"Yes, along with several other downtown businesses that I know of. Who knows how many others there are since the hacker is threatening that people will end up like Luke Crowe if they say anything."
The front of Thalia's black jeans were striped with tan streaks from her wiping the bleach-coated rubber gloves on them. A blue bandanna was tied around her hair. A few strawberry blonde strands poked out of the edge of the fabric around her face. The salon owner was as tough as an overcooked steak, but would she be brave enough to defy the no police contact rule of the hacker and help provide Shepler with some much-needed information?
"My best friend, Carla, is getting married this weekend to the detective in charge of the murder case. All of the extortion attempts seem to be connected to it, since the murder is being used as an incentive for people to pay the demands. I'm trying to help with the case, so the couple can enjoy their honeymoon without worrying about it." She swept her arm in an arc. "Do you have any idea who did this?"
Amy picked up a tin of pomade that was barely peeking out from under a shelving unit. She set the metal container on the shelf where Thalia appeared to be organizing undamaged products. "Or, if you're afraid of more retaliation because I'll be passing the information to the police, you don't have to say anything."
The last thing Amy wanted was for her former boss and longtime friend to be harmed. Thalia smiled for the first time during the conversation. "I've already pissed him off, so go ahead and tell the detective about what's happening. I talked to Kendra a few days ago—I know what happened at The Cookbook Nook—and I found out how the scheme worked before I was contacted. So when I got the first message, I had my computer guy lock down my system like Fort Knox." Thalia paused to blow an errant strand of hair off of her face.
"Yesterday, I got a couple dozen alerts that an unknown computer was trying to access my account. Kendra said her security cameras were shut off during the vandalism at her store. So when I left last night I set up a battery-powered camcorder on a shelf in here."
Amy held her breath. This could break the case open like an overripe watermelon.
Thalia continued. "I've looked at the video, and I can't figure out who it is. At this point it just makes me more furious every time I watch. I'll give you the memory card so I won't explode. The guy's wearing a wolf Halloween mask, but your friend's fiancé may be able to get some idea of the person's identity. Plus there was a very angry threat on the salon's answering machine this morning about not playing along. The voice wasn't normal, like when TV shows change a person's voice to hide their identity, but you might as well have your police friend look into that, too."
"Thank you for giving me the video, but be very careful. It doesn't sound like he's happy with not being able to mess with your computers."
Thalia rolled her eyes and contorted her face like a teen being chastised for staying out past curfew. "I've been single for my entire life. Along the way, I've taken a lot of self-defense training, so I know how to spot a dangerous situation and defend myself if I need to. I just wish I had spent the night here and did some groin-groin-head-groin moves on the weasel. Not to mention, my friend who teaches judo is staying with me right now. I'll be fine."
"Thank you. Your help may be just the thing Shepler needs to solve this case." Shepler. Carla. Wedding. Hair. "If you don't mind me changing the subject, the real reason I came in is because I wanted to see if somebody could squeeze me in on Saturday to do my hair for the wedding. I just have this feeling that I'll be too busy to do a good job myself."
CHAPTER TWENTY
"Think of a beach. The warm sand is cradling your feet as the gentle waves whisper…"
Amy was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bedroom floor. Pogo, her small dog that looked like a dust bunny impersonator, curled up on her lap three seconds after she assumed the supposedly meditative position on the cushy white shag rug. Her hands rested on her knees with the tips of her thumbs and pointer fingers touching to form a circle. Thinking of a tropical beach could be relaxing, if it wasn't for the dog paw repeatedly kicking her stomach courtesy of a very animated canine dream. How envisioning herself on vacation was supposed to access her subconscious and unlock her creativity was a more difficult concept to wrap her brain around.
But, since she was stressed about multiple things and trying to come up with murder suspects, Amy decided to try the meditation phone app recommended by one of the waitresses at the café. Apparently there was an app for everything, even naked yoga, which she had discovered after doing a search for apps to relieve stress.
