Big electronic countdown clocks were positioned on the walls at opposite ends of the ballroom. An announcement, by someone who sounded impossibly calm, was made every five minutes to let competitors know how much time was remaining. Amy arranged sweet shortbread crackers on a tray then piped snickerdoodle dip on them in cute rosettes. The smoked trout dip was in another piping bag so it could be neatly swirled onto cucumber slices. After that she spooned jewel-toned diced fruit salad into shot glasses. With five minutes left she dumped the container of large, two-inch square ice cubes into the elevated drink dispenser. The ice was made of coconut water studded with apricot halves, so it would add flavor to the punch as it melted, along with looking pretty. She had just poured in the punch and adjusted the garland around the base of the dispenser when the buzzer went off.
"Competitors…step away from your tables. Time is up. Please make sure all storage boxes and coolers are stored underneath your table then exit the ballroom immediately so the judging can begin."
Amy nudged one of her coolers farther under the tablecloth then joined the procession toward the doors that had been opened at the far end of the ballroom. A team of judges who would decide which tables looked the best stood on the elevated stage, waiting to begin their duties. Amy had been to the conference center enough to know there was a large waiting area that all of the competitors were funneling into. Friends and relatives would be waiting there, along with ticket holders who had paid to attend the event. Once the judging was over, people would be able to check out the tables and sample the foods. In the past the tables with the most quickly disappearing food had turned out to be the winners. When the paid crowd was unleashed, Amy hoped to find a group of satisfied people hanging around her display.
Alex was somewhere in the crowd, but even though she wanted to see him, there were more pressing things to take care of. Like finding a bathroom. Coffee was great fuel for short bursts of energy, like setting up a buffet table in thirty minutes, but there were drawbacks. Amy skirted the perimeter of the crowd, searching for Alex's short cropped ginger hair and the restroom signs. She found the signs, but a line of anxious women stretched out the door and along the wall. Okey not dokey. Amy turned to the left and started up the hallway that ran along the side of the ballroom. The mission to find her husband needed to be temporarily abandoned. There were more restrooms—she just needed to find them and hope not too many others had the same idea.
There were barely any people in the hallway. A good sign. Most were gathered in the grand reception area she had just fled from. She picked up her pace when she spotted the stick-woman sign pointing to the right. She veered down a narrower hallway lined with doors. Placards designated them as smaller conference rooms. Happy day! There wasn't even anybody else in the hallway and more importantly, not a line stretching out of the restroom.
When she exited the stall someone was walking out the entrance door. Amy caught a glimpse of long, brown hair just before the heavy door thumped shut. The wigged trouble-maker was in the building and on the move. So much for fussing with her own hair and touching up makeup. Amy washed her hands in record time, silently thanking the conference center for providing paper towels instead of just air dryers or she would've been drying her hands on the forest green apron she was still wearing. The woman who had just left hadn't wasted time primping either, but she probably should've at least run a comb through the tangled, synthetic hair.
Amy slowly pushed open the restroom door. She looked both ways and spotted the woman as she turned right onto the main hallway, away from the crowd. The thick carpet had been awful for pushing around heavy carts, but it was perfect to hide the sound of footsteps. Amy sprinted to the corner then stopped. Walking at the YWCA every other day had stopped her from gaining weight over comfort food season, and it had prepared her for chasing mysterious women. Hurrah!
She peeked around the corner. At the end of the hallway a pair of swinging doors flapped shut. The entrance to the kitchen for the ballroom. Amy padded up the hallway and stopped. She was too short to see through the round windows on the set of doors. The "Employees Only" sign was at her eye level. So she wasn't an employee, but she was a competitor. Close enough. She pushed open the doors just in time to see Wig Woman exiting through the doors at the other end of the industrial kitchen.
There wasn't carpet in the kitchen, so Amy tried to tip-toe run across the hard tiles. Of course, her rubber-soled, ergonomically correct, super-comfortable shoes squeaked. Hopefully the woman was so focused on her nefarious plans she wasn't listening for footsteps or giant mice following her. Amy pushed open the second set of swinging door a few inches and blinked to adjust her eyes to the dimmer light in the hallway that ran along the other side of the ballroom. The woman was about ten feet away and focused on a task. Distracted was good. If the woman accomplished her apparent mission of pulling the fire alarm, everything and everybody would be drenched. Amy certainly didn't want to walk through the parking lot while dripping wet, and nobody else in attendance probably had any aspirations to become human icicles either.
Amy took a step back into the kitchen and smacked the palms of her hands on the doors. They swung open with thunderous booms. "Stop, thief!" Amy yelled as she sprinted toward the woman.
Amy shoved Wig Woman away from the fire alarm box, and the woman screeched. Playing football with Alex's sports-obsessed family at reunions had finally come in handy for something more than collecting odd bruises. The other woman stumbled, but she regained her balance by impersonating a twin propeller plane. She glared at Amy as she yanked open the door to one of the conference rooms and disappeared inside.
