blinked to life. A drawing of a skull and crossbones filled the screen.