Josie's eyes went wide with alarm. "What kind of problem?"
Priscilla frowned. "Well, it looks like someone else is using the same exact coconut macaroon recipe as you." She clucked her tongue. "So it makes me wonder if this recipe was even yours to begin with. Perhaps a copycat."
"What?" Josie's nostrils flared. "Of course it's our recipe. I created it myself. Who else is using it?"
"Kitchen D submitted theirs first, so they get the rights to it. Sorry. You'll have to come up with something else and fast before we start taping, or you'll be disqualified." Pricilla turned on her heel and walked over to the judges' table to greet them upon their arrival.
Josie glared across the room at Kitchen D where a man and woman in their fifties chatted amongst themselves and seemed oblivious to the daggers she shot them. "Let me at those two. I'll drag the truth out of them."
I grabbed her arm. "Don't you dare. Then we will be disqualified. Okay, let's think. We need to come up with another recipe fast."
"Time to panic." Josie clutched her stomach. "What are we going to do?"
"Calm down. You have tons of great recipes. We're also doing the jelly cookies for Round Two as well, right?"
Josie nodded.
"Okay. How about we make sugar cookies? Yours are to die for."
"We can't," she moaned. "Remember, they might throw that at us during the first round. It's a standby, and they won't allow us to use them in another round." She glared at the couple as they laughed together at some private joke. "How the hell did they get our recipe? Who are they?"
"No idea. I'm dying to know too. But we have to wait until the taping starts, and they introduce the teams." I had a sudden thought. "Wait a minute. Another group is from New York. Do you think they came into the shop and had a lab analyze the ingredients?"
Josie paused a moment to consider. "I think that's pretty extreme. Plus, the website didn't even post the contestants until last Friday. That means they would've had to come into the shop on Saturday, but we didn't have many customers because of the storm." She stared at the woman from Team D. "There is something so familiar about her, but I can't put my finger on it."
I racked my brain. "Forget them for now. How about raspberry cheesecake cookies?"
She shook her head in dismay. "I overheard Kitchen C say they were making those when we checked in."
Okay, so maybe Josie was right. Now it was time to panic. "This is becoming a nightmare. How about the Italian butter cookies?" I asked.
Josie wiped at the sweat collecting on her forehead. "I didn't bring the recipe for them. I can't remember how much vanilla or baking powder to use. Oh my God, it's happening. I'm getting senile, and I'm not even thirty yet." She looked like she might cry. "We're going to be disqualified. All this work for nothing."
I grabbed my cell phone. "We are not going down without a fight."
"Whom are you calling?" she asked.
"The one person who always has the answers."
Gianna answered the phone at my shop. "Hey! Shouldn't you be at the competition about now?"
"We're here, and we've hit a major snag. Is Grandma with you?"
"She's putting some cookies in the oven," Gianna said. "I'll tell her you're on the phone." I heard her shout something, and my grandmother's voice mumbled a reply. "How's Florida?"
I thought of Amber Mills, Ramon Ravole, and his sidekick, Punchy. "Not exactly what I expected. Thanks so much for helping out. Did Mitzi ever call?"
"Nothing," Gianna said. "Kind of weird how she showed up for only one day, if you ask me."
"Never mind her. Have you seen Mike?"
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. "No, honey, I'm sorry. And there's more. Brian Jenkins was in here yesterday afternoon. He asked if you were around. And then he wanted to know where Mike was working. I didn't tell him anything. I think the cops might be planning to search Mike's house."
I shut my eyes tight. One more day, and I'd be home. I could deal with this mess then. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
"Ten minutes," the cameraman yelled.
"Sal," Josie squeaked behind me.
Grandma Rosa's voice floated through the phone. "I am sorry, cara mia, we have not seen your young man. I drove past his house last night, and there was no sign of him. Poor little Spike—he misses him so. And you. But he is a good boy. I fed him lasagna again last night."
I smiled. "He probably doesn't miss us at all, thanks to your awesome cooking. Grandma, we need your help. We've got to have a new recipe to replace the macaroon cookies we were going to make. Someone else here is using it, and we only have a few minutes to come up with something."
