Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (7 page)

"Thank you. I see you're busy, so I was wondering if I could set up a time to chat with you."

Bridget waved her hand. The diamond ring on her finger was more sparkly than the sequin covered dress of the contest announcer. "I can speak with you now. David and I are just gossiping." The handsome chef nodded in agreement as Bridget moved around the end of the table at the front boundary of the restaurant's booth. "What would you like to talk about?"

They wound their way through the dwindling crowd, discussing the coffee shop as a potential cake bakery for Mariah. It seemed like the perfect space since there was a fully equipped kitchen behind the small retail area. She couldn't wait to let Mariah know. Now to see if she could help out Shepler.

"I know you own quite a few buildings downtown. Have any of your tenants been threatened or had problems with their computer systems?"

Bridget raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Is this connected with Luke Crowe's murder?"

Amy nodded. "My best friend is getting married in two weeks, and her fiancé is in charge of the murder investigation. I thought I'd help a bit and see if any of the other businesses are having problems. I guess nobody else has contacted the police, but they could be too scared if they're being threatened."

"I don't talk with my tenants on a daily basis, so I haven't heard of any trouble." She stopped and plucked her buzzing phone out of the pocket of her white suit jacket. Bridget looked at the screen and rolled her eyes before tapping the screen to stop the alert. "Of course, that doesn't mean there aren't any. Let me talk to a few people, definitely
not
the person calling me right now. I'll let you know what I find out."

Amy crumbled the queso fresco cheese over the rice-shaped orzo pasta. She wasn't sure if Shepler was into salads, but giving the side dish a Mexican twist with tomatoes, corn, and spicy peppers might make it a bit more appealing to him. She had intended to have dinner only with Carla then try on the dresses from the vintage store. True to her bucking-tradition form, Carla had insisted that her fiancé should help decide on the dress.

So Amy was making a baked chicken dinner for four. She was fine with that. The whole groom trekking into the hallowed territory of bride and bridesmaid tradition…not so much. Allowing Shepler to help choose Carla's dress was about as appealing as serving cheap, greasy take-out pizza to guests for dinner. Because of the murder case, he wasn't able to help much with getting ready for the wedding. She understood that. What she didn't understand was why
that
task had risen to the top of his to-do list. Amy had been crossing her fingers all afternoon. Maybe her husband could convince the future husband that his wedding day would be much more special if he didn't see Carla's dress beforehand. She had called Alex at work and assigned him that task. Meanwhile, she would be upstairs trying to convince Carla of the same thing as they tried on dresses.

The doorbell interrupted Amy's thoughts of foiling Carla's plans for the evening. She and Shepler were a bit early. Alex was running late, trying to wrap up a project at his business, Quantum Media. They were supposed to start dinner without him. Amy slipped the bowl of salad into the refrigerator and answered the door. "Hello, my soon-to-be-married friends."

"It smells great in here. Thanks for having us over," Shepler said as he walked into the kitchen behind Carla. It was early summer, but he was already sporting a deep tan. Maybe he used a tanning bed at the health club where he built up his bulky muscles.

"You're welcome." Amy ushered the couple to the breakfast nook table for the informal meal. "You guys have a lot going on. It's my civic duty as a friend to feed you a good, healthy meal."

"Civic duty to feed me?" Carla snorted. "What is my duty to you?"

"To keep me from going overboard, temper my ideas with a shot of reality."

Shepler raised his eyebrows. "After hearing some of your murder theories over the past year, I'd say Carla has a pretty important role in your friendship."

So Amy had led him on a few goose chases while trying to help solve murders. She eventually got on the right track. Often with Carla's help, pointing out all of the gaping holes in her ideas. Amy wrapped Carla in a hug and said, "An anchor is a very important component on a ship, even when it routinely sails across the Bermuda Triangle."

The couple laughed as they settled onto the upholstered bench next to each other. Two love birds. Amy retrieved a bowl of tuna ceviche from the refrigerator and corn chips from the pantry. The lime-marinated fish was her entry in a canned foods recipe contest—or it would be after she got done tinkering with it. As Shepler scooped up some of the chunky dip with a chip he asked, "Have you heard anything about the murder while you've been working at the coffee shop? Any rumors that could be true…leads that I could follow up on?"

Amy sat down on the bench on the other side of the table. "Not really. Everybody seems nervous, but I wouldn't expect anything different. Most of the downtown business owners know each other, so the murder has hit really close to home for a lot of people. Sophie told me Finley & Crowe has security cameras. Did any of those pick something up the night of the murder?"

