Fudge Brownies & Murder (22 page)

During the underwear showdown, Buck had promised to put Harlan in the ground if he came back to the house. If Shantelle was driving around solo with furniture from her aunt's house, had Buck gone through with his threat when the couple arrived to steal it? "Are you sure Harlan didn't see you and decided to duck down? If they've cooked up some kind of get-rich-quick scheme, like you think is possible, they might not want anybody to know they are together again."

She shook her head. "My car wouldn't start this morning, so I had to take the bus. It was one that has graphics all over the windows. I could see Shantelle, but there's no way she could see me. Besides, he wouldn't let her drive his precious junk heap of a truck. She asked him if she could one time when they were at the market. He got so mad at her for just asking, he picked up a ceramic coffee mug from one of the booths and threw it at her. That's what got them banned from the market. He wasn't in the truck with her."

Amy's mind galloped through the possible scenarios and none of them were good. She would have to switch up the relaxation blend herbal tea to a quadruple-shot latte. Her journey downtown to find some calmness in the yoga studio had resulted in a flood of information that had turned her mind from a bubbling brook to raging rapids.

Everything…or nothing she had discovered could be a clue to the murder Shepler wanted to solve before his baby arrived.

Amy studied the list she had printed out because there were too many items on it to easily navigate through on her phone. All of the baby shower tasks were listed in columns. It was amazing how much needed to be done for even a small get-together. Of course, sneaking around added to the challenge. Geri had the biggest, most perilous mission—setting up the nursery as the party location while her nervous daughter was hanging out in the next room waiting to go into labor. Carla's suspicion level was at a ten plus, and she was on a mission to bust their surprise. Amy had it a bit easier at a remote location, her house, taking care of part of the dessert buffet. She had taken the easier option and delegated some of the cooking to the bakers at Riverbend Café. Since Sophie was invited to the shower, she would arrive with the chocolate cream pies and Mexican chocolate cupcakes laced with cinnamon. Amy needed to pick up the banana pudding she had ordered from LeighAnne on her way to the party.

She plucked the Southern Gals' business card out of the paperclip that held it on the top of the to-do list. After calling the business owner, another dose of worry was added to Amy's agenda for the day. LeighAnne had made the pudding, but it wasn't at the market where Amy had expected to pick it up. The Southern Gals booth was closed for the day because LeighAnne wasn't feeling well. Both her business partner and employee had unknowingly taken harmful drugs, possibly given to them by the same person. Was LeighAnne's sickness caused by a similar reason?

Amy decided to let Shepler know what she had just discovered. The phone conversation with him was short and on task, as usual, but at least she got some updates on the clues she had tossed in his arena the previous day. Buck was still alive and insisting that he hadn't had any problems with pesky in-laws over the last few days. There were no apparent signs of a murder being committed at his house, but the sparkly pink camo chair was gone from the living room when Shepler stopped by to check on him. Shantelle, Harlan, and the big black truck were nowhere to be found. Someone else was living in the shabby apartment Amy had visited only a few days earlier. Shepler sighed before forking over the last update. "I finally checked into Candi Edwards. She was such a long shot for the murder I hadn't worried about looking into her until yesterday. There is a restraining order against her in Florida. Apparently she didn't like her roommate in cooking school and showed her displeasure by leaving written death threats under her pillow."

It was not the time to say
I told you so
, but Amy wanted to say it so badly. Instead she took the neutral route and responded with, "Huh. That's interesting."

After ending the conversation with Shepler, Amy checked on her crockpot. While she was preparing for a decadent dessert extravaganza, her kitchen smelled like a Mexican restaurant courtesy of the spicy chicken she was making for Alex's dinner. When she lifted the lid on the cooker the smoky scent of chipotle peppers and cumin formed a mouthwatering cloud around her. He would love the shredded meat on tortillas piled with fresh pico de gallo, guacamole, and cheese. All of the accompaniments were hanging out in the fridge with the bowl of chocolate pudding that she had prepared the night before. Trays of brownies, in flavors ranging from raspberry cheesecake to chocolate covered raisin, were stacked in the pantry.

