Banana Muffins & Mayhem

by Janel Gradowski

  "Too bad we still don't know positively if they're connected to the murder."

  "I think we may be dealing with a budding serial killer. There's no doubt to me that everything is connected, and I think you and I are slated to be the next victims."

  After that sobering thought, they just stood in tired silence for a few minutes while Pogo continued to snore, oblivious to his owners' possible demise. Wondering if the killer was lining up to take another shot at them instead of their picture as they stood in front of the window kept Amy's heart rate up. But the rest of her body just wanted to take a nap. "Do you think we could go home soon? I'm so tired that I could fall asleep standing here."

  "Me too. Let me go see what's happening. Hopefully, we'll be able to leave soon."

  Ten minutes later, they walked out the employee entrance. The parking lot had gained some extra cars beyond the employees'. Several police cars and a van from the security system company were parked in the fire lane next to the sidewalk which ran the length of the building. Amy stared at the man sliding a ladder off the roof of the van. He looked familiar, but her memory wasn't firing on all cylinders. She had no idea where she had seen him before.

  The journey home was as quiet as the earlier one to Quantum. She just hoped she hadn't been correct about the alarm being set off to draw them away from their home. Not only did she love the big Craftsman-style house that she and Alex had bought soon after they were married, but she needed some sleep. If her nap was delayed because they had to call the police out to investigate a problem, the person who caused it had better be gone—if they had any sense of self-preservation. And even if the house was perfectly fine, once she took a nap, she was still going to find out who was tying her life into knots. She'd waited long enough for Detective Foster to do her job.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  An obnoxious noise woke Amy. Again. At least she recognized it this time. And it wasn't the middle of the night either. The beeping was from the alarm Alex had set on his phone to go off in the middle of the afternoon. Instead of shadowy darkness, the bedroom was filled with cheerful sunshine. She took inventory of her aching body parts as she rolled on her back. Ouch! The laceration on her head still brought tears to her eyes. The weight of the blanket on her ankle wasn't exactly a comfortable sensation either. All of the pains that had become familiar over the past couple days were still there. Unfortunately.

  Alex grunted as he sat up on the bed beside her. "I'm going to head back to the office."

  Amy placed her hand on top of his thigh. "Are you sure you don't want to just stay here? If you work in your home office, I promise I won't fire up my stand mixer, and I'll try to keep Pogo quiet if he spots any squirrels."

  "I would love to stay, but I don't think it's a good thing to do. I want to see if anything has been discovered by the police or the security company. Plus answer questions if any of the employees have concerns about what is going on. I don't want to leave my business ship adrift without a captain, not when the company is under attack. For their own safety, I had to tell all of my employees about the email threats. Everybody is on edge."

  She couldn't argue with that. What did the employees think? She didn't know how many details of the emailed threats Alex had shared, but they all knew about the attacks. There were plenty of reasons for people to be nervous. Her husband's presence would surely steady some of the frayed nerves. He was like that. The cooling sour cream when life turned into a too spicy burrito.

  "Okay." She stared at the closet door. Her mind superimposed the familiar man from the security company onto it. She knew who he was! The mattress wobbled as Alex stood. A burst of excited energy propelled her out of the comfy tangle of sheets too. She met her husband as he came around the end of the bed. "You mentioned the new security company had thought there might be an issue with some equipment before we found the bullet holes? Do they use all of the latest technology?"

  "They started installing everything about a week before the body was found in the Dumpster, so they may not have been able to test everything yet. The system is state-of-the-art though—that's why I went with that company. Why?"

  "I just wanted to make sure you and everybody there are as safe as possible."

  Amy made a chicken and apricot chutney wrap for Alex as he showered. She was wrapping it in waxed paper, to make a portable meal, when he walked into the kitchen. "I have to get going," he said as he filled his travel mug with coffee.

  "I know. That's why I made you a chicken salad wrap that you can eat as you drive." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "You need some better food fuel than potato chips from the snack stash in the break room." And she needed to cook to try to figure out if the security company employee could have any significance in regard to the murder or threats. She did her best thinking while in the kitchen.

  "I don't know what I would do without you." He placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. "I wish I could stay here with you right now, but I can't, and I know you don't want to hang out in the spare office for the rest of the day. If you notice anything that doesn't seem right, promise you'll call the police immediately."

  "I promise."

  When he was gone, Amy sat down in the breakfast nook to eat a salad made from the same ingredients she had put into Alex's wrap. Usually she loved the panoramic views through the arc of windows jutting from the side of the house, but she felt like a sitting duck for the marksman who had taken aim at Alex's office. "How about lunch in the den?" she asked Pogo as she gathered up her salad bowl and glass of iced Earl Grey tea.

  As she passed by the door, the key pad for the security system caught her attention. Pogo face planted into her calf when she froze. He shook off the indignity then glared at her in annoyance. Amy tossed him a chunk of chicken as an apology. She realized the security system installer looked familiar for a second reason. She tossed another piece of chicken to Pogo then stashed the rest of the salad in the refrigerator. Eating had lost its appeal.

  What should she do?

