Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (13 page)

The antique crystal cake stand had caught Amy's eye at a flea market while she was shopping for jewelry to turn into Carla's rhinestone bouquet. It was too pretty to leave behind. When she brought the stand home, the facets in the precisely cut stars along the rim glimmered in the sunshine while it set on her dining room table. She thought about keeping it, but there was a whole shelf full of cake pedestals in her pantry. The charming vintage piece would be better utilized and more loved someplace else, like at Exquisite Cakes. One of Mariah's meticulously decorated works of art would look stunning on the stand.

Amy cradled the box holding the present in her arms as she walked across the parking lot in front of the soon-to-open bakery. The winter had been hard on the asphalt, which was littered with small potholes and loose gravel. Not the ideal terrain to be trekking over when carrying a fragile object while wearing platform sandals.

She sighed with relief as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The door to Exquisite Cakes opened when she was a few steps away from the entrance. A man wearing a white chef's jacket walked out and held the door for her. Amy thanked him. He nodded politely and continued on toward the parking lot. Inside, she was surprised to find Bridget flipping through a photo album that sat on a table in the corner of the room. Mariah stood nearby using her thumb to spin a sapphire solitaire ring around her index finger while she studied a sheet of paper in her other hand. She looked up and flinched. "Oh my goodness. I was so busy reading the application I didn't realize you had come in."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. I stopped by to give you a little bakery-warming present." Amy smiled as she presented the box to the beaming new entrepreneur. There were now neon green highlights in her dark blue, short hair. The effect was as stunning as the towering wedding cake sitting on a console table against the sidewall of the reception area. The round black table on the opposite side of the small room, where Bridget was sitting, had four chartreuse fabric-upholstered chairs. Black vinyl decals of swirls and curlicues decorated the wall behind the cake. The cake-only bakery was taking shape at warp speed.

"Everything looks gorgeous. Will you be opening soon?"

Mariah nodded as she untied the wide purple ribbon bow on top of the box. "I'm already baking here since I need to keep up with my online orders. I'm interviewing bakers and decorators today since I have more orders than I can easily handle by myself. I just want to add a few more things to the reception space before I put the
Open
sign in the window."

"I'm sure the bakery will be a smashing success."

"Thank you!" Mariah lifted the heavy glass stand out of the box. She gently set it on the table next to the display wedding cake. "It's incredible."

"I hope it isn't too old-fashioned for you. I see you have a modern theme going."

"Actually it's perfect. I want this area to be eclectic, so vintage cake stands will fit in nicely with my decorating plan. In fact, I think I'll make a display cake this evening so I can use it right away."

Bridget stepped forward to examine the antique. She ran her fingertip along the faceted edge. "My aunt had one very similar to this. She served my birthday cake on it every year when I was a child. Yellow cake with penuche frosting."

"I bet you have very fond memories of those birthdays," Amy smiled as she envisioned a tall layer cake covered in swirls of caramel-flavored frosting. The icing would add a great retro touch to a brand new cake recipe. She filed the sugary tidbit away in the part of her brain that always looked for unique recipe ideas for future contests. Or…maybe the embryonic blog idea that was still creeping around her overflowing mind, stirring up trouble by accumulating information that she didn't have the time or energy to process.

"Those birthday parties were some of the most memorable parts of my childhood." Bridget smiled faintly as she touched a gold circle pin on her pale pink jacket's lapel. "Thank you for showing me around, Mariah. It looks as if you have everything under control. I need to get going to another appointment."

"Thank you for stopping by," Mariah said as she reached out to shake Bridget's hand.

Amy glanced at the time on her cell phone. "I hate to run too, but I need to get some groceries. I've been so busy helping my friend plan her wedding that my refrigerator is almost empty."

"Stop back again." Mariah wrapped Amy in a hug. "Thank you for the fabulous gift."

"I knew that you would give it a good home."

Amy followed Bridget out the door then fell in step beside her. It was early afternoon and the temperature had rolled from pleasantly warm into the downright hot distinction. No breeze and high humidity from an overnight rainstorm left the parking lot feeling like a steamy bathroom after a long, hot shower.

"I have a feeling that young woman will have a successful business. She really has a handle on her product and marketing," Bridget said as she stepped over one of the treacherous potholes.

The executive hit the remote starter button on her key chain. Nearby, the black sedan rumbled to life. Hot exhaust from the tailpipe of the luxury car puffed at Amy's skirt when they both paused at the back bumper of the Mercedes. She took a step backward to get away from the knee-steaming assault.

