Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3)

by Janel Gradowski

  Alex arrived when they were finishing dinner. He walked into the kitchen, dropped his messenger bag on a stool beside the kitchen island, and kissed Amy on the top of her head. "Sorry I missed dinner." He looked at Shepler. "Are you guys hanging around for a while?"

  "I believe I am supposed to help decide on a wedding dress now," Shepler said with a lopsided grin. "Not my area of expertise, but I'm happy to do it if that's what Carla wants."

  "That's a good attitude to have to start off your marriage." Alex gave Shepler a thumbs up. He turned to Amy. "Do you mind if I eat during the fashion show or is no food allowed around the dresses?"

  Amy shrugged. "I guess you guys can go hang out in the den while Carla and I get dressed." She was still holding onto a crumb of hope that they wouldn't end up modeling the dresses for the men, if Alex did a good job convincing Shepler that it wasn't his responsibility. "You know I don't care if you eat in there, as long as you're careful."

  "Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear," Alex said. He dodged Amy's playful attempt to punch him in the arm for teasing her. As he prepared a plate of food for himself he nodded at the refrigerator. "Grab yourself a beer…or two, Bruce. You might be here for a while longer."

  "Come on, let's get you into some beautiful dresses," Amy said as she placed a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. She landed a gentle elbow jab in her hubby's ribs as she passed behind him. A little reminder that he needed to stop messing around and get down to the business of convincing Shepler that he didn't want to see the wedding dresses. She hooked arms with Carla and said, "Hopefully you'll find one that you love so much you won't share it with Shepler until your wedding day."

  Carla sighed loudly as they began climbing the stairs to reach the master bedroom. "I really don't think it's a big deal. It's only a dress. Just like the wedding is one day out of an entire marriage that could last over fifty years. Pretty inconsequential, when you think about it that way."

  Amy acknowledged Carla's watertight reasoning with a nod. The wedding tradition ship Amy was sailing was heading for a sand bar. In the bedroom, the wedding dresses were laid out on the bed. When Carla walked into the room, she gasped. "Those are exactly the styles that I've had in mind but haven't been able to find. You're a miracle worker. Now I don't know how I'm going to choose."

  "That whole thing about you'll know it's the right dress when you put it on is true."

  "If you say so," Carla said as she stood at the end of the bed and studied the gowns. "This all feels so surreal, I'm not sure I have the mental capacity to act normally right now."

  "Then I guess you take Plan B, and let Shepler decide. Because, you know, he's an expert on women's bridal fashion." Amy ducked into the bathroom before Carla could retaliate for the snarky comment. She grabbed a hair clip and returned to the bedroom. As she fastened the rhinestone flower in Carla's hair she said, "Although, I still think it's a bad idea. Sticking with a few cherished traditions would be nice."

  Carla turned around to face the dress-covered bed again. The gowns formed a crazy quilt of lace, silk, chiffon, and gauzy cotton in colors ranging from snow-white to an ethereal light blue. "I don't know. I just feel like I'm incapable of making this decision…"

  "But I'm here to help! You don't need Shepler's opinion. Let's make him Plan Z. He'll probably deploy the 'you look beautiful in everything' tactic anyway."

  "Okay. If one makes me cry or some other girly thing, we won't show him. Deal?"

  Amy high-fived her. The ship hadn't run aground yet. "Deal. Now start trying on dresses. The ones I picked for myself are in my closet so we can do big reveals to each other."

  Amy ducked into the large walk-in closet. She shut the door. At least she was making a bit of progress in convincing Carla that Shepler didn't need a gown preview. Now to see if one of the gorgeous vintage dresses would bring a tear to her unflappable friend's eye. Amy chose a pale green dress with a pleated skirt and short poufy sleeves. When she walked out of the closet Carla was standing in front of the full-length mirror Amy had propped against the wall.

  "This looks like something Marilyn Monroe would've worn," Carla said as she slowly turned sideways to check out the side view of the white, halter-top dress. She looked Amy's reflection in the eye. "Can I borrow some of your boobs? I don't think the top looks quite right."

