Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (15 page)

Amy knew it had been difficult for Sophie to tell Matt that she was also a victim of the hacker that killed his best friend, but her boyfriend's tender attention had stabilized the café owner's mental state far better than Amy could. Sophie was not only smiling again, she had decided to keep the smaller menu and take more time off in the middle of the day. In fact, Amy had stayed longer than her Energizer Bunny of a boss to finish the decadent coconut brownies—a moist, fudgy brownie base topped with a layer of gooey coconut macaroon cookie.

One of the treats, wrapped in cellophane, along with a mocha cookie and apricot bar were stacked into the paper bag she was carrying. Shepler had asked Amy to try to find more information about what was happening downtown. Treats could be the tasty grease to the conversational cogs.

Extra points for the fact that while poking around to find clues for the homicide detective, she could order a wedding present for him and his future wife at the same time. Double win. The prints on the walls of the classroom at The Inkwell were unique, just like the couple that made them. A perfect present to celebrate the biggest day in her friend's life.

Amy tucked the treat-filled bag into the black and white polka dot tote she was using as a purse, so she could pull open the heavy, wood door with both hands. The pause gave her time to read the business hours on The Inkwell's door. They were open from 5:00 a.m. until midnight on Fridays and on Saturdays the time was extended until 3:00 a.m. Sunday morning. The other days that the store was open the hours were from 11:00 a.m. until 10:00 p.m.

Why in the world would any bookstore need hours like that? Maybe the bank of computers that was also in the classroom was the key to that question. Once again the crime solving part of her brain circled back to the store possibly being a cover for a band of ruthless hackers. The owners could be masters of disguise who just appeared to be charming and innocent. If her admittedly wild theory turned out to be true, the drawing she was about to order would be one heck of a wedding gift for Shepler. A present made by a criminal given to the detective that put her behind bars. But Amy hoped she was wrong. She really liked the eclectic couple.

Aubergine and Chuck were behind the counter, chatting with a customer when Amy walked into the silver and black, outer space-themed store. Loud, excited voices rocketed through the small store and announced to Amy that the trio were debating an author's choice to end a series. The purple-haired proprietress waved a greeting and continued with the raucous conversation.

As Amy wound through the bookcases, she couldn't help but overhear the discussion. Graphic novel fans were apparently very dedicated to their favorite authors and series. After opening several books and discovering the contents were far more violent and sexy than the Garfield cartoons she read as a kid, Amy retreated to the Food section. Even that subject area wasn't safe. The first book she paged through depicted a man being attacked by an octopus that didn't want to become sushi.

"Welcome back." Aubergine said as she appeared at Amy's side. Amy had been so engrossed in reading about the bloody cephalopod attack she hadn't noticed the store had gotten quiet. The front door clunked shut behind the departing book debate participant. "What can I help you with?"

"I loved your quote drawings hanging in the classroom. I know it is very short notice, but I was wondering if I could commission a small one for a wedding present. Unfortunately, my friend's wedding is this Saturday." Amy replaced the gory book on the shelf. "I would've ordered it much sooner if I had known about you."

"As long as you don't want anything too complicated, I can do that. Since Chuck takes care of most of the customers, I have a lot of time to work." She pointed at the classroom door. "I have an album in there. You can pick out a quote and ink color."

As Amy followed the artist, she noticed she seemed to be the only customer in the store again. "I saw your hours on the door when I came in. They're not what I expected for a bookstore."

Aubergine laughed. "Our customers tend to keep strange schedules. We, along with many of our friends, wind down from the workweek by playing video games, sometimes long into the night. Chuck came up with the idea to do the late nights and a few early morning hours so people can come in after they're done gaming. So far, it's worked great. The oddest hours have been our busiest."

"You are as creative with your business plan as you are with a pen." Odd people around the store at odd hours. This was her chance to do a little digging for Shepler. "Since you are downtown when there aren't a lot of people around, have you seen anything suspicious happen?"

