Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (5 page)

Rayshelle slid the bodysuit's tag over the bar code scanner. When Amy pulled out her credit card the surly clerk grunted. "Credit card system is down, and I can't find the slide machine thingy to do the carbon copy slips. You'll have to pay cash or check."

It was Amy's turn to be grumpy. She had enough cash, but had intended to use it to buy some potted tomato plants for her patio on her way home. The roadside stand had an old-fashioned honor system cash box for its only payment method. As she handed over the money, she pressed on with the real reason she was in the stinky store. "Luke was a great guy. I'm sure you miss him."

Rayshelle snatched the twenty-dollar bill out of Amy's hand. "I'll miss the free beer on Saturday nights. We weren't dating, unless that's what you call hanging out at O'Hare's Bar and getting drunk together. He had a lot of problems. Used to say his family baggage was filled with cement." She snorted. "My car breaks down about every other week. I would've gladly sucked up to dear old dad to see if I could get a discount on parts, but Luke never introduced me to him."

"What does Luke's family have to do with your car?"

"They own a bunch of auto parts stores." She stuffed the glow-in-the-dark bodysuit in a hot pink paper bag and sniffed. "I'm surprised you didn't know that already since you know all about my life."

As Amy reached for the bag, the sudden tingle of an oncoming sneeze zinged through her nasal passages. She turned away from the counter and released the tooth-rattling sneeze into the crook of her elbow. "Sorry. Excuse me."

"Yeah right. Thanks for covering me with cooties," Rayshelle said as she grabbed the bottle of cleaning fluid and squirted a cloud of it onto her hand. The green-haired germophobe, who
hadn't
been sneezed on, smirked as she wiped off the ammonia-scented liquid. "I hope you have as crappy of a day as I'm having. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go clean up a mess I didn't make."

Carla slid a slice of the Greek pizza onto her paper plate. The thin crust had no tomato sauce, just feta cheese, kalamata olives, cherry tomatoes, olive oil, and a generous sprinkle of herbs. Heaven. Bruce's pizza looked like a vegan's worst nightmare. The pizza place called it The Meat Market, and it appeared to have every kind of meat ever known to be used as a pizza topping from humble ground beef crumbles to spicy chunks of capicola ham. She figured it should be called The Grease Bomb, but he deserved a decadent treat. Between getting ready for the wedding and solving the murder, he was in all-work-no-play mode 24/7.

"Did you have any luck finding some place to have the wedding?" he asked as he dropped another overloaded slice of pizza on his flimsy paper plate. Eating greasy pizza while wearing a white dress shirt was tempting fate, but her soon-to-be husband had more to worry about than potential laundry stains. After she left, he would probably go back to his laptop to try to dig up some leads on the murder.

"Nope. I can't even find a back room at a decent restaurant that isn't booked to have a small reception. It seems that half the town is getting married the same weekend. When I brought up having everything here Amy offered her backyard. It would work, unless it rains. There's really no space inside large enough for the ceremony. Her house is big, but it has a lot of smaller rooms instead of an open concept."

She'd spent the day calling every venue on the list Amy had made for her, plus a few others that the banquet halls and restaurants suggested when they couldn't help. There didn't seem to be anything available on their wedding date within a fifty-mile radius of Kellerton. She could continue the hunt the following day, but she needed to head to work as soon as she finished eating. Working opposing shifts from Bruce would get the wedding planned, but it wasn't easy. If absence made the heart grow fonder, then they would be the most in love couple in history by the time they exchanged vows.

They were sitting side by side on the couch with the pizza boxes strewn over the coffee table. Bruce patted her knee. "There's always Las Vegas." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You know I'd be happy to marry you at the courthouse while wearing blue jeans and T-shirts, but I understand you want something nicer. I'm so sorry I can't help much because of this case."

"It's okay. I understand. Amy is being a huge help, even though she isn't happy with the short deadline." Carla leaned back and rested her head on the back cushion of the black leather couch. "Although, at least this way, we'll get the casual, small wedding we want. She is in super wedding planner mode. If I gave her much longer, we'd end up with a fancy, formal gala straight out of a bridal magazine. She loves this kind of thing. Since she's competing in some cake recipe contest at the bridal expo this weekend, she's dragging me there, too. No vendors can do anything with only two weeks' notice. She'll spot something that she thinks we need and then take on the burden to make it herself."

He shrugged. "That's just how she rolls. She isn't afraid to do things herself, even murder investigations. So maybe she can help with this one. Has she seen or overheard something suspicious? Does she have any ideas about what happened?"

"She hasn't come up with any ideas yet, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time. She already told me she wants to help with the case."

