Banana Muffins & Mayhem (3 page)

Her best friend answered on the sixth ring. She sounded out of breath. A quick conversation revealed that Amy had interrupted baby Macy's lunch. And Carla's husband's unsolicited endorsement of the other detective's skills was because it would be her first case as the lead investigator after transferring from the narcotics division.

When Amy returned to Alex's side and told him about the newbie detective, he shook his head. "I hope Shepler's confidence isn't misplaced. The Dumpster could've been just the most convenient place to dump the body, but by default, my company is going to be dragged into the investigation. I don't like it."

*   *   *

The morning had been a whirlwind, beginning with a pleasant visit with Sophie, followed up with a gruesome chaser—finding Phoebe's body. Even though Amy wasn't hungry, thanks to the image of the bloodied television star pasted into her memory, Alex was famished. His exercise routine turned his body into a calorie-burning foundry, forging muscle out of food. There were very few times Amy didn't enjoy cooking, but immediately after finding a dead person was one of those times. So they were at McReedy's Burgers & Beer, the newest addition to the Kellerton dining scene. The restaurant served gourmet burgers made with everything from ground prime rib to lentils, satisfying burger cravings for everybody from carnivores to vegans. Even though the restaurant had only been open for a few months, it had established a cult following in town. Amy suspected that her husband frequented the hamburger joint quite often during his lunch hour since he barely glanced at the extensive menu before ordering his meal.

As she picked at the cinnamon sugar-dusted sweet potato fries, which Alex had ordered for her, Amy looked around the restaurant. The decor was industrial with visible ductwork overhead and a riveted metal panel wall that made it seem as if they were sitting in the belly of a ship. Very likely a nod to Michigan's Great Lakes maritime tradition. Her friend, Bridget Mahoney, had done a great job with the newest restaurant in her business empire. The silver-haired real estate mogul seemed to own half of Kellerton, but she was a fair and generous landlord who had worked hard to build her fortune. It was as though thinking of Bridget was all that was needed to make her appear. The business owner walked out of the swinging kitchen door. As Bridget scanned the dining area, her gaze locked onto Amy. She waved and began making her way through the maze of tables and customers.

"I just heard what happened," Bridget said quietly when she reached their table. She looked at Alex. "Phoebe was found outside your business?"

Alex set down his bacon and egg double cheeseburger. "Unfortunately. Her body was dumped in our trash enclosure. Most of the Dumpsters downtown are in plain sight in the alleys, but Quantum's has a fence around it. Hopefully that is the extent of my company's involvement—the enclosure just happened to be the most convenient hiding place for the killer. I have a great group of employees. I can't imagine any of them being involved in a murder."

Bridget frowned. "You just never know what could be happening in your employees' lives once they leave the office. I hope whoever killed her is found quickly. Phoebe's parents are old friends."

"You knew her?" Amy asked.

"When she was a child. I haven't seen Phoebe or her family for years, but I used to own a summer house next door to the family's winery. I was rather surprised to hear about her bratty behavior yesterday. Her parents were such lovely, gracious people back then. It doesn't surprise me that Robert bought the house for her to remodel on the show. He used to let her paint his fingernails pink when she was little—anything to please his baby girl. What does surprise me is the elitist attitude from her. I know she wasn't raised to act that way."

Sometimes even rod-straight saplings ended up gnarly and twisted after too many storms. What had happened to change the sweet little girl into a surly diva? "Other than being former neighbors with you, do you know if the Plymouth family has any other connections to Kellerton?" Amy pushed a drift of cinnamon sugar around her plate with a fry. "Do you know if she knew anybody here?"

Bridget shook her head. Her shoulder-length hair sparkled as though it was made of polished silver. "I chatted with her for a few minutes yesterday afternoon to see how her parents were doing. She told me she couldn't wait to get out of Kellerton because she didn't know anybody here."

"I
so
regret eating spicy beef with broccoli last night," Carla said as she steered the stroller around the corner. "Poor Macy's stomach is gurgling so much that I could hear it when I changed her diaper."

