Pies & Peril - Culinary Competition Mystery #1

Chapter 7

(Amy)

"Sugar and coffee. Stat," Carla said the moment Amy opened the door. Stopping in after her overnight shift to share an impromptu breakfast was a semi-regular habit for Carla, but usually she wasn't this desperate for sweets and caffeine. "I feel like a zombie."

Amy grabbed her friend by the shoulders and steered her toward the breakfast nook then veered to the coffee maker. As she grabbed the insulated carafe and the largest coffee mug in the cupboard she asked, "Rough night? I don't know how you stay awake all night, but I have to say I've never seen you this tired after a shift."

"It's your fault," Carla said as she snatched the mug out of Amy's hand and began spooning sugar into it, from the ever-present sugar bowl on the table. "You're the one who wanted me to hook up with Bruce. I don't know what secret ingredient was in that banana bread, but I think you've created the Viagra of the baked goods world."

"No secret ingredient." Amy plopped down across from Carla. "It's been a long time since I've heard you mention even going out on a date. I think you were probably sending out some kind of pheromones. Aren't those the things that the opposite sex smells when it's mating season?"

Carla raised an eyebrow, a feat that hadn't been seen since the Botox treatments. "I'm not a monkey."

"I know I've seen somewhere that humans excrete them, too."

"Whatever. Don't care. Need sugary baked goods." Carla folded her arms on the table then plunked her head down on top of them. "Walking dead here."

"Muffins are in the oven. Just a few more minutes." She studied Carla's hair. It was soft and rather downy, like there was no styling product in it. The difference was definitely noticeable as she usually used, at the least, a bit of gel to get the stylishly messy look she loved. Carla styled her hair to go to the gym, but worked the entire night with the naturally dried, cotton candy fluff hairdo? Interesting. "I hope you like strawberries."

"Yeah, sounds fantastic," Carla mumbled into the tabletop.

Amy got up to check on the muffins in the oven. Sometimes they got done quicker than anticipated. With the changes she had made to her basic muffin recipe, that could definitely happen. They were golden brown when she flicked on the oven light. "Is Bruce looking into Kevin as a suspect? The spouse is always under suspicion in a murder case, aren't they?"

A quiet snore, instead of an answer, came from Carla. Making her take a nap in the guest room, instead of driving home after breakfast, would be a good idea. In the state she was in, even after the coffee and muffins, she would probably fall asleep sitting at that long stoplight on the corner of Mason and Higgins. The electronic timer began beeping. Carla's head snapped up. "What's wrong? Does an IV need to be changed?"

Poor thing. The beeping must sound like one of the alarms at the hospital. "Nothing's wrong. Just my oven timer."

Amy snatched a strand of uncooked spaghetti out of the jar sitting on the counter next to the oven. The wire-like pasta was the perfect thing to poke into cakes and muffins, instead of splintery toothpicks, to check for doneness. She stuck the pasta into a couple of different muffins. Just a few moist crumbs clung to it. She donned her favorite pair of oven mitts made of red fabric adorned with tiny, screen-printed white hearts. As she set the muffin tin onto a trivet she said, "The muffins need to cool for a few minutes. While we wait, how about you tell me if you found out anything from Bruce. Sounds like you two spent enough time together."

Carla ground her fists into her eyes and shook her head slightly. "She was strangled. I'm pretty sure something was wrapped around her neck, but Bruce wouldn't positively confirm that."