by Tegan Maher
"Madder'n an ole wet hen, isn't he?" Ms. Maisey said, hovering beside me with glee in her eyes. "Serves him right, gettin' all uppity with the judges like that. I was hoping they were gonna send him packin'."
"You and me both," I said, "but it seems like these shows almost always have that one guy that everybody loves to hate, at least for a few episodes."
"Well," she said, scowling, "that one guy, as you say, just got his clock cleaned by our girl."
"He sure did," I said, watching as he shot a murderous glare at Dee from his station. If looks could kill, she'd be dead where she stood, and I didn't like that one bit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dee said a few more words to the girl, then bounced over to us, giving a little squee.
"Ohmuhgod!" she exclaimed. "I was just hopin' to make it through without burnin' anything or fallin' on my face. I never dreamed I'd win the first round!"
I smiled and gave her a hug. "I, on the other hand, had faith. I've tasted your coffee cake."
Ms. Maisey gave her a stern look. "Of course you won it, but you almost blew it, lettin' that popinjay get in your head like that. I understand he talked a good game, but he proved that's all he has—talk. I expect you to ignore all that baloney in the next round and do what you came here to do—bake."
I grinned. "She didn't come here to just bake. She came here to win that twenty-five grand!"
Ms. Maisey studied Dee for a moment. "No, she came here because she loves bakin' and has some kinda need to prove herself. The natural result of that is wantin' to win, but if she doesn't do her best, she's not gonna be satisfied no matter where she places."
She made a good point. Dee was bright and bubbly and kind, but she had no confidence in herself. If she won, the validation would mean more to her than the cash.
"You may be right," Dee said, then grinned. "But the money sure won't hurt either! I already proved I can beat him, so let him talk. I'll just bake and let the chips fall where they may."
Movement—a sort of shimmer—caught my eye from over her shoulder, and I frowned. "Ms. Maisey, are you the only non-living person here?"
She gave me a confused look. "Far as I know, I'm the only non-living person in Mercy, let alone here. Why?"
I stared hard at the spot, but it had disappeared. "I keep seeing a shimmer, sort of like when you think you're being sneaky."
"Maybe it's just the heat from all the ovens," Dee suggested.
"No," I said, squinting to try to find it again. "I saw it yesterday when we came down to give Darla the list."
Dee turned around and studied the room behind her, then shook her head. "I don't see anything."
"I don't either, now," I replied. “But there's something going on here."
Ms. Maisey narrowed her eyes. "I'll check into it. I'm not sure if I have any kind of sense for that kind of thing, but I can sure try."
"Not now, though," I said, turning to Dee and doing my best to put it out of my mind. "Now, we go celebrate!"
"Amen!" Dee said, glancing at her phone. "It's only noon, but I'm starving, and a beer wouldn't hurt, either."
"Lunch is on me," I replied, “so name your place."
There weren't many options outside of the diner for an actual sit-down meal, but if we went there, she'd no doubt find something to do rather than bask in the glow of her win.
"How about Dexter's?" I said, referring to a sports bar on the outskirts of Clairsville, twenty minutes or so away. "We hardly ever go there, but I love their wings."
Dee nodded. "Dexter's it is. Their nachos are the bomb."
By that point, the competitors were all standing around in little groups, except for the girl who under baked her cakes. She was fiddling with her phone, glancing around every couple of minutes and looking a little lost. I motioned toward her with my head.
"Does she have anybody here?"
"I'm not sure," Dee said. "I didn't think to ask, but now that you mention it, you'd think if she did, they'd be here. Hang on just a sec and I'll see."
She made a beeline for the girl, who gave a tentative smile when she saw Dee approach. They talked for a minute, and then the girl shook her head. I could tell she was trying to turn Dee down, but I also got the feeling from her hand motions and body language that she just didn't want to impose.
Dee put her hands on her hips. I recognized the stance; it was the one she used when she was digging her heels in about something. The poor girl didn't stand a chance, and it wasn't ten seconds later that Dee came back with her in tow.
"Y'all, this is Faith. She's here all the way from the other side of Atlanta, and her family couldn't get away to come with her."
"Hey, Faith," I said. "Pleased to meet you. We're going to get something to eat if you'd like to go."
Her blonde bangs fell over her face and she pushed them back, a shy smile on her lips. She'd looked much younger from a distance, probably due to her slight form and pink-tipped double braids that fell halfway down her chest, but now that I got a good look at her, I guessed her to be about our age—late twenties.
"If you're sure I wouldn't be hornin' in," she replied with an accent that pegged her as native to the South.
I flapped my hand. "Not at all. The more the merrier."
She looked around, a confused look on her face. "You said y'all," she said to Dee, who blushed and fumbled for an explanation. It was hard to remember that we were the only ones who could see Ms. Maisey. "Is there somebody else?"
Ms. Maisey smirked. "You did indeed say that."
Scout sneaked in beside me, surprising me. He hadn't mentioned anything about coming to the competition. Apparently he'd overheard at least part of the conversation and pieced together the rest. "There's me," he said, "I'm Scout."
I hoped she didn't question why Dee had referred to both of us when he hadn't been there for the introduction.
