Oooh, Carla's mom was good. Playing the guilt card with side helpings of tradition and bribery. Maybe if Amy double-teamed the stubborn pregnant lady with more ploys, there would be a baby shower soon. She pushed up the sleeves of her navy-blue sweater and headed for the living room.
Carla had locked verbal horns with Geri by the time Amy traversed the short distance between the rooms. "I thought you liked bucking traditions, Mom. You live without electricity and a flush toilet. I can live without two dozen receiving blankets and a basket full of teething toys."
She knew Geri lived in a unique house made of recycled materials, but she hadn't realized the home was that…rustic. The little cherry bomb of lifestyle information blew Amy's plans off course. "You don't have electricity or a toilet?"
"Actually, I do have both things. They just don't work the same way as you're used to. The colony I live in is off the grid. My home is made of dirt, straw, and recycled materials like tires and glass bottles instead of wood, cement blocks, and vinyl siding. I have solar panels, a rainwater collection system, and I use a composting toilet." Carla's mother picked at a piece of lint on her charcoal-gray skirt painted with a stylized goddess figure. "You have to make do when you live in the middle of nowhere. It's a different life but far from uncomfortable."
"So it's kind of like glamping…glamor camping?" Amy was having a difficult time imagining what an Earthship looked like. The name conjured up a sleek, technologically tricked out mother ship cruising around the Milky Way. Geri's description made it sound like a life-sized version of something a child would construct in a sandbox after a rainstorm. "Sort of roughing it but with amenities."
Geri grinned. "That's an interesting way of putting it. I have a house with walls and windows, so not exactly camping even though some of the household functions are akin to camping." She leaned sideways in the easy chair then curled her legs and tucked her feet under the edge of the long skirt. "I love the melding of simple living and technology. I find it exhilarating. Reading a book on my e-reader by the light of an oil lamp is such a fabulous confluence of opposites."
Amy made a mental note to take Geri to Yoga For You so she could meet Rori. Confluence of opposites was totally something the new age teacher would say in her life coaching classes. They could exchange inspirational quotes and meditate together. As long as Shepler didn't arrest Rori for Esther Mae's murder. Then a lunch date at the county jail would put a damper on the communing with the universe aspect.
"That sounds…interesting." And not at all like something she would enjoy.
Geri tipped her head back and laughed so hard she crossed her arms over her stomach. The purple ribbons knotted into her wildly tangled pewter-colored hair twisted and wriggled. "I can tell you are not convinced, but that's okay. My lifestyle isn't for everybody. In fact, it wasn't for me fifteen years ago. You just never know what life will bring, but you have to be open to the possibilities."
She didn't know if the last phrase was meant to nudge the wayward conversation back to a baby shower or not. But she was going to use it for that purpose. Amy turned her attention to Carla, who was quietly sipping a mug of hot maple horchata. The drink was Amy's invention for a winter beverage recipe contest. It tasted just like warm rice pudding. Since Carla was blissfully occupied with quenching her pregnancy-induced sweet tooth, maybe Amy could capitalize on the good feelings and change her view about a shower.
"How about a brownie-themed baby shower? Would you do that?"
Carla peered over the rim of the mug that her mother had made. The ceramic glazes were different colors of blue and gray that swirled together to look like a stormy sea that most likely matched the future mother's emotions at the moment after being pestered repeatedly about a shower. Carla's super serious gaze locked onto Amy over the rim of the mug. "Possibly. Although I bet the average person doesn't want to eat brownies nearly as much as I do right now."
That response wasn't so bad. Definitely tamer than she had expected. Amy was getting a little bored making the never ending parade of brownies. So, to fight recipe fatigue, she challenged herself to come up with a different recipe every time she made the old-fashioned dessert. Her repertoire including everything from coconut pistachio to dark chocolate cherry versions. "I have come up with so many different flavors, I'm sure people will find something they like. Not to mention, I can make a few pans of blondies in case, for some strange reason, somebody doesn't like chocolate. I'll be sure to have other things to nibble on. Besides, a shower is about momma and baby, not the food."