A timer on her phone went off. That meant she needed to start getting herself ready for the shower. After silencing the alarm, she headed upstairs to shower and change into a long-sleeve pink wrap dress. In the spirit of equality, she added a matching necklace and bracelet made of light-blue faceted glass beads.

Alex helped her stack the cooler and storage bins full of baked goods in the back of the Mini. Then he kissed her good-bye. "Have fun. I hope I don't see breaking news tonight about a pregnant woman strangling her best friend."

"You won't," Amy assured him as she settled into the driver's seat. "Carla's all bark and no bite. I think, deep down, she's okay with having a baby shower. Maybe trying to thwart the plans has been like a brain game for her while she's been stuck on the couch. An alternative to doing word searches and crossword puzzles."

"Okay. Keep telling yourself that. Bruce told me he thinks she's serious about not wanting a shower."

The GPS app on Amy's phone told her to turn right out of her driveway. She had entered the address LeighAnne gave her and discovered that she lived only a couple miles from Buck and Esther Mae's house. The Southern Gals were country gals. At least the weather was nice. The sun was shining and very helpfully melting the dusting of snow that had accumulated overnight. As long as there wasn't a mud bog obstacle lying in wait on one of the rural roads, she would make it just fine in her trusty little car. She tried not to let Alex's comment bother her as she drove across town. The thought that she may be angering her best friend occupied her mind so much it seemed as though she had driven on autopilot, robotically following the monotone directions from her phone.

Relief bubbled in her as she turned onto LeighAnne's road and found it was paved. There were slushy patches of snow on the pavement in areas shielded by trees lining the road but no mud. Even LeighAnne's driveway was asphalt. Hurray for keeping Mimi clean!

The house had originally been a small cottage, but a mismatched addition jutted off the back of the house. Amy rang the doorbell next to the side door of the house and was greeted by the under the weather cook. Once Amy was inside, she could see that the added room was a large commercial kitchen tacked on to the house's original dollhouse-sized kitchen, where LeighAnne undoubtedly prepared all of the food for the small restaurant.

"Have a seat," LeighAnne said as she gestured at a chair sitting around an oblong table in the cramped, adjoining dining room. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, no thank you. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time to chat. Need to get to the baby shower soon." LeighAnne sat down in a chair on the other side of the table. The task seemed to take a lot of effort judging from the grimace on her face. Amy added, "But I do want to know how you are doing."

LeighAnne sighed as she tried to smooth back a few of her short gray curls. It looked as though she hadn't combed her hair yet since some of her curls were squished flat and others stuck out, and it was late afternoon. "I have Addison's Disease—it's an adrenal gland disorder. Esther Mae used to stay with me when it kicked up. All of the stress from her death and then dealing with her stupid nieces flared it up this time." Her eyes flicked to the china cabinet that sat beside Amy. "Doesn't help that I forget to take my meds sometimes. I'll be okay. Just need to rest for a while and get back on my feet."

"I feel so bad that you made the banana pudding. I wish you would've told me you weren't feeling well. You didn't need to tire yourself out more making it."

She waved her hands in front of her face. "I need to take it easy, but I can't stand sitting around doing absolutely nothing. There's no better reason than a baby shower to make the effort to cook. I hope the momma likes my pudding."

"I'm sure she will. If there are any leftovers, her husband will be happy to help with those. He's been working overtime lately since he's the homicide detective in charge of investigating Esther Mae's death. The baby's coming very soon, so that's extra motivation for him to wrap up the case. He's pretty close to connecting all of the dots in the investigation. I'm sure he'll catch the murderer any day now."

LeighAnne slowly nodded as she stared at the wall behind Amy, which was covered in framed pictures of children. "That's wonderful. It'll be nice to see the killer behind bars." The wood chair creaked as she gripped the arms and pushed herself up until she was standing. "I'll go get the pudding wrapped up and ready to travel. I have some cookies I'll package up, too. My little gift to your friend."

"That's so sweet of you," Amy said.

