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Authors: Janel Gradowski

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BOOK: Fudge Brownies & Murder
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Why couldn't the evil people of Kellerton take a break? Whenever a big, life-changing event in the detective's life got close, a new murder occurred to distract him. On top of that, Carla's mom would soon be making the trip from her home in New Zealand. She couldn't afford to fly back to Michigan for their wedding, so it would be the first time for Shepler to meet his mother-in-law. Life was hitting him with a triple whammy of stressful things. Since Carla didn't need anything and Alex was hanging out around a campfire with his friends in Tennessee, Amy had the whole evening to herself.

After dropping off a plate of leftover class samples along with the recipe handout to the casserole loving JoJo, Amy set out to find fresh supplies to make herself a tasty dinner for one. Of course, her pantry and refrigerator were fully stocked so she could make many meals without ever having to leave the house. Since winter, and its town-crippling snow storms, was right around the corner, she had already made sure she had plenty of food on hand in the house. Still, it was much more fun to round up dinner from the market than her pantry.

She bought a basket of fingerling potatoes, a couple small zucchinis, a mini baguette, and a wedge of raclette cheese to melt over the vegetables and bread. The ingredients for her improvised meal were all nestled in the canvas tote bag when she wandered up the aisle where Buck's Wooden Wares resided. Amy was surprised to see the freshly-widowed craftsman manning his booth. Pain from the loss was rendered in his sad scowl and scruffy, three-day-old beard. Normally he was jovial and clean shaven, joking and flirting with customers. Amy stepped into the C-shaped booth and picked out a paddle spoon from a collection arranged in a terra cotta flower pot.

"That's made of hickory," Buck said as Amy examined the utensil. The dark and light streaks in the wood's grain almost made it look like some sort of striated stone. "Esther Mae had me make all of the kitchen cupboards out of it. People either love or hate the look of hickory." He ran his hand over his gray-speckled beard. "Kind of appropriate that she loved that wood since people took her the same way. They either wanted to be her best friend or worst enemy."

She stared at the spoon. It was easier on her heart than looking at Buck's anguished expression. Her class filled with happy students was bookended with Esther Mae's loved ones mourning her death. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how devastating this has been for you. What a huge hole in your life. I'm sure everybody adored Esther Mae once they got to really know her."

Amy's first experience with the brash woman had certainly been overwhelming. It was two days after Riverbend Bake Shop opened in the market, when Esther Mae joined the seemingly endless line of people clamoring for freshly baked scones and mini fruit tarts. Many other vendors had stopped by to wish Sophie and her market crew luck, so Amy thought Esther Mae was doing the same. Instead, she began announcing to the small crowd that her baked goods were better
and
there was no line at Southern Gals. Her proclamations were so loud LeighAnne overheard them and came to retrieve her business partner. The customer poaching expedition took everybody by surprise. Later that day, when the brash restauranteur appeared again, everybody at the bakeshop was on guard. But instead of trying to steal customers she apologized to Sophie, explaining that she'd had a terrible case of bad manners and poor judgment that morning brought on by an unexpected bacon shortage for her breakfast. Amy liked bacon, but not having any for breakfast wouldn't ruin her day. Esther Mae was definitely unique.

Buck ran his fingertips across a cheese board made from the wood his wife loved. "She was sweet to me…most of the time. If I pissed her off, I would just sleep in our camper until she forgave me for my indiscretions. I realize she wasn't always easy to take, but I'm having a hard time knowing someone hated her enough to kill her. The police told me she was murdered. Now I can't even cremate her like she wanted because the yahoos at the morgue are using her body as some kind of sick science experiment, supposedly looking for evidence. I'm sure she'd be slapping those people alongside the head, if she could. So here I am, working, because it's better than thinking about what's happening to my Esther Mae."

"Oh my goodness. That's horrible!" Yes, Amy knew that Esther Mae was murdered, but maybe Buck would say something to her that could help find the killer. He may have been in too much shock when he found out to think of anything that could help with the case. Shepler had never refused information from Amy before, even if he did occasionally roll his eyes at some of her more creative hypotheses. "I can't believe she was murdered. Do you know who could've done something so terrible?"

