Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (17 page)

"I've baked three times as many brownies for charity events," Amy picked at a blob of dried chiffon cake batter on her arm. "I can easily make them on my own."

Sophie tapped her finger on the yellow legal pad as she stared at the office wall. Since they wouldn't need many servings of any one food item for the two dozen wedding guests, Amy had offered to make the three different varieties of brownies at her house. Where she could nap on the couch while they baked. There were risks involved, like sleeping through the timer alarm, but it would ease some of Sophie's workload while simultaneously letting Amy get some much-needed rest.

Sophie chewed on her lip. Her thigh bounced as she tapped her foot on the floor under the desk. Was she fidgeting because she was thinking about the proposition or because, like Amy, she was afraid another message would appear on the nearby laptop's screen? It sat on the corner of the desk looking all innocent, as if it had never been a vehicle for delivering a threat.

"You know, we've been running with a limited menu for quite a few days, and it hasn't hurt business. I think we can fit in the extra food for the wedding just fine. It won't be a big deal. If you can come in early tomorrow, we can pick out serving platters then figure out how to construct the doughnut display. So I don't think you need to do any of the baking at your house. I'm sure you have a thousand things to do for the wedding anyway."

"I think I'm just as freaked out about this wedding as I was for my own." Amy plunged her hands into the front pockets of her apron. Her fingers brushed her phone. The notes app on it had several screens full of reminders and lists. "I probably do have a thousand things left to do, and I'm forgetting half of them. At least that's how I feel—that there's always some forgotten tasks hovering around the edges of my thoughts, and I never have the right size of net to catch them. I hope I don't forget something important."

"How about we both get out of here so you can check off some of that to-do list?" The printer on the corner of the desk whirred to life. Sophie grabbed the first sheet to emerge.

"Here's the menu. I'll print copies of all of the recipes so everybody can just take one on Friday and get to work. If you talk to Carla, could you go over the menu with her? I know she said we could do whatever we want beyond the doughnuts, but I'd feel better if she knows what we have planned."

"I can do that." Amy folded the paper into a square and slipped it into her pants pocket. "After I get a latte to go. Have I told you lately how much I love the free coffee perks of working here?"

"Gah! Don't say love." Sophie put her hands over her ears. "La, la, la…I can't hear you."

Amy giggled. "You look like one of those hear no evil monkey statues, but much less creepy. What's up with the aversion to love? Are you and Matt having problems?"

Sophie rubbed the side of her neck as she leaned back in the desk chair. "Not problems. Just not what I expected. I guess you were right. There's a difference between living together purely for love and sharing an apartment for safety reasons. It's strange. I didn't want to stay with him because I was afraid it would push our relationship to a more serious level that I wasn't ready for. But now that I'm in his apartment, the only difference is that we wake up in the same bed every morning." Sophie laughed. "I know I'm hard to please, but even I'm surprised to realize that I'm disappointed in getting exactly what I wanted—no change in our relationship."

She wasn't the only one who was surprised by her reaction. After Sophie's duplex was trashed, Amy had figured she would have a houseguest until the murder was solved. When Sophie let Matt know that she was a target, it seemed as if her boss had opened a floodgate that washed away her previously steadfast resolve not to move in with her boyfriend. It wasn't that the change in plans was good or bad. It was simply a startling 180-degree turn around.

"Remember you both have a lot going on. After the murderer is caught, you'll be able to see your relationship without the contorted lens of fear from being in the murderer's crosshairs."

"I hope so. Matt and I are both commitment shy, so it's a bit shocking to both of us that we're still together. And that was before the murder and extortion stuff. I guess I feel like if we can make it through this storm with our relationship intact, we'll have turned a corner."

"Rocky Road Brownies just aren't good without the rocks."

Sophie's eyes darted back and forth. "Uh, are we back to talking about the wedding menu?"

"No."
So…that metaphor didn't work.
"What I meant is the best things in life always have some rocky patches and sticky spots, but that's what makes them so sweet."

