Fudge Brownies & Murder (4 page)

Before she could gush any more, the door leading to the garage swung open. Bruce walked in with a gray suit jacket slung over his arm. Amy had been bundled in a wool coat, gloves, and a scarf, but Carla's hubby braved the cold in a long-sleeve dress shirt. The toughness went well with his killer-pursuing side. There was nothing like a hulking, macho homicide detective digging up clues to put fear into the hearts of cold-blooded killers. Amy often said he looked like a superhero, and in many ways he was. He put Kellerton's real-life evil villains behind bars.

"Yay, more brownies," he said as he bent over the back of the couch and kissed Carla's forehead. "Just what I didn't want."

Amy giggled. "If I ever find a brownie competition, I think I'll do pretty well in it! I may even be considered an expert at this point. But don't worry. There are lemon bars in the cupboard for you."

"Thank you," he called as he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a plate stacked with two powdered sugar-topped bars. "So did Alex make it down to Tennessee okay?"

"Yes," Amy answered. "He called when I was driving here. Said they arrived at the resort about an hour ago and had already seen a bear. I guess they were going to take some kayaks around the lake then relax for the rest of the evening. Something about hitting bike trails with gorge crossings tomorrow. I don't know… I try not to listen too closely so I don't freak out about what he's doing."

Amy's husband was taking some much needed time off from his high pressure job to go on an extreme sports retreat with his friends. Bruce deserved the same thing, but impending fatherhood was his most urgent priority. Whenever Carla read a book on taking care of babies, she passed it on to him. They were both prepared with as much knowledge as possible, but they knew real life was far more complicated than the steps and procedures laid out in writing.

"Sounds like he'll have a good time. I'm sure they have bear spray, so no need to worry about that little creature."

Amy's eyebrows shot up. "Little creature? Only you would call a bear little."

Bruce's mischievous grin contrasted with his buzz cut hair and Greek god body that looked and felt as if it was chiseled from granite. His physique could be intimidating to criminals, but underneath there was a giant teddy bear that only close friends got to see. He sunk into the recliner near the patio door. His expression turned back to serious. "I appreciate all of the help you've given us while Carla has been laid up. I know you're busy with working at the market and everything, but do you think you might be able to help get me started in the right direction with my new case?"

Carla shoveled more of the citrusy brownie in her mouth to keep from growling. A murder case had almost ruined their wedding, and now a new case had apparently been assigned to him just weeks before the baby was due. She knew what he and his profession were like when she began the relationship with him, but it didn't make it any easier to stomach when his work interfered with their lives. Luckily, Amy and her mind, which generated creative ideas on demand, had helped solve quite a few of Bruce's murder cases.

Amy's baby-blue eyes bugged out a bit as she nodded. "Absolutely. What do you want to know?"

"If you have any idea who killed Esther Mae Bates. The coroner did some routine blood tests. She had been in treatment for dangerously high blood pressure for years, but the reports showed high levels of medication used to treat low blood pressure, Midodrine, which gave her a fatal heart attack. The tablets don't look similar, and beyond that, her husband doesn't take the low blood pressure medication, so it's highly unlikely she would've taken the wrong drug by mistake. At this point, it looks like murder."

Carla knew he was right. She had seen medications for both problems many times while she worked in the hospital. They weren't easily mixed up. "So how did the drugs get in her system?"

He leaned forward and set the plate, now only with a few crust crumbs scattered over it, on the coffee table. "They're analyzing her stomach contents, but it appears that she took the correct high blood pressure medicine right before she died since the tablet hadn't dissolved completely. At this point, I don't know what happened. Have to wait for the tests before I can officially declare a murder."

"So do you have any suspects?" Amy asked as she wrapped a strand of her golden hair around her index finger. "If it does turn out to be murder."

Bruce sucked in a deep breath. "Right now, I'd say since she spent the weekend at the conference at the K Hotel, my guess would be someone who was also at the conference. Maybe her roommate."

"Rori can't be a suspect. She's a vegan yoga instructor for goodness sake."

