Banana Muffins & Mayhem (16 page)

"You are such a drama queen. Sometimes it makes me shudder to listen to you." Tommy leaned back against the front of the couch, propped her legs into inverted
V
s in front of her, and rested her hands on the threadbare knees of the baggy overalls. "They've talked to Aubergine from The Inkwell too about being on the show. She came into the studio to work on a piece this morning and told me."

Geri raised her hand. "They've approached Rori too. She chatted with me about it when we ran into each other at Riverbend this morning. They told her they wanted to add exercise segments to the new version of the show."

Amy leaned forward to grab a napkin and chocolate no-bake cookie which had already been on the table when she arrived. "So they're getting us all excited about being on the show to distract us from discovering that they're killers?"

Tommy shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. In all seriousness, think about how odd it is for them to ask Charlotte about auditioning to be the new host. She would just reverse all of the changes that have been made to the house so far and return it to its original appearance. Her decorating style is the polar opposite of Phoebe's. That one show, where she had all of the stained-wood moldings painted in neon colors…I thought Charlotte was going to attack the TV."

Charlotte's entire body visibly trembled. Her white silk poet's blouse shimmered from the exaggerated shiver of disgust. "I don't understand people who buy old houses and then completely modernize them. Go buy a new house if you want sleek design with an open concept. History should be preserved, not ripped out and replaced with cork flooring, glass tiles, and skylights. I just refused to take on a client who wanted to do that to an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. Refurbish, not replace, is my motto when it comes to historic homes."

The list of people who Nigel and Ginny were talking to was getting larger by the day. Apparently, none of them were standing out in the production company's eyes. They certainly were casting a wide net in their search for talent in Kellerton. If that was what they were actually doing. Amy took several gulps of wine to wash down the chilling realization that had just come to her. Instead of helping, the rush of liquid made her cough as though she had contracted pneumonia. The other women looked at her with concern as she tried to cough up a lung. Once she could breathe and talk again, she shared the source of her torture. "Everybody that they're talking to about being on the new show was around Phoebe at the Cabin Fever Cure. Since we all had contact with her—much of it unpleasant—theoretically we could all be possible suspects. Going on the theory that Nigel and Ginny committed the murder, they may be looking for someone to implicate—to draw attention away from themselves—instead of new cast members. So who better to blame the murder on than a person who was recently upset or annoyed by her?"

"If the police come calling, I guess I'll know who to blame—Scruffy and Princess." Tommy drained her glass. The wine guzzling habit was going around. "How do we prove what they're doing, if that is what they're doing?"

"That's a million-dollar question." Geri plucked the bottle of chardonnay out of the pedestal ice bucket, which seemed to be a fixture at the wine-filled evenings. She refilled Amy's and Tommy's glasses then said, "I think we'll need more wine to come up with the answer."

If only wine was the best way to solve a murder.
While the sisters were excited about the lingering production company staff as suspects, Amy knew there were more people who could've committed the crime. And none of them seemed to fit in with the killer television show crew theory. Had Geri told them about the possible blood on Mick's workshop wall? And what about the mystery man in the Quantum shirt who Phoebe was at the bar with?

A chattering sound coming from the window made Amy jump. A bit of wine splashed from her filled-to-the-top glass and landed on her thigh. "What was that?"

"The wind rattling that loose pane of glass again," Charlotte said. "I need to get Isaac to check that out too. These old buildings have tons of character, but they're challenging to live in sometimes."

Even though she knew it was wind causing the sound, Amy's heart was still galloping out of control. She set her glass on the table so that she wouldn't end up wearing all of the wine. "You know, I would really like to get some fresh air. Do you mind if I go up to the roof?" Amy asked as she stood up.

Geri gave her a puzzled look. "I'll come with you. A few of the seeds I planted are beginning to sprout already, so I can check on them to make sure they have enough water."

As soon as they were out the door Geri asked, "What's wrong? You're as white as a ghost."