The annoyingly monotone male voice was getting on her nerves by the time it instructed her to pretend to look up at a pretend sky with fluffy pretend clouds and pretend that one of the clouds formed a peace symbol. An electronic funk ringtone interrupted the decidedly un-relaxing mental exercise. She snatched the phone off the floor beside her knee, startling Pogo in the process. The dog must watch kung fu movies while she was at work considering the lightning quick series of karate kicks he let loose on her thighs and stomach before indignantly prancing away to resume his nap on his bed.
The phone conversation with Bridget Mahoney was so engrossing Amy forgot that her legs were still twisted into a pretzel shape. When she hung up and tried to move it felt as if her legs were going to pop off at her hips, like a brother-tortured Barbie doll. After many deep breaths to try to breathe through the pain, a dozen rude expletives because the breathing didn't work, followed by an unexpected Weeble-like wobble to the left, Amy finally managed to untangle her legs. Unfortunately, the reduced circulation-induced tingle from staying too long in the unnatural contorted position made it feel as though thousands of ants were crawling around in her yoga pants. She eased onto her back into a corpse pose to wait for the buggy sensation to go away. It was the only yoga position she could do really well. As she stared at the ceiling, she sent a karmic thank you to Bridget. The woman's ability to pull gold rabbits out of tattered hats was amazing.
* * *
"Want some Swiss chard juice?" Carla asked as Amy walked into the loft.
Swiss chard juice? Maybe the varieties of green vegetables she'd been adding to the Mason jar salads had persuaded Carla to expand her culinary horizons. The beverage offer certainly wasn't in the range of things she ever expected to come from her unadventurous-eating friend.
"No, that's okay. I'm not thirsty, and I'd hate to take something that you enjoy."
Carla wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I don't enjoy green vegetable juice. Not one bit. Almost every variety I've tried has tasted like swamp water. I'm choking the stuff down because I think you're right that I need to eat healthy foods right now. Although…I have never seen you refuse to try a food, so I'm guessing even you think Swiss chard juice sounds bad. I haven't tried it yet myself."
"You poor baby," Amy said as she patted Carla's back. It was a rarity for her not to sample something that was off the beaten foodie path. It was just that in her mind Swiss chard should be sautéed with onions and garlic, maybe with some pine nuts and raisins thrown in for variety. Even though the juice was probably mixed with sweet fruits like apples or bananas, all she could imagine was the savory side dish being blended into a garlic-spiked smoothie. Yuck. "A few more days and you can eat wedding doughnuts until your heart's content."
"With the threats to Sophie, are you guys going to be able to make everything for the wedding?" Carla twisted the cap off the glass bottle of pine needle green juice. Her nostrils flared when she sniffed the beverage. She put the cap back on and returned the bottle to the refrigerator. "I love the café's baked doughnuts, but I can pick up a few dozen from that old doughnut shop near the hospital for the wedding. I understand if the menu you guys came up with is too much work considering what's been happening."
Bobbie's Doughnuts had provided three generations of Kellerton residents with sugary treats. The apple fritters were as big as the paper plates they were served on. Years of experience had turned the doughnut makers into deep-f
ryer masters who churned out fluffy, crispy-edged bites of heaven. The doughnuts were legendary and had been written about in countless newspaper and magazine articles.
"If you like the doughnuts from Bobbie's and want to include them in the dessert buffet, then go ahead and get whatever kinds you want. We won't be offended. But if you're afraid the catering won't work out, don't worry about it. Everybody at Riverbend is great. They'll step up and make sure all of the food gets done. Sophie is determined to defeat this money-grubbing freak. She's doing good both mentally and physically now that she's staying with Matt. I think their time together has been healing for both of them."
"That's good. I'm glad to hear Sophie's doing well. They've had a rough time. Just let me know if anything starts going off the rails so I can help by buying extra doughnuts or whatever needs to be done. I don't want anybody to stress out unnecessarily over my wedding."
