Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  "You said you had a backup plan if you can't find somewhere to have the wedding. What is it?" Amy asked as she zipped up her rain jacket. The stiff wind accompanying the dark clouds carried a goose bump-inducing chill. The pink nylon fabric did a pretty good job at deflecting wind as well as water. If only it could be armor against the panic she felt over not having a venue booked. That was usually the first step in wedding planning. Find somewhere to have the wedding.

  "We can have everything in my loft. It's big enough to hold a couple dozen people. That's the extent of our guest list, mostly friends and people we work with." Carla stopped to peer at the front window display of a gift shop. Huge, brightly colored flowers made out of tissue paper were arranged in an Alice in Wonderland style bouquet. "I like those flowers. Maybe we could use them as decorations, if they come in a more subdued color scheme."

  Amy tilted her head to the side as she studied the flowers. Pointing them out was most likely a diversionary tactic from Carla, but she would play along. For a minute.

  "I like them too. What about using them in an arbor, as a backdrop for the ceremony? I'm sure I can find instructions for something similar on the Internet."

  "And that is why I put you in charge of the wedding," Carla said as she began walking again. "I was just going to stick a couple of them to my wall and call it good enough. An arbor of any kind hasn't crossed my mind."

  The industrial style, open loft would probably be a suitable place for a wedding, but close to thirty guests would definitely make the space cozy, verging on uncomfortably cramped. Maybe she could do better. "I would like to propose that your place is Plan C. How about making my backyard Plan B while we see what else we can find? You could have the ceremony on the deck. Some of the perennials are blooming. We can bring in potted plants or cut flowers for even more color."

  "Really? I would love that." Carla placed her hand on Amy's forearm. "You have no idea how much I appreciate your help. I can barely plan a decent cocktail party."

  On the sidewalk ahead, two women pushing strollers slowed then stopped to stare at the front window of Finley & Crowe. One wrinkled her nose as if she had smelled a stinky hardboiled egg. When Amy stepped up to open the store's door, the women scurried away. It seemed as if they were afraid the killer would come charging out after them.

  "Hello. It's nice to see a friendly face," Matt said when she and Carla strode inside. He sat on a stool behind the checkout counter. "I'm beginning to feel like a fish in an aquarium with all of the people stopping outside."

  "Tragedy shouldn't be a spectator sport," Amy said as she turned to stare back at a couple of men in business suits who had also paused on the sidewalk to peer through the front window into the deserted store. One shook his head when he realized he was being watched, and they both continued on. What did the men expect to see, a haunted house-style murder scene with a body hanging from the rafters?

  She joined Matt at the counter while Carla made a beeline to the wardrobe full of linen suits. Thane appeared in the doorway of a room along the side of the store. He watched Carla for a second then headed her way.

  Amy looked at Matt and said, "I'm kind of surprised to see you're open. Your customers will understand that you all need time to grieve after such an unexpected loss."

  He dropped his head. "Luke never called in sick. Ever. If he was scheduled to work, he came in no matter how he felt. So I called all of the employees last night. They all wanted to stay open today as homage to him and his work ethic." He shrugged and looked up. Sooty dark half-moons hung under his eyes. It was probably her imagination, but it seemed as if there was more gray in his dark hair. "Plus, I don't know what to do with myself. Taking care of the few customers who are brave enough to come into the store and do more than gawk at the dressing rooms is better than sitting in my apartment alone."

  "I can only imagine how devastating this is."

  "Sophie told me the homicide detective is your friend's fiancé. I would appreciate it if you could encourage him to find the murderer as quickly as possible" He shook his head. "Not that I think he isn't doing his job. I want whoever did this locked up."

  "I understand. Murder is a terrible crime. I can't comprehend how people justify taking another person's life." She also didn't understand how Shepler could be such a nice guy after looking at crime scenes and interviewing people that were close to the victims. He had to have a sort of emotional disconnect to do his crime-solving job but not become depressed or bitter.