There was no easy way to explain the huge, irrational leap her mind had made. So she just blurted it out. "I want to make sure Alex's building is okay. I know it was just the wind, but it made me think of an explosion rattling windows. And he's probably still at the office right now."

Geri nodded. When they reached the landing at the top of the stairs, she flipped the switch to turn on the outdoor lights then unlocked the door. Amy brushed past her and ran to the corner of the roof where she could best see Quantum's building. There were lights on in various offices. No glow from fires or reflections of emergency vehicle lights. The wind played with her hair as though it was a spirit tugging on her ponytail. She could see people moving in one of the offices. Even from a distance, she recognized that the tall broad-shouldered man was Alex. It felt vaguely inappropriate to stay there watching him. She was being a Peeping Amy, but she couldn't help it. There was no way to forget the terror of seeing the Dumpster fire raging at the side of the building he was in.

When she turned around, she found Geri curled up in one of the wicker chairs. "Satisfied that he's okay?" she asked.

"Yes. Everything looks fine. It was just my overactive imagination playing games with my emotions."

"Sometimes thoughts are out of control freight trains." Geri uncurled her legs and stood up. "Believe me, I can sympathize after everything that has gone on with Mick. But I think the things we've thought of tonight could lead to the killer. When that person is found, you'll be able to stop jumping at rattling windows, I can enjoy my new romance, and we can both get back to being normal again."

"If you ask your daughter, I'm sure she would tell you I have never been normal."

Geri tipped her head back and laughed. "I bet she'd say the same thing about me too."

Amy stuck the red plastic coffee stirrer into the layer of foamy milk and drew a tiny line and then another. The barista had made a coffee art kitten on the top of her buttered rum latte, and Amy had just added the finishing touch to match the situation—devil's horns. It certainly felt as if she was meeting with the devil or at least one of his minions. That is, if she and Geri were on the correct path to finding the killer.

At least she felt relatively safe surrounded by a packed house of Riverbend Café customers and employees who were almost like family to her after working with them for over a year. If she was attacked by a switchblade or even one of the café's mugs, which were so sturdy that she had seen them dropped on the hardwood floor resulting in not even a chip or crack, surely someone would come to her rescue. She checked the time on her phone. Ginny was five minutes late. More time to go over the questions she planned to ask and work at crossing all of her fingers and toes that the assistant wouldn't catch on to what she was really trying to figure out. Why were she and Nigel really still in Kellerton?

"Sorry I'm late," Ginny said as she plopped down in the chair on the other side of the table.

A tidal surge of adrenalin pulsed through Amy, right into the arm which was cradling the coffee mug. The latte art devil kitten came to life as her rattled nerves jiggled the cup. A tan stain bloomed on the napkin under the mug.
Great way to start off the meeting
. She had been so busy going over what she would say while staring at the fireplace, she hadn't realized Ginny had arrived. So now, thanks to the case of jitters, she was even more on edge. She forced herself to smile and said, "No problem. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me."

Ginny nodded. Her dark hair was slicked back and so stiff it looked as though she was wearing a helmet. It didn't move a millimeter when she turned her head to grab a couple sugar packets from the basket on the table. Definitely not a hairstyle that would commonly be seen in Kellerton.

"So you said you wanted to talk about preparing for the audition?" Ginny asked.

The severe hairstyle seemed to match the production assistant's mood. She had been friendlier the last time they had spoken at the café. Amy forced another smile. "Well…yes. I have to say when I called you, I was surprised you and Nigel were
still
in town. I figured surely you would've finished looking for people for the show and gone back to Traverse City by now."

Ginny crossed her legs. She was wearing knee-high, black boots over hot-pink leggings. The lady-like move could be a habit. Or a position to make it more convenient to whip out a knife hidden in the top of a boot. Amy used the coffee stirrer to turn the sweet kitten drawing into an abstract swirl. Why was Ginny just staring at her instead of answering? Oh yeah—she hadn't really asked a question.