Bridget tilted her head slightly as she squinted at Amy. "Would you like to speak with me about something? I have a few minutes to spare."

How did she do that? What facial expression or body language had cued Bridget in that she wanted to talk about something? Maybe being highly perceptive was one of the reasons Bridget was so successful in the business world. The skill would be helpful to judge both friend and foe in meetings.

Amy nodded. She glanced around the parking lot. Nobody else was around at the moment to possibly eavesdrop, so she dove into the conversation. Bridget had said she only had a few spare minutes. "I would like to speak to you about someone else. Do you know anything about Luke Crowe's family? I've heard they're rich, but they may have alternative methods of earning their fortune."

Bridget chuckled. "That's an interesting way of putting it. I honestly don't know much about the family other than they own a small chain of auto parts stores. In my social circles they are like plutonium. Nobody wants to get too close. At various times I've heard they're involved in drugs, real estate fraud, and money laundering. Who knows what the truth is? Possibly all of the above. I've seen Luke's parents at a few social events but have never exchanged more than pleasantries with them."

"Do you think Luke's murder could be connected to his family's shady business?" Amy asked.

"Anything is possible." Bridget tapped a pearlescent white polished fingernail on the trunk lid of her car. "I heard that Luke put up all of the startup money for the menswear store. It was Finley's concept and Crowe's money. I'll ask around and see what I can find out."

"Thank you." Amy watched a faded red pickup ramble up the parking lot aisle in front of the car. The vehicle looked as if it came straight from the junkyard, but still it was rolling along. She might as well keep going too, while she was asking for favors. "I would love to have Luke's killer caught soon so my friend can enjoy her honeymoon with an attentive husband who isn't still trying to solve his latest murder case. And, since I'm on the topic of them, do you have any idea where I could hold their wedding and reception next Saturday night? I know it's super short notice, but having the ceremony and reception in her loft, as the bride has planned, just doesn't seem special or wedding-like to me. I'd like to find someplace more appropriate and romantic, as a surprise to her."

Bridget smiled. "I have something in mind. I'll get back to you soon, at least about that question."

Amy tossed her cell phone on the passenger seat. According to the text message, Sophie was going to be at least twenty minutes late. And Amy was already parked behind Riverbend, staring at the kitchen door that could possibly have an uninvited visitor on the other side. The pastry chef who used to wake up at 4:00 a.m.
without
the aid of an alarm clock was always punctual, at least until somebody decided to use terror as a way to earn money. Or maybe her new living arrangement with a sexy, celebrity look-alike boyfriend had something to do with the delay. Amy sighed as she looked around. Why did shadows always have to look like creatures that had stepped out of her worst nightmares? How did fire hydrants turn into ogres and lampposts into spindly aliens?

She started the Mini's engine again and backed out of the parking spot. Was Sophie's attacker roaming around, preparing to ambush another early arriving business owner? There was enough time to take a spin around the neighborhood and see.

At the end of the block, Amy turned toward Main Street but continued across the main road after stopping for the red blinking stoplight. The property adjacent to the Cooley River had once been a narrow park, so there wasn't space to make square blocks like the rest of the district. If the downtown was a wine glass, the section where Riverbend and Finley & Crowe were located formed the stem, with buildings only constructed along Main Street. The alley bisecting the larger blocks turned into a service road edged with a wide median of grass. The seldom-used road stopped at the river then made a 90-degree turn into the residential neighborhood behind the businesses.

Amy turned left so she could pass behind the beleaguered menswear shop. It didn't seem likely that the extortionist would break into the menswear shop after committing a murder there, but irrational people did stupid things. She was relieved to find the employee parking areas tucked behind the buildings empty of both cars and people. When the road turned, she followed it into the residential neighborhood. Most of the houses were dark. A few had lights on. She caught a glimpse of a white-haired woman standing at her kitchen counter, pouring water from a kettle into a mug. The nearby murder surely had rattled many of the residents in the neighborhood, but at the moment it looked peaceful.

She stopped at a crossroad and decided it was time to turn back toward Riverbend. The sky was beginning to lighten from black to a dark navy blue from the impending sunrise. Massive, old trees lined the sidewalk. An occasional lit porch light cast dense shadows that mimicked the gnarly trunks. Amy squawked, a sound that seemed more appropriate coming from a chicken who had just produced an egg. One of the shadows was moving, and she was certain it wasn't her overactive imagination conjuring the effect. She stomped on the brake pedal. In fact, it wasn't a shadow at all. A person in black pants with a black sweatshirt, hood pulled up, was hurrying down the sidewalk toward downtown. Was this the murderer heading out to make more trouble? When she set out on her little impromptu jaunt, she hadn't figured out what to do if she actually
found
a suspicious person.