  "An officer in the computer crimes unit spoke with me last evening. He told me not to pay the hacker any more money if I'm contacted again. Even though we paid the initial demand, Luke was killed. Our computer system was purposely taken down for the whole day Saturday, so we had hoped the harassment would stop. I don't understand what we did wrong." Matt sighed. The gesture seemed to deflate his body as he slumped forward to lean on the counter. "Truth be told, I'm scared. If the person comes back and asks for more, I don't know what I'll do. I can't pull thousands of dollars out of thin air, especially now that the murder is driving customers away, but it is absolutely terrifying to know that whoever is behind the threats has no qualms about committing murder. For some inexplicable reason, the store is being attacked by a soulless ghoul."

  Amy's idea of a computer hacker was an introverted computer geek who avoided contact with real people and would barely speak to others, let alone find the chutzpah to commit murder. Yet everybody, including the police, was connecting the murder to the money extortion scheme. She frowned. "Shepler is the best detective in Kellerton. I'm sure he's doing everything possible to figure out who did this."

  "Good. I feel like I'm trapped in a nightmare that I can't wake up from. The messages disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there, after Luke and I read them. I don't know how the police are going to figure this out."

  "Do you have any idea about who could've done this? Was Luke in a difficult relationship or having problems with somebody, like a business rival?" Shepler surely had asked the same questions, but it wouldn't hurt for her to bring them up, too. Just in case being questioned by a more familiar person jogged something in Matt's stress-filled memories.

  He exhaled in a noisy puff. "Luke wasn't big on relationships, which is probably a good thing considering his taste in women. He didn't have a girlfriend, but lately he was talking about hitting a few bars with a woman who works across the street at Whisper's Intimate Apparel. You may have seen her before, the one who always has weird-colored hair. Beyond that, his family was an ongoing problem, but he was dealing with them as usual."

  There was no doubt who he was talking about. Rayshelle Applebee. The lingerie store clerk had a penchant for hair dye and obnoxiousness. She often competed in local cooking contests. Her cooking skills never garnered any trophies, but her outrageous demeanor and appearance always brought a different kind of attention. The woman who often wore the lingerie she sold as incredibly distasteful clothing, instead of underwear, didn't seem like a good companion for a refined businessman like Luke.

  "Unfortunately you can't pick your family like your friends," Amy said. "As far as the woman Luke was seeing goes, I know who you're talking about. I didn't know him well, but Rayshelle doesn't seem like his type."

  "I stopped questioning his love life long ago. I swear, sometimes he went out with odd women just for the shock value. Never figured out if he truly enjoyed himself or just wanted to annoy his parents." Matt's sorrowful frown softened into a neutral, businesslike expression as Carla and Thane approached the counter behind Amy. "Thank you for chatting with me." He nodded goodbye and walked away.

  The door to the office at the back of the store clunked shut behind Matt as Carla joined Amy at the counter. "Thane was a big help," Carla said as she pulled her wallet out of her purse. "I think we got the perfect suit for Bruce."

  "I'm glad you like it. Let me know if you need help with anything else," Thane said as he entered numbers from the jacket's tag into the computer. "I
majored in fashion marketing, so clothes are pretty much my whole world."

  That explained his penchant for wearing vests and bow ties with dress shirts and slacks. His ensemble for the day was in somber shades ranging from dark gray to black. Amy usually only saw bow ties on men who were wearing tuxedos at formal events, yet Thane had been wearing one the day before, too. He assured Carla that if Bruce came in to be measured soon the alterations would be done in time for the wedding. When the purchase was complete, he looked at Amy. "Thank you for talking with Uncle Matt. He and Luke have been friends since they were in college. I've never seen him so sad. I hope he keeps it together, but I'm worried."

  Gigantic drops of cold rain splatted on their faces when Amy and Carla left the store. Amy tugged up her hood. "The bridal shop is halfway between here and my car. Why don't we stop in…to get out of this rain?"

  "Yeah. Right. Because we're delicate sugar cubes that will melt." Carla speed-walked past her. "Murphy's Law dictates that stopping at the bridal salon to escape from a light shower means it will be pouring by the time we leave."