"Ahhh, I get it now. If that's the case, I think Matt and I are traversing a rockslide area along the edge of a tar pit."

A few minutes later, Amy pushed through the swinging metal doors from the small kitchen into the coffee shop. The brownies and cookies in the covered cake stands on the counter were predictably, since it was after noon, looking a little sparse. But she noticed something else that she had never seen before. Thane Finley sat at a table for two in the dark corner near the fireplace. Like almost everybody else who hung out in the coffee shop section of the café in the middle of the afternoon, he was staring at his laptop. Writers and students seemed to be drawn to the comfortable chairs, free Wi-Fi, and never-ending supply of good coffee and tasty pastries. An afternoon retreat for creative people. The perfect environment for Thane.

Amy ducked back into the kitchen to grab trays of cookies and muffins to replenish the countertop inventory. As she replaced the glass domes on the cake stands, she looked at Thane again. He was concentrating on his computer screen while he absentmindedly fiddled with the spout cover on the lid of his to-go cup. His bowtie was made from gold satin. The fabric's sheen caught the light with every fidgety move. Was he trying to drum up more business for Finley & Crowe's online store by sporting a bowtie that was the clothing equivalent of a flashing, neon sign? Did men ask strangers where they bought their clothing, or was that type of thing only done by women?

The food blog hijacked her thoughts again. It sure was a pesky little idea. Since she was now officially off work, she might as well pick Thane's brain a bit more on that topic, if he had a few spare moments. Because she needed one more thing to think about three days before the wedding.
Not.

Thane glanced up from the screen when Amy was a few feet away. He looked like a basset hound puppy with sad, droopy eyes.

"How are you doing?" Amy asked as she pushed in abandoned chairs that had formed a nearly impassable bottleneck in the path to Thane's table.

"Not bad." He tapped a button on the laptop then turned his attention to her. "I'm worried about Uncle Matt though. Business is still really slow. I think he's getting depressed about it, even though Sophie is helping him a lot. When she isn't around, he wanders through the empty store mumbling about avenging Luke's death. He said he won't rest until the killer is caught, so that partly explains why he looks so bad. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose my best friend and then watch my business go down the drain."

What would that be like? Sophie described Matt's attitude as justifiably sad but not depressed. Was Thane observing a darker side of his uncle when he wasn't putting on a brave face for his girlfriend?

"Yes, that would be horrible beyond belief. The detective in charge is my friend. I'm sure he'll find the killer soon. Maybe then Matt and his business will get back to normal." She nodded at his laptop. "How is the online store doing?"

"Not making us millionaires, but it's doing well. It seems to be attracting more attention every day." He ran his fingers through the floppy, subtly highlighted hair on the top of his head. "It's a pretty unique store, so the challenge is getting noticed by customers who will appreciate our uncommon products. I've worked summers at Finley & Crowe since I was eighteen. Now that I've graduated from college, I was planning on staying for a very long time. I'm beginning to doubt whether there will be a store left to work at for much longer."

"Matt's grieving. Everybody does it differently and the process always takes time. Even situations that seem hopeless often have a way of turning around. You're helping make things easier for him by maintaining the website and bringing in income through it. I'm sure your uncle appreciates that." A gloomy conversation hadn't been her goal when she approached Thane. She didn't mean to make him feel sad—or judging from his pre-existing hangdog look complete with puffy eyes, sadder. Maybe a conversational right turn would help brighten up the conversation.

"Since we're talking about Internet stuff, if I start a blog, how would you suggest finding readers? My goal is to eventually write a cookbook then use the blog as a sort of recipe portfolio when I want to find a publisher. Kind of like you use an art portfolio. It would be nice to say that I have a lot of people interested in my recipes already."