The prolonged sigh that hissed from Carla conveyed her exasperation. She was about to blow! "I don't need a bunch of stuff that I'll never use for the baby. We'll manage perfectly fine since I've read a ton of books and have been shopping online. If I find something we need, I'll be able to move off the couch and get it myself once the kiddo is here. Plus, I'm pretty sure both of you can't wait to go shopping for stuff after you find out if it's a boy or girl. Everything will work out, no frilly baby shower needed." She pointed at her stomach, which was doing its impregnated with alien spawn impression with indistinguishable body parts rising from the dome. "See, the baby is doing a happy dance. We'll…be…fine."
Amy jumped when the door leading from the attached garage banged open in the hallway behind her. She had been so focused on the conversation she hadn't heard the garage door open. There were several more thumps followed by a scraping sound. She turned to find Shepler dragging a large, flat box over the floor tiles.
"Look." Carla pointed at her husband. "There's the crib I ordered. I had it shipped to the store, and Bruce picked it up on his way home. We've got this parenting thing. It's all under control."
"For now," Geri said. She stood and moved a laundry basket full of clothes sitting in the hallway in front of the nursery out of the way. Shepler was steering blind due to the size of the box. "Children are the ultimate surprise gift. You never know what they'll do or what will happen. And that continues for the rest of a parent's life."
"Let me help you navigate to the nursery." Amy decided to escape to let what she and Geri had said about the baby shower filter through the layers of brownie and sink into Carla's mind. "I see the baby will at least have a place to sleep now."
"Ha ha…we have a lot more things ready," Carla called from the couch.
"Yes, and they all have the same color scheme," Geri whispered as she hurried past in the hall. She opened the door to the nursery. "Invisible."
Shepler just rolled his eyes as he steered the crib box to the middle of the room and gently laid it down. Amy was drawn to the present Geri was creating for her first grandchild. Amy walked along the wall that was covered with a gigantic sheet of white canvas. The painting was of an old-fashioned village with thatch roofed houses and buildings tucked among lush green hills. All kinds of creatures were hiding among the trees and bushes, like bunnies and even a unicorn. It was a fantasy world with amazing attention to detail. The mural would be a constant source of creativity and discovery. Such a beautiful present for the baby.
Amy turned around to find Shepler sitting cross-legged on the floor, studying the instruction booklet for the crib. He still wore his work clothes but had loosened his tie. A Clark Kent fashion statement.
"Your dinner is done. Soup's on the back burner of the stove, and Geri's stuffed mushrooms are staying warm in the oven," Amy said as she peeked at the diagrams that, from a distance, looked more like the instructions for putting together a nuclear reactor than a crib. "Before I leave, I just wanted to let you know about a few people I think you should look into for Esther Mae's murder. First off, the boyfriend of Rayshelle's little sister was in prison. I don't know what for, but he was there and one of his former cell mates is scared of him. Also, there's an employee at a food booth at Clement Street Market—she takes crazy to the top of the Eiffel Tower and flies that flag like it's nobody's business. You really should look into both of them. Her name is Candi Edwards."
He nodded—once. Then h
e began pulling bags of metal hardware and pieces of mahogany-colored wood out of the box. Often when she shared information with him, he recorded it in his notebook or an app on his phone. If he was already so distracted preparing for the baby that he wasn't paying attention to what could be important clues, what would happen to him when the little sleep deprivation machine of a human arrived? Amy needed to step up her sleuthing game before he let a cold-blooded killer slip through his grasp.
An hour later, Amy settled across the breakfast nook table from Alex. She had turned leftover rice and spinach from making the Shepler family's dinner into a bacon and cheese frittata for her and her husband. As Alex slid a wedge of the steaming hot egg dish onto his plate he asked, "How is Bruce coping with his mother-in-law on top of a seriously pregnant wife?"
