Banana Muffins & Mayhem

by Janel Gradowski

  She and Bruce had planned on moving out of the cramped townhouse soon after the baby was born but hadn't gotten around to doing so yet. Carla wasn't a cook like Amy was, but even she was becoming annoyed with the narrow galley kitchen. When she didn't get enough sleep, which was pretty much every day, she tended to smack sensitive body parts into cabinet knobs and open appliance doors. Yet the task of packing up the household and then unpacking it all again somewhere else made her head throb just thinking about it. Right on cue, a headache thumped to life at the base of her skull. Just what she needed on top of the aching shin and leaky eyes.

  The doorbell chimed. Macy broke off the conversation with her daddy to do her rather impressive and seemingly accurate wailing banshee imitation. Carla dropped the broken dish parcel in the trash can and tried to mop up some of the tears with a napkin she had grabbed off the counter. Luckily, since she barely had enough free time to get dressed every day, she absolutely couldn't spare the minutes to apply mascara. It was a small consolation to know she didn't look like a raccoon.

  She sighed with relief when she opened the front door. It was Amy. Not some neighborhood child selling gift wrap for a school fundraiser. If it had been, the kid probably would've run away screaming. Her BFF, on the other hand, had watched her give birth after twelve hours of labor. A bit of walking dead funk wouldn't bother her much.

  "Are you alright?" Amy asked. Her nose wrinkled. Was the grimace because of concern, or did Carla smell like a bedpan during a flu outbreak? Amy held up a white paper bag. "Brownies and key lime bars from the café. Maybe they will help?"

  "I just whacked my leg on the open dishwasher door. That really hurt." Carla snatched the bag out of Amy's hand. Sugary baked goods were never a bad thing, especially when they came from Riverbend or Amy's kitchen. "Brownies will definitely help."

  In the living room, Macy screeched a greeting. Carla nodded toward the couch. "Why don't you go sit down? I'm going to grab some plates and forks so that we can all have a treat."

  Carla returned to find Amy sitting on the floor in front of Macy's bouncy seat instead of on the couch. "You can pick her up," she said as she arranged plates topped with the baked goods in between the baby toys stacked on the coffee table.

  Amy shook her head. "No…that's okay. I'm sure she's more comfortable where she is."

  Bruce peeked over the top of his laptop screen once Amy had turned her attention back to Macy. He raised an eyebrow. Carla shrugged. She had thought Amy's aversion to children might go away after she got used to being around Macy, but her apprehension seemed to still be in full effect.

  "So what brings you by?" Carla asked.

  Amy leaned forward so she could make eye contact with Bruce around his computer screen. "I'm worried. Do you think the fact that Phoebe was found at Quantum is significant? I just can't shake the feeling that it is, and it's freaking me out."

  He flipped down the screen and set the laptop on the coffee table. "It's too soon to tell. I'm sure Alex isn't involved, but there are a lot of employees in his business. You know as well as I do that some people are very good at hiding the truth. Unfortunately, Alex could have a killer on his payroll."

  Amy nodded. She had a gruesome knack for finding dead bodies. Then, because it was just her nature, she tried to figure out who had committed the murder—probably her twisted way to pay back the killers for putting her through the ordeal of finding a body. Misjudging character was an Achilles' heel that had almost landed her in the morgue several times over the past few years. Yet Amy still seemed to have no problems with poking around a murder investigation.

  Bruce continued. "I'm working on a new case, so I haven't had the time to check in with Lauren to see what she's found. The Dumpster enclosure could've just been the least visible spot to leave the body. That would be the optimal scenario."

  "But she wasn't murdered next to the Dumpster, right?" Amy handed Macy her favorite toy—a pink, plush bunny. "Her head was covered in blood, but I didn't see any splattered anywhere. The bag containing her body wasn't even in the Dumpster, where it would've been much less likely to be discovered so quickly. To me that points to a crime of passion or opportunity, not a thought out one. If plans had been made to kill her, why wasn't there a better plan for disposing of her body? So it's a pretty big leap to believe that if Phoebe was killed near the Dumpster, the murderer would've had the forethought to bring cleaning supplies to try to get rid of the evidence."

