Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes (Culinary Competition Mysteries Book 3) (21 page)

When they walked back into the anteroom that adjoined the atrium, Amy noticed that most of the white wicker furniture had been removed while they were rehearsing. The garden furniture had been replaced with a portable bar and small tables that held trays of cheese and crackers. Bridget waved Carla over to chat with the bartender. Harry beckoned for Shepler.

Once she had the attention of both of the detectives, Amy rushed through a whispered explanation of how she had figured out that the murderer was eating pizza with them half an hour earlier. Manners were the killer's undoing. He kept wiping his face with napkins as he was eating. Grease from the meats and cheese acted like makeup remover. By the end of the meal the bruises on his jaw, garnered from the tussle with Chuck, were showing through the concealer he had used to hide them.

Shepler frowned. "I've had forensics analyze the videos of the break-ins. He's the right size and stature. I did notice there was something odd about his face today, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. Now that Amy has pointed it out, he was wearing some sort of makeup." He glanced at Carla, who was still chatting with Bridget, then focused his gaze on Harry. "Let's go see if we can find out where he went."

Harry nodded his consent. "If he's gone, don't worry about it." He clapped his hand on Shepler's shoulder. "You're getting married today, my man. There's a whole police department that will be happy to round this guy up so you don't have to."

"Where are they going?" Carla asked from across the room as the men sprinted out the door.

Amy clasped her hands behind her back. "Ummm…I'm not supposed to tell you, but they're working on something special for your honeymoon."

She forced herself to smile. Lying was not her strong point, even if it technically wasn't a lie. Shepler would be a much happier camper if he put the killer behind bars before heading to the North Carolina mountains.

"Okay." Carla stretched the word out as she fixed a questioning stare on Amy. "I'm just going to pretend I believe you."

Bridget cleared her throat. She gestured to a woman dressed in a black skirt and white blouse who was standing in the doorway where the men had exited. "The guests don't need to see the bride before her grand entrance. Time to get you back up to the room to relax for a few minutes. Alicia will take you there."

"Go ahead." Amy glanced around the room hoping to find a blinking neon sign of an excuse to offer so she could stay behind. Her search landed on Bridget. "I need to chat with Bridget about the food. I'll join you in a few minutes."

Carla left after nailing Amy with another suspicious look. Amy turned to Bridget, who raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's really going on, Amy?"

Before she could explain anything, several sets of heavy footsteps thundered into the tile-floored room. It was Shepler and Harry. "His car's still here," Shepler said. "Mrs. Mahoney, we could use some assistance from your staff."

Saved from an awkward explanation by the dashing detectives. After a quick rundown about what was happening, Bridget left with the two men, leaving Amy in the room with the bartender. She looked at him and said, "Well, I guess I'll go check on the bride."

She walked out the exit that Carla and her guide had taken. There was an elevator to the right. The room where she and Carla had gotten ready overlooked the atrium, so if she took the elevator to the third floor it should be easy to find.

The door on the opposite side of the elevator opened when it reached the third floor. The long hallway that stretched ahead for as far as she could see seemed familiar. But the mansion probably had many hallways. She crept forward. The heels of her white patent peep-toe pumps sank into the plush carpet. As she moved down the hallway she glanced back and forth at the paneled doors. They all looked exactly the same. She stopped and looked back at the elevator. Should she go back down and ask the bartender for help?

When she turned back to the almost endless hallway, a spot of pink caught her eye. She hurried toward the out-of-place splash of color in the white and wood-tone color scheme of the hallway. A sign with
Bride
printed on it hung from the glass door handle. Hurray for the hostess who thought of every…little…detail.

Amy took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She hadn't thought of how to break the murderer-on-the-loose news to Carla, but it was too late to come up with anything to help soften the blow.

The door latch clicked as a hand clamped over Amy's mouth. A silver knife blade appeared in front of her face as Carla pulled the door open and asked, "What the hell?"

She was wondering the
same
thing.

"Shut up and do as I say, or you're both going to die," Thane said as he pushed Amy into the room while staying attached to her back like a gigantic, lethal parasite.

Oof
. Amy's toe caught in the deep carpet pile. Thane's hand slipped off her mouth as she pitched forward. She windmilled her arms to try to prevent a face plant. Carla grabbed her by the elbow. Amy slapped her hand on the wall to regain her balance. She whirled around. Thane flicked the knife blade to cue Carla to shut the door.

"Lock it," he commanded after it swung closed. "Then both of you go sit on the bed."

Amy looked at Carla as they complied with the demand. Carla's calm-under-pressure demeanor was in full force while Amy wanted to throw herself facedown on the bed and bawl. Why couldn't she have realized who the murderer was
before
she told everybody at the pizza party that he was about to be arrested? Recipes didn't turn out well if the steps weren't followed in the correct order. She had done the murder-solving equivalent of baking eggs before putting them into a cake batter.

Her arms felt like overcooked spaghetti, so it took two attempts before she managed to hoist herself up onto the end of the high bed. Even Carla's feet didn't hit the floor. They sat side-by-side, their feet dangling, like two little girls facing down a monster that had crept out of the closet.