"That's a good idea." Thane flipped down the screen of his laptop. He stowed the computer in a rust-colored leather satchel on the floor near his feet then pulled a notebook and fountain pen out of the bag. "Start commenting on established blogs. People will begin to notice you and start to follow the links back to your blog, especially if you make relevant comments. I'm going to make a list of a few blogging platforms. Check them out, see which ones you like, then we can go from there. Let me know when you are ready for me to help design your site. I have plenty of free time right now."

Amy stared at the half-empty coffee pot. There were plenty more clean pots in the dining room. Would Sophie care if she poured sugar and cream into that one and drank the coffee from it as if it was a giant mug? When her alarm began beeping at 3:45 a.m., it had felt as if she was wading through pudding on her way to the shower. She was really going to need a nap, or more likely several naps and an early bedtime, to make sure she didn't look like a member of the walking dead at the wedding. Hopefully, Carla was thinking the same way and not running herself ragged. As far as Amy knew, all of the wedding plans were set. There shouldn't be much left for Carla to lose sleep over, but what bride ever slept well in the last days before her wedding? Now Amy had to take the wedding preparation reins and help with the bakery tasks. First up, helping Sophie come up with a stylish way to present dozens of doughnuts as a pseudo-wedding cake.

As soon as they arrived at the café, she and Sophie hauled boxes of cake stands and platters out of the storage room where they'd had the secret meeting with Shepler. The cluttered room was dimly lit and spooky. Between a few cobwebs in the unreachable corners and a platoon of shadows cast from boxes and equipment, it definitely wasn't the sort of place either of them wanted to hang out. The space was an invitation to imagine ghosts and chainsaw-wielding serial killers lurking in the shadows.

"What do you think of this?" Sophie asked as she took a step back from the rolling stainless steel worktable to examine the stack of cake stands. She had arranged crystal stands, similar to the one Amy had given Mariah, so that they formed a graduated tower. The bottom stand was close to two-feet in diameter. Amy imagined it holding a towering layer cake covered in curls of shaved coconut, maybe at a baby shower or retirement party. All of the stands had different patterns, some with sharp cut facets on the base, others with molded details like swags and flowers around the edge of the plate, but they were elegantly mismatched. Right in line with Carla's vision for the wedding.

"Looks good. That'll dress up the doughnuts." Amy unlatched the lid on a plastic bin full of silver platters. She pulled out a square one etched with images of full-bloom roses. "The rest of the baked goods and appetizers can go on trays, maybe with some boxes under the tablecloth to vary the height. I think a mix of glass and silver would be—"

The room went black.

"What the hell?" Sophie's voice came out of the darkness behind Amy. "There isn't a storm. Why would the electricity go out?"

"Maybe somebody hit a utility pole?"

"Yeah. Right. That could be it."

Judging from Sophie's tone of voice, she didn't believe the accident theory either. Amy pulled her key chain out of her jeans pocket. She pushed the button on the small penlight attached to it. The miniature flashlight had about the same brightness as a candle, but at least she and Sophie could somewhat see in the dungeon-like blackness to make their way through the maze of boxes congregated on the floor around them. "Let's go into the dining room to see if the lights are out in the whole area."

"Lead the way."

Amy trained the weak beam of light on the floor, occasionally flipping it up to see what was ahead as they navigated around the floor mixer and pushed through the doors into the dining room. A thin ray of moonlight traced over some of the tables and chairs. That was it for light. No circle of illumination from the street lamp in front of the café. They stood side by side at the front window. The usually blinking stoplight on the corner was invisible against the black sky. For as far as they could see up Main Street, everything was dark.

"One step forward, two back. We come in early to set up for the wedding and the electricity goes out." Sophie tapped a jittery tune on the window glass with her fingernail. "Why don't we go back to the kitchen and move those boxes, just in case JoJo comes in. I don't want her to trip and hurt herself."

Amy led the way back to the windowless kitchen where the darkness was so thick it seemed to physically push against her body while making the little flashlight appear dimmer than it was in the dining room. She held the small light above her head, but it only cast a tiny circle of light. The sound of cardboard sliding over floor tiles as Sophie moved the potentially dangerous boxes made the hair on the back of Amy's neck stand on end. Ghost fingernails on a chalkboard. When the obstacles were stowed underneath the worktable, a new scratching sound crinkled through the kitchen.