  "Very good reasoning." Bruce picked up the key lime bar and left the plate on the table. A shower of powdered sugar drifted onto his jeans when he took a bite. "From what I saw, I don't think she was killed there either. When bodies are dumped, it's often difficult to find where the murder was committed. I know it wasn't her hotel room—I overheard that in the station today—but I'm not sure if Lauren has leads on anywhere else. Don't be surprised if she searches Quantum's building. I would, if I were her."

  "I understand. It's a logical place to look." Amy cringed when the baby squealed at the stuffed rabbit. "So finding the murder scene would be a huge break in the case?"

  Carla removed another brownie from the bakery bag. She needed the sugar to help her sluggish brain keep up with the conversation. If Amy were paid a penny for every thought she had, she would be a millionaire. But one thing was clear to Carla—if the killer had randomly dumped the body at Alex's business, that person had made a big mistake. Amy had the determined look in her eyes that Carla had seen many times before. Whoever committed the murder had better watch themselves. Amy wasn't going to stand back, wringing her hands like a damsel in distress, while her husband got stuck in the crosshairs of a homicide investigation. She was going to try to find the killer herself.

  Bruce nodded. "In this case, I think it could lead straight to the killer."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Amy slowed her pace so that she could check out the architectural details in the old building. The paneled doors along the hallway, with edges smoothed from layers of paint, reminded her of an old-fashioned hotel, complete with oval, weathered-brass number plates. She had never been in any of the upper-floor apartments in the buildings along Main Street. But now that Carla's mother was living above the ceramic shop where she worked, Amy had a feeling she would be visiting the residential area of the building a lot more. She adored the quirky artist.

  Apartment number four was at the end of the hallway. Amy heard muffled laughter as she approached her destination. She transferred the wicker basket to her left hand and knocked on Geri's door. After a few seconds, it swung open. "The snacks are here," Geri called over her shoulder as she gestured for Amy to come in. "And the sweetheart who made them."

  The inside of the apartment was a bohemian wonderland. Velvet quilts were draped over the couch and easy chairs. Silk scarves covered the lampshades. A curl of smoke rose from the incense stick burning on the end table. Tommy and Charlotte, the sisters who owned the building, were the proprietresses of the shops, which were at street level. The siblings sat cross-legged on the floor on giant round pillows. Amy offered the basket to Geri. "I brought date bars and lemon cookies. I have never tried vegan baking before, so please consider them very experimental cooking experiments."

  "I'm sure they'll taste wonderful, but I promise to give you my honest opinion." Geri's purple silk palazzo pants quietly swished as she took the basket to the kitchen. "Please have a seat wherever you feel comfortable. We were just having a bit of a girls' night in."

  There were two more poufs on the floor between the sisters. Amy took the one nearest to the window. When she settled onto the cushion, it felt as though she were back in kindergarten, getting ready for story time. Knowing Carla's mom, the experience would probably be an adult version of the activity.

  The sisters were like a study in opposites. The only trait they seemed to share was the word unique in their business names. It was fascinating to an only child like Amy how two women who shared the same bloodline could be so different. Tommy, the pottery artist w
ho owned Make It Unique, always wore blue jean overalls over tie-dyed T-shirts. It was her uniform. She and Carla's husband looked as though they shared the same hair stylist. Not many women chose super-short buzz cuts as their hairstyle of choice.

  In contrast, Charlotte, the interior designer who owned Unique Decor, was completely hip and trendy. Her shoulder-length, clown-red dyed hair was board straight. Even though she was relaxing after work, she still looked ultrafashionable with a navy blue-and-gray, chevron striped tunic over tan leggings. Amy was impressed with the casual chic look. Whenever she chilled out, she usually ended up wearing stretched out yoga pants and baggy, stained T-shirts.

  Charlotte plucked a bottle out of the ornate, silver pedestal champagne bucket filled with ice, which stood next to her. She filled an empty glass sitting on the end table with the white wine and handed it to Amy. "Welcome to whine and wine night."