During the entire tour around the area, Amy hadn't seen another car moving on the streets. She couldn't follow the shadow person in her Mini, even though the vehicle sometimes seemed to be invisible to semi-trucks and hulking SUVs on the highway. She slowed and came to a stop at the corner. The brake lights cast a bloody glow on the person as she spotted him in her side mirror. Or at least it looked like a him. A very large him who had the same solid girth as the ancient trees he was marching past. Amy made a split second decision and turned left. In her rearview mirror, she saw the man treading on the sidewalk next to the grass median behind Finley & Crowe's block.

Amy stepped on the gas pedal. She rolled through the stop sign at the next corner as she turned right. All of the curbside parking spaces were empty along the edge of the block. If the guy hadn't picked up his pace, she might be able to cut through the alley and see where he was going. She scrambled out of Mimi. She had parked at the edge of the opening to the alley. A few steps brought her inside the dark, narrow corridor dotted with dumpsters and dormant delivery vehicles. The claustrophobic passage was dark and stinky from a nearby restaurant dumpster. The buildings on both sides were two stories tall. It felt as if she were padding along the pathway to Hell.

Along the alley a few doors had dim security lights above them. At the other end of the block, one of the lights briefly illuminated the black clothed man as he strode toward her.

He was in the alley with her!
That scenario hadn't crossed her mind when she entered the constricted alleyway. She had been planning to watch him, not say hello. Amy slipped beside a flower delivery truck. If she thought the alley had been confining before, the space between the wall and side of the panel truck sent her anxiety soaring. She scooted forward until she could see him again. He stood at one of the metal security doors, hunched over the handle. Trying to fit a key into the lock or trying to pick it? After a few seconds there was a metallic clank. He yanked open the door and disappeared into the unlit room on the other side. A bulky, dark backpack hung from his shoulder.

The realization that she could be a witness to the beginning of another vandalism smacked Amy alongside the head. Damn. Reality had the punch of a boxing kangaroo. A second wave of thought tried to wash away the fear. Maybe she was just watching a normal, innocent man arrive to work early. The sound right before he opened the door sounded very much like the jangle of keys on a crowded key chain. That idea helped tamp down her fear. A little bit. To further ward off the urge to run back to her car screaming like a banshee, she took a few calming seconds to count doors before leaving the safety of her hiding spot. It was still too dark to see the small signs over the entrances that helped delivery drivers find the correct businesses, so counting how many back entrances away from the end of the block was the only way to pinpoint where the man had gone.

The awkward sprint back to her car left her panting and sweating as she emerged from the alley and bolted around the front of the Mini. She fumbled the key fob, almost dropped it, but finally unlocked the doors and made it into the safety of her car. She gulped in air as she started the engine and slammed the gearshift into drive. The car lurched to the corner. She felt as if she was riding with Carla, who seemed to channel a race-car driver whenever she got behind the wheel. Unfortunately Amy's less-tuned driving skills were in charge of the Mini. It was not a good time to get in an accident. She checked for oncoming cars then rolled around the corner onto Main Street.

The Man in Black had entered the seventh door. Amy tapped the brakes as she neared the shop. At least half a dozen cars were parked in the spaces in front of The Inkwell. The store was ablaze with lights. She could see people perusing the bookshelves inside. A blue, electronic
Open
sign blinked in the front window. If the back room was being ransacked, the perpetrator would have to be extremely quiet to evade detection in a shop filled with customers.

Amy stomped on the brake pedal. She had almost driven through the intersection. Overhead the stoplight was still blinking red.
Stop. Check for other vehicles—then proceed with caution.
The light didn't start its usual green, yellow, red sequence until 6:00 a.m. Why was a bookstore open and full of customers when most people were still slamming the snooze button on their alarm clocks?

Sophie's car sat behind the café when Amy whipped into the parking spot beside it. Dawn was rolling in. The sky had lightened to a medium blue. She could see Sophie staring at her from the driver's seat of her car. They emerged from their vehicles simultaneously.

Sophie called over the top of the Mini, "Oh my God. I thought something had happened when I saw your car wasn't here. Are you okay?"

Amy nodded as she strode around the front of the Mini Cooper to join Sophie. "I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry you. After everything that's happened, I didn't feel comfortable sitting back here in my car, so I took a drive around the neighborhood. Sorry, I lost track of time."

"Since it's dark, I'm guessing you didn't see much."

"The different light can give you an interesting perspective."