  Amy tilted her head from side to side. The gathered top was a bit loose. "The owner of the vintage shop said she would do any alterations we need in time for the wedding. If you like this dress, I'm sure she could do something to make it fit better." That sounded diplomatic, right?

  "Let's go show the guys." Carla walked to the door then stopped. She whirled around to face Amy. Her head bobbed up and down as she scrutinized the potential matron of honor outfit. "That color is making me hungry for mint chocolate chip ice cream."

  Amy looked down at the dress. It did look like the usual shade for the iconic ice cream flavor. She was kind of glad Carla didn't seem to like it much. It definitely wasn't her favorite dress either.

  When they returned from the third trip downstairs Amy could see Carla was disappointed. No tears or volcanoes of emotion, only a steadily hardening mask of frustration. The halter dress was definitely a no. A butter yellow one was a maybe, and the baby blue silk dress with a fitted skirt was the front-runner. Amy glanced at the bed. Carla had tried on the dresses just as Amy had hoped, clockwise starting at the twelve o'clock position. The last dress for Carla was the one that Amy adored. One, because it was delicate, feminine, and beautiful with tiny details that added up to an amazing dress. Two, because the embroidered skirt and blouse that Amy loved for herself complimented it as if the outfits were made to be worn beside each other.

  Carla was standing in front of the mirror sniffling into a tissue when Amy emerged from the walk-in closet wearing the pink rose embroidered skirt and white cotton blouse she had already bought. "I love this one," Carla snuffled. "I finally feel like a bride."

  The many layers of white chiffon fabric made the skirt full and flouncy. The wide waistband was fastened with a row of tiny faceted glass buttons up the center. Pleated chiffon rose from the top of the band forming the straps and magically adding the volume to her bust that Carla had been craving in the other dresses. She turned to look at Amy. "You look gorgeous, too."

  "It's my favorite," Amy said as she held out the sides of the rose-covered skirt and twisted from side to side to make the supple fabric sway. "And the dress you're wearing is my favorite, too. I was hoping you would try it on last."

  "Why? Order doesn't matter as long as you find the right one…or is that my flawed logic talking again?"

  "Oh, no. You are absolutely correct." Amy draped her arm over Carla's shoulders. The dresses looked perfect together in the mirror. Even the whites were the same shade. "Out of all of the dresses you try on, you never know when the one will be in the lineup. I just thought you might really like this dress, so I was hoping if you tried it on last, maybe you wouldn't want to show Shepler. It will be a special surprise. We can just say we hated the last dresses, and the boys will never be the wiser."

  "You are such a troublemaker. But this time I'll go along with your devious plan."

  "Wonderful!" Amy clapped her hands. "You have to tell them, though. They'll know something's up if I try to lie. My eye will start twitching, or I'll play with my hair. Alex can tell when I'm hiding something, even if I don't say a word."

  "I can do that. It's the least I can do since you found this." Carla ran her finger down the row of sparkling buttons on her stomach. "It's perfect. You've changed my mind. Now I want it to be a special moment when Bruce sees it for the first time."

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Good morning," Amy said as she wrapped the white, sweatshirt fabric cardigan tighter around her stomach. The morning air was still very chilly before the sun came up. Even though summer would officially arrive in a few weeks, in the dark early morning hours it was still decidedly sweater weather. "How are you doing?"

  "I'
m good," Sophie said as she unlocked the back door leading into Riverbend Café's main kitchen. "Let's just hope this week goes better than the last."

  The lock tumblers clicked into place, and she swung open the door. No lights were on in the windowless kitchen. It seemed as if they were standing at the edge of a black hole. Amy held her breath for a second as she imagined a sea monster-sized tentacle waiting just out of sight. It was merely her imagination in hyperdrive because of the murder. Sophie flipped the light switch near the door as she passed through the doorway. Amy was right behind her. The goose bumps on her arms were the size of sesame seeds, but heat from the ovens would soon have the kitchen toasty warm.

  The reality of what was waiting in the kitchen was far worse than Amy's ocean fantasy.