LeighAnne limped around the corner toward the commercial kitchen. Amy twisted in her seat to look at the vintage plates in the cabinet beside her. Each piece of china was painted with a different kind of wildflower. A dinner party served on them would also be an artistic garden party. An array of prescription bottles was scattered over the countertop below the shelves. She squinted at the label on one of the orange plastic bottles. It was from Anderson Compounding Pharmacy. She checked behind her. LeighAnne was still in the other room, so she picked up the bottle to look closer at it. The name of the drug sent a river of ice water through her veins. Midodrine—the low blood pressure medication that had caused Esther Mae's heart attack. The pieces of the murder puzzle magically clicked into place.

Amy fumbled through her purse to find her phone.
Where was it?
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she remembered it was in her coat pocket. She snatched it out and hit Shepler's number on speed dial.

"Put the phone down," LeighAnne commanded.

Amy spun around. The older woman had returned with a plastic wrap-covered bowl of banana pudding cradled in one arm. A paper plate stacked with iced sugar cookies sat on top of the bowl. Her free hand held a butcher's knife. The blade had a dark, mottled patina from years of use. Age didn't matter though when the edge glinted in the light from being freshly sharpened. LeighAnne was a professional cook. Dull knives were dangerous when they slipped off tough vegetable skins and into delicate fingers instead. She obviously knew how to maintain a razor-sharp edge on her knives.

"Okay." Amy held up the phone. The call indicator was green. Shepler was listening. Amy set the cell phone face down on the dining room table between her and the killer. She didn't want LeighAnne to see the screen, but wasn't sure how well he would be able to hear the conversation. "I'm sorry, LeighAnne, if I upset you by making a phone call. I was just checking in with the other woman who is helping with the shower."

"Young lady, you are one of the worst liars I have ever seen. You look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

Amy frowned. It wasn't even an outright lie since Shepler would come home from work to find the shower in progress—so technically, even though he wasn't a woman, he
was
involved in it. But her fickle face muscles had still betrayed her. Maybe it was working the murderer's name into the conversation so Shepler knew where she was that set off her horrible liar face. "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you should sit down. You stayed home today because you weren't feeling well. I don't think you're thinking straight."

LeighAnne let go of the bowl even though it was several inches above the table. The heavy glass vessel striking the wood sounded like a gunshot. The plate loaded with cookies broke through the plastic wrap. Pink and blue iced sugar cookies tumbled off of the unbalanced plate and onto the faintly yellow pudding. She held onto the knife and pointed the tip of the blade at the china cabinet. "I saw you looking at my medications. I bet you know all kinds of things about Esther Mae's death since you're friends with that nosy detective. I'm sorry, but you won't be attending the baby shower tonight."

The lump in Amy's throat was as large as an apricot. "Carla's my best friend. She and her husband will know something's wrong when I don't arrive. Plus, my husband knows I'm here at your house. You won't get away with anything."

"You never know until you try."

The evil response sucker punched Amy in the stomach. She needed to stall. Hopefully Shepler was still listening and was on the way. "All right…well, I've been
trying
to figure out who murdered Esther Mae, too, to give my friend's husband a hand. But I never suspected you. I don't understand why you killed your best friend."

The knife jiggled in LeighAnne's hand, but she didn't lose her grip on the faded wood handle. "For starters, she tried to steal my husband before he died. But that wasn't a big deal since my Charlie had enough sense not to get involved with her." She shook her head furiously. "No, that wasn't why I killed her. It was because she was passing off
my
family recipes as her own."

The stalling tactic was working, but the conversation was more confusing than a poorly written recipe. "Are you talking about the dishes you serve in the booth?"

"What else would I be talking about?" LeighAnne yelled.

Amy instinctively took a step backward. The top corner of one of the high-back dining chairs poked her between the shoulder blades. Right in the sore spot left behind from being shoved by Candi. The jab of pain refocused Amy's resolve to live through the unexpected encounter with the murderer. "You said they were your family's recipes. How did she fool you into thinking they came from her family? Didn't you recognize the dishes when you were cooking them?"