"I had a bad feeling about this," Grandma Rosa said. "I bet someone stole it from your shop."
How was that even possible? "Can you help us? We can't use any of our shop specialties."
"What about the genettis?" Grandma Rosa asked.
"They take way too long to make."
She was silent for a few seconds. Next to me, Josie hopped back and forth on one foot and looked as if she might have a heart attack at any moment.
Grandma Rosa laughed. "Of course. The brownie biscotti."
I exhaled a long breath. "Oh, Grandma, you're a life saver. Those might be even better than the macaroons." I covered the phone with my hand and whispered to my best friend. "Brownie biscotti."
Josie grabbed an index card and started scribbling away.
"Of course they will be better," my grandmother announced with unmistakable pride in her voice. "Now put Josie on the phone, and I will go over the ingredients with her."
"Thanks so much. I love you."
"And I you, dear girl. Do not worry. Everything will be fine. How is your mama and papa?"
"They're fine. Lots of public displays of affection by the pool."
She sighed. "That is about what I would expect from those two."
I handed the phone to Josie who was writing furiously on the index card. Priscilla reappeared at our side with her arms folded, tapping her foot.
"Brownie biscotti," I said. "To go with the jelly cookies we're making."
Priscilla sniffed at the air. "You're in luck. No takers for that, but I need the recipe now."
Josie held up one finger, scribbled two more lines, thanked Grandma Rosa, and hung up. Beads of sweat were glistening on her forehead as she handed the recipe to Priscilla who ran off to make a photocopy of it and then returned to hand us the original.
"If you don't see me again, that means it's good to go. But I'll be keeping my eye on you two. Any more issues, and you'll be disqualified."
By the time she walked away, Josie looked as if she might collapse. "I need a drink."
"Okay." The director stood by the judges' table, addressing all of us. "We're going to start taping in a minute. Now, just act like the cameras aren't even here. Go about your business as usual. And remember, keep it real."
A moment later, the host, Danny Durango, was introduced and ran out in front of the judges' table. A sign flashed at the audience that read Applause, and everyone started stamping their feet and cheering.
Danny Durango had only started on the show a few months ago after the previous host graduated to the Cooking Elite Channel. Danny was not much taller than myself. This was a surprise to me. I knew television added ten pounds, but did it also add height? He appeared as a much larger presence on the boob tube.
Reddish-brown hair was combed back from a face that resembled that of a thirteen-year-old boy, complete with peach fuzz upon his upper lip. His medium-brown eyes were sharp and didn't seem to miss many details. The man couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. When he smiled, his over-bleached teeth almost blinded me.
He introduced the judges—Olivia Fabbeno, owner of the Cookie Boutique in New York City, and Pierre LeFountain, a pastry chef originally from Paris. They waved gaily from their seats and flaunted gleaming smiles. The applause sign flashed again.
"It feels so phony," Jo
sie whispered. "Nothing like when I watch it from home."
"And now, let's meet our talented contestants," Danny said. The applause sign flashed again. "In Kitchen A, we have sisters Bunny and Biffy Snead from Trenton, New Jersey. They own a gluten-free cookie shop called The Cookie Terminator."
Biffy and Bunny were beefy-looking women who wore tight white T-shirts that read Terminator in large black letters. I stared in fascination at the rolls of fat on their bare arms. When the camera turned away, Bunny winked in our direction. "Go home, babies. This contest is for the big girls."
Josie muttered something under her breath seconds before the camera whirled back in our direction.
"Smile nice," I said.
Josie gave the cameraman a grin that rivaled the Cheshire cat. "I'm going to make mincemeat of those two Amazons."
"In Kitchen B," Danny boomed, "our contestants hail from Colwestern, New York. They've only been in business for five months, and their cookies are already the talk of the town. We have head baker Josie Sullivan and owner Sally Mooch from Sally's Samples."