"If she has any theories, please let me know. We can't find any evidence of the demands and threats on the store's computer system. No other businesses have reported being harassed for money, either. I have no witnesses, no solid suspects, very little evidence, and a giant headache from trying to figure anything out."

Carla slid another slice of pizza onto her plate. Carbs were good. She'd need the energy boost to help make it through the night shift in the ER. "You wouldn't have known about the extortion if it wasn't for the murder. Sorry, but I heard most of your interview at the store. Matt said there were specific instructions not to call the police or there would be consequences. If the hackers are going after other businesses all they have to do is bring up the murder, and people will be scared into silence. Then
poof
, the hacker erases the death threat so nobody can trace it."

"True. Even if the murder was random and not tied to the extortion, whoever is sending the threats could still use it for leverage." He plucked an errant chunk of sausage off his plate and popped it into his mouth. "The murder could be a totally unrelated crime, maybe a burglary gone wrong, but a big happy accident for the hacker."

"So you think the crimes are unrelated?"

"I think they could be. There's a greater chance that they are connected."

All of the what-ifs and maybes that went along with solving a crime would drive Carla insane. Nursing was usually much more direct. There were certain medical procedures to follow in a nice, orderly fashion. No trying to figure out the thought patterns of a psychotic killer. She glanced at the bridal magazine lying beside the pizza box. The gown on the cover made her remember the bridal salon. "Would crashing all of the computers in a business be another way for the extortionist to get money?"

"Yeah. A show of power or maybe bringing the system down to mine for credit card numbers or something like that. Why?"

Carla tossed a half moon of uneaten crust in the box. "When Amy dragged me into a bridal salon downtown yesterday it looked like every computer in the place had a blue error screen."

Bruce pulled an ink pen out of his shirt pocket. He leaned forward and drew circles on the lid of the pizza box to get the ink flowing. "What was the name of the place? It could've been a random computer problem, or it might've been the work of the hacker."

As Amy waited in the hallway outside the K Hotel ballroom, she peeked through the cellophane window of the bakery box cradled in her arms. Her round cake had simple scallops of buttercream icing around the top and bottom edges. The contest she was competing in was all about taste. Decoration was supposed to be minimal. In fact, the rules sheet stated the cake's appearance would not be taken into account at all in the Trending Flavors competition. An insanely delicious combination of cake and filling was the goal.

Though her cake was supposed to be plain and simple in appearance, she still felt a pang of inferiority as she looked at the spectacularly decorated wedding cakes that would be entered in the Delightful Decorating contest. Those cakes, or more likely inedible foam forms, were decorated to be solely judged on appearance. The hallway where competitors were lining up to turn in their entries was like a museum exhibit of incredible cake art. The culinary masterpieces had everything from flowers made out of sugar to decidedly indigestible but gloriously glitzy swags of rhinestone chains.

Amy gasped in delight when a cake decorated like a beach, complete with realistic-looking starfish and seashells rolled past on a cart. Tinted sugar, or maybe cookie crumbs, formed sand dunes all around the base of the cake that had been hand-painted with a peaceful beach scene complete with seagulls in the sky and boats bobbing on the waves. It would've been perfect for Carla's casual wedding, but the bride to be had already insisted on a tower of baked doughnuts. Amy believed in doing things differently. Thinking outside the usual recipe box was how she had won many contests. But doughnuts as
the
wedding cake, instead of additional treats, was a bit too informal for her even if it did loosely tie in to Shepler's profession.

She glanced at the person who had queued up behind her and realized it was Mariah, a pastry chef that Sophie had introduced her to. "Your cake is gorgeous," Amy said as she stepped closer to get a good look at the light blue cake trimmed with swags of lace-embossed brown fondant. The decorations were stately and classic, but the color combination really made it stand out from the predominantly white-based cakes from the other competitors. "I love the colors."

"Thanks," Mariah said as she inched the cart holding the cake a little farther forward in the slow-moving line. Her chartreuse green chef's jacket seemed to glow in the bright overhead lights illuminating the windowless corridor. "I've started my own cake business, Exquisite Cakes. No more sorbets and cookies for me. All cakes, all the time."

Sophie had tried to get her to come to work at Riverbend Café several times, but Mariah always gracefully declined the job offers. Now Amy knew why. "Congratulations. How exciting. Where is your bakery?"