Thane paced back and forth in front of the locked door. "What did I do to you to deserve this?" He pointed the tip of the knife at Amy. "Why are you screwing with me like this?"

He was the one pacing around with a sure to be razor-sharp butcher's knife pilfered from Bridget's kitchen. How exactly was obeying his order and sitting on the end of the bed messing with him? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You got that comic geek to plant the virus on my computer that's ruining everything." Thane slashed the knife through the air. "Then you had me called here so you and the cop could watch me suffer while my world falls apart."

"I had nothing to do with either one of those things!" Amy squeezed her hands together in her lap. She talked with her hands, especially when she was excited, but sudden movements could spook the already freaked-out murderer. "You pissed off Chuck so he came up with the virus all on his own with no encouragement from me. I guess you should've studied your victims a little bit before hitting them up for money. If I knew you were the murderer before now, I certainly wouldn't have called you here to ruin my friend's wedding."

He stopped pacing and stared at her as if she had spoken to him in Latin. "I don't believe you."

Holy guacamole. Did she have resting bad liar face? Did she always look as if she was fibbing, whether she was or not?

"I'm…telling…the…truth. Why don't you take a turn at it? I know you murdered Luke and are behind the extortions. What I don't understand is why."

Thane adopted Carla's standard cold, detached expression. "Uncle Matt doesn't pay me squat. I can't afford to live in any place better than a mouse-infested studio apartment. He said living frugally builds character. What a bunch of bullshit."

"If your problem is with Matt, why did you kill Luke?"

"Because he figured out it was me sending the messages. I don't know how. He just told me I couldn't play a player."

So Luke's family had gotten him killed, but only because they had given him the knowledge to recognize a scam artist. Amy snorted. "Just like you shouldn't have tried hacking into the computer of a hacker."

"Whatever." He extended his arm until the tip of the knife was inches away from Carla's nose. "You are going to be my ticket out of here."

Anger pumped out of Amy's heart. Her big mouth had started this. "Leave her alone. It's her wedding day. She has nothing to do with your problems."

"Shut up!" Thane hissed as he swung the blade toward Amy's face.

Carla ran her hand down the silk robe that was still covering her wedding dress. "You know, half of the wedding guests are going to be cops. I'm sure they've started to arrive already. Holding their friend's pregnant bride hostage is only going to piss them off."

Pregnant?
Carla…Was…Pregnant! Forget about Shepler's buddies not letting Thane get away with threatening Carla. Amy was done with his spoiled brat routine too. She formulated a plan in three seconds. It wasn't great, but it would have to do.

Thane hopped back as Amy kicked out her feet, bounced twice on the springy mattress, then slid off the slippery bedspread. She grabbed Carla's hands and tugged her off the bed too. After taking hold of her friend's other hand, she initiated an awkward "Ring Around the Rosie" dance, hopping up and down while spinning both of them in a circle and chanting, "You're pregnant! You're pregnant!"

"Stop it! Sit back down!" Thane yelled.

Amy ignored the command and shifted their orbit closer to the mirrored vanity table that sat against the wall. As they spun by, Amy grabbed a big antique silver hairbrush. She let go of Carla's other hand and smashed the improvised weapon into Thane's knife. There was a sword fight clank followed by a thud when the dislodged knife hit the door behind him.

He stumbled backward as Amy landed another blow on his shoulder. She let out a growl and tackled him like a desperate single woman at a wedding bouquet toss. Thane yowled when Amy smacked his already-injured eye. There wasn't going to be any makeup in the jail for him to cover up the bruises from being attacked by his victims. Twice. Chuck had doled out the punishment in the back room of The Inkwell, which tipped Amy off to Thane's unscrupulous side venture.

"Stay back, Carla. I don't want you to get hurt," Amy said as she dug her fingernails into the flesh of Thane's shoulder.

"Help!" Carla's scream made Amy's eardrums throb. Underneath her, Thane twisted onto his stomach. He clawed at the carpet trying to drag both of them toward the knife.
No way. Not going to happen, dude.
The toe of her shoe bumped the side of his leg. Target located. Thane bellowed as she dug the spike-like heel of her shoe into his calf. She grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back.

"Carla!" Shepler yelled in the hallway.

Thane thrashed his head from side to side, trying to break free from Amy's grip. She yanked back harder. His fashionably long on top hairstyle was working against him. The door exploded open, smashing into his face with a fleshy thud. He went limp as Shepler vaulted over them to reach Carla.

"I guess I should've given you the handcuffs when you asked for them," Harry said as he entered the room. He offered Amy a hand. "Are you okay?"

She let him help her to her feet. Her knees were so wobbly she could barely stand. She looked at the silver brush she still clutched in her hand and said, "I think so."

He bent and pulled Thane's arms behind his back. There was a loud click as the handcuffs locked on the criminal's wrists. "You look like you held your own pretty well against this guy."

Amy gingerly stepped over Thane's sprawled legs and replaced the brush on its tray. "He should've known better than to mess with an angry former hairdresser."