  Amy raised the glass. "It's a pleasure to be here, even though I had no idea I would be a part of your get-together. I just wanted Geri's opinion of a couple recipes I'm working on for a national vegan baking recipe contest."

  "You're going to win," Geri declared as she returned from the kitchen and set a platter filled with the bar cookies in the middle of the circle of women-topped pillows. "These are truly wonderful. I wouldn't change a thing with the recipes."

  Good to know. Amy was an omnivore who would try any food at least once. While she was always interested in eating a healthier diet, baking without eggs or butter had been a daunting kitchen chemistry experiment. But she just couldn't resist a good challenge. Or the chance to indulge in her favorite obsession—cooking competitions. Geri had been vegan for several years, so Amy had turned to her for advice and taste-testing duty.

  "Thank you," Amy said. She took a sip of the fruity wine. "I love trying new things, but flax eggs and brown rice syrup were new to me. I'm so happy that you like them."

  "Oh, yeah. These are good," Tommy said before popping the last bite of a date bar into her mouth.

  When Charlotte finished off her cookie, she held up her condensation-coated wine glass. "Okay, now that our sweet cravings are satisfied, I would like to start the whine portion of the evening. I just want to say that while I would never wish death on anybody, after doing the demo with Phoebe Plymouth on Saturday, I find it hard to believe somebody didn't strangle her before now. She was so full of herself that I thought her head was going to explode. And the tone of voice she used when addressing me…I thought my son was the master of condescending speech when he was sixteen. She had him beat. I can't believe the whole debacle is on film, preserved for posterity."

  Tommy stuck her tongue out. "Serves you right for being vain enough to videotape yourself. Just delete the file, and stop being such a drama queen."

  Charlotte placed her hand over her heart. "I didn't make the recording. It was the producer of Phoebe's show. I guess he was hoping to do some special segment based on our demonstration. Every time she made a suggestion, the guy rolled his eyes as if he had seen that behavior before. Anyway, he has the video files."

  "And he'll never do anything with them now that cranky pants is destined to be worm food." Tommy shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. At least you know why she didn't like you—she thought your decorating style sucked. I have no idea what I did to deserve to be attacked."

  Amy set her glass on the end table beside her. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees. The apparently mock testiness between the sisters was fascinating. And the subject of their discontent was very interesting.

  "She made me look like an incompetent fool in front of a lot of people." Charlotte sniffed.

  "When the shoe fits…"

  "Hey!" Charlotte frowned at her sister. She plucked a small throw pillow off the chair behind her and threw it at Tommy. It went high and to the right, whizzing by the sister's head like a clunky red missile with a faulty guidance system. "So what did she do to you?"

  "She traipsed into my studio like a spoiled princess and started spouting her unsolicited opinions of the ceramic pieces on display, which neither I nor my other customers appreciated. How very, very rude."

  "And you would definitely know rude when you see it." Charlotte rolled her eyes. "It's like looking into a mirror for you."

  Tommy's studio offered classes in making pottery, but customers also had the option to just paint already-made items. It was the perfect place for Geri to work. While she had lived in New Zealand for the past six years, she supported herself making pottery. At this studio she could sell what she made, but there was also the added fun of helping others. The vibrant artist was thriving.

  "She picked up a platter, wrinkled her nose, and said she would never buy something so ugly. The student who made it heard her!" Tommy pounded her fist on the edge of her pillow. "I didn't ask her to come into my studio, so I have no idea why I got so unlucky to be subjected to her visit. The tables were packed with people working on paint-your-own pieces. Everybody in the studio could hear all of the vile comments she was making. We were all stunned. Nobody said anything for a few minutes after she walked out."

  "I don't understand why she acted so badly," Amy said. "I've heard stars can be demanding, but her show wasn't that well known outside of Michigan. I would think she would've been as nice as possible to build fans to help move the show to a larger television market."