"In cyberspace right now, at my website. I'm holding planning meetings with clients in their homes or wherever they want to meet. I can't complain about the amount of business I have a month into the venture, but I would love to have an actual bakery that I can work from soon. I make all of the cakes at a commercial kitchen co-op. Not an ideal situation since I have to schedule my time a week in advance." She patted the handle of the cart. A plainly iced, round cake that appeared to be destined for the Trending Flavors competition sat on the bottom shelf. "I'm hoping my cakes will at least place in these contests. It will give me great exposure, and the prize money could be a nice nest egg for opening a brick and mortar store. You haven't heard of any bakery or restaurant spaces for rent, have you? I just need a small reception and display area. The kitchen is the most important thing."

Amy shook her head. Sharing a kitchen with people cooking anything from garlicky braised pork to nuclear hot salsa couldn't be easy when trying to make delicate cakes. "I'm sorry. I don't know of any available spaces, but I'll let you know if I hear of anything."

"I would really appreciate that." Mariah ran her fingers through her short hair that was dyed dark navy blue. A great contrast to her vibrant chef's coat. "How do you like working at Riverbend?" she asked. "I bet Sophie is a great boss."

"I love it. She is a natural at managing everything at the café. We've become close friends after working side-by-side in the mornings. I don't know if you've been there recently, but we're making baked doughnuts in heated molds that are like waffle irons. We sell out of them every day."

"Actually, I stopped in there this morning to get a latte. It was a madhouse. The credit card machine was down. I didn't even get a chance to talk to Sophie because she was busy dealing with that problem." She waved at someone walking by behind Amy. "I swear nobody carries cash anymore. Lots of unhappy people when they couldn't get their daily caffeine fix."

"Oh no! I didn't work today." But she wished she had. It was bad enough that Sophie's hands were ripped up and sore. Now she had to deal with the credit card system going down. What a nightmare.

Half an hour later, Amy pulled into an open employee parking space behind Riverbend. Her cake was turned in at the expo, so there was nothing left to do with the contest beyond showing up at the awards presentation the next day. There was plenty of time to check on Sophie and see how she was dealing with the newest lemon life had lobbed at her. Amy tsked at the stripe of red spray paint on the wall as she unlocked the back door to the kitchen. What was the point of doing something like that?

"What are you doing here again? It's your day off," Sophie said before Amy could even zero in on her boss's location in the bustling kitchen. She had only gotten about two feet beyond the doorway and was already busted. Sophie set down the bowl of caramel frosting she was spreading onto a tray of brownies and pulled her phone out of her apron pocket. She tapped the screen a few times and held it out for Amy to see. "Here…I think you need to look at the definition of 'day off from work.'"

Amy rolled her eyes when she saw the Internet search results on the screen. "I'm not here to work, unless you need me. A little birdie named Mariah told me the credit card system was down this morning."

Sophie turned back to the brownies. She used a spatula to scoop a mound of tan-colored frosting out of the bowl and flung it into the middle of the pan of brownies. As she spread thick icing around she said, "Yes, it was a major inconvenience, but everything is working now. I saw Mariah at the counter, but didn't have a chance to talk to her. How's she doing?"

"Good. She's started a cake business and is looking for somewhere to house it. For now she's renting time in a commercial kitchen."

"Ugh. That can't be easy. I hope she finds a space soon."

Amy moved forward so she could stand beside Sophie. She gently bumped shoulders with her. "It was nice chatting with Mariah, but I'd rather talk with you. How are your hands doing?"

Sophie waggled the fingers of her left hand, which was covered in a black latex glove. "They hurt. The doc put me on antibiotics. He also gave me some salve to relieve some of the pain. In short…I'll be fine."

Amy wrapped her arm around Sophie's shoulders. "I'm glad to hear that. If you need my help, just say the word."

"My word is, take
all
of tomorrow off. Enjoy the bridal expo with Carla, and win that cake contest."

"I don't need to spend the entire day at the expo. I can find the time to make a batch or two of cookies here in the morning…"

"Stop." Sophie waved the spatula covered in sticky frosting in front of Amy's face. "If I see you in here tomorrow, I'm going to frost
you
. I'll. Be. Fine."

Amy left Riverbend, but only after making Sophie practically shove her out the back door. No matter how many times the injured pastry chef had insisted she was coping well with her cut and bruised hands, Amy didn't quite believe her. It was like an unscrupulous baker insisting she made her cakes from scratch when they were really from a boxed mix. Everything looked the same, but deep down, something wasn't quite right. Sophie needed to take time off to let her hands heal, but instead she was making Amy take the time off because of the bridal expo contest and Carla's wedding.

