"I know we're juggling a lot of balls, but you do remember Riverbend is catering the wedding right? We don't need to check out caterers," Carla said when Amy returned to her side. The unusually emotive bride's normal, straight-to-the-point persona had returned.
"I'm just checking out the competition for future reference." Riverbend Café was taking care of the doughnut wedding cake along with hors d'oeuvres like bite-sized mozzarella and prosciutto grilled cheese sandwiches. The wedding would be the business's first foray into catering, the newest expansion Sophie had cooked up for the café. Amy took a bite of the room temperature pasta. "Needs more salt and some herbs. It's bland. Your food will be much better than this."
"Good to know." Carla stopped to take a closer look at an array of table centerpieces. She shook her head. "Way too fancy. By the way, I asked Bruce to give me a list of beers he wants. Still haven't gotten it. I'm about ready to start stapling notes to his sleeves. We may be making a run to the liquor store the night before the wedding to get booze. He isn't having much luck with the case, so he's even more distracted than normal. He said it's like chasing a ghost. So if you hear about anything that might have to do with the murder, please let him know."
"That's not good. I'll see what I can find out. He needs to focus on his bride, not a crazy murderer."
Carla yawned as she nodded in agreement. The aroma of smoky, barbecued meat drifted from a serving table on the left side of the aisle. Amy stopped and waited for people to move aside so she could grab a sample. A woman in a red T-shirt with a blue bandanna tied around her head was putting out more samples of smoked chicken. She looked up when Amy approached the table.
"Well, hi there. How are you doing? I bet you're here for one of the cake contests."
Amy recognized the woman. Brooke was one of the regular vendors at the summer farmer's market. Her bright red food truck always made the area smell like a backyard barbecue.
"I'm doing well. You're right, I entered the Trending Flavors contest, but my friend is getting married, so we're looking around before the awards ceremony. How are you?"
"I can't complain." She handed Amy one of the small cups full of pulled chicken. "Had some problems finding places to sell over the winter, but everything's going great now that the seasonal farmer's markets are open again. Also, I'm thrilled with how many people would like my truck to serve the food at their wedding receptions. I'm so glad I came here."
"That's wonderful." Food trucks were a hot trend. The best trucks drew huge crowds. Having one serve food at a wedding was a great twist on a traditionally catered meal. "As popular as your truck is, I can't imagine who wouldn't want you to park near their business."
Brooke rolled her eyes. "It was just a weird situation. The owner of Crowe's Auto Parts invited me to park at any of his stores for lunch. He figured my food would appeal to his customers. It did. I sold out every day, even when it was super cold. But Mr. Crowe kept demanding more from me in exchange for setting up in his parking lots. It started with a ten percent discount for store employees, which I was glad to do. Then he started asking for money as rent for the space. Every week the price went up until I'd had enough and stopped going there."
"What an unpleasant situation." Was this Mr. Crowe related to Luke? It almost had to be. What were the chances of more than one Crowe family owning a chain of auto parts stores in the area? About as much of a chance as Brooke's barbecue tasting bad. Amy tipped the moist, shredded chicken into her mouth. Smoky, but not overpowering, with just the right amount of spicy heat from the sauce. "I'm glad you don't have to put up with that anymore."
"Me, too. You should've heard the nasty message he left on my voicemail after I told him I wouldn't be coming back." Brooke leaned closer to Amy. "My employees and I call him Crazy Crowe now."
Amy giggled. "I'd say he earned the nickname."
She chatted a few more minutes with the food truck owner while Carla spoke with a florist a few booths away. When a surge of hungry people descended on the booth, Amy said goodbye and met up with Carla to continue their bridal expo stroll. As they rounded the corner of the last row, Amy saw that people were already settling into the folding chairs set up in front of the stage. She checked the time on her phone. In twenty minutes, the winners of the cake contests would be announced.
She spotted Mariah's distinctive chartreuse chef's jacket in the middle of the sea of white chairs, next to the center aisle. Amy glanced at Carla, who was multitasking by texting and yawning at the same time. "Why don't we sit down? You look like you've had enough of the expo."
"Sounds good," Carla said distractedly as she looked up from her screen just in time to avoid stepping into the path of a pint-sized model, apparently from the fashion show that had recently ended, barreling through the crowd like a miniature runaway bride. The child's mother was in hot pursuit, but couldn't make it through the maze of people as easily. Even a massive skirt that was as wide as she was tall couldn't stop the tot on a mission.