"It's probably just JoJo having problems getting her key in the lock," Sophie whispered. All of the bakery assistants had keys to the back entrance.

Amy pointed the penlight toward the door, but the bubble of light didn't reach it. "It doesn't sound like a key," she whispered back. "I don't like it. Let's go back into the dining room. Do you have your cell phone in your pocket?"

"Yes."

The clicking and scratching continued as they scrambled toward the swinging doors. Sophie's hand linked through Amy's crooked arm as she navigated again around the giant floor mixer with toe-smashing legs that jutted into the pathway. The light got brighter as it reflected off the shiny metal doors. Amy pushed one open and plunged into the dining room pulling Sophie with her. The odd sounds stopped as they did a two person conga line around the tables and chairs. When they got to the far side of the dining room they turned to look at the kitchen doors.

An explosion propelled all of the air out of Amy's lungs. The tinkle of broken glass skittering over the kitchen floor continued for a few seconds. Glass jars full of often-used spices and specialty flours were arranged on open shelves close to the back door. If it were a café employee in the kitchen, she would know exactly where the shelf was and avoid it even in complete darkness. A green glow flashed across the round windows in the swinging kitchen doors.

Amy hooked arms again with Sophie and pulled her into the coffee shop area. Amy whispered, "Go lock yourself in the bathroom and call 9-1-1. You should be able to get back there safely by using the light from your phone's screen for a flashlight."

"What are you going to do?" Sophie asked. In the darkness, her hand closed around Amy's forearm. She was trembling so violently the tremors almost shook the penlight out of Amy's grasp.

"See if I can figure out what's going on. I'll hit him with a chair or something if he comes out of the kitchen."

After the bathroom door's lock clicked, Amy slipped back across the dining room. She fished her phone out of her apron pocket. The kitchen doors were on the corner of the L-shaped room. Amy flattened herself against the wall, reached around the corner and held the phone up to the round window. There wasn't a night mode on the phone's video camera, but maybe it would record something. A metallic
bong
made her jump. Heavy footsteps tromped on the tiles. There was a solid thump then the crackle of splintering wood. The frame around Sophie's office door was the only large wooden thing Amy could think of in the kitchen. She hadn't unlocked it yet that morning.

All was quiet for a few seconds. What did the intruder want in the office? Amy slowly exhaled as she slid the rest of her body around the corner to join her hand. She pushed the door open a crack while she moved her phone to the window in the other door. Her fingers throbbed from holding her hand above her head. A shifting, green glow emanated from the doorway of the now open office. Her breath caught in her throat as the sharp whine of a siren moaned outside the building. Another destructive
thunk
propelled the rest of the interrupted exhale out of her lungs.

Two green points of light, like demon eyes, appeared in the office doorway. They flicked off as the dark blob of undetermined origin turned away from her. A few seconds later, the unmistakable thump of the back door slamming shut mixed with the sirens. Amy spun around. She needed to tell Sophie the monster was gone, so she could relay the information to the emergency operator. The quest leapfrogged through her brain, jumping over the facts that it was still totally dark, and she was in a room crammed with dining furniture. Her left foot smashed into a chair leg, starting a chain reaction that left her upper body sprawled on a tabletop like a starfish. She shook off the pain and restarted the penlight-guided journey to the women's bathroom. It seemed as though it took ten minutes to make it to the hallway in the back of the coffee shop. She knocked on the door lightly.

"If you're still on the line with the emergency operator, tell them the intruder has left the café."

As the wail of a flock of sirens echoed through the café, Amy and Sophie made their way back to the main kitchen to check out the damage as well as they could in the darkness. As they pushed through the swinging doors, two figures with blindingly bright flashlights crashed through the unlocked back door and yelled, "Police. Hands up!"