Amy pulled a thick manila envelope from her tote bag and set it on the kitchen counter as Carla ripped the top off of a cellophane bag. She popped what looked like a wrinkled green potato chip in her mouth. Amy tilted her head to read the front of the package—kale chips. Carla's left eye twitched.
She tossed the bag back onto the counter and asked, "What's in the envelope?"
Amy slid the weighty package across the counter toward Carla. "Open it and see."
She took a step back to better take in Carla's reaction. At first the nurse's signature emotionless mask held up as she read the invitation she extracted from the package, but then the distinctive look of confusion took over. She slowly shook her head as she looked up. "I don't have time to send these out. I just told people to come here at 6:00 p.m."
"I know you did verbal invitations, but I thought that since most of the guests are people you and Shepler see at work, you would like to give them a real invitation." Amy shrugged. "It only took me a few minutes to whip them up. Besides, everybody will need the new address anyway."
Carla frowned as she studied the wedding invitations Amy had printed out. The font from her computer and craft store blank cards weren't like the work that Aubergine from The Inkwell could do, but they didn't look too bad. Especially considering their main purpose was to surprise her friend.
Carla shook her head. "I don't recognize the address. It's west of town, isn't it?"
Amy couldn't hold back a giant, Cheshire cat grin. "It's Bridget Mahoney's house, along the river out in the country. I guess she has a big atrium filled with trees decorated with twinkling fairy lights. It even has a fountain for ambiance."
"Bridget Mahoney…like the mega rich woman who does all of the charity events? How am I having my wedding in her atrium?" Carla carefully set the bundle of invitations back down on the counter, as if they were fragile, thin-shelled eggs. She stared at the writing on the cream-colored card she still held. "You're joking, right?"
"I am absolutely not joking." Amy placed her right hand on her chest over her heart. "I guess Bridget just loves a good party. When I asked if she knew of anywhere available to hold your wedding, she volunteered her atrium. I haven't been there yet, but I've heard her house is very much like an English country estate, stately and humongous."
"Thank you so much!" Carla squealed as she locked Amy in a rib-bruising hug. "I can't believe it. I love you!"
Shepler picked that moment to open the door. Even though Amy's arms were pinned to her side from the breathtaking and extremely uncharacteristically exuberant hug, she still managed to pat Carla's back in a flapping penguin wing sort of way.
Shepler cleared his throat. "Should I ask what the hug and tears are about? Or should I just grab a beer, go sit down in front of the TV, and mind my own business?"
Amy wanted to let Carla tell her future hubby about the elegant, new wedding venue. So before Carla could say anything, she wiggled out of the slightly loosened hug and said, "Don't sit down. I have more info about your case. I found out from Bridget Mahoney that Luke was trying to cut ties with his family, but daddy dearest wasn't happy about it. Instead of a clean break, it was more of a messy unraveling that left behind lots of tangled ends."
"That makes things more interesting. Thanks for digging that up. His parents have been acting like there were no problems between them every time I've asked about their relationship with him." He opened the refrigerator at the end of the narrow galley kitchen, slid the Swiss chard juice bottle to the side, and grabbed a brown bottle of beer. He looked at the stack of invitations and then Amy.
"Somehow I doubt that's what made Carla so excited, though."
Carla started to say something, but Amy held up her finger. "Wait. I'll let you tell him. After I leave. You two lovebirds need some time alone. Have a good night!"
Before Shepler could react or Carla could say anything else, Amy grabbed her tote off the stool where she had deposited it and bolted out the door. As a typical guy, who was also in charge of solving a confusing murder case, Shepler would probably end up more excited about the information regarding Luke than the fact that he would be getting married in the enclosed garden of the person who basically equated to the queen of Kellerton. In small-town America terms, the wedding was going to be held at Buckingham Palace. At least Carla was excited.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"I've baked three times as many brownies for charity events," Amy picked at a blob of dried chiffon cake batter on her arm. "I can easily make them on my own."