  Before anything else, she needed to change out of her pajamas. After she showered, a fog of reluctance settled in as she eased her sore arms and legs into her T-shirt and jeans. What if she was wrong? If she went to Foster, or even Shepler, with her suspicions, the man could lose his job because of being under investigation. How could she figure out if she was really on the right track?

  Her cell phone began vibrating across the unmade bed. Amy tried to inhale, but it felt as though her lungs had filled with cement. Had something else happened at Quantum? She looked at the screen. Her chest muscles relaxed, and she took a deep breath. It was Geri.

  Ten minutes later, Amy stood by the back door. Pogo was contentedly chewing on a squeaky toy under the breakfast nook table. And she was frozen in fear as she stared out the window at the garage. How long would it be before she could get into a car again without being choked by the fear that it would explode? She concentrated on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth—a calming technique she had learned in one of Rori's yoga classes. Then she opened the door and stepped outside. Geri had some new ideas about the murder. If their theories meshed together, they might find the killer. Then Amy wouldn't have to worry about being blown up or shot anymore. The possibility of finding relief from the dangerous attacks steeled her resolve to find the murderer as she drove into town.

  Alex was expecting her to be locked inside their house. So she parked at the opposite end of the block where he wouldn't be able to spot her car from inside the Quantum building. It was a good plan, as long as he didn't leave to go for a walk or get takeout from any nearby restaurants. She tried not to think of how much trouble she would be in with her hubby as she walked along Main Street toward the entrance to the apartments' stairwell. He wouldn't be happy if he knew what she was doing, but since Detective Foster wasn't doing a good job, Amy was just going to have to figure out what was happening herself.

  The door to Geri's apartment whooshed open seconds after
Amy knocked. "We don't have much time," the hip grandma said as she looked up and down the hallway after Amy stepped inside. "Although it should only take a few minutes to test for blood."

  "What are we doing?" Amy asked. "I thought you had an idea about who killed Phoebe?"

  "I do." She handed an eye drop bottle to Amy and put a second one in her own skirt's pocket. "But I want to make sure there's blood present before I start pointing fingers. Now cross your fingers that my blood detection test actually works."

  Amy knew that feeling of not wanting to falsely accuse someone. She'd just had it an hour earlier. "Can we spare a few minutes to talk? I have some news, and I'm wondering if it fits into what you're thinking."

  They took turns going over the clues they had uncovered. Even though they had come up with the ideas independently, they were both suspicious of the same person. Geri had seen the man from the security company downtown on the night Phoebe was murdered. Everything was lining up. Just like the path of destruction had led to the bullet hole in Alex's window. Amy's heart soared and broke at the same time. If they were right, someone they both really liked would be devastated.

  "So are you ready to do this?" Geri asked. "I'm pretty sure there's blood present, but I'm just not sure if the peroxide will bubble given how long the blood has been sitting. I figure there's a fifty-fifty chance the test will work."

  "That's better than nothing. I'm ready to find the killer."

  The tiny bottle of peroxide was in one of the pockets of Amy's jeans. Her phone, with the pass code turned off so that she could quickly call 9-1-1 if needed, was in the other. It didn't seem like much gear for a spy mission, but she wasn't a spy. Amy looked over her shoulder at the corner of the living room. If she had X-ray vision, she would be looking at Quantum's building.

  * * *

  "Where did you learn how to do that?" Amy whispered as they stood in front of the door. She was getting dizzy from glancing back and forth, looking for any signs that they were about to be busted. Much to her and her rising blood pressure's relief, they were alone.

  There was a faint click. Geri turned the handle and pushed the door open a few inches. She had managed to pick the lock with a nail file and a library card. "In New Zealand." She peeked into the apartment then nodded for Amy to follow her inside. Once the door was shut behind them, she continued. "We kept the pottery studio locked just in case some of the people passing through the artist colony were less than virtuous. I habitually forgot to bring my key, but I always had my purse with a credit card and nail file in it. So I adapted."

  "You'd better not let your son-in-law know about that skill."

  "I won't tell if you won't." Geri pointed to a set of large cast-metal candle pedestals. She flipped up the corner of a black-and-white checkerboard-patterned rug with her foot. "I'll test the candles, while you test that stain on the floor."

  Amy looked down. There was a damaged spot on the otherwise pristine wood floor. The area was dull and cloudy. It looked as though someone had doused it with a harsh cleaner, but a dark stain was still visible through the damaged finish. She bent down and held the squeeze bottle an inch above the wood. The drops of peroxide foamed as soon as they landed on the rusty discoloration. She snapped a couple pictures, wiped off the liquid with a tissue she had also stashed in her pocket, and flipped down the corner of the rug. "The peroxide foamed up, but I wonder if it might be reacting to whatever was used to try to clean the stain. It looks like someone used some pretty harsh chemicals."

  "I seem to be getting a reaction here too." Geri was using her phone to take pictures of the base of one of the candle pedestals, which was as large and solid as a baseball bat. Their homemade test could be wrong, but most likely, they had found the murder weapon and scene of the crime.