Hotel workers rushed down the hall toward Amy. The organizer of the event burst out of one of the ballroom doors, followed by two uniformed security guards. Amy pointed at the conference room door. "The woman who I believe stole the supplies last night just tried to pull the fire alarm. She went into that conference room. We need to find her before she gets to another alarm."
The director, Bridget Mahoney, narrowed her eyes at Amy. Her hair, pulled back into a tight French twist, looked like molten silver. The real estate corporation Mrs. Mahoney founded owned half of Kellerton. A shrewd business woman wouldn't tolerate games and hoaxes well. "What makes you think somebody is trying to ruin the competition by turning on the sprinklers? Besides, you didn't have anything stolen last night, so how do you know this is the same woman?"
"What about all of the freezers and refrigerators breaking today? How many tables had mysteriously missing screws and collapsed last night? Did you forget about the tablecloth catching on fire at the brunch? What if all of those things are connected…to a tall woman wearing a wig and posing as a K Hotel employee who just flipped up the cover on the fire alarm? I don't think it would hurt to track her down and ask a few questions, because I think somebody is trying to sabotage the competition."
Mrs. Mahoney stared at Amy for a few seconds then nodded her approval of the theory. She turned to the small group of people gathered around. "Check out the conference room. Keep an eye out for anybody who looks suspicious near the fire alarms."
Amy added. "The woman is dressed like a hotel employee with black pants and a white shirt. Tonight she's wearing a wig with long brown hair. The wig is a mess, though, so she should be pretty easy to spot."
The security officers disappeared into the dark conference room as the group of hotel personnel spread out along the hallway lined with windowless doors. "Remember, all of the conference rooms are connected," the director called as she wrung her hands together. "It's dreadful, but I think you may be right that somebody is trying to ruin the contest."
There was a shout from inside a nearby room. The wigged woman banged through the door next to Amy. Once again she was grateful for the plush carpet because before she knew it she was lying on her back, staring at the crystal chandelier overhead, and trying to catch her breath. She squealed as something furry plopped onto her face. One arm was pinned between her stomach and the wr
iggling woman lying on top of her. Amy used her other arm to fling off the hairy beast. Freed from the grasp of the tangled wig, she was able to clearly see who had tackled her. It was the chef in black, minus her dark chef's jacket, and angrier than a wet cat.
The security guards each grabbed one of the chef's arms and helped her stand. "Let me go," she hissed as she struggled to wrench herself out of their grasps.
Amy propped herself up on her elbows, not quite ready to stand up, until the guards dragged the pissed-off chef a little farther away. No need to stand in harm's way, or in the path of a right hook, if the woman managed to get loose. Two police officers ran down the hallway toward them, closely followed by Alex.
"Are you hurt?" he asked as he dropped to his knees beside Amy.
She shook her head as she watched one of the officers fasten handcuffs on the wrists of the scary chef. "Just staying down here to catch my breath and wait until it's safe. The chef and I have tackled each other twice in the last five minutes. I'd like to make it through the rest of the night without feeling like I've been ambushed by a football team."
* * *
"This is going to look great in the living room," Alex said as he draped his arm over Amy's shoulders. They were standing in the corner of the ballroom, admiring the blue and silver trimmed Christmas tree that had been moved there from the lobby at Halo Restaurant. "You worked hard on this event. I'm glad you won the prize you wanted."
"Thank you, honey." Amy stood on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek. "I was so excited to find out this was one of the prizes. I think it was very serendipitous that my table theme that I had planned out months ago matched it almost perfectly."
"Your table looks like it was designed to sit next to the tree. We'll have to host a party next year so we can see how they look together."
"Congratulations," a woman wearing a black silk mini dress said as she toasted Amy with a plastic wine glass. "Your table was gorgeous."
"Thank you. Happy holidays!" Amy called as she turned to walk back to her table. She grabbed Alex's hand and led him up the aisle. "Looks like people are starting to pack up. I don't think I have any food left, so it won't take long to get ready to leave. I just want to go home and crawl into bed."
"Me too, but I don't want to sleep," he whispered into her ear as they stopped in front of Amy's table. She shivered even though the ballroom was pleasantly warm. All of the food was gone. Only an inch of punch remained in the glass drink dispenser. She slid a storage bin out from under the table and began tossing in the silk and silver lamé scarves that had been wound between the platters. Once there was a nice bed of soft fabric she nestled the ornaments and chandelier crystals on top. While she was doing that Alex had found a luggage cart and wheeled it up beside her.
"Can you start wrapping the plates and platters in bubble wrap? There should be a box full of it under the table."
"Anything to help get you home sooner. And in bed." He waggled his eyebrows. "With me."
Amy laughed as she emptied the reservoirs full of water under the ice blocks into the drink dispenser. The jar and remaining ice would go into a cooler, and she could take care of it at home, since there was no easy way to get to a sink to dispose of the liquid.
