Chicken Soup & Homicide (11 page)

"Wonderful. I really would like to raise some money for the community garden." Trisha grinned. "I'm just glad it isn't an actual beauty contest. A pair of jeans without holes is dressed up to me."

"Don't worry. We've got you covered." Sophie plucked a yellow silk rose out of a storage box and slipped it behind Trisha's ear. "I think you and I are about the same size, so I brought a bunch of extra cocktail dresses that we can both choose from."

"You guys are welcome to raid my closet and jewelry box." Amy moved around the dining table to stand next to Trisha. She touched the top of her own head, then slid her hand sideways until it touched Trisha's shoulder. "But since you guys are taller than I am, my minidresses will be microminis."

Sophie waggled her eyebrows. "That might not be a bad thing. There are always at least a few hot, single guys roaming around at the parade. I am definitely checking out your closet."

They all giggled as they returned to the kitchen to begin decorating their baked goods. Amy set a heavy-bottomed pot on the stove burner. She needed to melt sugar to make the candy floss nests that would adorn the top of her cupcakes. She measured sugar into the pan and turned on the flame.

"I hope you guys realize I am going to take advantage of your generosity." Trisha flipped open the lid of the cooler she brought. She pulled out a jar and held it up. "Was there a genie in my mason jar of orange curd who magically made you come to my rescue?"

"No magic. Just friendship." Sophie shook her head as she ran a knife around the edge of a chocolate cake that was in a round pan. "Although if you do find a genie, could you save a wish for me? I sure would like to be taken off Detective Pitts's suspect list."

Trisha pulled the orange-flecked, square carrot cake from a picnic basket and began to remove the plastic wrap from around it. "You're a suspect? Really? I bet you wouldn't harm a mouse even if you found it eating chocolate chips in your pantry."

"You're right, but I guess Pitts thinks I'm competitive enough that I'd kill to win."

Trisha looked at Amy. "Are you under suspicion too, since you were Sophie's partner?"

"Absolutely!" Amy stuck up her thumb, then pointed it at herself. "Apparently he thinks I may even be the mastermind that planned the murder and convinced my friend to carry it out."

Trisha frowned. "Dale has been really nice to me. Very compassionate that my friend was murdered, because he said he's been through the same thing. He transferred here after his partner in New Jersey was murdered by a suspect in their investigation. I get the feeling he blames himself for missing a clue about the murderer's identity. Like he was responsible. So he's been trying to help me remember everything that happened last Saturday in case I saw something suspicious but didn't realize it."

That was an interesting nugget of information. If Pitts had a debt to settle with the universe over the death of his partner, what would he do to bring another murderer to justice as retribution? Try to pin the crime on an innocent person? Amy stared at her naked, unfrosted rum-flavored cupcakes. For once, she had no words. Trisha seemed like a rational, intelligent woman, yet she thought of lecherous Chet Britton as a friend and that the aggressive detective was nice. Either she was delusional or men treated her differently. As Amy searched her mind for a way to address the fragile subject, Sophie tackled it first. "I used to work with Chet. He said many times that he didn't have friends, so I'm surprised to hear you say he was your friend. How long did you know him?"

Excellent line of reasoning. Maybe Britton didn't have friends because he couldn't keep them. Trisha tilted her head to the side. "I just got to know him a few months ago when he asked me to be his partner in the showdown. Before that I supplied herbs to Cornerstone, but I never talked to him about anything other than his orders. I know a lot of people didn't like him. He was very sweet to me, though."

"Genuinely sweet or trying to get in your pants fake sweet? He thought he was the Hugh Heffner of Kellerton, but he couldn't keep up the sexy playboy act for long. It wasn't long after he started a new relationship before he got tired of the charade and returned to his normal, inconsiderate self," Sophie said as she poured herself a mug of coffee. She took a sip and looked at Trisha. "You are gorgeous. I can't believe he could keep the gentlemanly act up for so long without resorting to his usual perverted attitude toward women."

Trisha stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and stomped her foot. "I must be an ugly duckling. All I got out of Chet were a few G-rated jokey innuendos." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously. He was the perfect gentleman to me while we were coming up with our menu for the contest. Maybe he had a girlfriend that he never mentioned?"