  Geri raised her hand. There were sparkling cocktail rings on every finger. The colorful rhinestones and gems sparkled in the diffused light. "I would say she had delusions of grandeur, and reality didn't live up to her fantasies. I was in the studio on Friday night when she came in. Her hissy fit seemed fake to me. It didn't appear that even she believed what she was saying. I think she missed her true calling. If she wanted to be a star, she would've been better at being a soap opera actress." They all laughed at the observation. Geri leaned forward and squeezed Amy's hand. "Unfortunately, she didn't fake her death, and because of where she was found, I'm sure you're dealing with the aftereffects. Has the publicity from her body being found there affected your husband's business?"

  Amy shook her head. "Not that he's told me, but I know he thinks he needs to protect me sometimes."

  "The old misguided knight in shining armor thing," Tommy said. She placed one of the lemon cookies on her plate then broke it into quarters. "One of the many reasons I will die a spinster."

  Charlotte rolled her eyes in the opposite direction from before. "And you called me a drama queen?"

  "You two are hopeless," Geri said as she unfolded her legs. She stood up. "I'm going to grab some Bordeaux to see if it can counteract the abundance of whining tonight."

  Geri returned with the bottle. She dropped onto the pillow, momentarily producing zero gravity for her hair. The long gray locks poofed out then settled back into their normally chaotic state. The grandma had recently added a couple purple dreadlocks to her impressive mane. She looked at Amy as she refolded her legs. "I told the girls about how you figured out who killed the woman from Clement Street Market. Since this murder is tied to your husband's business, we've decided you could use some help finding the killer." She held her hands out, palms up. "Amy's Angels, at your service. We live and work within sight of Quantum Media, so we'll keep our eyes open for clues and potential suspects."

  "Thank you." Amy giggled. Was it because of the wine or the fact that she apparently was now the head of a group of crime-fighting, middle-aged, single women? "I would appreciate any help you can give."

  Charlotte picked at a lint ball on the edge of her pillow seat. "Do you realize how much you look like Phoebe at a glance? You're different heights, but your hair and face shape are very similar. Have you thought of the possibility that it could've been a case of mistaken identity that got her killed?"

  Well, no, she hadn't thought of that. "You think I could've been the killer's intended victim?"

  "Her body was found at your husband's business."

  Tommy leaned sideways and slugged her siste
r in the arm. "Don't scare her! That is not how you help people."

  Charlotte shrugged as she rubbed the point of impact. "Just making an observation."

  Amy exhaled. "And it was a good one. Definitely something to think about. Although I am leaning more toward one of Phoebe's cyber stalkers going off the deep end. Apparently she had a bunch of strange admirers on social media."

  "Can you imagine how someone who is mentally unstable might react to being verbally pummeled by her?" Charlotte tilted her head to the side. "What if one of those online admirers decided to take his obsession to real life but got shot down in flames?"

  When Amy left the apartment, she was warm all over from the ginger tea, which she had swapped out for the wine because she needed to drive home, and the unexpected offers to help find a killer. There was also a little bonfire of fear burning in her stomach after hearing Charlotte's mistaken identity theory. All three ladies assured her they would be careful when poking around for clues. Geri's insights had been helpful when Amy was trying to figure out who had killed a fellow food blogger. Now there were two more intelligent, witty women coming to her aid. There was just one problem. Amy had a sinking feeling that Tommy's story of Phoebe's unexpected visit to her business had more holes than a wheel of Swiss cheese.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Amy brought the palms of her hands together in front of her chest. She stayed in that pose, with her legs folded and eyes closed, as she followed Rori's instructions to breathe in…then out. Yoga was known for its meditative properties, which were supposed to help clear a cluttered mind. But that was a tall order when her thoughts were reproducing like furry little Star Trek tribbles. It would be wonderful if the class would summon a big dollop of cosmic awareness, though, so she could figure out who killed Phoebe before the murder hurt Alex's business or, if Charlotte was on the right track with the look-alike angle, Amy ended up in the cemetery. And was Tommy glossing over the important parts of her supposedly random encounter with the spoiled television star? The flute music ended, and Amy cracked open one eye. She was the only student left.