  "Or maybe it'll work the other way, and the sun will be out. A reward for being a good little Bridezilla." Amy broke into a slow jog. If she had to cut Carla off to get her into the salon, she would, like the little steam engine that could blow past a speeding, stubborn freight train. "Stop making excuses. You have no reason not to go there, especially since we're walking past anyway. Shopping for wedding dresses is an unavoidable duty when you're getting married."

  "Death is the only unavoidable thing in life."

  "You're not getting married in the nude." Amy grabbed the sleeve of Carla's blue jean jacket and tugged. "At least see what they have. Maybe the perfect dress is just waiting for you right now. Wouldn't that be a fantastic twist of fate?"

  The frigid shower had increased to a downpour by the time they clambered through the front door of Bishop's Bridal Shop. They shook the water off their coats while standing on the rug in the entrance. Elaborate, billowy gowns of lace and silk hung from racks lining the walls of the small shop. At the back a low platform sat in the center of a half-circle of mirrors.

  "Hello, ladies. What can I help you with?" asked an enthusiastic woman wearing a black skirt and blouse. Her long, platinum-blonde hair hung in giant ringlets that were coated in so much hair spray they didn't flex as she tilted her head to the side. "Is somebody getting married?"

  Amy pointed at Carla. "She is."

  "Oooh…when's the big day?" The woman, whose name tag said Lisette, clapped her hands. Her voice was in the dog whistle octaves by the time she finished the question.

  "Two weeks from now."

  Lisette blinked a few times, her pink glossed lips frozen in a toothy, insincere smile. "Oookaaaay. You're kidding, right?"

  Amy was afraid to look at Carla. The saleswoman's personality was the kind that drove her no-nonsense friend crazy. The human equivalent of cotton candy. Pretty to look at, but no substance.

  Carla huffed out an exasperated sigh. "No, I'm not kidding. Do you have any dresses that I can buy off the rack instead of ordering? I'm looking for something that isn't floor-length, for an informal wedding."

  Lisette nodded. The movement was jerky. Maybe she was a cyborg, and Carla's insanely close deadline was blowing out her circuits. The sudden announcement had certainly scrambled Amy's mind.

  "I think we have a couple of dresses that may work," Lisette said as she pointed to a circular rack at the back of the showroom. A yellow Clearance sign hung from the ceiling above it. "Although our seamstresses here won't be able to fit you in on such short notice. You'll need to find someone on your own for alterations."

  "That's fine." Carla gave Amy the evil eye as they trailed after Lisette, who was already flipping through the dresses. She whispered, "See…she doesn't want to deal with me as much as I don't want to be here."

  Amy pasted on her own corn-syrup-sweet grin. "She didn't laugh us out the door. She's searching for a dress, so humor me, and look at what she finds."

  Five minutes later, Carla was entombed in a dressing room with the half dozen dresses that the almost-back-to-annoyingly-perky Lisette had picked out. Amy browsed the sale racks for her bridesmaid dress. The proliferation of odd colors, unfortunate pleat placements, and gigantic bows made her shiver with dread. The selection seemed to be limited to ugly outcasts in the bridal fashion world. What were they going to wear, and where would they find dresses that wouldn't get them busted by the fashion police? Carla's anti-bridal salon attitude had jinxed them.

  A tall woman, with her snow-white hair pulled back into a doughnut-shaped bun, rushed past Amy. "This can't be happening," she muttered as she trundled to the U-shaped checkout counter in the middle of the room.

  Amy looked around. All of the black-clad employees were staring at the older woman as she jabbed at a computer keyboard. The vanilla potpourri-scented air felt charged with static as the saleswomen exchanged nervous looks. The older woman banged on the keyboard of a second computer then exclaimed, "Dammit."

  Amy turned around. Lisette was staring at the blue screen on a computer terminal sitting in an alcove near the semi-circle of mirrors. Carla emerged from the dressing room wearing her jeans and jacket. She slipped past the distracted Lisette.

  "A blue screen is never good," Carla said as she joined Amy at the gaudy dress hall of fame, i.e. the clearance rack. "Looks like a great time to get out of here."