Sophie snorted. "Take it from me, as his former girlfriend, being in a relationship didn't stop him from entering into more. He could've used an assistant to orchestrate his messed-up personal life. Or maybe an air traffic controller to manage traffic in his bedroom."

Laughter from all three of the women bounced off the walls of the kitchen. It was good to see Sophie still had a sense of humor despite the law enforcement induced stress. An idea that could explain Britton's uncharacteristic bout of politeness popped into Amy's mind. "What if Trisha was Britton's ticket to winning the showdown? Maybe he kept the relationship platonic because he was afraid she'd make sure they didn't win in retaliation for him being his usual hound-dog self."

"You might be onto something," Sophie said. "Both of the other teams were captained by his former employees. He's so vindictive, I'm sure he would've happily traded a sexual conquest for the chance to show up the deserters from his insane restaurant ship."

Trisha groaned as she leaned against the refrigerator door. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had sex? You guys may be right about why Chet didn't come on to me, but I can't help but feeling like I hit a home run into the foul zone. Close, but no score for me."

"You can find a far better man than Chet." Sophie held up a piping bag filled with dark chocolate icing. She was using a ribbon tip to make a field of chocolate roses on the top of her cake. "After Amy and I are done making you over tonight, I bet you'll catch the eye of some handsome millionaire with a sweet tooth who wants nothing more than a down-to-earth woman like you."

"Cinderella from the farm?" Trisha rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Sounds like a lovely fairy tale. I appreciate your help, but I doubt that will happen."

Amy dipped a fork in the bubbling, molten sugar in the saucepan. She lifted the utensil, and thin golden threads formed as the thick liquid dripped from the tines. It was time to make the golden sugar floss halos for her cupcakes by drizzling the syrup over domed molds made from overturned bowls. She removed the pan from the burner and set it on a cast-iron trivet next to the bowls. As she swirled the fork in the syrup, she said, "Okay, maybe we're aiming too high with the millionaire. Would a hunk with a good job work?"

"Yes!" Trisha giggled as she jumped up and down like an excited child. "I'm glad we decided to meet here so early. It's going to take hours to make me attractive."

"I think she's challenging us," Sophie said as she squirted a squiggle of icing on her fingertip. She licked it off and grinned. "I love a good challenge."

"Me too." Amy tapped the fork on the side of the metal pan like a gong. "Challenge accepted. When we're done making you over tonight, you'll be mad at us. You won't be able to choose which guy you like the best from all of the ones following you around with their tongues hanging out."

After the three of them finished decorating their baked goods, they headed upstairs to get themselves ready. Amy quickly put her hair in hot rollers. While her curls set, she worked on turning Sophie's board-straight hair into a sexy tangle of loose, dark chocolate-colored waves. Trisha's task was trying on dresses.

"I like this one," she said as she emerged from Amy's walk-in closet. The long-sleeved black dress fit her like a garbage bag.

"I wore that to a funeral five years ago." Amy pointed the curling iron at the closet door. "We're going for sexy, not matronly."

"You two want sexy. I'm fine with this," Trisha said as she swung the closet door shut behind her.

Trisha tried on close to a dozen dresses before all three of them agreed she had found the perfect one. The short red satin dress had a sweetheart neckline and thin spaghetti straps. Even though it came from Sophie's closet, it looked like it had been tailored to fit Trisha's body perfectly.

The next half hour was a whirlwind of hair spray, eye shadow, and lipstick. Sophie donned a slinky, one-shouldered black dress after her hair was done. Amy slipped on a knee-length dark-blue taffeta skirt and a white silk blouse. She had a husband, who wasn't going with her, so man-catching sexy wasn't on her fashion agenda.

Amy checked the time on the clock on her nightstand. "We need to get going soon. The desserts need to be there a bit early so they can be arranged around the ballroom."

Headlights flashed in the window as a vehicle pulled into the driveway. "Right on time," Sophie said as she ran to peek outside. "I got a limo for us. Since we're hanging out with the cocktails and caviar crowd, I figured we should arrive in style too."

Trisha clapped her hands. "Oh my god, this evening keeps getting better and better."

