Chicken Soup & Homicide - Culinary Competition Mystery #2

Chapter 26

(Amy)

The next morning, Amy hurried through her bland breakfast of runny oatmeal with a side of runny applesauce, apparently the standard breakfast for people with temperamental tummies. Although hers was back to normal, the doctor had left strict instructions that she could only order tasteless sludge. She was craving a gooey grilled ham and Swiss sandwich on sourdough bread, and getting discharged was the only way she would get it.

So she suited up in her walking attire and hit the halls. Beyond torturing her with a baby food diet, the doctor also instructed her to start walking around to prove that she was fit to be released. As she pulled on the baby-blue terry cloth robe, she vowed to make a caramel layer cake for Carla as a thank you for bringing the robe and a set of cute cotton pajamas. The ensemble was much better for cruising the halls than the double-gown layout many of the other patients wore, with one gown on the right way and the other backward to try to eliminate embarrassing gaps. No matter what, there was still some body part playing peekaboo. She pulled on the hospital-issued beige slipper socks and headed out of the room.

Walking was almost as good as cooking for working out problems. And she had a lot of things to think about. Trisha had successfully poisoned her once, then attempted it again with the crackers when she didn't join Britton in the cemetery. Why? If this was Trisha's idea of friendship, she needed a system reboot to return herself to normal defaults. Maybe Carla was right, and Pitts put her up to it. But even if Pitts was like a Greek god in bed, was the slimeball worth getting caught in attempted murder? Amy came to an intersection in the hallway. A bank of elevators was straight ahead, so she took a right turn.

A dark horse of a hypothesis came out of nowhere and charged to the front of her theory list. If Trisha wasn't just plain crazy, and Pitts wasn't behind her poisoner alter ego, then could she somehow be connected to Chef Michael? Since she supplied Cornerstone with herbs, most likely she did know him. Were they secret lovers currently driving to Florida like the foodie version of Bonnie and Clyde? The murdering arsonist on the run with the gorgeous evil herbalist.

Amy stopped walking. Sawhorses and table saws lined the hallway instead of restless patients and no-nonsense nurses. Hiking while lost in thought had literally left her lost in the sprawling hospital. There was a lesson somewhere in that story. A paper bag sat on the counter of the unmanned nurse's station to the left. Little pats of butter wrapped in gold foil were scattered on top of the crushed brown bag. Butter. Amy stared at the abandoned meal. She knew who the murderer was.

She turned around to backtrack out of the construction zone. Shepler was supposed to go back to work that morning. She had a nice big murder tip to welcome him back. A hand slapped across Amy's mouth. Fingernails ripped into her scalp as the person grabbed a handful of hair. Her body followed her head as she was yanked into a dark room and flung into the wall. The gloomy room turned nighttime dark as she struggled to find the breath that had been slammed out of her. She coughed and twisted around to see her attacker, even though she already knew who it was. Trisha. Of course.

"Well, you seem to be feeling better than I had anticipated. Did MIA hubby come home early and save you, or didn't you like the taste of my special herbs?"

"How about I'm tougher than you thought I was?"

Trisha pulled a knife out of the top of her knee-high boot. The specks of silver in the black handle glinted in the cracks of light seeping in around the sheet of plywood Trisha had used as a makeshift door. "Even tough-guy Chet wasn't a match against one of these."

"So you killed him? Here I thought this whole messy poisoning thing was you protecting your lover, whoever that is, Pitts or Chef Michael." That was a lie, but she needed to buy some time. Life was so unfair. Ten seconds after she figured out who the murderer was, she got attacked by her. Amy held up her pointer finger as she leaned against the wall. Her knees were not cooperating in her quest to stay standing. "Wait. I know—you're involved with both of them!"