Chapter 8

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(Amy)


Amy crumbled the queso fresco cheese over the rice-shaped orzo pasta. She wasn't sure if Shepler was into salads, but giving the side dish a Mexican twist with tomatoes, corn, and spicy peppers might make it a bit more appealing to him. She had intended to have dinner only with Carla then try on the dresses from the vintage store. True to her bucking-tradition form, Carla had insisted that her fiancé should help decide on the dress.

So Amy was making a baked chicken dinner for four. She was fine with that. The whole groom trekking into the hallowed territory of bride and bridesmaid tradition...not so much. Allowing Shepler to help choose Carla's dress was about as appealing as serving cheap, greasy take-out pizza to guests for dinner. Because of the murder case, he wasn't able to help much with getting ready for the wedding. She understood that. What she didn't understand was why that task had risen to the top of his to-do list. Amy had been crossing her fingers all afternoon. Maybe her husband could convince the future husband that his wedding day would be much more special if he didn't see Carla's dress beforehand. She had called Alex at work and assigned him that task. Meanwhile, she would be upstairs trying to convince Carla of the same thing as they tried on dresses.

The doorbell interrupted Amy's thoughts of foiling Carla's plans for the evening. She and Shepler were a bit early. Alex was running late, trying to wrap up a project at his business, Quantum Media. They were supposed to start dinner without him. Amy slipped the bowl of salad into the refrigerator and answered the door. "Hello, my soon-to-be-married friends."

"It smells great in here. Thanks for having us over," Shepler said as he walked into the kitchen behind Carla. It was early summer, but he was already sporting a deep tan. Maybe he used a tanning bed at the health club where he built up his bulky muscles.

"You're welcome." Amy ushered the couple to the breakfast nook table for the informal meal. "You guys have a lot going on. It's my civic duty as a friend to feed you a good, healthy meal."

"Civic duty to feed me?" Carla snorted. "What is my duty to you?"

"To keep me from going overboard, temper my ideas with a shot of reality."

Shepler raised his eyebrows. "After hearing some of your murder theories over the past year, I'd say Carla has a pretty important role in your friendship."

So Amy had led him on a few goose chases while trying to help solve murders. She eventually got on the right track. Often with Carla's help, pointing out all of the gaping holes in her ideas. Amy wrapped Carla in a hug and said, "An anchor is a very important component on a ship, even when it routinely sails across the Bermuda Triangle."

The couple laughed as they settled onto the upholstered bench next to each other. Two love birds. Amy retrieved a bowl of tuna ceviche from the refrigerator and corn chips from the pantry. The lime-marinated fish was her entry in a canned foods recipe contest—or it would be after she got done tinkering with it. As Shepler scooped up some of the chunky dip with a chip he asked, "Have you heard anything about the murder while you've been working at the coffee shop? Any rumors that could be true...leads that I could follow up on?"

Amy sat down on the bench on the other side of the table. "Not really. Everybody seems nervous, but I wouldn't expect anything different. Most of the downtown business owners know each other, so the murder has hit really close to home for a lot of people. Sophie told me Finley & Crowe has security cameras. Did any of those pick something up the night of the murder?"

Shepler shook his head. "No. Of course, there aren't cameras in the dressing rooms where the murdered occurred, but none of the interior or exterior cameras show anybody other than Crowe arriving at work."

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