Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes - Culinary Competition Mystery #3

Chapter 20

(Amy)

"Think of a beach. The warm sand is cradling your feet as the gentle waves whisper..."

Amy was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bedroom floor. Pogo, her small dog that looked like a dust bunny impersonator, curled up on her lap three seconds after she assumed the supposedly meditative position on the cushy white shag rug. Her hands rested on her knees with the tips of her thumbs and pointer fingers touching to form a circle. Thinking of a tropical beach could be relaxing, if it wasn't for the dog paw repeatedly kicking her stomach courtesy of a very animated canine dream. How envisioning herself on vacation was supposed to access her subconscious and unlock her creativity was a more difficult concept to wrap her brain around.

But, since she was stressed about multiple things and trying to come up with murder suspects, Amy decided to try the meditation phone app recommended by one of the waitresses at the café. Apparently there was an app for everything, even naked yoga, which she had discovered after doing a search for apps to relieve stress.

The annoyingly monotone male voice was getting on her nerves by the time it instructed her to pretend to look up at a pretend sky with fluffy pretend clouds and pretend that one of the clouds formed a peace symbol. An electronic funk ringtone interrupted the decidedly un-relaxing mental exercise. She snatched the phone off the floor beside her knee, startling Pogo in the process. The dog must watch kung fu movies while she was at work considering the lightning-quick series of karate kicks he let loose on her thighs and stomach before indignantly prancing away to resume his nap on his bed.

The phone conversation with Bridget Mahoney was so engrossing Amy forgot that her legs were still twisted into a pretzel shape. When she hung up and tried to move it felt as if her legs were going to pop off at her hips, like a brother-tortured Barbie doll. After many deep breaths to try to breathe through the pain, a dozen rude expletives because the breathing didn't work, followed by an unexpected Weeble-like wobble to the left, Amy finally managed to untangle her legs. Unfortunately, the reduced circulation-induced tingle from staying too long in the unnatural contorted position made it feel as though thousands of ants were crawling around in her yoga pants. She eased onto her back into a corpse pose to wait for the buggy sensation to go away. It was the only yoga position she could do really well. As she stared at the ceiling, she sent a karmic thank you to Bridget. The woman's ability to pull gold rabbits out of tattered hats was amazing.

* * *

"Want some Swiss chard juice?" Carla asked as Amy walked into the loft.

Swiss chard juice? Maybe the varieties of green vegetables she'd been adding to the Mason jar salads had persuaded Carla to expand her culinary horizons. The beverage offer certainly wasn't in the range of things she ever expected to come from her unadventurous-eating friend.

"No, that's okay. I'm not thirsty, and I'd hate to take something that you enjoy."

Carla wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I don't enjoy green vegetable juice. Not one bit. Almost every variety I've tried has tasted like swamp water. I'm choking the stuff down because I think you're right that I need to eat healthy foods right now. Although...I have never seen you refuse to try a food, so I'm guessing even you think Swiss chard juice sounds bad. I haven't tried it yet myself."

"You poor baby," Amy said as she patted Carla's back. It was a rarity for her not to sample something that was off the beaten foodie path. It was just that in her mind Swiss chard should be sautéed with onions and garlic, maybe with some pine nuts and raisins thrown in for variety. Even though the juice was probably mixed with sweet fruits like apples or bananas, all she could imagine was the savory side dish being blended into a garlic-spiked smoothie. Yuck. "A few more days and you can eat wedding doughnuts until your heart's content."