Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (14 page)

Curiosity ratcheted up her pace. She stopped in front of the comic book store. There was no fancy display, such as a house built entirely of books, just
All The Secrets Of The World Are Contained In Books
written on the window with silver paint. Understated for the usual elaborate window displays that were prevalent downtown, but eye-catching in its simplicity.

The floorboards creaked when Amy entered the store. No need to put annoying bells or beepers on a door when the floor effectively announced the arrival of customers. The flooring may have been old, but it was incredible. Flat black paint coated the boards. A constellation of silver stars painted on the floor swirled around the bookcases and tables.

"Can I help you?" The woman asking the question slipped around the end of a tall bookcase. She had dark purple hair that hung in tight curls to her shoulders. Her high cheekbones, almost-black eyes, and luminous cinnamon-colored skin added to the exotic look. To Amy, the woman looked as if she had stepped out of the pages of one of the comic books, especially since she was wearing a skirt that's fabric was printed with depictions of galaxies and swirling black holes.

"I'm looking for some books for my niece. She's a cooking school student who is also an artist. I've never been in a bookstore like this before, so I'm not sure if you would have something you think she'd be interested in. I know you just opened a few months ago, so this is the first time I've been here." Amy forced herself to pause and take a big breath. The words were coming out of her mouth like popcorn kernels exploding in a hot pan.
Slow down.
"I stopped in because I would like a unique gift for her."

"You've come to the right place." She pointed at a row of shelves near the back of the store. The walls were lined with magazine racks full of comic books. The brightly colored covers were a bold collage. Silver-painted bookcases, both tall and short, were positioned randomly around the space, filled with thick books that Amy assumed were graphic novels. As they neared the back of the store, she could see a side room filled with drafting tables. All of the tops were tilted at different angles. The purple-haired woman stopped and pointed at a section in one of the waist-high bookcases. "I have an area just for books that feature food. Most are Japanese manga, which a student might like, but there are also some memoirs and even a few cookbooks that are all hand drawn. Let me know if you have any questions."

"Thank you for your help," Amy looked at the woman's name tag, which was written in fancy calligraphic script, "Aubergine. I love that name. It matches your hair."

"You're the first customer who has figured that out!" She tugged on one of the springy, purple curls. "Most people have no idea that aubergine is a color."

Amy grinned. Aubergine had an easygoing personality that made her seem instantly like an old friend. But what if she was the female mastermind Amy had hypothesized to Shepler?

"The British call eggplants aubergines. I'm a bit of a foodie, so I made the connection. Your hair color is exactly the same as a globe eggplant."

"You're right about the eggplant. It's so funny that they call a vegetable by its color. That would be like us calling a zucchini a green, you know?" She rolled her eyes. "My mom was sort of a hippie, so she actually named me after her favorite color. My name is odd, but I totally appreciate that she didn't name me Purple."

Amy giggled at the thought of being saddled with
that
name. "I agree, she made the more elegant choice."

Aubergine pointed to the side room full of drafting tables. Her fingers were mottled with black smudges. "I'm working on a calligraphy job in there. Just stick your head in if you need any more help. I curated the food books. My husband didn't think we needed them, so I'm thrilled you're interested in my little project."

When she was alone, Amy took a few seconds to look around the shop more. She seemed to be the only customer perusing the shelves at the time. How weird that the store was busier when most places weren't open, but quiet when other downtown businesses were rushing to keep up with the midday customer surge. The shop was more artsy and eclectic than what she had expected to find. She had judged the store by the look of a single, superhero T-shirt-wearing customer.

The foodie graphic novel selection was fascinating. She had no idea that there was a food graphic memoir book genre. First, she selected one of the manga books about a sushi restaurant, which would appeal to her made-up niece. Then Amy chose several more books for herself, a memoir and a fictional story about a restaurant in New York City. When she turned to make her way to the checkout, her breath caught in her throat. A massive man in a black hoodie was behind the counter. A skinny ponytail of midnight black hair disappeared into the triangular hood hanging between his wide shoulders.