  A hangman's noose hung from the suspended florescent light fixture in the center of the room. A breeze from the open door made the thick rope sway as if an unseen executioner was beckoning for them to fasten the noose around their necks. Its shadow danced like a snake on the tile floor. A violent shiver rattled through Amy as she looked at Sophie. Her friend was frozen, staring at the rope.

  A faint thump from outside spurred Amy to action. The person who left the gruesome calling card could be in the café or hiding in the shadows outside. If the macabre intruder was still around she had a 50/50 chance of guessing where he was lurking. Due to the sound, she chose outside. For the moment. So that meant it would be a good idea to stop the person from coming back in. Amy eased the door shut and twisted the lock. She raced to the counter, where the kitchen staff usually prepared the sandwich ingredients each morning, and grabbed two chef's knives. It was like déjà vu, when she had searched the café a few days earlier to find Sophie in the bathroom cleaning her scraped hands. Except now Sophie was three feet away, and she had no idea if they would turn up a real intruder.

  Amy nudged Sophie's arm with her shoulder. The contact made her hiss with surprise. "I'm sorry," Amy said as she offered one of the knives. "But we need to see if whoever left this is hiding in the café. I'll call the police, but we can defend ourselves with these if we need to before they arrive."

  "No! No police."

  The response was almost as startling as finding the noose. Amy shook her head. "What do you mean? Luke was just killed. This is a death threat or a very sick prank. The police need to know about it."

  "No…it'll get worse. I can't let the police get involved."

  The hairs on the back of Amy's neck bristled. While she was arguing with Sophie, the person who left the noose could be prowling in the shadows of the café, waiting to attack. Making sure they lived to tell the police what happened moved to the front of her priority list. She could figure out Sophie's odd police phobia after taking a few minutes to search the café.

  "Since you don't want to call the police right now, we need to make sure we're alone. These knives are the best defense we have. Let's go check the other rooms. I'll count to three and then switch on the lights to the next room. If we both rush in at the same time, you can look to the right, and I'll keep an eye on our left. Okay?"

  Sophie's eyes glistened as she shook her head. "I can't do that. I'm too scared to move."

  Amy closed her eyes to try to mask her frustration. There was something going on with Sophie that went way beyond the foreboding noose. Something that turned the smart businesswoman, who tackled any kitchen snafu with determined gusto, into a terrified statue. Amy held out one of the knives again. "Please take this while I check the other rooms by myself. Alex made me take a self-defense class, so I'll be okay."

  Finally Sophie's fingers closed around the handle of the proffered knife. Amy sighed. One small step, but there were many more to come as it was now her responsibility to make sure they were alone in the restaurant. Taking the defense course was one thing. Preparing herself to possibly use the dirty fighting techniques made her stomach cartwheel like a championship-caliber gymnast. She looked Sophie in the eye. "If there is somebody else here, you have to call the police. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Sophie responded in a barely audible whisper.

  The change in confident, always capable Sophie was almost scarier than the thought that she might have to face down an intruder. Since Luke was stabbed, she could end up in a knife fight. Amy took a deep breath and began the search. She flipped on the lights to the first dining room and banged through the swinging doors that led into a storage area. A quick search behind the racks of plates and coffee cups revealed no one, so she continued her search through the dining room and coffee shop area. By the time she was done, her fingers ached from gripping the knife handle. She and Sophie were either alone in the café, or the person who had hung the noose was very good at playing hide-and-seek.

  Amy tried to banish that crazy-making thought from her mind as she rushed back to the kitchen. Sophie squealed when Amy burst through the swinging doors.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Amy swiped a film of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. There was nothing like a fear-fueled, frantic search to warm a body up on a chilly morning. "It looks like we're alone."

  "Some of the other employees will be coming in soon. I have to get this down so they don't see it. The hacker is coming after me. Nobody else needs to live in fear," Sophie said as she grabbed the rope loop and tried to pull it free from the light fixture. The rectangular box suspended from chains set in the ceiling swayed and twisted. There was a metallic clank, and the noose landed on the floor at Sophie's feet. A piece of wire that must have been holding it skittered across the dark tiles. She picked up the knotted rope and tossed it into a nearby trash can.