"He seems a little distracted." Amy poured herself a glass of grapefruit-flavored sparkling water. All of the bubbles bouncing around the glass were probably a good representation of how Shepler's brain felt with a hundred commitments pulling him in two hundred directions. "But who wouldn't be? He sometimes seems like a crime fighting cyborg, but I know he's a mushy teddy bear underneath who is just going to melt when he meets his baby."
"Do they know what sex it is?"
"No. They want to be surprised. I think it's great. Like Christmas, Valentine's, and the Fourth of July all wrapped together in a sweet, little present."
Alex waggled his eyebrows. "So when are we going to make our own ultimate surprise package? I would be happy to do some preliminary work on that tonight."
A baby. Alex wanted a baby. That was a twist to the evening she hadn't seen coming since it was a topic she usually avoided as though it were green mold-covered bread. "How about we just practice tonight? We can talk about this later, like after I coach Carla through the birth and see what that's like. I'm not sure I can handle giving birth…or everything that comes afterward. Becoming a parent is not exactly a spur-of-the-moment decision."
He ran his index finger down the back of her hand. "No. You're right. Having a baby isn't something to jump into. I'm all for practicing, though."
Amy uncrossed her big toes. It had been a long day, and she really didn't want to get into a family planning discussion. The topic scared her more than competing on a nationally broadcasted television cooking show. But she had never really shared her fears with her husband, always diverting them with comments that she wasn't ready to be a mom. He knew she detested ketchup, that she drooled in her sleep when she was really tired, and that her favorite pop was Faygo Rock & Rye cream cola. The deep, dark secret she had always kept from her husband was that she was afraid she would turn into her mother if she had a baby. That the pregnancy hormones would trigger a hereditary psychological disorder, and she would become a dysfunctional mess. No matter how much she tried to shake the irrational thought, she couldn't. A side effect of growing up in a screwed up family.
She slid off the bench seat then moved around the end of the table to stand beside Alex. Action to replace words—that was her strategy to bury the dreaded conversation. "Scoot." She nudged his shoulder with her hip. "The other side of the table is way too far away from you right now."
Alex shoved the table away from him, toward the side of the bench where she had been sitting. "Come here," he said as he lay back on the thick cushion, pulling her on top of him. "There's no reason to delay that practice session any longer."
Amy giggled as she toppled onto his chest. She had been planning on just snuggling up beside him while staying in an upright position. The neighbors' porch light, visible over the privacy fence, sent a tremor through her body as she melted onto Alex. The breakfast nook, where they were gearing up to make love, stuck out from the side of the house. Windows all the way around the tiny addition let in tons of natural light but also allowed a clear view of anybody sitting at the table when the kitchen lights were on, and it was dark outside. The conditions were perfect for optimal neighbor snooping on her and Alex's sex life. They were getting it on in a voyeuristic fishbowl.
"Hang on. Let me shut off the lights," she said as she wriggled out of his embrace, sliding backwards down the rock-like muscles of his body. They had made love in many rooms of the house, from the den to the guest bedroom, but they had never done it in the breakfast nook before. No matter how exciting the prospect was, she still didn't want her 80-year-old neighbor checking out her naked hiney.
As she trotted to the light switch a few feet away, her cell phone began ringing. "Don't answer it! Shut off the lights, and come here, please," Alex pleaded.
"It might be Carla. What if the baby is coming?"
Amy changed course and sprinted to the other side of the kitchen. She snatched the phone off the charger dock on the small desk in the corner of the room. The call was from Carla.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For a miserable day with gray skies and icy sleet falling, there sure were enough people downtown. She'd had to park on a side street two blocks away from Yoga For You. Amy glanced at the Quantum Media building as she adjusted her red scarf on the journey back to her car. The building signified the company her husband had built from the ground up. An impressive accomplishment that she was immensely proud of. Now he wanted to build a family. And all she wanted to do was hide in a closet until he gave up on that idea. The baby making practice session had been mind incineratingly hot, after they returned to it. While the interrupting phone call had been from Carla's phone, it wasn't from her. It was Geri. Carla's mother had commandeered her phone to ask if Amy would like to go on a shopping trip with her.