"Oh," she said, her forehead creased. If she didn't buy it, at least she didn't decide to push it. "I'd love to go with you guys, but I really need to wash the day off me." She made a face. "It wasn't exactly my best experience, and I'd like to put it behind me."
"I could stand to do that, too," Dee said. "Between the stress, hustlin' so fast to get everything done in the ninety minutes they gave us, and the heat from the ovens, I feel like a dirty washrag. How bout we drop you off at the hotel, go home and clean up, then pick you up in an hour or so?"
"That would be perfect," she said, grabbing her purse. And thanks for invitin' me along. I wasn't lookin' forward to spendin' the evening alone with nothin' but my thoughts." She lifted one corner of her mouth in a wry half smile. "After the day I had, I might have convinced myself to turn tail and run."
"That ain't happening," Dee said, a stern look on her face. "They loved the two you finished. You're probably like us—you've seen a million of these shows and know even the ones who end up winning have crap days. Think of it this way—you got yours out of the way first thing, and the only way you can go is up."
I didn't entirely agree with her, but I wasn't about to say that out loud. After all, we were still in the culling stage, and judges in these shows were notorious for pulling the unexpected surprise of sending two people home in one episode. I just hoped for her sake that it was just a bad day, and mentally crossed my fingers that day two would bring redemption rather than elimination.
CHAPTER NINE
The girls had to attend a meeting to discuss what they would be cooking the next day. I was a little surprised that they got a heads up as to what the next task was, but that sure explained how all those people on the cooking shows came up with such intricate dishes in what seemed like minutes.
Once they were done, we dropped Faith off at the hotel, then headed to the caretaker's cabin—a small house behind the main lodge where Dee and I slept—so we could get presentable. Scout met us and we piled into my SUV, since his old beater truck was in the shop, and it wouldn’t have held us all anyway. Plus, even though he swore by it, I wasn't even sure it would
make it all the way to Clairsville.
It ended up being two hours before we made it back to pick Faith up because I decided to put out some cold cuts and fruit for the guys to snack on when they got home.
When we pulled up beside the motel, I was surprised when somebody tapped on my window. Weirdly, it was Faith, smiling, but cringing a little too. I unlocked the back door and she climbed in.
"Sorry about that," she said. "I have a bangin' headache and figured I could rush over to the Walgreen's to grab some ibuprofen before you made it here." Even though I hated that she had a headache, I was glad to see that she was in much better spirits. On the way, she and Dee chattered about recipes, and Dee bragged on Scout's blueberry muffins. My second morning in town, he'd brought me a batch and they were some of the best I'd ever had.
He blushed a little at the praise. "I can't really take any credit. It's my grandmother's recipe—she taught me how to make them."
"Yeah," Dee said, "but you make a mean steak, too."
"Now that," he replied, holding up a finger, "is all me. I've perfected my seasoning and technique over the years. It was either that, or starve to death."
"And Toni is a whiz in the kitchen when it comes to savory cooking," Dee said. "I, on the other hand, burn water."
I laughed. "That's how I am with baking. About the best I can manage is boxed brownies."
"It sounds like you two make the perfect team, then." Faith's tone was a little wistful. "My life-long best friend moved away a year or so ago, and I've felt a little adrift since then."
"Don't worry. You won't forget her, but you'll make another," I said. "Dee and I didn't meet until I moved here a few months ago."
We spent the rest of the ride to Dexter's telling her all about our adventures since we'd met. In the retelling, I realized how bizarre our lives had been in so short a period of time.
Dexter's was hopping when we got there, and the lively, relaxed atmosphere was just what the doctor ordered. Despite her win, or maybe because of it, Dee was nervous about the next day. Faith had a double dose of anxiety, since she was starting from behind. I'm not sure which of them was more in the hot seat.
By the time we got there, it was almost four and I was starving. After ordering a bunch of appetizers to share, we played a couple games of darts and some pool, just relaxing and enjoying hanging out. Around seven, Dee's phone rang; it was Darla.
Dee sighed. "I really hope she didn't forget something off the list. Depending on what it is, we might not be able to get it in time for tomorrow's round."
She answered, and the look of dread on her face was replaced with one of shock. "Do they have any idea who did it?" she asked, her voice a little higher than normal.
"Did what?" I mouthed. Scout and Faith were wearing matching curious expressions.
"Okay," Dee said. "Faith is with me, so I'll pass on the word. Not to be callous, but do they have any idea when the competition will resume?"
I tilted my head, wondering what on earth could have happened to make them put the competition on hold.
Dee listened for a minute. "I see. If you need anything at all, let me know. This isn't exactly what you signed up for."
She swiped to end the call, then looked up at us, her expression stunned.
"What?" I exclaimed, the suspense killing me.
"Bella DaCourt is dead," she said. "Somebody killed her outside her hotel room."
CHAPTER TEN
"Are you serious?" Faith asked, leaning across the table. "Do they have any idea who did it?"
"How did she die?" I asked at the same time.
Dee, still looking thunderstruck, shook her head. "She was smacked in the head with something hard and flat. Robert found her. He said he'd last seen her a couple of hours before, when she'd left his room."
