Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes - Culinary Competition Mystery #3

Chapter 18

(Carla)

It looked as if a poltergeist had invaded Carla's loft when she swung open the door. A faint green light spread from the living room area to the entryway as she slipped off her shoes on the welcome mat. Bruce sat on the couch. He appeared to be radioactive from the glow. The screen of his laptop was the only light in the dark apartment. He had spent the night while she was at work, but the extra bit of sleep he had gained from skipping the drive across town was being canceled out by the predawn work session.

She turned on the under-cabinet lights in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of fresh-pressed orange and kale juice. Or at least it had been freshly made when she bought it a couple of days earlier. The half a dozen bottles of the vitamin-packed juices residing in the refrigerator were her contribution to keeping herself healthy. While Amy constructed fresh salads, Carla bought herself expensive vegetable juices at the health food store. Same intent, different style. Green juice wasn't exactly delicious, but she wasn't exactly leading a healthy, stress-free life at the moment. She power chugged half of the grassy-tasting beverage on her way from the kitchen to the living room.

"You're up early. How's the investigation going? I'm assuming that's what you're working on." She sat beside him and wiggled closer until she was nestled against his side. Bruce placed his hand on the top of her thigh for a few seconds then took it away to type something. The brief touch left behind a tattoo of heat.

"Amy dug up some good, solid leads. Looks like the hacker is spray-painting dollar signs on the backs of businesses that are being targeted. I'd say it's most likely a way to prove to the owners that he knows exactly where the businesses are located, that he can physically reach them. Most of the signs have been painted over, but many times the paint hasn't matched well so the cover-ups are easy to spot. I had an officer take a spin through the area last night, and it looks as if at least a dozen businesses have been tagged."

Carla took another swig of juice to see if the veggie boost would somehow let her see why Bruce was excited about the victims being marked. Nope. Didn't work. Still no idea how that information was going to solve the murder case.

"If the business owners are being told not to talk to the police, what good will that knowledge do, other than to hope nobody turns up dead at those places?"

He set the laptop on the coffee table and retrieved his mug of coffee. "The business owners probably won't talk to me, but Amy knows many of them. She works at a business that is also a target. I'm hoping people will commiserate with her and vent about their own situation so I can get a better picture of what's happening. Plus she picked up my suit from Finley & Crowe yesterday and had a chat with Finley. Crowe did the accounting for the store. Finley hired an accountant who says it seems that a lot more than $5,000 is missing. The only demand that Finley knew about before Crowe was killed was five grand. I need to find out how much money the other businesses are being hit up for, a little assignment for Amy."

She pressed her head into the back of the black leather couch. More for Amy to do on top of helping with the wedding. Carla stared at the bed. Once the mattress was moved to the storage area in the building's basement, the wood platform base was where she had planned on having the ceremony. A free and improvised mini-stage. With some flowers for decoration, it would work well enough. An unwanted flurry of tears escaped from her eyes and dampened her cheeks. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions, not turn brides into bawling wimps. She took a sip of juice to try to disguise a sniffle. The ruse didn't work.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked as he set his mug back on the coffee table. "Tell me what's bothering you. Did something happen at the hospital?"

"No. Work was so slow Bethany sent me home early so I could work on wedding things." She scrubbed at the traitorous tears with her palms. If only she could rub them away along with the frustration that triggered the deluge. "It's just that ever since I told Amy we would have the ceremony and reception here, she's said she wants to find someplace more special. We've both been looking, but can't find anything. Now I want to get married somewhere else...anywhere but here."

Bruce kissed her ear, her neck, and finally her lips as he tugged her onto his lap. "Let's elope to Las Vegas," he whispered. "There are all kinds of unique places there to get married on short notice."

"I want special, not a neon-lit chapel with an Elvis impersonator officiating."

"So, I guess the Kellerton courthouse that hasn't been remodeled since the 1980s is out of the question?"

She elbowed him in the ribs then leaned her head on his shoulder. "Why don't we just forget it? People live together for years. Their relationships are exactly the same with or without a legal marriage certificate."

"Sweetheart. You're just stressed-out from doing so much. I'm so sorry I haven't been able to help more." He hugged her tighter. "You've done a fantastic job. Just a few more days and we'll be married. That's all we want—remember? To be husband and wife. I've solved many cases by going with a gut feeling. Trust me when I say, I know this will all work out."