He hadn't been there when Aubergine escorted her to the back of the room. On their journey through the store, the floor creaked and groaned with every step. Amy hadn't heard a sound while she studied the shelves. How did he get to the counter without her noticing him? He was built and dressed the same as the mysterious man she had followed to the back door of the store. With his superior quietness, he could've trashed the stockroom the day before and now was going to hack into the store's computers while Aubergine was occupied in the other room. Luckily, his back was turned to Amy, so she had a few seconds to come up with an action plan.

"Ready to check out?" he asked the computer screen he was staring at. There were three huge monitors arranged side-by-side on a long desk sitting against the wall behind the counter. Was he talking to her?

"Ummm…yes?"

There was a long squeak as he swiveled on the stool he was sitting on. The sound gave Amy involuntary shivers, even though it was quite warm in the store. He met her gaze and cocked one eyebrow.

"It's okay. He won't bite," Aubergine said as she appeared in the doorway of the side room. She rolled her eyes. "My husband's just a big, scary-looking teddy bear."

The case of nervous tremors retreated, sinking down through Amy's body as if a drain had been opened in the bottom of her feet. She watched as Aubergine slipped through the counter opening and wrapped her arms around the man's shoulders. He gently kissed her cheek.
The muscle man being affectionate toward his beautiful hacker wife?
Then both of them turned to look at Amy. They weren't going to come get the books from her, so it would be a good idea if she coaxed her legs to move.

"I'm Chuck, by the way," Gigantic Man said as he scanned the bar codes on the back covers of the books. He pointed at a stack of papers on the counter. "I'm not sure if you're interested, but we also teach classes in things like comic drawing and calligraphy. Aubergine is a master calligrapher, and I draw an online comic. We also do custom work like posters and cards."

The professional, completely business-like response tamped down the dregs of Amy's fears. Why would they work so hard, teaching classes and accepting art commissions, if they were getting money through computer manipulation? She had judged Chuck by his looks when he was going to work at his own business then almost convinced Shepler to look into him based on his hulking frame and all-black outfit. Passion fruit looked like a shriveled, wrinkled ball that was filled with orange slime and beady eyeballs. But the fruit tasted like heaven. So Chuck looked like a thug and acted like a gentlemanly businessman. Amy picked up one of the fliers. As she scanned the list of art classes and services, one of Aubergine's special services caught her eye—custom wedding invitations. Too bad there wasn't enough time for Carla to commission a set.

"Would you like to see some of our work?" the calligraphy artist asked as Amy handed Chuck her credit card. "I'm addressing envelopes for retirement party invitations right now, but there are other examples hanging on the walls in the classroom."

Amy oohed and aahed her way around the desk-filled room. Chuck's cartoon character posters were interesting, often with funny speech bubbles, but Aubergine's quote posters were what fascinated her the most. They were drawn in bright ink in elaborate, whimsical fonts. Some of the quotes were serious while others were witty. The pieces turned words into art.

"I love your work," Amy said as she examined a wedding invitation sample. The letters were written in metallic gold ink and crowned with swirls and curlicues. "I don't think I could ever draw like you two do, but it might be fun to try."

"You're welcome to come in and play with the pens for a bit to see if it's something you'd enjoy before signing up for a class," Aubergine said as she walked with Amy back to the checkout counter.

"Thank you. I have a lot of things on my plate right now, but I may take you up on that offer when I get some time. I work at Riverbend Café, one block away, so it's easy for me to stop in."

"I love eating there. The brownies are insanely delicious."

Aubergine was smiling about the café's food, but Chuck was engrossed with something on one of the computer screens. Amy grabbed her bag full of books and bid farewell to the fascinating couple. As she opened the front door to leave, she overheard Chuck say, "I got another message."

It looked as if a poltergeist had invaded Carla's loft when she swung open the door. A faint green light spread from the living room area to the entryway as she slipped off her shoes on the welcome mat. Bruce sat on the couch. He appeared to be radioactive from the glow. The screen of his laptop was the only light in the dark apartment. He had spent the night while she was at work, but the extra bit of sleep he had gained from skipping the drive across town was being canceled out by the predawn work session.