If she couldn't get her stubborn boss to leave her beloved café, Amy could at least make the most of the time away that she had been forced to take. On her way across town, from the bridal expo to the café, she had spotted the sign for a new store, Past To Present Vintage Clothing. Maybe something there would appeal to Carla as a wedding dress. It certainly would be unique. After the fiasco at the bridal salon, she was grasping at any straw to get her best friend into a special wedding gown instead of a generic cocktail dress from a department store.

When she opened the door to the small shop, confidence replaced hope. The clothes inside may have been used, but the ambiance was that of a classy boutique instead of the musty, cramped used clothing store she had thought it might be. Delicate chiffon, silk, and cotton dresses were spaced out on racks along the wall. A flouncy, white skirt covered in big, light pink embroidered roses caught Amy's attention three seconds after she walked through the door. She plucked it off the rack. It wasn't exactly a bridesmaid dress, but if Carla wanted to have an unconventional wedding maybe a bridesmaid skirt and blouse would work for her matron of honor ensemble.

"That's a great skirt, isn't it?" a woman dressed in a yellow seersucker sundress asked as she stepped out from behind the checkout counter. "I just put it on the rack this morning."

Amy held it up to her waist as she nodded. "It's gorgeous. Do you think it would be suitable for a bridesmaid in an informal wedding?"

"Oh, absolutely. I have a couple blouses that would look really cute with it," the woman said. She spun around and began flipping through a rack of white blouses. Her golden brown hair was cut into a chin-length bob that swayed as she searched. "Sleeves or no sleeves?"

"Whatever looks good and fits. The wedding is in two weeks, so I don't have the time to be too fussy." Amy joined her. The blouses were all different and sported special touches like tiny pin tucks at the shoulders, silk ribbon-edged sleeves and pearl buttons. "I'm also looking for wedding gowns for my friend. She hated everything at the bridal salon so maybe you have something more her style."

"Two weeks? And the bride doesn't have a dress? That's really cutting it close."

Amy shrugged. "The couple decided out of the blue last week that they wanted the wedding on the fifteenth. I think it's the bride's way of avoiding the big wedding she knows I would like to plan for her. I'm helping with everything…and I'm trying to be understanding, but the hurried time frame is stressing me out."

"Well, if you find anything you'd like here, I'd be happy to help in any way possible. I'm a seamstress so I can do alterations." She held up a cap sleeve blouse with a sweetheart neckline for Amy to look at. "I think putting together a wedding in two weeks sounds like a fun adventure."

"It certainly is some kind of adventure," Amy said as she shook her head. Fun was a word she had yet to associate with it. "Could you find some dresses that would work for the bride while I try these on? She wants a shorter gown, so nothing floor length. Something unique and different from a typical, modern wedding dress."

"I would love to. I have quite a few dresses that would fill that order."

After asking the woman's name and giving her a size range for Carla's dress, Amy headed to the dressing rooms at the back of the store. She sighed with relief when the skirt zipped up. It fit her perfectly, even the length. The hem fell just below her knees, not a common occurrence on garments that weren't labeled petite
and restructured for short legs. Then the used clothing gods really smiled down on her. Not only did the cap sleeve blouse fit over her chest, not an easy feat for a fitted, non-stretchy cotton shirt, it looked wonderful with the skirt. Even if Carla didn't care for the outfit in her wedding, Amy was going to keep it. When she emerged from the dressing room she gasped at the sight of the dresses arranged on hooks along the wall. Michelle had done a wonderful job. All of them fit the quirky chic theme that Carla kept saying she wanted.

"These are incredible," Amy said as she ran her finger along a row of tiny silk-covered buttons on the front of one of the dresses. "Now my biggest challenge will be getting my friend down here to try them on. She's working night shifts and trying to put together the wedding in the daytime."

Michelle grinned. "I can hold these in the back or, if you'd like, you can pay a deposit and take all of them to her. Then return the ones she doesn't want for a refund. If anything needs to be altered, I'd be happy to do that."

"You're such a sweetheart. Thank you so much." Amy held up the skirt and blouse she had tried on. "I definitely want these, but I should pick out another dress or two for myself, so my friend can choose which one she likes best."

After another half hour of shopping, Amy ended up making three trips back and forth from the store to her car to load up all of the dresses encased in slippery plastic garment bags. On the second trip a bright red sign in the window of a shop a few doors down caught her eye. After stowing the last of the dresses in the back seat of the Mini, Amy walked down to check out the real estate sign. She peeked through the dusty front window. Inside was a small glass bakery case and a checkout counter. There was a pass-through cut out on the back wall. She thought she could see the shine of stainless steel in the darkness beyond the opening. Most likely it was an industrial refrigerator or maybe a range hood. She took a step back. The sign above the door had been painted over, but she could still make out the image of a coffee cup.