  Since Geri was still taking pictures, Amy decided to look around the room to see if she could find any more evidence. On the wall next to a desk, an elaborately carved frame held a corkboard covered with pictures and swatches of fabric. It was an inspiration board. She had seen them many times on television shows and websites. A printout of a real estate listing drew her attention. She instantly recognized the interior and exterior photos of the house. "Geri, I think we were wrong about the killer…"

  "How rude of you to have a party in my own home and not invite me."

  Amy spun around. Her hip slammed into the edge of the desk. The zap of pain heightened her sense of dread. And would add to her already plentiful collection of bruises. She glanced at Geri as the amateur locksmith calmly slipped her phone into her skirt pocket again. How were they going to explain what they were doing there?

  "I thought I heard noises coming from your apartment when Amy and I were heading out to grab a late lunch." Geri said. She was as cool as an ice sculpture. "These door locks are so old, my key actually worked in yours. We just wanted to make sure there wasn't a burglar in here. I know you own a lot of very valuable things."

  "Nice try." Charlotte glared at Geri as she reached behind herself and shoved the door shut. "Want to try again? This time with the truth."

  Geri sighed. She took a few steps sideways, keeping her gaze locked on Charlotte as the interior designer moved closer. It was a game of cat and mouse. "We know Isaac killed Phoebe here. There's blood on your floor and the candle pedestals. The security camera at The Shamrock Bar recorded him hanging out there with her. The police will go easier on you for helping cover up the murder if you admit your part in it all."

  Charlotte tilted her head to the side. She looked sort of like Pogo when Amy said something to him that he didn't understand. "Sorry. I'm not going to do that."

  Amy had been slowly making her way around the desk as the two friends were locked in their stare down. Her fingers closed around a pearl-handled letter opener which had been lying near a stack of unopened mail. The other women seemed oblivious to her presence. Maybe she could make a break for it. But she wouldn't leave Geri alone with a killer.

  "I think I understand why," Amy said. She straightened her spine and tried not to flinch when Charlotte's heartless glare settled on her. "What kind of mother would set up her son to take the fall for a murder she committed?"

  The comment halted Charlotte's feline-like stalking of Geri. An evil grin spread over her face as she reversed direction and walked backward toward the breakfast bar. "Hold that thought." There was a metallic zing as she reached across the counter and pulled a large chef's knife out of the block. She pointed the tip of the blade at Amy. "I'm impressed. You can do more than come up with a recipe for tasty muffins."

  "What? You killed her? Why?" Geri asked.

  "Because Phoebe took her dream house then destroyed all of the wonderful, original details by modernizing it on her show," Amy answered.

  Charlotte tipped her head back and laughed. Then her maniacal glee settled into a determined frown. "That was part of the reason. She took my retirement house by having her rich daddy outbid me. But the last straw was when she tried to take my son. I saw that look in Isaac's eyes. It was like watching a scene from 101 Dalmatians. My son—blindly following Cruella like a lovesick puppy because she promised to rub his belly."

  Ewww! That analogy was wrong in so many ways—including the fact that the puppies didn't willingly go with the villainess in that movie. But moving on…there were still a lot of things that didn't make sense. "So you didn't have him lure Phoebe here so that you could kill her because of the house?"

  "No. They came here to have sex. Isaac knew I was at the wrap-up party, and my apartment was closer than his to the bar. Unfortunately for Phoebe, I popped back home to pick up some fabric samples for a client I ran into at the party." Charlotte shook her head sadly. "My poor baby boy was so disappointed when he came out of the bathroom to find his date dead."

  Still not making sense. "I don't believe you." Amy took a small step forward to add a bit of intimidation to her vocal challenge while still staying out of slashing range. The letter opener she had slid into the back of her waistband wou
ld lose in a sword fight with the kitchen knife. "I'm pretty sure Isaac has been the one attacking my husband and his business. If you two didn't plan out the murder, why was he wearing a Quantum Media shirt, which are only given to employees, when he went to the bar with Phoebe?"

  Charlotte laughed. "That was a happy accident. He had gotten dirty trying to install wiring at your husband's business. Since it was after hours when he left, and he was running late for his date with Phoebe, he just grabbed a shirt from the stash he had discovered in a supply closet."

  "But why has he been trying to kill me and Alex?"

  "Not exactly kill. His intent was more to scare you and throw the police off track. Too bad you decided to go out to dinner instead of cooking the meal yourself a few days ago. Isaac had figured Alex would stay in that evening, so he set the timer to give your husband plenty of time to drive home. He meant to blow up your garage, not you." Her eyes flicked toward Geri then locked back onto Amy. "Geri told me about how good you were at figuring out who murdered the woman from the market this winter. So I reckoned if you were too busy trying to stay alive then you wouldn't have time to figure out we were involved."

  Rather unbelievably, to even herself, Amy had become skilled at sniffing out murderers. But Charlotte was overlooking a very important point—Amy had survived all of the confrontations with the killers too. And it was two against one this time around. Had Geri sneaked a weapon for herself? Amy didn't know how much longer she could stall before they would be forced to fight or try to flee. Until then, she was going to get as many answers as possible though. "So how did Phoebe's panties end up inside Quantum?"