He blinked at Amy's reasoning or
Amy Logic
, which is what he called her ideas that were on the crazier side. While Bruce based his investigations on facts, she trusted her intuition to point her in the right direction. "And how do her diet and exercise routines automatically make her not guilty of committing murder?" he asked.

The neighbors probably heard Amy's exasperated sigh. "Rori's whole life revolves around being kind and compassionate. Every week she goes to the women's shelter and teaches yoga for free. She even chases bugs out of the yoga studio with a dust pan instead of swatting them. There's no way she could've killed Esther Mae."

"Okay." He held up his hands as though Amy was pointing a gun at him. A gun loaded with rounds of Amy logic. "I just heard the two women weren't fond of each other but had to share a room which would give Rori motivation and opportunity."

"No way." Amy crossed her arms over her stomach. "Her classes are the only exercise classes I have ever enjoyed. You aren't going to put my yoga teacher in jail for a murder she didn't commit."

"She won't go to jail if she's innocent. If this turns into a murder case, which I think it will, I'll still need to find out who did it and why."

Amy sat up straighter. "I can help with that."

The metal step treads boomed as Amy clomped down the spiral staircase. There was an elevator and another straight staircase that connected to the second-story classroom area of Clement Street Market, but Amy preferred the corkscrew route. It was just
fun
.

In the classroom, all of the vegetables were prepared. Spices were measured and hanging out in tiny glass bowls on the appropriate trays designated for each recipe. Everything was set for the Comforting Casseroles class to begin—with her leading it as the instructor. Even though she had been teaching cooking classes almost every week for the previous three months, she still felt like the ball in a pinball machine. Careening around the market had become her ritual for burning off the extra energy. She had a huge appreciation for teachers and their amazing ability to stay calm in a profession that would turn her into a drooling crazy woman mumbling into her coffee cup if she had to do it every day.

Of course, her good luck talisman—her husband—hadn't told her everything would be okay before he left for work that morning. He was in the wilds of Tennessee, and she was out of sorts. While he was probably hooked to a bungee cord on a suspension bridge over a deep river gorge, her heart was racing as if she was doing the same daredevil stunt.

Amy turned up the last aisle in the market. Riverbend Bake Shop was ahead, on the left. The scent of Sophie's custom-roasted coffee drifted between shoppers and drew Amy to the booth more efficiently than a voodoo love potion. When she reached the miniature coffee shop, she waved to JoJo, who was waiting on a customer, and slipped behind the counter. Sophie, the very wise owner of the coffee emporium, gifted all of her employees free coffee whenever they wanted it, even if they weren't working—a golden perk for coffee lovers like herself. Amy plucked one of the to-go cups from the stack next to the coffeemaker and filled it with her favorite beverage. She added a splash of cream and a glug of brown sugar syrup before popping on the lid. Simple perfection in a cup.

"You have to try one of these," JoJo said as she handed Amy a cookie wrapped in a square of thin, translucent bakery tissue paper. "They're orange thumbprint almond butter cookies. I ran across an old recipe for three ingredient peanut butter cookies that I used to make in high school. I figured I could dress the cookies up a bit by doing a thumbprint version."

Amy nibbled the edge of the nutty, tender cookie with a puddle of orange marmalade in the center. "It's wonderful! I love orange with almonds." She took another bite, breaking into the sweet, sunny-colored center. "You know there are all kinds of nut butters now. These would be fun to experiment with using different butters and fillings."

"That's a great idea. If you don't mind, I'm going to steal it and play around with a few combinations."

"I don't mind—as long as you let me sample your experiments."

"It's a deal." JoJo took a sip of her own cup of coffee, which had been stashed on a shelf under the bakery case. "What's your class about today?"

"Comfort food casseroles."

"One of my favorite things, as long as they aren't made with condensed soup."

Amy shook her head. "I agree with you. That stuff is weird. There is definitely no canned soup in my recipes. I just love the versatility of casseroles—you can make them with pasta, grains, vegetables, meat, cheese…pretty much anything you want. Today I'm making a layered vegetable gratin and turkey shepherd's pie with sweet potato topping. If you'd like, I'll bring you a copy of the recipes after class."