Carla blinked at the unexpected chase scene then returned to her phone. It was definitely time to get her safely into a chair.
Mariah turned around as Amy settled into the seat behind her. A smile spread across her face. "Sophie said you compete in a lot of cooking contests. How do you handle the pressure? I'm so nervous I think my stomach is tied in a hundred knots."
The familiar butterflies armed with jackhammers and dynamite feeling. Amy knew it well. She did a quick search of her purse and located a roll of antacid tablets. As she offered them to Mariah, she said, "I always keep these in my purse. They help a bit. So does thinking about something else." She pointed at the junior bride scooting back through the crowd, now with three adults on her trail. "Like that little girl. Try to figure out why she is so intent on getting away from her mom."
Both Amy and Mariah watched the chaos as the child zeroed in on a target. She rushed at a table full of mini cupcakes, grabbed one topped with a mountain of bright purple icing and tried to stuff the whole thing in her mouth. Chocolate cake crumbs and gobs of colorful icing tumbled down the front of the bejeweled, white dress. The adult chase team was horrified, but the little blonde girl grinned like a cherub with a wicked sweet tooth turned loose in a bakery.
"Oh my, that is funny." Mariah shook her head and laughed. "I'm glad she didn't get on stage and start going after wedding cakes. The poor baby would've been disappointed with fondant-covered foam."
Amy watched as another wedding cake was carried from backstage by two burly men and set on the half-circle of tables arcing across the stage. Even though the Styrofoam forms were light, the fondant and decorations still added up to considerable weight for the towering wedding confections. Mariah's blue and brown cake stood out in the lineup because of its unusual color scheme. Carla's phone beeped from an incoming text. It reminded Amy of the pictures she had taken with her phone of the defunct coffee shop.
"Are you still looking for a space for your business?"
"Yes."
Amy held up her phone so Mariah could see the first picture. "I found this place in the strip mall where The Breakfast Spot is, partway between here and downtown. It used to be a coffee shop, judging from the sign. It was hard to tell, but I think there is a full kitchen behind the lobby area."
Mariah nodded as Amy scrolled through the pictures. "I know where you're talking about. I didn't realize there was ever a coffee shop in there. Must not have been in business long. If it does have a complete kitchen, looking at these pictures, I think it would be perfect."
"That's what I thought. I know the woman who owns the property management company that's renting it out. If you'd like, I can find out more about it. I'm sure you're busy with wedding season starting. There's no sense wasting time looking at a place that doesn't have a suitable kitchen space."
"Thank you! That would be great. Since you work at Riverbend now, you know pretty much what I need."
Amy exchanged phone numbers with Mariah and also took a couple of the new entrepren
eur's business cards. Bridget Mahoney was roaming around the bridal expo. Amy had caught glimpses of the silver-haired real estate tycoon several times. Approaching her about the vacant coffee shop would be a good way to lead into some other questions. If any businesses besides Finley & Crowe were having problems, Bridget would most likely know since her companies owned a lot of real estate in Kellerton.
A woman wearing a silver sequin-covered dress walked on stage. There was a pop as she turned on the microphone. Mariah whirled around to face the announcer. The crowd in the seats quieted. Amy slipped her phone back into her purse. It was time to see what the judges thought of her fruit and flower-infused cake. She could see Mariah's knee bouncing up and down in nervous excitement.
"Good luck," Amy whispered into Mariah's ear.
Half an hour later, Amy hugged Carla goodbye while trying not to jab her with the trophy. Her cake had taken third place in the Trending Flavors contest. She thought Mariah was going to skitter right off the stage when she won first place for her cherry cake with whipped honey filling. Then the exuberant baker literally began bouncing up and down when she won the decorating competition, too. The wins would surely give her fledgling business a meteoric boost between the prize money, exposure to hundreds of potential customers, and prestige of sweeping both contests.
Once Carla was on her way home to take a much-needed nap before heading to the hospital for the night, Amy turned her attention to the last task of the day. Finding Bridget Mahoney. The expo was only open for another half hour so the aisles were much less crowded. By speed walking through the generous gaps between people, it took Amy only a few minutes to track down Mrs. Mahoney, who was chatting with a chef from one of the restaurants she owned.
"Amy, congratulations," Bridget said as she pointed at the trophy tucked under Amy's arm. "Your cake sounded divine. I have always loved citrus cakes."
"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."
CHAPTER EIGHT
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 th
e 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."
Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) Page 6