Shepler shook his head. "No. Of course there aren't cameras in the dressing rooms where the murder occurred, but none of the interior or exterior cameras show anybody other than Crowe arriving at work."

Just as Carla had said at the bridal expo, Shepler was chasing a ghost. Or maybe somebody who knew how to act like a ghost. "If this person is tech savvy enough to erase their threats from the computers without a trace, maybe they can manipulate the security videos too. What if they have some kind of suit, like those green screens the weather men on the news use that makes them invisible on camera?"

Shepler froze with a ceviche-laden chip half way to his mouth. He nudged Carla's arm with his elbow. "Time to be the anchor of reality, sweetheart."

Carla leaned forward and folded her arms on the tabletop. "A bit too farfetched. We aren't on a sci-fi TV show. Any other ideas?"

Amy wrinkled her nose. "Hey, at least give me points for creativity. The camera behind the store, is it pointed down at the door so you can see people entering or is it focused on the employee parking spaces?"

Shepler tilted his head to the left as he thought about her question. "You can't actually see the door. It's positioned to monitor the parking area. Why?"

"Finley & Crowe is only two stores away from the end of the block. What if the person flattened themselves against the back wall of the store? Could they open the door without the camera picking up the movement?"

"You might be onto something." He pulled out his phone then scooted off the bench. "Excuse me a minute while I see if someone can check that out. Thank you."

When Amy turned her attention back to Carla she found her friend with her head resting on her folded arms, hiding like a toddler who wanted to avoid an unpleasant dinner. "What's wrong?" Amy asked.

Carla looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot. The healthy, rosy glow she usually sported had turned ashen. "I was hoping to get a break from his work this evening. But I guess if your idea leads to a break in the case, it's for the better."

"I'm sorry." Amy patted Carla's hand. "I'll stop talking about the murder. Alex can't make it home until later, so we'll change the subject over dinner when Shepler comes back. Why don't we turn the discussion toward why it isn't appropriate for a groom to see the bride's dress until she walks down the aisle?"

"Inviting all of my ex-boyfriends would be inappropriate. Letting Bruce help decide which dress I should wear is just untraditional."

Hmph. Miss Semantics had just picked apart her freeform argument again and deemed it not valid. Amy got up to check on the lemon-glazed chicken breasts roasting in the oven. She couldn't help but start giggling as a new thought about the upcoming nuptials danced through her mind.

"What's so funny?" Carla asked.

"I always call Bruce by his last name. In a couple weeks I'll be able to refer to you as Shepler too. Like Dr. Seuss—Shepler One and Shepler Two."

"You're a nut…because, you know, only an insane person would agree to help plan a wedding from start to finish in less than a month."

Alex arrived when they were finishing dinner. He walked into the kitchen, dropped his messenger bag on a stool beside the kitchen island, and kissed Amy on the top of her head. "Sorry I missed dinner." He looked at Shepler. "Are you guys hanging around for a while?"

"I believe I am supposed to help decide on a wedding dress now," Shepler said with a lopsided grin. "Not my area of expertise, but I'm happy to do it if that's what Carla wants."

"That's a good attitude to have to start off your marriage." Alex gave Shepler a thumbs up. He turned to Amy. "Do you mind if I eat during the fashion show or is no food allowed around the dresses?"

Amy shrugged. "I guess you guys can go hang out in the den while Carla and I get dressed." She was still holding onto a crumb of hope that they wouldn't end up modeling the dresses for the men, if Alex did a good job convincing Shepler that it wasn't his responsibility. "You know I don't care if you eat in there, as long as you're careful."

"Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear," Alex said. He dodged Amy's playful attempt to punch him in the arm for teasing her. As he prepared a plate of food for himself he nodded at the refrigerator. "Grab yourself a beer…or two, Bruce. You might be here for a while longer."

"Come on, let's get you into some beautiful dresses," Amy said as she placed a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. She landed a gentle elbow jab in her hubby's ribs as she passed behind him. A little reminder that he needed to stop messing around and get down to the business of convincing Shepler that he didn't want to see the wedding dresses. She hooked arms with Carla and said, "Hopefully you'll find one that you love so much you won't share it with Shepler until your wedding day."

Carla sighed loudly as they began climbing the stairs to reach the master bedroom. "I really don't think it's a big deal. It's only a dress. Just like the wedding is one day out of an entire marriage that could last over fifty years. Pretty inconsequential, when you think about it that way."