  "What are you doing? The police will need that for evidence." The change in Sophie from too scared to move to almost ripping down the florescent light box to remove crime scene evidence made Amy's head pound. The hacker was coming after Sophie? "We have to call the police about this. Everybody knows about the murder. You've hired a great crew of employees. They'll rally around you if they know the café is being harassed."

  The pastry chef's knees buckled. Sophie crumpled to the floor then sat back on her butt in the middle of the kitchen. "I'm next," she said as looked up at Amy. Dark, mascara-tinted tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm going to be killed. Just like Luke."

  Amy dropped to the floor beside Sophie. "What are you talking about? Tell me."

  Sophie turned her hands over and stared at the bandages on her palms. "I didn't trip in the parking lot last week. The night before that happened I got an email demanding I transfer $5,000 to a MoneyMover account. To prove that he was able to physically retaliate against me if I didn't obey, the person said there would be a sign. I'm guessing I interrupted him when he was spray-painting the back of the building as the sign. Someone was hiding behind the dumpster and pushed me when I walked up to get a closer look at the paint."

  "Why didn't you tell me? Or more importantly, Shepler?"

  "Because the email very clearly said not to tell the police that I had been contacted, or I would end up like Luke."

  Amy had hypothesized that the police might not be told about any more attempted extortions. When she said that, she'd had no idea how close the next threat would be. "Did the credit card system going down on Saturday have anything to do with the extortionist?"

  Sophie picked at a thread that had come loose on the edge of one of the gauze pads covering her palms. "Yes. To show how easily he could affect my business if I don't pay. It's not like I have that much money sitting around, so I was trying to round it up by borrowing from a few friends and family, saying I needed it for the catering expansion." She looked up. All of the color had drained from her face. "Matt and Luke followed the instructions and paid, but Luke was still killed. I'm going to die soon."

  "No, you're not." Amy's mind was tripping over itself trying to find a way to rationalize with Sophie, who was beyond traumatized and not thinking straight. "So Matt and Luke did as they were told, and Luke still ended up dead. Don't take the same pa
th by giving the hacker what he wants. You have to turn the tables. Get help from the police."

  "No! The email said if I told the police I would be killed."

  Amy scrubbed her hands over her face. "Do something differently than Matt and Luke, so this doesn't play out the same way. Please."

  "Whoever broke in and left the noose could be outside, watching the café. They'll know I called the police."

  Maybe not. "They don't have to arrive with sirens blaring." Amy untangled her legs and stood up. She plucked the noose out of the trashcan. "I doubt whoever is threatening you is watching closely enough to pick out a detective in regular clothes who just appears to be a normal guy buying a cup of coffee on his way to work."

  An hour later Amy's phone buzzed in her apron pocket. She looked at the text message from Shepler as she dumped a measuring cup full of flour into the industrial-sized mixer. A cloud of white dust exploded from the metal bowl. She had forgotten to turn down the beater speed. The plan playing out in texts made her feel like a supporting actress in a Bond movie. No wonder she had forgotten a cardinal rule of bakery technique: always add dry ingredients to a mixer that is running on low speed. She blew the film of powdery flour off the phone's screen and tapped in a reply.

  When Sophie walked past, Amy asked if they could talk in her office for a minute. Sophie just pointed at the door to the small room. Once they were both squeezed inside, Amy shut the door. It was surprisingly heavy to close off such a small room. The chatter and noise from the kitchen running at full tilt dulled to a soft murmur. Sophie folded into the battered task chair. The business-as-usual smiling mask she had sported in the kitchen deflated into a scowl.

  Amy rested her hip on the corner of the metal desk. "Here's the plan. Shepler will be here in about half an hour. He'll order a coffee and then pretend to use the bathroom, but instead he'll sneak into the storage room across the hall where you and I can talk to him. Unless the extortionist knows who he is and is sitting in the café, nobody will know about the meeting except for the three of us."