So that was why Amy was crunching over an ice pellet-covered sidewalk staring at the window of her husband's office instead of hanging out at home in her winter hibernation-appropriate fleece pajamas. While the weather was abominable, the company was far from that. Geri wanted to shop for her grandbaby, plan the shower that would be a surprise since her daughter had still not agreed to one, and she also wanted to assess the murder suspects she had heard Shepler talking about. A very busy and full day.
They scrambled into opposite sides of the dark-blue Mini with a black racing stripe. Amy started the car and turned up the defroster to help loosen the ice that had formed on the windshield while they shopped for tiny Christmas outfits. The excited grandma put two outfits on layaway—a dress with a red velvet top and flouncy tulle skirt and a onesie made to look like a man's business suit with a button-up shirt and dress pants. Geri would return to retrieve whichever outfit was appropriate after the baby was born. Then they visited Yoga For You to pick up a class schedule for Geri.
"I don't think Rori is the murderer," Geri said as she unbuttoned the top buttons of her coat. The outerwear fastened all the way to the top strategy had worked well as they walked along Main Street to keep the cold wind at bay. Inside the car, the heavy wool probably felt more like a straitjacket. "I've been dabbling in aura reading. It's a community education class offered at the colony. So I am definitely an amateur, but to me, she looked very peaceful with a bit of agitation though, most likely from my son-in-law's investigation."
"Oh, that's interesting." It was very interesting. Especially since the person doing the aura reading was Carla's mom. Geri had made a radical life change when she moved to the other side of the world. Still, the thought of type A personality Carla being the daughter of a chilled out, new age momma made Amy want to giggle every time she thought of the connection. "But I really doubt Shepler will say auras are admissible as evidence in court."
"I'm sure they aren't. I just wanted you to know since she's your teacher. Thinking you are in the room with a killer can really mess up the meditative qualities of yoga."
Geri slipped her wide, black lace headband down onto her forehead then pushed it back up into place to keep her windblown hair off her face. While Amy was wearing her hair down, she knew very well the effects blustery Michigan weather could have on hair accessories. Barrettes shifted, headbands slipped into uncomfortable positions, and rubber bands lost their h
old on ponytails while being buffeted by wind and precipitation.
"Thank you." Amy turned on the windshield wipers. There was an unnerving scraping sound as the arms pushed the brittle layer of ice off of the glass. "Good to know because I don't think she's a killer either. I have been wrong about judging people before, though."
Geri placed her hand on Amy's forearm as she gripped the steering wheel. "People can hide a lot of things, but they can't hide their aura. I may be an amateur reader, but I truly don't think there is any evil hanging out in Rori."
Hanging out…like an armed robber loitering outside a liquor store. Unfortunately, murderous tendencies were much more difficult to spot. "I appreciate that. I really love taking Rori's classes, but I've been worried about her being part of Shepler's suspect line up. You know, maybe I'm wrong about her and he's right, even though I think he's looking into her more because she had opportunity being Esther Mae's roommate at the hotel."
"I think you're right about his reasoning." She smiled as she stretched the seat belt across her torso then buckled it. "My new son-in-law is very detail oriented. It makes him good at his job, and Carla shares that personality trait with him. I just wish they would loosen up a bit. Analyzing every little thing in life can be such a buzzkill. Luckily, I know from my own experiences that as parents they're going to have to start rolling with the punches. Life is about ready to hand my control freak children an adorable, crying, pooping, puking curveball that will turn their neatly organized world upside down. All of the reference books in the world can't prepare you for the actual experience of raising a little human being who is born with his or her own unique personality."
Fudge Brownies & Murder Page 11