Creases formed between Aubergine's eyebrows as she frowned. "Are you asking because of the murder on the next block? I couldn't believe it when I saw the news that day. We were closed, our usual day off, so I had no idea something happened until I saw it on the TV when I was making dinner. Did you know the guy?"

"Yes. The other owner of the menswear shop is the boyfriend of Riverbend Café's owner." Amy looked around to triple check that other customers weren't walking around on a succession of squeak-free floorboards to snoop on the conversation that could determine if Aubergine was friend or foe. "Then, after the murder, my boss started getting weird messages on her computer demanding money and threatening that she will wind up like Luke if she doesn't pay."

"She's not alone." She motioned for Amy to follow her. When they reached the counter Aubergine spoke to Chuck. "Sounds like we aren't the only ones dealing with the hacker. He's hitting up the owner of Riverbend Café, too."

Chuck narrowed his eyes at Amy. He looked like a bull getting ready to charge. Amy held her breath as he answered. "I figured it was some bored kid who heard about the murder and decided to see if he could make some money."

Now there was a scenario she hadn't thought of. One point toward Chuck and Aubergine being the good guys. But there were many things that pointed to an adult perpetrator, like the attacks on Sophie and her home, along with the ransacking of The Cookbook Nook. Plus, the fact that Luke was hanging from his necktie hadn't been mentioned in any news reports that she was aware of. The noose in the Riverbend kitchen would've been a very lucky break for a kid trying to make some fast money by capitalizing on a murder. To Amy, the signs still pointed to the murderer and hacker being the same cold-hearted, adult criminal.

"I never thought of that possibility. With your late hours, have any of you seen anybody lurking around?"

"Spray painting dollar signs?" Chuck asked. He pressed his balled fist into the palm of his other hand. Several of his knuckles popped. "Unfortunately, no. Believe me, if I catch the person doing that, I guarantee they won't be sneaking around for a while."

"The creep needs to be caught, but please be careful. The person could be a ruthless murderer instead of an easily scared kid." She took a deep breath and decided to press the conversation further. If it pissed off the big, scary teddy bear-man, then she'd consider it taking one for Team Zen Wedding. Shepler had given her a job to do and she was going to try her best to come through for him. "Do you mind telling me how much money the hacker wants from you?"

"Two thousand dollars." He snickered. "He's not going to get it, and I dare him to try to break into my network again. He may be good, but I guarantee I'm better. Unless this idiot is far more skilled than I think, he'll soon be regretting he ever messed with my computers."

So Chuck
was
a hacker, but he'd freely admitted it. Not exactly a good way to keep a cyber gang a secret. Unless they were both talented actors, Chuck and Aubergine seemed to be angry victims instead of the culprits behind the extortion schemes. She hoped she was right. Amy thought about telling him that he would have to be better than the police's computer expert who couldn't trace the messages, but decided not to press her luck. Chuck had readily given her the information she wanted. There was no sense in poking at his ego with a taunt.

It took close to half an hour for Amy to decide on the quote, frame size, font, and ink color after the chat with Chuck. Aubergine patiently explained her drawing techniques and discussed the differences between fonts. In the end, simplicity won out.
Forever and Always, Carla and Bruce Shepler
would be written in a modern script in the center of a circle of flowers made using a flexible nib. Amy had no idea what a flexible nib was, but it sure made pretty hand-drawn flowers.

Aubergine escorted her back to the front counter to fill out an order sheet. As Amy handed the yellow piece of paper back to the calligrapher, she remembered the bag of baked goods in her purse. She pulled it out and presented it to Aubergine. "Thank you for doing this on such short notice."

"Yum!" Aubergine said as she opened the bag and peeked inside. "You didn't have to bring these."

"I remembered what you said about liking brownies. So I figured I would bring some goodies in case I needed to bribe you into doing my drawing. Since you are so nice, now they're a thank you." Amy smiled. A thank you for the information Chuck provided along with the quick art service. Unless she was very wrong about them, these new acquaintances could provide the clues for Shepler to solve the frustrating case.