Sophie raised an eyebrow at Amy's attempt at a philosophical musing. Hopefully the odd remark threw her off, because the truth would only upset her even more. Amy sighed with relief after Sophie turned on the kitchen lights to reveal that everything was once again untouched. Before she could even tie on her apron, one of Sophie's assistants arrived for work. They were officially running extremely late.

Had Amy's ambitious imagination gotten the best of her after being left alone to play in the dark? The customers she could see through The Inkwell's front window were all calmly studying bookshelves. So it seemed very likely that the scary man in the alley was an employee reporting to work. The biggest question was why did the business have such unconventional hours? Maybe because it was a front for a band of night owl computer hackers.

As soon as Amy had a spare moment to take a break, she called Shepler. She described both the Superman shirt-wearing man she and Bridget had observed going into the front door of The Inkwell, along with the more disturbing, stealthy back door caller to the same business. Both men seemed suspicious to her. Even though she and Shepler were both talking on cell phones, she could clearly hear him snort when she suggested he check out the store as being either a victim or, more likely, a haven for the hacker. Because it was a new business, the owner could've gotten creative with financing the venture.

"I'm sorry," he said after doing his pig imitation. "I need a more solid reason to look into the store than you thinking fashion-challenged comic book fans look scary. Since the place turned out to be open and none of the customers that you could see through the window were reacting to a disturbance, I think the guy in the alley was an employee, like you said. If you can find something more substantial, I'll check the place out."

*   *  *

Amy had vacated the parking spot behind the café to make room for the workers that were arriving for the evening shifts. As she waited at the stoplight to cross to the other side of Main Street, Amy thought about the excuse she had come up with to explain why she was shopping at a comic book store. She would say she wanted a book for a niece training to be a chef. It would be interesting to see what the bookshop employees would recommend for the fictional relative. Heck, if she was going to pretend to look for a present for a pretend relative, the book might as well be one she might be interested in too.

When the stoplight turned green, Amy continued driving toward the neighborhood where the mysterious man had emerged the previous morning. There was a tiny public parking lot between an insurance agency and a dance studio on the back side of the block where a building had burned close to a dozen years earlier.

She pulled into the lot. Woohoo! Her luck was at the buy-a-lottery-ticket level. There was an open space in the usually full lot. Her Mini fit tidily into the miraculously available narrow spot being squeezed by SUVs parked on the lines on both sides. She had to do a sideways shimmy after crawling out of her car like a contortionist, but it was worth it. The lot opened into the alley she had hidden in the previous morning. In broad daylight, she could easily stroll through, pretending it was a shortcut but really looking for clues. What exactly a clue would be, she hadn't a clue.

Amy's fingers closed around the cylinder of pepper spray that was now living in the front pocket of her pink paisley-patterned purse. It was the middle of the day. Most of the shadows were gone, but there were still plenty of hiding places for bad guys behind dumpsters and employee vehicles. She strolled through the passageway, glancing up at the name placards above the doors. A slightly lighter spot of tan paint on the wall beside The Inkwell's door drew her attention.

She stopped. A shadow of dark paint showed through the drippy latex patch. It looked like a dollar sign. As she moved down the alley toward the next street there was one more discolored patch of paint on the door of a candy store. Garbage bags overflowed from the nearby dumpster and spilled over into the alley. Near the end of the row of businesses, on the wall next to a vegetarian restaurant's back entrance, there was a dollar sign drawn with red spray paint.

She grabbed a ballpoint pen and a crumpled receipt out of her purse then scribbled the names of the businesses marked with the dollar signs on the back of the wrinkled strip of paper. Shepler might not think there was a hive of evil geniuses congregating at The Inkwell, but he couldn't deny that businesses were being marked. Could the vertical line on the back of Riverbend be the start of a dollar sign that wasn't completed because Sophie had arrived for work? Amy came out the end of the alley. She took a deep breath. The restaurant's dumpster had become even more fragrant after being cooked for over a day in higher than normal summer temperatures.

After stashing the note back in her purse, she rounded the corner onto the sidewalk along Main Street. There was a
Closed
sign in the front window of the marked restaurant that was usually bustling with the late lunch crowd at that time of day. The dining room was dark, but she caught a glimpse of someone pushing a mop through the propped-open doorway to the brightly lit kitchen. Amy continued on. She stopped to admire the display in the front window of the candy shop with the overflowing dumpster. Large glass jars were filled with hard candies that looked like edible jewels. In the background, a clerk slid a credit card through the terminal next to the cash register over and over. The marked stores both seemed to be having problems. What would she find at The Inkwell?