"I don't get it. Your dinner last night made Macy cranky this morning?"

"Yes." Carla wrinkled her nose. "I don't know the exact science behind it, but she basically ends up eating whatever I do through my breast milk. Chile peppers and cruciferous vegetables were not a good idea."

That was something Amy had no clue could happen. It seemed as though every time she talked to Carla she learned a new fact that further demonstrated her immense lack of knowledge on pregnancy and child-rearing. The mysterious road of parenthood wasn't a route Amy had any desire to explore. She had convinced herself it would be a trip into the haunted forest of bad parenting doom. But that wasn't the most frightening thing in her life at the moment. She had been studying the stores on the other side of the street, whose Dumpsters were in the same alley that ended in Quantum Media's parking lot. Why had Alex's business been the unlucky "winner" of a gruesome dead body? But Carla's odd comment about Chinese food snapped her straying thoughts back on track to the conversation with her best friend. "That's interesting…challenging, I'd think, to figure out what is safe to eat that won't upset Macy's tummy."

"Yes, it is. I feel like I'm on some sort of strange fad diet invented by sadists." Carla sighed. She nodded at Quantum's building. "How are you doing after finding another dead body?"

"Okay." Amy involuntarily shivered. Her mouth said she was fine, but her body was conveying how she really felt.
Creeped out
. Phoebe had looked like an actress in a zombie movie. Ick. "Worried about the detective who is handling the case. Has your hubby said anything about her? I got some bad vibes from her yesterday. She didn't seem very personable."

Carla stopped walking to cover Macy's legs back up with a plush pink blanket. The stop in motion led to an immediate cry of indignation. She slipped a pacifier into the baby's mouth. "You do realize homicide detectives aren't supposed to give you warm, fuzzy feelings. From what I've heard from him, Lauren is very professional and analytical. Before she was even assigned to this case, he told me he thinks she'll do well, that she has good instincts."

"I hope so. I know Alex isn't involved, but it's scary that a body was found on his business's property." She looked over her shoulder, up at the second floor where Alex's office was located. "I'm sure everybody is on edge there this morning. Not an environment conducive to creativity if the employees are all wondering if they work with a homicidal maniac."

Alex had built his company up from a small sign-making shop to the area's premier advertising design agency. They expertly produced everything from trade expo displays to car wraps and billboards. A dead television star in the trash was not the type of publicity the business wanted or needed.

"There were a lot of people downtown over the weekend that have nothing to do with Alex's company. My guess, based on my experience as the wife of a homicide detective, is that the killer was banking on her body not being found for a while or even never. If you hadn't accidentally ripped the bag open, it may have ended up at the landfill covered in tons of other garbage."

They turned the corner and began trekking toward Main Street again. The planned shopping trip had turned into fly-by window shopping as they made laps around downtown. Every time the pace of the stroller slowed, Macy began fussing. That made browsing at clothing stores or gift shops tricky. So around and around the blocks they went. It had been about a week since Amy and Carla had last seen each other. An absence in their friendship that was unheard of before Macy was born. But spontaneous shopping trips or impromptu coffee breaks weren't possible anymore when Carla had to get herself and the baby ready. Let alone the feeding and nap schedules that she had to work around. Amy was so proud of her friend for taking motherhood in stride, but she missed the camaraderie. There was nothing like being jealous of a baby to make a person feel low.

When they reached the crosswalk, the glowing
Open
sign at The Inkwell caught Amy's attention. The owner, Aubergine, had passed out a class schedule after her flower drawing demonstration at the Cabin Fever Cure. There were a few courses that Amy wanted to sign up for. She had never thought of herself as an artist, but maybe she could learn how to draw well enough to add some cute embellishments to her blog. The bouquet she drew on Saturday was currently stuck on the refrigerator door—a little reminder that she could accomplish a lot of things if she took a chance and tried. Hopefully, Detective Foster had the same attitude toward her first case as a lead investigator.