Carla leaned back onto Bruce. He hugged her a bit more tightly as they gently swayed to the slow rhythm of the music. She watched Amy and Alex on the dance floor. Amy laid her head on her husband's shoulder and closed her eyes as they rocked back and forth. A sweet moment for the woman who had single-handedly saved Carla's life and the wedding. Nobody deserved a romantic slow dance with her true love more than Amy.

"What are you thinking about?" Bruce asked as he laced his fingers together over the row of buttons lined up on her stomach. A loving embrace for her and their baby.

"Everything turned out better than my wildest dreams. It got a little sketchy there for a while, but the trade-off was that gorgeous sunset."

After Harry hauled the little blonde hairbrush samurai off Thane, half of the Kellerton police force invaded the room to help. They already knew Matt's nephew was the extortionist. The officers just didn't know he was waving a knife around at her and Amy when they arrived for the wedding. The computer virus the guy from the comic book shop set loose on Thane's computer had been brilliant. First, it turned everything Thane typed into a nonsensical mantra of
I Am A Moron
, effectively nullifying his threats. Then the genius second phase kicked in. It mined the data on his computer until it unearthed his identity and relayed the information to the good hacker, who promptly called the police department. Carla didn't know Chuck, but she loved his cyber Robin Hood style. And she really loved his wife's artistic style. The drawing Amy had commissioned was a breathtaking keepsake.

After the mess with Thane was sorted out, a fashion emergency took center stage. In the process of beating the would-be hostage taker, Amy also ravaged her delicate bridesmaid outfit. One particularly energetic hairbrush whack ripped out the seam down the side of her white cotton shirt. Who would've guessed that Mrs. Mahoney, the woman who could afford one-of-a-kind couture dresses from world famous clothing designers, liked to sew as a hobby? With the help of her sewing machine, Amy's shirt was good as new within a few minutes.

The wedding started an hour and a half late. A Mrs. Mahoney-provided open bar and fancy snacks kept the guests who weren't police officers happy during the wait. When Carla and Bruce finally made it to the altar, under the arch covered in white roses and tiny twinkling lights, a vibrant orange and pink sunset cast a rosy glow over everything and everybody in the atrium. The light show only lasted for a few minutes, but the magical sunset appeared at the perfect time, as they were saying their vows.

Amy whispered something into Alex's ear then skipped across the dance floor toward Carla. "You two look cozy," she said as she snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waitress's tray. "How's it going, Mr. and Mrs. Shepler?"

"Fabulously, thanks to you," Carla replied. "I had no idea you could fight dirty like that. The heel in the calf move is going to leave a mark."

Bruce chuckled. "Between the run-ins with the guy from the comic book store and you, Thane will be lucky if he can move a muscle tomorrow."

"Hopefully, the cots at the police station will make him feel even worse." Amy sniffed. "He deserves to be miserable. I guess spending time at the comic book store did some good. I must've subconsciously picked up some fighting moves by paging through the books there."

Carla wiggled out of Bruce's arms and wrapped Amy in a hug. "Thank you for everything you've done. Having the wedding here is a dream. The doughnut tower is exactly what I wanted. You solved the murder and saved both of us. You're my hero."

Amy grinned. "I am the Hairbrush Avenger." The tempo of the music picked up. "Oh, I love this song. I need to dance with Alex! Excuse me."

Her pink-flowered skirt flared out into a circle as she spun around. Amy zeroed in on her husband on the other side of the dance floor. Within seconds she was gone again. Carla looked up at Bruce. "I'd say she's having a good night."

When she looked back at the dance floor, Carla saw Bridget weaving through the round tables along the periphery of the parquet floor. The best wedding hostess in the world handed Bruce two sets of keys. "Your car has been moved to the guesthouse. When you're ready to leave here I'll have someone drive you over. Feel free to stay at the guesthouse as long as you like, even the whole week if you want."

When they had arrived at the mansion earlier that day, the first thing Mrs. Mahoney had done was offer to let them spend the night in the guest cottage tucked away in the woods along the river. They had planned to spend the night at Carla's loft then start a leisurely drive south in the morning.

Bruce draped his arm over Carla's shoulders. "Thank you for the offer to stay longer, but we need to leave tomorrow. We booked a cabin near Asheville, North Carolina for the week. Staying in your guesthouse tonight is an unexpected treat that we greatly appreciate along with everything else you've done. We can't thank you enough."

"You helped stop a murderer's frightening attacks on many business owners who are my friends. I wish I could thank you with more than hosting your wedding." Mrs. Mahoney plucked a brownie off a tray sitting on a nearby table. She broke it in half. "In the morning, call the kitchen when you get up. The number is on speed dial on the phone. You'll need a hearty breakfast to start out your honeymoon trip."

"Thank you." Carla looked at the sparkling diamond rings stacked on her finger. "You have made this the best day of our lives."

Bridget smiled and took a step closer. "I'm glad you've enjoyed the day, but from what I hear, you'll be having an even more exciting one this fall. Congratulations."