* * *

"Look at all of the men clustered around Trisha," Sophie said as she snagged a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. "Both she and her cakes are stunning. I hope she makes a ton of money for the community garden. She's so passionate about getting that project going in the spring."

Amy shook her head as the waiter held out the tray to her. There had been minibottles of champagne, with pink curly straws, for each of them in the limo. While she did love bubbly cocktails, keeping her eyes out for clues to Chet's murder was top priority for the evening. So she snagged an alcohol-absorbing olive tapenade bruschetta from a nearby server instead. "She's like Cinderella. A new dress, some makeup, and voilà…our dedicated country bumpkin has a flock of men, instead of chickens, following her around. I'm so happy for her. Maybe she'll end up with a date along with a bunch of donations."

The Parade of Desserts was a silent auction where baked goods went home with the highest bidder, but people could also donate to worthy charities even if a bid didn't win the auction. The event was Bridget Mahoney's sparkliest fundraiser baby. It had gone from a dozen desserts and a handful of patrons meeting in the private dining room of Cornerstone restaurant to a glitzy event that filled the ballroom at K Hotel. It was sort of a grand wrap-up to the holiday party season. One last soiree to begin the new year before everybody put away their party dresses and hunkered down in bulky sweaters and clunky thermal boots for the remainder of the winter. Thanks to a polar vortex pumping in air straight from the North Pole, cold toes and goose bumps were accessories as much as the rhinestone-encrusted stilettos and Flintstone cartoon-style cocktail rings.

"I can't believe we got her to wear a red dress." Sophie took a sip of champagne. "No offense, but that first one she found in your closet looked horrible."

"No offense taken. I didn't even remember that I had that dress. She must've rooted around in the deep dark corners of my closet to find it."

Amy looked down at her knee-length, A-line skirt paired with the poufy, long-sleeved white satin shirt. Even if she was single, she wouldn't have the guts to wear a skin-tight, sriracha-red dress composed of less fabric than her blouse. Then again, she wasn't fabulously in shape from shoveling compost on a farm. More power to Trisha and her newly found inner vixen. Any guy at the charity event was bound to be better than Detective Pitts. Unless he was Chet's murderer, which could be possible since both events were fundraisers that were most likely attended by many of the same people. Amy scanned the crowd. Was there a murderer in their midst? It wouldn't hurt to circulate and do a little eavesdropping.

"Do you want to walk around?" Amy asked. "We could get some ideas for new goodies to offer at the café."

"Oh, that's a great idea." Sophie grinned. "Here I was just planning on drinking a few free cocktails and nervously smiling at people, hoping they'll bid on my cakes. The bidding will do better if I'm not standing here looking crazy."

"You never look crazy. I swear, you are the calmest person I know. But I have plenty of guest bedrooms, so feel free to indulge in those cocktails as much as you want." Amy pointed to the far corner of the ballroom where a beverage fountain shot a geyser of champagne into the air. "Let's start down there and work our way back here. Maybe we can rustle up a handsome man for you too. I think I see Jake Sawyer down there. I bet you two have a lot in common."

Sophie rolled her eyes. She leaned closer to Amy and whispered, "My ego is still recovering from the sadistic tryst with Chet. I'm okay being single right now. Besides, working on opening the café doesn't leave any time for a relationship. But…I'm not opposed to checking out eye candy in both the baked and hunky varieties. Besides, I think Jake is surrounded by an impenetrable wall of women."

She was right. The ring of ladies encircling Chef Jake's display of apple strudel and flourless chocolate cake was at least three people deep. Amy didn't blame Sophie for not wanting to queue up in the chef-admiration society line. Although judging from her sexy dress, the part about not looking for a relationship didn't quite ring true.

Half an hour later, after checking out lemon pies with gravity-defying caps of meringue and cupcakes dusted with enough edible gold powder they should've come with a security guard, Amy stopped wandering to peek in the bid box for her cupcakes. She had left Sophie back at the solid-ice martini bar, chatting with a dashing tuxedo clad man who just happened to own the menswear shop across the street from Riverbend Coffee. The domes of golden, spun sugar atop Amy's cupcakes seemed to have caught a lot of people's attention, since the box was crammed with light-blue bid tickets. There was a nice sprinkling of lavender-colored donation slips too.