Amy emerged from The Inkwell feeling optimistic. Chuck was confident that he could outsmart the hacker. She didn't know what he had planned, but more power to him. Somebody needed to put a damper on the Fright Fest Extortion Marathon. A question she'd forgotten to ask Chuck stopped her in the middle of the sidewalk. A zap of pain exploded in her heel. She turned to face a harried mom who was clearly upset that she hadn't managed to steer her stroller around Amy's suddenly stationary body. The woman apologized profusely for not paying attention. Amy apologized repeatedly for not stepping out of the way after she stopped. By the time she had assured the young mother that she hadn't been hurt, Amy had almost forgotten the question that caused the incident.

Could Chuck figure out who was behind the attacks? She turned to go back to the comic book store then changed her mind. Her orders from Shepler were to engage in friendly commiseration, not come across as a detective. Maybe she could still ask Chuck to dig for a way to find out the hacker's identity, but she needed to think about how to do so inconspicuously. If he was using his computer knowledge for evil, she didn't want the comic artist to become suspicious then turn against her.

As she spun around again, to continue in her original direction, she realized she was standing in front of Elegance Salon.
Her hair! What was she going to do with her hair for the wedding?
She hadn't thought about that. Sure, she could do it herself, but did she want to on top of all of the other things that would need to be done that day? Maybe one of her friends could help her out.

The salon was the first business Amy had worked at in the downtown area. At that time, she was a hair stylist. That was before she made entering cooking contests her life focus and career. Then her food obsession and recipe-inventing aptitude had led her to the part-time job at Riverbend Café.

She grabbed the door handle and steeled herself for the sneeze attack that was about to hit. The salon's signature lily of the valley scent always made her sneeze. Once she was inside for a while, her nose became acclimated to the scent, but the first whiff was always a doozy. A gust of flower-scented, cool air puffed out the doorway as she walked into the stylish salon. One. Two. Three sneezes and…she was done. Not bad. Probably a record low for her.

The receptionist giggled at Amy's dramatic entrance. She was one of the co-workers who Amy missed the most. Clarice's infectious laugh could brighten even a dedicated grump's day. "I'm so sorry our scent torments you like that. I have never seen anyone else react the way you do. You're special."

"You bet I am! Although I would hope I'm special beyond my sneezing prowess," Amy said as she stepped up to the counter. "Is Thalia around?"

Clarice leaned forward. Her pale lavender-colored curls glimmered in the bright light from the recessed spotlights in the ceiling over the reception desk. "She's in the storage room, but I'm not sure you want to go back there. I had to cancel her appointments for today. She's in a wicked bad mood."

Uh-oh. Not the right time to ask for a favor, especially since Thalia rarely showed anything other than her upbeat and cheerful side at the salon. There were a lot of unhappy business owners in the area. Was the salon owner's self-exile for the same reason?

"I've been dealing with a lot of people in bad moods lately. I'll take my chances."

"It's your life." Clarice plucked a hairbrush out of a display rack on the counter. "You might want to take this for defense."

Amy smiled as she shook her head. What was going on? She set out through the gauntlet of chatty friends and swiveling chairs with shin smashing footrests, to reach the back room of the salon where Thalia was holed up. Before she made it to the closed door, the unmistakable odor of bleach overpowered the flowery scent that dominated the salon's atmosphere. Amy knocked on the door and opened it before she could be told to go away.

Tears puddled in her eyes from the fumes and in sympathy for Thalia. It looked as if an earthquake had hit the storage room of Elegance Salon. Tubes of hair dye and bottles of styling products were scattered across the floor. Everything was covered in what appeared to be slime trails from an infestation of giant snails. The sulfurous scent of permanent solution combined with cleaning bleach to make a whopper of a nasty smell. Thalia stood in front of the far wall, scrubbing a brown smear with a rag. She turned to look at Amy. Her face was red with exertion or anger or both.