My jaw dropped open. I held up my hand and waved it as if I was in third grade. "No, wait—"
"Cut!" someone yelled. A man with glasses and carrot-colored hair walked over to me. "Honey, no interrupting during the shooting." He yelled over his shoulder at someone. "Can we still use that piece, guys?"
"But he said my name wrong," I objected. "It's not Mooch. It's Muccio."
Bunny laughed. "Did you mooch your way here, honey?"
"See," Josie said. "They're all talk and no action, I bet."
Bunny narrowed her eyes at my friend. "Oh, I'll take you on anytime. Come on, princess, make my day."
The audience started cheering. "Cat fight! Cookie fight!"
"Keep it professional, ladies. Now let's move on," Carrot-top said.
Danny Durango shot me what I interpreted as a dirty look, but when the camera focused on him, the phony smile appeared again. "In Kitchen C, from Albany, New York, we have Glen and Barry Schwartz. They are the owners of the prestigious cookie shop 31 Flavor Favorites."
"Hmm. I'm sensing a lawsuit with a certain ice cream company here," Josie mumbled in my ear.
"And last but not least, from Bennington, Vermont, this couple runs an online bakery. Their specialty is vegan cookies. Please welcome George and Gina Graber."
Something niggled at my brain. What was it about that name? Where had I heard it before? Suddenly, I couldn't focus. I was too nervous about the competition to concentrate.
"Thieves," Josie hissed. "If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to find out how they got my recipe."
"Okay, contestants," Danny said. "There are three rounds of competition. In the first one, you'll be asked to make a classic staple cookie. How you decide to dress it up and for what occasion is entirely up to you. The second round will consist of your original recipes, two to be exact. And for the third round, we will give each one of you a word, and you'll make a cookie that relates to it. For example, audience, if I were to say house, what word would pop into your heads?"
Shouts of "gingerbread" filled the air.
"Excellent," Danny Durango said. A pretty blonde in tight jeans approached him with an index card, and I had to shield my eyes against the bright smile he cast at her. "Contestants, you have one hour to make a batch of cookies for our judges and hungry audience. Are you all ready?"
Josie gripped the sides of a mixing bowl between her hands while I got into racing position mode, ready to run in whatever direction she ordered.
"Sugar cookies!" Danny yelled. "Get set, go!"
"Vanilla!" Josie screeched. I ran into the pantry, but the other contestants were already there. Biffy and Glen almost came to blows over a bottle of extract, and the audience was loving it. I reached my hand around them and grabbed a smaller bottle then raced back to Josie.
"Set the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit," Josie said.
Wow, I was out of shape. We'd only started, and already I was out of breath.
Josie starting humming to herself. This was the method she used to maintain calmness. She mixed her dry ingredients together then placed the eggs and butter in a separate bowl. Within ten minutes, she had a tray ready to go into the oven. I ran to the convection masterpiece and popped the first tray in. I ran back for another. The cameraman followed me.
"Show me those pearly whites, honey," he coaxed.
What I really wanted to do was shove the camera back in his face. Instead, I smiled politely and pointed at the next tray of cookies as I placed them in the oven.
"This is fun," I lied.
"Way to keep it real, doll," he said and then switched over to Kitchen A.
"Get me confectioner's sugar. I'll need it for the frosting." Josie continued scooping a rounded tablespoonful of dough onto the cookie sheet.
I ran into the pantry for confectioner's sugar and then back to my best friend's side. She sniffed at the air then turned around and stared at our ovens. "What the—"
We both ran toward them together. Josie pulled out two trays of cookies that were already blackened around the edges.
"Sal!" she shrieked. "What did you do?"
The camera crew came running in our direction.
"Oooh, drama alert in Kitchen B!" Danny Durango yelled to the audience, who started cheering.
Confused, I looked at the oven dial. It had been turned up to broil. "Josie, I know I put it on 350. Honest."
We heard a low-pitched giggle coming from Kitchen A. Biffy and Bunny were trying hard to concentrate on their cookie trays, but wide smiles betrayed them.
"Sabotage!" Josie screamed and started toward them. I grabbed her arm to hold her back as she struggled to free herself.