"Congrats. I know you loved that tree," Bea said as she stopped in the aisle. She leaned on the handle of her luggage cart, which was already loaded with boxes and coolers. "Sorry you didn't win first place overall."
"I'm happy." Amy shrugged. "I won the specialty category that I wanted, and the champion deserved to win first place. A three-foot-tall solid ice fountain was a genius way to serve the punch."
"It was. I'm just glad you caught Erica before she hit that fire alarm, or we all would've had fountains."
"You know who she is?" Amy had no idea who the Chef In Black was, other than a big, cranky party-pooper. "I had seen her here the last few days, but she doesn't look familiar beyond that."
"It's Erica Clinton. She owns Black Swan catering and is also part owner of Mossman's Banquet Hall."
"Where this contest was held the last two years."
"Exactly. I would imagine she lost a lot of money when the contest moved here, between the event renting the hall and people who attend the cocktail party deciding to book future parties there. I heard her yelling at Bridget Mahoney that her Christmas was ruined because she had been counting on the revenue from the event."
"Her holiday was spoiled so she decided to torture everybody else?" Amy rolled her eyes as she wrapped the last serving plate in bubble wrap. "I guess the Grim Reaper look was very appropriate for her personality."
"It was indeed." Bea laughed. "I need to get going. Have to work tomorrow morning. You all have a good night. Merry Christmas," she said as she waved goodbye.
"Good night and happy holidays to you, too," Amy said. She gasped as Alex pushed her hair aside and kissed the side of her neck, in that special spot that always made her toes wiggle, as he untied her apron strings. "No PDA, mister. Help get the cart loaded up so we can continue this in a more appropriate place."
"Aye, aye, madam." Alex saluted her. Within two minutes he had everything stacked on the cart in an arrangement that would make a Tetris master proud. He placed the trophy on top like a cherry on a sundae. "Ready to leave?"
"Absolutely. Let's go home and make this holiday a little jollier."
* * *
Snickerdoodle Dip
8 oz. cream cheese, at room temperature
1/4 c. butter, at room temperature
1/4 c. real maple syrup
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
Place cream cheese and butter in a medium-sized bowl. Cream together with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add rest of ingredients and mix until combined.
Serve as a dip with graham crackers, pretzels, butter crackers, etc. Can also be used as a spread for bagels or toast.
* * * * *
Creamy Tomato Soup with Garam Masala
The heat level of garam masala varies, ranging from mild to hot. While the soup is simmering, more can be added if you would like the soup to be spicier.
1 small, yellow onion, finely minced
1 Tbsp. butter
1 to 2 tsp. garam masala
1 – 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes
1 tsp. brown sugar
2 c. vegetable broth
½ c. plain Greek yogurt
Melt butter in a small sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onions. Season with 1 tsp. garam masala, salt and pepper. Cook, stirring frequently, until onions are soft and beginning to caramelize (you may need to turn down the heat if they start to burn), about 10 minutes. Transfer onions to a 3 qt. sauce pan. Add tomatoes, brown sugar and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes, adding more garam masala if you would like the taste of the spice to be stronger. Reduce heat to low and stir in yogurt. Check seasoning, adding more sugar or salt if necessary. Heat until just warmed through, taking care not to let it come to a boil or the yogurt will curdle. Makes 4-6 servings.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Janel Gradowski lives in a land that looks like a cold weather fashion accessory, the mitten-shaped state of Michigan. She is a wife and mom to two kids and one Golden Retriever. Her journey to becoming an author is littered with odd jobs like renting apartments to college students and programming commercials for an AM radio station. Somewhere along the way she also became a beadwork designer and teacher. She enjoys cooking recipes found in her formidable cookbook and culinary fiction collection. Searching for unique treasures at art fairs, flea markets, and thrift stores is also a favorite pastime. Coffee is an essential part of her life.
To learn more about Janel Gradowski, visit her online at: http://www.janelgradowski.com
BOOKS BY JANEL GRADOWSKI
Culinary Competition Mysteries:
Pies & Peril
Chicken Soup & Homicide
Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes
Christmas Canapés & Sabotage (holiday short story)
Barbecue & Bad Juju (short story in the Killer Beach Reads collection)
Fudge Brownies & Murder
Banana Muffins & Mayhem
The Bartonville Series:
Must Love Sandwiches (novella)
The Queen of Bad Decisions (short story)
A (GINGERBREAD) DIORAMA OF DEATH
a Helen Binney Mysteries short story
by
GIN JONES
* * * * *
Acknowledgment:
I'd like to thank my brother and his wife for inspiring this story. Carla is an artist with gingerbread, and John gets creative with the demolition work afterwards.
* * * * *
Helen Binney refused to be afraid of winter.
She might look frail, but that was just because of her short height, small bone structure, and the cane she needed because of some lupus-related joint damage. She was tougher than she looked, and she wasn't ready to give up the activities she enjoyed simply because of a cold spell.
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