Sophie tapped her finger on the yellow legal pad as she stared at the office wall. Since they wouldn't need many servings of any one food item for the two dozen wedding guests, Amy had offered to make the three different varieties of brownies at her house. Where she could nap on the couch while they baked. There were risks involved, like sleeping through the timer alarm, but it would ease some of Sophie's workload while simultaneously letting Amy get some much-needed rest.
Sophie chewed on her lip. Her thigh bounced as she tapped her foot on the floor under the desk. Was she fidgeting because she was thinking about the proposition or because, like Amy, she was afraid another message would appear on the nearby laptop's screen? It sat on the corner of the desk looking all innocent, as if it had never been a vehicle for delivering a threat.
"You know, we've been running with a limited menu for quite a few days, and it hasn't hurt business. I think we can fit in the extra food for the wedding just fine. It won't be a big deal. If you can come in early tomorrow, we can pick out serving platters then figure out how to construct the doughnut display. So I don't think you need to do any of the baking at your house. I'm sure you have a thousand things to do for the wedding anyway."
"I think I'm just as freaked out about this wedding as I was for my own." Amy plunged her hands into the front pockets of her apron. Her fingers brushed her phone. The notes app on it had several screens full of reminders and lists. "I probably do have a thousand things left to do, and I'm forgetting half of them. At least that's how I feel—that there's always some forgotten tasks hovering around the edges of my thoughts, and I never have the right size of net to catch them. I hope I don't forget something important."
"How about we both get out of here so you can check off some of that to-do list?" The printer on the corner of the desk whirred to life. Sophie grabbed the first sheet to emerge.
"Here's the menu. I'll print copies of all of the recipes so everybody can just take one on Friday and get to work. If you talk to Carla, could you go over the menu with her? I know she said we could do whatever we want beyond the doughnuts, but I'd feel better if she knows what we have planned."
"I can do that." Amy folded the paper into a square and slipped it into her pants pocket. "After I get a latte to go. Have I told you lately how much I love the free coffee perks of working here?"
"Gah! Don't say love." Sophie put her hands over her ears. "La, la, la…I can't hear you."
Amy giggled. "You look like one of those hear no evil monkey statues, but much less creepy. What's up with the aversion to love? Are you and Matt having
problems?"
Sophie rubbed the side of her neck as she leaned back in the desk chair. "Not problems. Just not what I expected. I guess you were right. There's a difference between living together purely for love and sharing an apartment for safety reasons. It's strange. I didn't want to stay with him because I was afraid it would push our relationship to a more serious level that I wasn't ready for. But now that I'm in his apartment, the only difference is that we wake up in the same bed every morning." Sophie laughed. "I know I'm hard to please, but even I'm surprised to realize that I'm disappointed in getting exactly what I wanted—no change in our relationship."
She wasn't the only one who was surprised by her reaction. After Sophie's duplex was trashed, Amy had figured she would have a houseguest until the murder was solved. When Sophie let Matt know that she was a target, it seemed as if her boss had opened a floodgate that washed away her previously steadfast resolve not to move in with her boyfriend. It wasn't that the change in plans was good or bad. It was simply a startling 180-degree turn around.
"Remember you both have a lot going on. After the murderer is caught, you'll be able to see your relationship without the contorted lens of fear from being in the murderer's crosshairs."
"I hope so. Matt and I are both commitment shy, so it's a bit shocking to both of us that we're still together. And that was before the murder and extortion stuff. I guess I feel like if we can make it through this storm with our relationship intact, we'll have turned a corner."
"Rocky Road Brownies just aren't good without the rocks."
Sophie's eyes darted back and forth. "Uh, are we back to talking about the wedding menu?"
"No." So…that metaphor didn't work. "What I meant is the best things in life always have some rocky patches and sticky spots, but that's what makes them so sweet."
"Ahhh, I get it now. If that's the case, I think Matt and I are traversing a rockslide area along the edge of a tar pit."
Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) Page 15