"Catfight!" people in the audience yelled and stamped their feet in unison.
"Stop it! We're wasting time." I glowered at the Terminator sisters. "We don't want to stoop to their level anyway."
"You wish you were at our level, honey," Biffy sneered.
"And the stakes have risen," Danny Durango said in a dramatic voice.
"Cripes," Josie muttered under her breath. "Could he please shut up?" She started scooping more dough and placing it onto a tray. I grabbed one, too.
"I made extra dough. Thank goodness you hadn't put any more trays in the oven yet." Josie shot a death glare at the Sneads who blew us a kiss in return. "I'll get even with them."
Before long, Danny Durango was announcing the countdown. Ten minutes, five, one minute, and stop! We had one hundred sugar cookies. Half were decorated with pink icing and half with blue. Our theme was baby shower.
"Aw," Danny crooned as he surveyed them.
Biffy and Bunny had formed their sugar cookies into motorcycles.
I was puzzled. "Can you buy cookie cutters in the shapes of motorcycles?"
Josie gave a toss of her head. "They're weirdos."
The audience was each given a cookie to munch on while the judges sampled one from every kitchen. They examined the texture and the frosting, talked amongst themselves, and then wrote their scores on paper.
"Okay, contestants," Danny Durango said. "The winner of the first round, with a perfect score of 25 points, is Kitchen B!"
We shrieked and hugged each other as the audience clapped and cheered.
"Okay, that's a rap," the director said. "You guys can relax for half an hour before we start Round Two."
Glen and Barry stopped to congratulate us. They appeared to be in their mid-twenties, both with multiple piercings in their lips, eyebrows, and noses. Hey, I was all for expressing yourself but still wasn't sure I'd want to eat anything they'd made.
I slung an arm around Josie's shoulders. "You are amazing."
She grinned. "They've got sandwiches in the back room for us. I'm starving. Let's go grab one before Bunny and Company eat them all."
"Yoo-hoo! Honey! Over here!" I heard someone call.
I turned in the direction of the voice and winced. There, in the front row of the studio
audience, sat my mother and father. Mom wore a skintight, strapless, zebra-print minidress. My father was dressed in cargo shorts and a Red Sox T-shirt complemented with white socks and sandals again. Everyone else in the room, including Danny Durango, was staring at my mother. I wanted to hide under the workstation while she waved and blew kisses at me. Instead, I forced myself to wave back.
"Shoot me, please," Josie whispered, echoing my sentiments.
"They mean well."
She blew out a breath. "Jeez, couldn't you have given them the wrong address or something?"
I watched my parents heading toward the exit sign. "Bet Mom's going out to have a cigarette. She told me she quit, but I have my doubts."
Josie didn't answer. She stared at the studio audience then reached out to grab my arm in a deathlike grip.
"What's wrong?"
I followed the shaking finger that she pointed at the crowd. Then I froze, too.
Standing in one of the aisles, chatting gaily with the couple from Kitchen D, was our former employee.
Mitzi.
CHAPTER TWELVE
For a few seconds, we continued to stare. Everything had suddenly become quite clear. Mitzi knew we were going to be on the show—she had confessed that much to us. Her last name—Graber. Head smack. Of course. The Kitchen D contestants were her parents. On her one and only day of employment, she had stolen the macaroon recipe from my shop. After that, there'd been no need for her to report for further employment duties.
"I'll kill her," Josie whispered. "It's going to be slow and painful, and I think I'm going to enjoy it way too much."
As Mrs. Graber spoke to her daughter, Mitzi nodded her head, but her gaze remained fixated on us. There was no sign of remorse or fear. The blue of her irises was similar to steel—cold and emotionless.
For some odd reason, my stomach churned as I watched Mitzi, and I was angry at myself. Why should I be nervous about confronting her?
We walked over and stood next to her parents. My gaze never left Mitzi's face. The Grabers seemed genuinely surprised at our arrival but smiled and welcomed us.
"Nice win, girls," Mr. Graber said, extending his hand.
Baked to Death (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 2) Page 13