Chicken Soup & Homicide - Culinary Competition Mystery #2

Chapter 14

(Amy)

Amy systematically ran the tip of her spoon through every sour cream heart she had made on the surface of the carrot soup. She had made chains of hearts on both bowls of soup, hoping to get Carla in a romantic frame of mind over her upcoming romantic rendezvous. Destroying the symbols of love on her lunch made her feel better about getting snubbed by Alex. The garnish didn't seem to be helping perk up Carla either as she finished her tirade about Detective Pitts. "It feels like he's made breaking us up his job, instead of finding the real killer."

"I know how it feels to watch something important falling apart when there's nothing you can do."

Carla's head snapped up from staring at her bowl. "What's happening? What's falling apart?"

"My marriage...I think." Amy twisted a strand of hair around her index finger. "I don't know. Alex is at work all the time now. Out-of-state trips every few weeks...he goes in early and gets home after I go to bed. I realize there are demands and sacrifices when you own a company, but this is crazy. I'm worried he'll end up with medical issues from all of the stress."

"I hate to ask this, but do you think all of the time away is because he's having an affair?"

Amy shook her head. "If he is cheating on me, he's hiding it well. I haven't found any evidence beyond his awful long hours away that would point to an affair. Then again, maybe my instincts are off right now. I can't even narrow down my murder suspect list to a manageable handful, let alone whittle it down to the killer so I can get all of us off of Pitts's hit list. I'm surprised I haven't had any complaints that my Parade of Desserts baked goods tasted bad. My cooking mojo is off. I ruined scrambled eggs last night." Amy took a deep breath. She just admitted that she wasn't thinking straight, even though Carla didn't realize the significance of the rubbery eggs. "Maybe there are all kinds of signs that Alex is seeing someone else, and I'm just missing them."

"You would know if he was cheating on you, in your gut, even if you don't find any physical evidence. Bruce is looking into a few leads unofficially. I'm sure he can figure out this murder mess we're all caught up in, if he can stay off of Pitts's radar. Forget about finding out who the murderer is. Take care of your marriage."

Amy stared out the window behind Carla. There was a black car parked across the road. White plumes of exhaust rose from its tailpipe. "Figuring out who really murdered Britton is better than sitting here wondering if my marriage is gasping for breath. Alex has told me several times nothing is going to change until he hires some new employees. There's no sense in having a meltdown until he finds more people."

"Sounds like you have a handle on it." Carla tapped her fingernail on the table. "Just remember, I'm here if you need to talk."

"How about we talk about your getaway with Shepler? Did you decide where you're going?"

Carla tilted her head from side to side. "There's supposed to be a big storm coming in tonight. We decided instead of heading to the west side of the state and wasting time driving through the snow, we'll just hit the casino in Detroit."

"Less time driving through storms means more time together in the hotel room. A brilliant plan." A person moved in the shadowy interior of the running car outside. "I think we should go upstairs. There's been a car that I don't recognize sitting in front of the house since we sat down to eat, and somebody is inside."

Carla glanced over her shoulder as she stood. "The black Impala?"

"Yes." She put her bowl, still full of soup that she had no appetite to eat, in the sink. "If you are warming up your car, why would you sit inside it?"