Chicken Soup & Homicide - Culinary Competition Mystery #2

Chapter 27

(Amy)

The constant whir of the wheelchair's rubber wheels and rhythmic thuds of the aide's shoes seemed to be the hospital version of a lullaby. After getting a short statement about Trisha's ambush, Shepler had deposited Amy into the wheelchair and ordered her back to her room. She wasn't in any shape to argue. Besides, the teen girl pushing the chair had the wide brown eyes of a frightened fawn as she maneuvered through the pack of police officers clogging the hall outside of the room that had almost become Amy's coffin.

Amy gasped as she rolled into her room. There were bouquets everywhere. Yellow mums next to the sink. Reddish-orange poppies on the rolling tray. White and yellow daisies clustered on the window ledge. Alex sat in the chair next to the window, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the tops of his knees. A mischievous grin materialized when he looked at her. "There you are. That must've been quite a walk if you needed a ride back."

The aide held Amy's arm to help her into bed and then scurried out of the room. As Amy pulled the sheet over her legs, she sighed. "It was quite a walk. I figured out who the murderer is and then got attacked by her."

"What?" Alex jumped up. He brushed her bangs back and cringed at the sight of the goose egg on her forehead. "How could you be assaulted in a busy hospital? Who did this?"

Amy punched the button to raise the head of the mattress so she could sit completely upright but still lay her throbbing head back onto the pillow. "It was Trisha. Britton bought her farm when she was having some financial problems. He promised to sell it back to her when she got back on her feet. Instead, he tried to work out a deal to sell it to Bridget Mahoney."

"So she killed him in revenge?"

"Killed him. Seduced Pitts to throw him off her trail. She did everything she could to cover her tracks and cast suspicion on everybody else." Amy fiddled with the bed controls to raise her feet a bit. "Shepler has her in custody now. I just can't believe it was her. She wasn't even on my suspect radar until thirty minutes ago."

"Unbelievable. You've been through hell courtesy of that woman. Would some flowers make you feel a bit better?" Alex scooped up a tall, clear vase full of cheerful, billowy pink carnations and held it out so Amy could pluck the notecard off the plastic trident nestled among the blooms.

"Where did these all come from?" she asked as she slid her finger under the envelope's seal.

"It's a treasure hunt. I'll bring the bouquets to you. Each one has a clue." He chewed on his bottom lip. "I know you aren't feeling well, but maybe you can guess what the big surprise at the end is."

Amy tried to raise her eyebrow, but it hurt too much. She settled for reading the card without the accompanying facial expression.

Start with the flowers that are the color of butter and sunshine.

"The yellow mums?"

Alex nodded as he brought the bunch of cheery flowers to her. He plucked a wire whisk out from among them and laid it on the bed next to her. By the time Amy had worked her way through all of the monochromatic flower arrangements, there was a pile of cooking utensils sharing the bed with her. Besides the whisk, there was a wooden spoon, a red silicone bristle pastry brush, a wine opener, and a flour sifter.

"One more," Alex said as he nodded toward the sink where the doctors and nurses washed their hands. A single white daisy floated in a wine glass filled with water that sat beside the soap dispenser. Alex set the goblet on the tray beside the bed. He held up the red envelope that had been underneath it and asked, "Any guesses what this is?"

Amy studied the food-related clues, but she was too tired to decipher them. She shrugged, then grunted when the action sent a bolt of pain from her shoulder. "I don't know. A gift certificate to Columbo's Market?"

"Nope." He handed her the envelope. "I'm hoping you'll like this much more."

She slipped a thick gold-edged card out of the envelope. Then promptly forgot about all of her aches and pains. "A week of cooking lessons in Traverse City!"

Alex sat on the mattress next to her. He sandwiched her hand between both of his. "We'll be staying at a Victorian Bed and Breakfast. Then both of us will be taking cooking lessons at the culinary arts college. You can pick the classes. There's everything from baking sourdough bread to making French pastries."

Now that was a good surprise. Much better than Trisha's ugly revenge bomb. "Both of us? I thought you didn't like to cook?"

"I'll be your assistant." He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. "Who knows. Maybe I'll even learn something. It would be nice to cook dinner for you sometime, for a change, that doesn't involve takeout."

Amy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer for a toe-curling, smoking-hot kiss. She sighed as she leaned back on her pillow. "As long as you're having dinner with me, I don't care who cooked it."