"Thank you. I would love that." JoJo smiled. "Have a good class!"

Amy joined the flow of customers in the aisle again. She was only a few feet past the bakeshop when the deep, dark aroma of coffee was replaced with the intense smokiness of bacon. The Southern Gals booth was at the end of the aisle, an extra-long space to accommodate both the steam and chilling tables where everything from braised collard greens to ambrosia salad were dished up to Northerners who wanted a taste of the Southern. Amy almost dropped her coffee cup when she saw who was behind the counter. Of course, she wasn't expecting to see Esther Mae. But a ghost would've been less startling than the person who
was
dishing up cheesy tater tot casserole.

Rayshelle Applebee liked to compete in cooking competitions too, but she had become infamous for both her bad recipes and bad attitude. There was a rumor floating around town that the entire staff of the lingerie shop where she worked came down with food poisoning after eating cheesecake she had made. Amy didn't know if that tidbit was true, but she absolutely knew that Rayshelle had the demeanor of a rattlesnake. Poor LeighAnne, the second gal in Southern Gals. She had gone from dealing with the personality equivalent of a steamroller in Esther Mae to the even more difficult to tolerate Rayshelle. Curiosity got the best of Amy. She had to find out how LeighAnne hired her new employee. Selling food in a high-end market was a far different job than selling cheap, trashy lingerie.

"What can I get you, hon?" LeighAnne asked from her stool positioned behind the cash register. Her short, gray hair formed soft curls that framed her round face. She was like the quiet, petite, and soft spoken yin to what had been Esther Mae's loud, intimidating, and audacious yang.

"Can I have the cornbread with pimento cheese?"

LeighAnne punched a few numbers into the register as she relayed the order to Rayshelle who was so busy stirring a tray of mustard greens she hadn't yet noticed that the order was placed by Amy. When recognition hit, the snarky comments were sure to follow. Amy handed a five-dollar bill to LeighAnne and said, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Her lips flattened into a thin line. "It was so unexpected. Other than her high blood pressure, she was as healthy as an ox and had the willpower of one too. It's going to be difficult without her, but I have too many medical bills to close up shop. I'm grateful that her niece is helping me out, though."

Amy tried to keep a straight face, but the surprise was as startling as loading up a tortilla chip with salsa only to discover it was the extra hot variety instead of mild. Rayshelle was Esther Mae's niece? She looked at Rayshelle who was currently sporting a short bob haircut in a bright pumpkin shade. Humidity from the steam table had poofed her locks into a shape that resembled a jack-o'-lantern. Both Esther Mae and Rayshelle had bold personalities that were over the top, along with intense, longstanding love affairs with hair dye. It was a familial connection that Amy hadn't pieced together before then.

Rayshelle narrowed her eyes at Amy and said, "Aunt E was more of a mom to me than my real one has ever been. Don't you dare speak bad about her."

"She didn't say anything about Esther Mae, let alone anything bad." LeighAnne shot a side-eye glare in Rayshelle's direction. "Why don't you get the cornbread?"

The annoyed expression ricocheted from LeighAnne and landed squarely on her new employee's face. The look Rayshelle gave Amy would've made a Navy SEAL cower. After trying to stare a hole through Amy's skull, Rayshelle looked away. She tossed a square of the crumbly, golden bread into a clamshell box and topped it with a scoop of the red pimento-flecked cheese spread. When the box was latched shut, she tossed it on the counter next to the register. Amy looked at LeighAnne—a little technique called focusing on the good instead of the bad. "I'm sure you all are having a difficult time right now. It's never easy to lose a loved one. Please let me know if you need any help." She picked up the box and smiled slightly. "Thank you, I'm sure this will be delicious."

A few hours later, Amy slipped the phone back into her purse. After finishing the class, she had called to check on Carla and found she had been relieved of evening meal duty. One of Carla's friends, whom she worked with in the emergency room, was coming over for the evening to catch up. A nice surprise, with dinner included, to distract the bored mom-to-be. But before hanging up, she had news for Amy. Shepler had come home for lunch and told her that Esther Mae's death had been ruled a homicide.