He turned to look over his shoulder. There was a divider wall to block the view, but he was looking in the direction of the back corner of the market where the Southern Gals booth was located. "I have my suspicions. I may look like a redneck, but I have enough class not to spread rumors even though the person hasn't had problems bad-mouthing Esther Mae. I've let the police know who I think did it, and that's all that counts."

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

Meditation was one thing Amy still hadn't been able to successfully accomplish. At least not the kind where a person sits cross-legged and empties their mind so the universe can flood it with insight. Despite a large collection of comfortable yoga pants, a mountain of throw pillows, and enough mood music soundtracks loaded on her phone to play for a year straight nonstop, she just couldn't meditate like that. The closest she had come to thinking about nothing was when she narrowed her focus to just a peach, floating in the black hole of her mind like a doomed planet. After imagining everything from the feel of its fuzzy skin to the sweet juice for ten minutes, she ended the meditation session, got up, and made a peach smoothie.

She had talked with Rori, the serene yogi who turned Amy into a yoga aficionado, about meditating and learned that there were many different forms. Taking a walk was one of them. But as Amy walked the aisles of Clement Street Market after working a shift serving pastries at the bakeshop, her mind was far from tranquil. She was trying to figure out if anybody at the market had enough of a beef against Esther Mae to shut her up for eternity.
Definitely
not calm or peaceful thoughts.

The array of vendors selling products inside the high-end market shifted and changed with the seasons. Many of the booths selling prepared foods or nonedible products stayed the same, but after growing season ended, spaces became available when farms had nothing more to sell. Amy slowed in front of the space that had been occupied by a blueberry and raspberry farm during the summer. Now vegan and vegetarian meals were being offered there by
The Veggie Crew.
The micro restaurant had been a roving food truck during the summer but had made the switch to an immobile booth in October.

Amy stopped to examine the menu. A sweet and savory squash casserole with dried figs and blue cheese caught her eye. When she stepped up to order, the woman behind the counter smiled. Her walnut-colored hair was braided and coiled into a bun on the back of her head. "Hello. What can I get for you?"

Since Amy had never tried a squash casserole even remotely similar to the daily special, she had to order it. Trying unique foods was a compulsion. The woman kept glancing at Amy as she was preparing the order. After exchanging the foam box for payment, she tilted her head to the side and said, "You look so familiar, but I can't figure out why."

Amy smiled. "I was a competitor in the Market Mash-up Melee, teamed up with Brooke's BBQ in the finals."

"Oh, that's right! That was so much fun."

"So did you decide not to use the truck over the winter? I would imagine it's much more comfortable in here than on a street with snow blowing in your order window."

The proprietress, who was wearing a name tag that said her name was Grace, shook her head. "Actually, the van died. It used to belong to my parents. They used it as a camper, so it had a long, adventurous life. I remember camping in it in St. Ignace when I was a kid. When we found out how much it would be to repair, Susie and I decided to apply for one of the spots here. Best decision we've ever made." She leaned over the counter and quietly said, "I
would
rather have different neighbors. The smell of bacon grease makes me queasy, but business just keeps getting better."

Eau de bacon was drifting from the Southern Gals' hot table with only a jams and jellies booth as a buffer between the two. Talk about conflicting interests. As Amy pondered what to say, Candi Edwards, another competitor in the market's summer cooking competition who had been teamed up with The Veggie Van, slipped between the divider wall and cash register cart to join Grace behind the counter. She smiled, an expression that resembled a dog baring its teeth as a warning more than a friendly greeting. "Amy Ridley. I could swear I saw you working at Riverbend Bake Shop. Have you defected from the barbecue truck?"

"Um…not really. I worked at the downtown location of Riverbend long before I was teamed up with Brooke's BBQ for the contest. I'm absolutely still friends with Brooke and her crew, but I really don't think they were looking for anybody else to work in the truck after the contest anyway."