Amy acknowledged Carla's watertight reasoning with a nod. The wedding tradition ship Amy was sailing was heading for a sand bar. In the bedroom, the wedding dresses were laid out on the bed. When Carla walked into the room, she gasped. "Those are exactly the styles that I've had in mind but haven't been able to find. You're a miracle worker. Now I don't know how I'm going to choose."

"That whole thing about you'll know it's the right dress when you put it on is true."

"If you say so," Carla said as she stood at the end of the bed and studied the gowns. "This all feels so surreal, I'm not sure I have the mental capacity to act normally right now."

"Then I guess you take Plan B, and let Shepler decide. Because, you know, he's an expert on women's bridal fashion." Amy ducked into the bathroom before Carla could retaliate for the snarky comment. She grabbed a hair clip and returned to the bedroom. As she fastened the rhinestone flower in Carla's hair she said, "Although, I still think it's a bad idea. Sticking with a few cherished traditions would be nice."

Carla turned around to face the dress-covered bed again. The gowns formed a crazy quilt of lace, silk, chiffon, and gauzy cotton in colors ranging from snow-white to an ethereal light blue. "I don't know. I just feel like I'm incapable of making this decision…"

"But I'm here to help! You don't need Shepler's opinion. Let's make him Plan Z. He'll probably deploy the 'you look beautiful in everything' tactic anyway."

"Okay. If one makes me cry or some other girly thing, we won't show him. Deal?"

Amy high-fived her. The ship hadn't run aground yet. "Deal. Now start trying on dresses. The ones I picked for myself are in my closet so we can do big reveals to each other."

Amy ducked into the large walk-in closet. She shut the door. At least she was making a bit of progress in convincing Carla that Shepler didn't need a gown preview. Now to see if one of the gorgeous vintage dresses would bring a tear to her unflappable friend's eye. Amy chose a pale green dress with a pleated skirt and short poufy sleeves. When she walked out of the closet Carla was standing in front of the full-length mirror Amy had propped against the wall.

"This looks like something Marilyn Monroe would've worn," Carla said as she slowly turned sideways to check out the side view of the white, halter-top dress. She looked Amy's reflection in the eye. "Can I borrow some of your boobs? I don't think the top looks quite right."

Amy tilted her head from side to side. The gathered top was a bit loose. "The owner of the vintage shop said she would do any alterations we need in time for the wedding. If you like this dress, I'm sure she could do something to make it fit better."
That sounded diplomatic, right?

"Let's go show the guys." Carla walked to the door then stopped. She whirled around to face Amy. Her head bobbed up and down as she scrutinized the potential matron of honor outfit. "That color is making me hungry for mint chocolate chip ice cream."

Amy looked down at the dress. It did look like the usual shade for the iconic ice cream flavor. She was kind of glad Carla didn't seem to like it much. It definitely wasn't her favorite dress either.

When they returned from the third trip downstairs Amy could see Carla was disappointed. No tears or volcanoes of emotion, only a steadily hardening mask of frustration. The halter dress was definitely a no. A butter yellow one was a maybe, and the baby blue silk dress with a fitted skirt was the front-runner. Amy glanced at the bed. Carla had tried on the dresses just as Amy had hoped, clockwise starting at the twelve o'clock position. The last dress for Carla was the one that Amy adored. One, because it was delicate, feminine, and beautiful with tiny details that added up to an amazing dress. Two, because the embroidered skirt and blouse that Amy loved for herself complimented it as if the outfits were made to be worn beside each other.

Carla was standing in front of the mirror sniffling into a tissue when Amy emerged from the walk-in closet wearing the pink rose embroidered skirt and white cotton blouse she had already bought. "I love this one," Carla snuffled. "I finally feel like a bride."

The many layers of white chiffon fabric made the skirt full and flouncy. The wide waistband was fastened with a row of tiny faceted glass buttons up the center. Pleated chiffon rose from the top of the band forming the straps and magically adding the volume to her bust that Carla had been craving in the other dresses. She turned to look at Amy. "You look gorgeous, too."

"It's my favorite," Amy said as she held out the sides of the rose-covered skirt and twisted from side to side to make the supple fabric sway. "And the dress you're wearing is my favorite, too. I was hoping you would try it on last."

"Why? Order doesn't matter as long as you find the right one…or is that my flawed logic talking again?"