"Would you mind if we tried stopping for a few minutes at The Inkwell so that I can sign up for some drawing classes?" Amy stooped to look under the stroller canopy. The baby giggled—a good sign. "I promise to only be a few minutes."

"I'm fine with that," Carla said as they began to cross the street. "Macy seems to be settling down, and I'll just leave if she starts fussing too much."

"Maybe she'll be fascinated with all of the colors of the books."

Carla sighed. "Let's hope so. She was up so many times last night that I don't have the energy left to walk around for much longer."

When they arrived at the comic and graphic novel store, Amy held open the door so that Carla could steer the stroller inside. The whir of the rubber wheels harmonized with the store's squeaky floorboards. Amy made a beeline for the counter, while Carla began slowly circling around the bookcases.

"Amy, how are you?" Aubergine asked as she emerged from the workroom in the back of the store. The light was a little dim since they were so far away from the front window, but it was clear that there were puffy half-moons under her eyes. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. It seemed as if half of Kellerton was suffering from sleep deprivation. Amy certainly hadn't slept well after the grim reaper expo in Quantum's parking lot.

"I came in to sign up for some of your classes. I'm finally ready to take the plunge into learning how to draw. I can't believe how cute my daisy bouquet turned out. Now I want to learn how to draw more things. And do calligraphy. I have always admired your work." She took a deep breath to slow the string of words just blooping out of her mouth. One of the common side effects when she was stressed out—pointless rambling. "How are you doing?"

Aubergine typed something on the keyboard of the computer that served as a cash register. She stared sightlessly at the screen. "Tired. I couldn't sleep last night after hearing about Phoebe's body being found. I feel so guilty."

Guilty?
The surreal music the stroller and old floor were producing suddenly seemed more like tense background music in a murder mystery movie than a soothing melody. "What do you feel guilty about?"

She sighed and crumpled into the office chair sitting behind the counter. "It was my idea to bring her here. I suggested we book her appearance during the event planning meetings because I was a huge fan of her show. If I hadn't done that she would never have come to Kellerton, and she would still be alive. I lured Phoebe Plymouth to her death."

"Nobody can predict the future. You couldn't have known this would happen, right?"

So Amy didn't think the bubbly, gentle artist could kill a person. And it wasn't like murderers or their accomplices usually fessed up to the crime when being questioned, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. Just in case.

"You're right. I never in a million years thought that she would be killed. She seemed so sweet and down-to-earth on her show. I admit, a little part of me was hoping we would hit it off and become friends. I had no idea she was so mean." Aubergine shook her head slightly as she pointed at a stack of fliers on the counter. "There is a list of what we're offering this month. Which classes would you like to register for?"

Amy chose beginner-level calligraphy and food sketching classes then paid the deposit. Carla joined her at the counter. Macy was sound asleep. Stopping at The Inkwell had apparently been a good decision. It seemed as though the musical floorboards had put her to sleep. Or maybe she was just feeling better and had decided to catch up on the sleep she lost the night before. Her momma certainly looked like she needed a nap. Carla's shoulders slumped when Aubergine renewed the conversation about the murder.

"Plus there's all of the bad publicity the town is getting for being the place where a TV star was murdered. I feel horrible about that. I love living and working here. And now, because I was a fangirl and
had
to get her to come to Kellerton, I've damaged the town's reputation."

Carla shot Amy a bug-eyed look when Aubergine turned toward the computer again. It was either a sign to wrap up the conversation or she thought the artist, who happened to be wearing a red-and-white striped outfit reminiscent of Where's Waldo, was crazy. Carla cleared her throat. "Personally, I had never heard of Phoebe Plymouth until yesterday, and I doubt I'm alone in not being familiar with her. There are a lot of people who have no desire to watch home improvement television shows. So maybe you're overestimating her popularity and the impact her murder will have on Kellerton."

Aubergine tilted her head to the side as she pondered Carla's comment. "You could be right. Just because I was a fan, that doesn't mean everybody else is. As a comic book store owner, I see examples of that every day. You wouldn't believe some of the arguments I've heard here. Thank you for the reminder."