Candi's wavy brown ponytail, secured with a cheerleader-style white ribbon bow, swayed back and forth as she draped her arm over Grace's shoulder. "Grace and Susie didn't know they were looking for an employee either, but I convinced them that they had to hire me."

The expression on Grace's face seemed more like a silent plea for help than a show of affection for her self-appointed employee. She managed a slight smile and said, "Candi helps us out during lunch rush a few times a week, whether we ask her to or not."

"I come in sometimes, like now, because I just love working here. Grace and Susie are incredible vegetarian chefs." There was a sparkle in Candi's eyes that could've been from the bright overhead lights. Or it could've been the flames of insanity twinkling in the darkness of her mind. "And I can help fend off the meat-eating invaders. I heard the lady from the end booth died this weekend. You know things like that happen when you eat defenseless animals for every meal. The universe pays you back. I thought maybe the booth would close, but no such luck. They just replaced her with some strange woman with tangerine colored hair. Hopefully
she
won't come over here and try to get our customers to eat disgusting glazed bacon like the old woman did."

Amy feigned an itchy nose to cover the smile she couldn't hold back. Esther Mae had been plucky, that's for sure. After talking with Rori and now Candi, it sounded like she enjoyed messing with vegetarians, just for sport. Or possibly it was all part of a creative business plan. Convince plant eaters that they liked bacon and should get their smoked pork product from Southern Gals where almost everything contained bacon. Amy wished she could assure the vegetarian chefs that no more carnivore-led customer raids would happen, but Rayshelle would probably do something like that without thinking twice. There
was
a genetic bond between the two women.

"Well…now that she's gone, maybe that kind of thing won't happen anymore." Amy carefully slid the container of healthy casserole into her tote bag. It wouldn't be her entire dinner, but it was a good start. After their reaction to the mere thought of bacon, she didn't want to admit what she planned to eat with the squash. "I'm sure I will enjoy having your casserole for supper. Have a good evening."

She walked away. That walking meditation attempt had been very insightful. Even though all of the information had been obtained while she was standing still and talking. She had discovered one, or possibly several, Esther Mae haters.

The wave of cold air when Amy exited the market made her eyes water. The sun was shining when she reported for work that morning, but the day had turned blustery. Columns of smoke and steam rose from the roof of her next destination—the bright-red Brooke's BBQ food truck. It was parked next to the market's patio. Several customers stood near the order window, tugging up coat collars and adjusting scarves to erect barriers against the frigid wind.

Ellie, the woman who took the orders for the all-female staffed barbecue truck, waved when she saw Amy. "Hey there stranger! It's good to see you again. What can we do for you?"

"I would like a pulled pork sandwich and to talk with Brooke, if she has a few moments."

At the mention of her name, the truck's owner turned around from her position in front of the flat-top griddle. Brooke tilted her head toward the door on the side of the cab. "Come on in while we get your order ready. The lunch rush is over so I have some time to chat."

Amy pulled open the door and stepped into the warm truck. The griddle, deep fryer, and electric roasters that kept prepared meat warm also kept the mobile kitchen comfortable despite the arctic chill that was settling in outside. The crew's only nod to the colder weather was to switch from short to long sleeve T-shirts.

"Thanks," Amy said as she unzipped her coat to avoid overheating. "I heard something yesterday that was kind of disturbing and wondered if you had any thoughts on the situation since you've been around the market longer than I have."

Brooke pulled off her black latex gloves and tossed them into a trash can under the counter. She traversed the length of the truck's aisle with a few steps and joined Amy near the cab. "What's going on?"

"Did you hear Esther Mae from Southern Gals died after collapsing at the blogger's conference at the K Hotel last weekend?"

"I did." Brooke poked an errant blonde curl bobbing on her forehead back under the blue bandana headscarf, part of the truck's uniform. "You were at the conference weren't you?"

Amy nodded. "She collapsed down the hall from my room while everybody was getting ready for the wrap-up party. Yesterday, I was talking with her husband. He owns the booth that makes wooden utensils, and he said some people hated her. Do you know if he was referring to people here or somewhere else? He didn't elaborate."

BOOK: Fudge Brownies & Murder
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