"Nigel and I are staying to do some more talent scouting. He and I have been going on press appearances with Phoebe for a few months. Nigel figured she was getting ready to bail, so we've been checking out replacements behind her back for a while. Since we're settled in at the K Hotel, we've just been doing follow-up interviews with people we're interested in who live in the metro Detroit area."

So they weren't looking for people just in Kellerton. Or so she said.
"I see. I hope you're enjoying Kellerton more than Phoebe did. I don't think she liked the town very much."

Ginny rolled her eyes, which were ringed with bright-purple eyeliner. "She was crankier than normal. Nigel had been trying to get her to be more professional, so she was mad at him. Everything had to be done her way. Never mind that she had zero experience working on a television show before then. She made everything one hundred times more difficult for the crew because she refused to take any kind of direction or advice."

"So she didn't like being told what to do, even when it would benefit her?"

"Exactly."

"Then I bet the crew is glad she's gone. I mean, I'm sure nobody wished she would die, but maybe it's a relief to not have to work with her anymore."

Ginny ran her hand down her leg. It came to rest at the edge of her boot. Amy swallowed. Had she cornered the killer, just like Shepler had done a few days earlier? Was the assistant about to pull a knife out of her boot and go full-on lethal samurai?

"Unlike Phoebe, everybody else is a professional. We're used to working with difficult talent. One of the perils of the job." Ginny tapped her pointed, neon-green painted fingernail on the tabletop. "If you think one of us killed her, you're wrong."

Busted!
"No…no, I didn't think that." Amy stared at the flames flickering in the fireplace behind Ginny. If she dared meet the challenging gaze, it would all be over. She would break out in a plethora of nervous ticks. Staring at the flames let her keep a bit of control. "I just can't imagine what it's like to have to go to work and deal with an unpleasant person all the time. I certainly wouldn't enjoy it. I work in this café part-time, and everybody is so nice. I love coming to work, but I wouldn't feel the same if I had to face someone who acted like Phoebe every time I came in."

"Then you're very lucky." Ginny slid her hand up her leg and positioned it on her knee. "Many people don't have it so good."

How had the conversation that she had hoped to keep light and evasive turned so dark and confrontational? Maybe she could turn it back around a bit to see if she could throw Ginny, the true intention bloodhound, off track. "I apologize for bringing up so much unpleasantness. I'm afraid this conversation has wandered far from what I asked you to meet me for."

"Ookaaay…what did you want?" Ginny tilted her head to the side. Her stiffened hair stayed glued to the side of her head. Hopefully, she packed a lot of shampoo, far more than one mini bottle that the hotel would provide, because it was going to take several washes to get all of that hair gel out.

"I come up with my own recipes, so I was wondering what type of dishes would be appropriate for the show…if I get the call from Nigel to audition."

Ginny blinked several times, revealing highlighter-blue eye shadow. "Do you mean like salmon or tofu?"

"Sort of. I meant style more than ingredient." Ginny's expression went blank. At least that was better than angry or suspicious. "Like a special dish that could be prepared for a dinner party or maybe quick to cook dinners or entrees that can be adapted to both vegetarians and meat eaters."

"Oh. Nigel has never said exactly what he's looking for from cooking segment guests. All I know is that he wants to do them this time around. I guess that would be up to you." She smiled. "Although I mostly eat a plant-based diet, I'm a flexitarian. So I would like to see the recipes that can be changed, just in case I ever begin dating a guy who eats meat more frequently than I do."

And Amy almost sighed with relief. What appeared to be a genuine smile was much better than a coffee mug lobbed at her head, which is what she feared was coming when the perceptive assistant had become offended. "Then I'll make that kind of recipe."

"Excellent. Good luck." Ginny stood and grabbed her to-go cup off the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some files to update for Nigel."

Amy watched the human neon rainbow weave through the maze of tables and customers. Ginny slipped the strap of her lemon-yellow tote bag off her shoulder to search for something inside it. The opening gaped, revealing packs of tissues, a hairbrush…and what appeared to be the handle of a pistol.