  They hurried to the front door before Lisette realized a potential commission was walking out. As Amy held the door open for Carla, she took one more look back. All of the computer screens sported what Alex, her husband, called a Blue Screen of Death.

  An hour later, Amy said goodbye to her damp friend. Carla had predicted correctly. It was pouring so hard when they left the bridal salon it felt as if they were running through a waterfall. A fitting conclusion to the disastrous dress-shopping excursion. Amy sent Carla home wearing a pair of too short but dry sweatpants, carrying a pan of fudgy brownies and a travel mug of hot decaf coffee to internally counteract getting soaked by the cold rain.

  Amy took a hot shower and then started making lunch for herself. She was concentrating on pouring a thin stream of beaten eggs into a pot of boiling broth, when Alex unexpectedly arrived home. After setting his messenger bag on the table he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Smells good."

  "Hot and sour soup. There's some shredded chicken in the fridge, to add to your bowl if you don't want to go vegetarian." She leaned back into the embrace. "What are you doing home? I wasn't expecting you until dinnertime."

  "I want to spend some time with my beautiful wife."

  He kissed the side of her neck sending a zap through her body that made her toes curl. In a few weeks, her best friend would have her own husband who would come home and kiss her every day. Or surprise her with an unplanned, midday romantic rendezvous. Carla deserved a fantastic marriage. She had been married before, but she and her first husband had been too immature to hold the relationship together after it started crumbling. When that disaster was over, Carla had refused to participate in serious relationships—until she rekindled what had once been a raging, clandestine affair with Shepler. They went together like strawberry shortcake and whipped cream, the perfect pairing. Amy was determined to make sure their union started with the most beautiful wedding she could muster.

  As Alex released her to raid the refrigerator, she noticed he was wearing a blue shirt. Her thoughts tumbled back to the blue-screened computers at the bridal salon.

  "Hey, honey. Would it be possible for someone to make all of the computers at a business have blue death screens?"

  Alex grabbed the bowl of shredded chicken and a bottle of root beer out of the fridge. As he put the bowl into the microwave, he said, "The blue screens mean the computers have crashed. Most of the time the computers in a business are all connected, so if something happens to the main system, it could happen."

  "Could a hacker get into a business's co
mputers and do that?"

  "Pretty easily."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Amy yawned as she steered her Mini into the parking space next to Sophie's brown sedan. After opening Riverbend, which started life as a small coffee shop then expanded to a full-fledged café, the predominant color theme in the pastry chef's life was coffee brown—from the aprons that all of the café workers wore to the car Sophie drove. The color really did go nicely with the cream-colored logo and coffee-centered business. It just was much mellower than the bright colors that Amy used to decorate her life. Her car was dark blue, but her closet looked like a rainbow inside. Carla said a trip into the walk-in closet was like attending a tie-dye convention.

  She wasn't supposed to work at the café that morning. Sophie had given her the day off. Amy needed to make her cake so she could drop it off for the bridal expo competition the next day, on top of whatever help Carla would need with the wedding. But all of the stress had left her wide-awake at 3:00 a.m. So she'd decided to go in to work anyway. At the café, there was no such thing as too many workers. Maybe kneading some bread dough would give her energy and jump-start her brain.

  Sophie must have discovered some kind of secret super food energy booster. Somehow she always made it into the café before 5:00 a.m. and, after taking a break in the afternoon, came back to help with the dinner shift. She was the Energizer Bunny of pastry chefs. Or maybe a lot of pastry chefs were like her. Amy didn't know any others well enough to inquire about their sleep habits or lack thereof. There were half a dozen employee parking spots behind the café that eventually filled as more employees came in throughout the morning. However, she and Sophie were always the first ones to arrive. They liked it that way.

  In the quiet kitchen each morning, they chatted about anything from Sunday suppers to what to do as a special date night while doing the prep work, like warming the ovens and mixing batters and doughs. Luke's murder would most likely be the morose topic of conversation once again that morning. The tragedy was too fresh to avoid.