Amy's arms shot over her head before she could mentally command them to do so. "We work here."

After several chaotic minutes of being alternately herded, blinded, and questioned, Shepler arrived. He confirmed to the other officers that she and Sophie belonged in the café.

The following half hour felt like a scene from a horror movie set at a summer camp, full of eerie, flashlight-produced lighting effects. After explaining what had happened for law enforcement posterity, Amy, Sophie, and Shepler retreated to the dining room to look at the shaky video Amy had taken. She emailed it to him so they could all watch it on the larger screen of his tablet computer. He had a video editing program and was able to increase the contrast to help make up for the lack of night mode. Shepler sat at a table while she and Sophie stood behind him, looking over his shoulders.

The video was shaky, but they could make out a person wearing a werewolf Halloween mask complete with glowing eyes. Shepler grunted. "A mask and looks like some sort of night vision goggles. That explains the green glowing eyes. Same getup and build as the person who broke into the salon."

Amy replayed in her mind the sounds the intruder made in the kitchen. "Can I borrow your flashlight for a minute?"

"Sure."

She grabbed the heavy, high-powered flashlight sitting in the center of the table. The crime scene investigators on the other side of the kitchen doors stopped talking as she pulled open one of the swinging doors.

"Hi, just me," she called to the officers. Patches of yellow light dotted the dark kitchen as they searched for evidence. Amy zigzagged her own light beam across the floor and onto the bank of storage shelves next to the back door. "Checking to see what kind of mess we'll need to clean up."

She ducked back into the dining room and rejoined Sophie and Shepler. "There is flour and sugar everywhere, but only a few jars were smashed. At the other businesses, the storage shelves were cleared. Everything was tossed on the floor. Most of the jars are still on the shelves right next to the door where the Wolf Man came in. If he smashed a couple of the containers, he obviously knew they were there, so why did he only destroy a few?"

"You can hear sirens in the video," Shepler said. "Maybe he had time to do more damage at the other places."

Amy flopped into a chair. "If he only wanted to do damage, he could've kept smashing jars. Instead, he stopped tossing spice jars and broke into Sophie's office."

"Maybe because he was looking for something," Sophie said. On the other side of the large windows the sky was starting to lighten, turning everything in the dining room a shade of blue. "But what?"

"If it weren't for the other businesses being broken into, I'd think it was a competitor looking for a recipe." Amy stared out the window. How many of the other businesses in the area had been broken into? With the arrival of the squadron of police cars, the hacker certainly knew that the police were involved now. "Maybe he was looking for your computer."

"Why? He obviously doesn't need one. He's not hacking into all of the computers using brain waves alone," Shepler said without taking his eyes off of a replay of the video. Carla was rubbing off on her significant other. Usually
she
shot down Amy's theories like the B-52 bomber of the creative ideas world.

"What if there's something on it, maybe some trace of his identity that he couldn't erase." She looked at Sophie over Shepler's head. "Is your laptop still in your tote bag?"

Sophie took the flashlight and disappeared into the kitchen to check on her computer. Shepler's phone began vibrating on the tabletop. Amy resumed staring out the window, looking across the road at the dark rectangle that was Finley & Crowe Menswear. All of the other businesses had the same pattern of cyber and vandalism attacks. What was it about the menswear shop and the café that made the extortionist change his typical plan of attack?

"You have got to be kidding me." Shepler's voice cut into Amy's thoughts. "You're sure that's what happened?"

His phone clattered across the table when he tossed it down. Amy turned to look at him. "What?"

"Someone flew a drone into the power lines to knock out the electricity."

Many people were just waking up at that time. Now that the adrenaline from the break-in had subsided, her mind was running a little slowly. "Like the mini-helicopters paparazzi use to take pictures of Jennifer Lawrence inside penthouse hotel rooms?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Computer hacks, night vision goggles, and flying drones. Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the geekiest geek of them all?"