She turned on the under-cabinet lights in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of fresh-pressed orange and kale juice. Or at least it had been freshly made when she bought it a couple days earlier. The half a dozen bottles of the vitamin-packed juices residing in the refrigerator were her contribution to keeping herself healthy. While Amy constructed fresh salads, Carla bought herself expensive vegetable juices at the health food store. Same intent, different style. Green juice wasn't exactly delicious, but she wasn't exactly leading a healthy, stress-free life at the moment. She power chugged half of the grassy-tasting beverage on her way from the kitchen to the living room.

"You're up early. How's the investigation going? I'm assuming that's what you're working on." She sat beside him and wiggled closer until she was nestled against his side. Bruce placed his hand on the top of her thigh for a few seconds then took it away to type something. The brief touch left behind a tattoo of heat.

"Amy dug up some good, solid leads. Looks like the hacker is spray-painting dollar signs on the backs of businesses that are being targeted. I'd say it's most likely a way to prove to the owners that he knows exactly where the businesses are located, that he can physically reach them. Most of the signs have been painted over, but many times the paint hasn't matched well so the cover-ups are easy to spot. I had an officer take a spin through the area last night, and it looks as if at least a dozen businesses have been tagged."

Carla took another swig of juice to see if the veggie boost would somehow let her see why Bruce was excited about the victims being marked. Nope. Didn't work. Still no idea how that information was going to solve the murder case.

"If the business owners are being told not to talk to the police, what good will that knowledge do, other than to hope nobody turns up dead at those places?"

He set the laptop on the coffee table and retrieved his mug of coffee. "The business owners probably won't talk to me, but Amy knows many of them. She works at a business that is also a target. I'm hoping people will commiserate with her and vent about their own situation so I can get a better picture of what's happening. Plus she picked up my suit from Finley & Crowe yesterday and had a chat with Finley. Crowe did the accounting for the store. Finley hired an accountant who says it seems that a lot more than $5,000 is missing. The only demand that Finley knew about before Crowe was killed was five grand. I need to find out how much money the other businesses are being hit up for, a little assignment for Amy."

She pressed her head into the back of the black leather couch.
More for Amy to do on top of helping with the wedding.
Carla stared at the bed. Once the mattress was moved to the storage area in the building's basement, the wood platform base was where she had planned on having the ceremony. A free and improvised mini-stage. With some flowers for decoration it would work well enough. An unwanted flurry of tears escaped from her eyes and dampened her cheeks. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions, not turn brides into bawling wimps. She took a sip of juice to try to disguise a sniffle. The ruse didn't work.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked as he set his mug back on the coffee table. "Tell me what's bothering you. Did something happen at the hospital?"

"No. Work was so slow Bethany sent me home early so I could work on wedding things." She scrubbed at the traitorous tears with her palms. If only she could rub them away along with the frustration that triggered the deluge. "It's just that ever since I told Amy we would have the ceremony and reception here, she's said she wants to find someplace more special. We've both been looking, but can't find anything. Now
I
want to get married somewhere else…anywhere but here."

Bruce kissed her ear, her neck, and finally her lips as he tugged her onto his lap. "Let's elope to Las Vegas," he whispered. "There are all kinds of unique places there to get married on short notice."

"I want special, not a neon-lit chapel with an Elvis impersonator officiating."

"So, I guess the Kellerton courthouse that hasn't been remodeled since the 1980s is out of question?"

She elbowed him in the ribs then leaned her head on his shoulder. "Why don't we just forget it? People live together for years. Their relationships are exactly the same with or without a legal marriage certificate."

"Sweetheart. You're just stressed-out from doing so much. I'm so sorry I haven't been able to help more." He hugged her tighter. "You've done a fantastic job. Just a few more days and we'll be married. That's all we want—remember? To be husband and wife. I've solved many cases by going with a gut feeling. Trust me when I say, I know this will all work out."