"What was she doing in his room?" Scout asked.
"I can answer that," Faith said. "We have two rounds tomorrow—the warm-up round where the winner gets some sort of advantage, then the elimination round. We know what we have to bake in the warm-up round. Banana pudding cheesecake. They told us that today. We have no idea what the competition round is, though. The judges get together and come up with an idea, then flesh out a vague recipe for us to follow. Whoever makes it the best, wins."
"So they were probably coordinating the recipes," I said, my stomach growling at the thought of banana pudding cheesecake. I snapped my attention back to the conversation.
"Did they catch who did it?" Faith asked, still leaning forward. "Or at least have an idea of who it may have been?"
Dee shook her head. "Nope. None at all. That's one of the main reasons they're postponing the competition. They need to interview all of us. We have to be there at nine to get started."
"That makes sense, I guess," Faith said. "After all, she wasn't from around here, so it's not like she had any local enemies. It almost had to be one of us."
"I don't know," Scout replied. "We don't have much in the way of random crime here, but it does happen sometimes. Also, she could have had an enemy who followed her here. After all, most people are going to make the same assumption you just did. Disgruntled contestants will be in the hot seat and maybe distract law enforcement from looking elsewhere."
"That's an excellent point," Dee said. "But everybody loved Miss Bella. And she wasn't married and didn't have any kids, so it wouldn't be over family or couple stuff. She only judges locally, usually, so the biggest prize most of her contestants are vying for isn't much over a thousand dollars. This show was a one-off for her."
Faith nodded. "She's right. And I can't imagine Lena Charles—that's the girl who was eliminated yesterday—would be dumb enough to off a judge while she was the only person who'd gotten the boot."
I glanced at my phone—it was almost seven-thirty. Both girls had to be to the set by nine the next morning, and by the time we got home and settled in, it would be getting close to bedtime.
"We should probably get going, then," I said, catching the waitress's eye and making the check mark sign in the air.
We paid up and headed back toward Mercy. The light mood we'd settled into before the call was gone, replaced by a dark shadow. For a selfish moment, I felt bad that Dee's moment of glory had been overshadowed by something so grisly. She'd had a wonderful memory of one of her best life experiences to date, but it was now eclipsed by the murder of one her long-time idols.
"What motel were the judges staying at?" I asked. Faith was staying in the best motel in town, so if I had to venture a guess, it was likely that's where the judges were staying, too.
"The Crown," Dee said.
"That's what I figured," I replied. "Faith, are you okay staying there?"
She lifted a shoulder. "Well I'm not exactly crazy about the idea, but I don't really have much other choice. I checked out some of the other motels online, but they looked more like places that rent by the hour."
I smiled. "I know what you mean. I thought about getting a motel my first night in town, but I had the same opinion. If you'd like, we have a B&B with an extra room. You're more than welcome to crash there for the night."
"That would be amazing," she said. "I know the odds of the murderer still being around are slim, but staying in a place where somebody just died sorta creeps me out."
"It's settled then," Dee said. "We'll stop by your room and get your stuff, and you can stay at the lodge. As a matter of fact, if you want to stay there for the rest of the competition, that's fine with us. We have some folks coming in a few days, but we'll still have an open room."
"Seriously?" she said, excitement tinging her tone. "I started to book a room with you guys, but the website says you're not open yet."
"Strictly speaking, we're not," I replied. "But one of our guys came and specifically asked us to let him stay there while he was working a road construction job because he was tired of living in cheap hotels, then his buddies followed. We weren't even sure at that point that we were going to start a B&B, so we decided to let them s
tay, sort of as a trial run to see if we liked it."
She laughed. "I assume you did, then, since you have more guests coming."
"Yeah," Dee said, smiling at me. It's worked out even better than we could have hoped. The place needed a serious cash infusion, which is why we—well, I should say Toni, since it's her place—were on the fence about making any snap decisions. It really wasn't in any shape for us to live in, let alone host guests. Then Toni got a huge reward—or half of the reward—for helping solve a murder a few months ago, and that tipped the scales."
"You helped solve a murder?" Faith asked, surprised. "Are you some kind of detective or something?"
I shook my head. "No, nothing like that. I was an editor before I moved here, so about as far away from a detective as you can get, unless hunting down dangling modifiers counts. It was just a situation I sort of fell into."
"It sounds like the universe was funneling you toward opening the B&B, then, putting both the money and the first guests into your hands at the same time."
I hadn't looked at it that way before, but maybe Faith was right. Maybe it was fate.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After we dropped Scout at his truck and picked up Faith's belongings from the Crown, we headed straight to the lodge. As soon as she was settled, we gave her a tour of the house and walked back to the cottage to show her where we stayed. Mostly, we were just keeping busy because we were all too keyed up to sleep.
Once we got back to the lodge, my stomach growled; it had been hours since we’d eaten. I pulled out the roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy that I'd fixed for supper the night before and made us all open-faced sandwiches.
She groaned in appreciation as she forked the first bite into her mouth. "You made this?" she asked around it.
"Yeah," I said after swallowing. "My mom taught me how. It was my dad's favorite meal, and now it's mine. It's nothing, really. Super simple to make."