Fudge Brownies & Murder - Culinary Competition Mystery #4

Chapter 3

(Carla)

Carla leaned sideways to set the e-reader on the coffee table. The sudden movement woke the baby. Her beach-ball-sized stomach shifted as the baby stretched. A hand, or foot, rose up like a bubble near her belly button then receded. Another appendage jabbed her bladder. The kid was going to be born with a karate black belt.

She lay back on the memory foam pillow and stared out the patio door. Frozen, dead grass and a weathered privacy fence made up the postage-stamp-sized backyard. While she escaped to exotic worlds in the e-books, her real life felt just as foreign. In less than a year, she had gone from a single woman living in an industrial-chic loft to Mrs. Bruce Shepler, the pregnant wife of a homicide detective, residing in a townhouse in suburbia. They had decided to rent in the complex because of the abundance of families but soon found out that sharing a wall with a family of tiny soccer players wasn't so great. Her life had taken several routes she never thought she would travel. Equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Going into premature labor twelve weeks before her due date had been the scariest and most unexpected leg of the journey, so far. That unexpected curve had taken her from living and working mostly normally, except for a few bouts of intense morning sickness, and turned her into a couch potato baby incubator.

So she was literally nesting in a sea of pillows on the living room couch. Trips to the bathroom and kitchen were her only respites from the horizontal lifestyle. Bruce had bought her the e-reader, and then Amy told her about borrowing e-books from the library—something she had no idea was possible. But her friend had helped organize a fundraiser so the library could purchase more e-books. Every few days Amy stopped by the townhouse to deliver new book recommendations and meals. Always accompanied by a big platter of the one food Carla craved, brownies.

While the fudgy, plain version had always been her favorite sweet treat, Carla had no idea there were so many variations of the dessert. Amy had taken the request for brownies and turned it into a culinary odyssey by using different kinds of chocolate then adding in spices, fruits, and nuts. She looked forward to Amy's newest brownie creation almost as much as visiting with her.

The ding dong of the doorbell pulled Carla out of her foodie fantasy. The deadbolt snapped open. Amy had her own key so Carla wouldn't have to get up any more than necessary. After spending years working on her feet in a busy emergency room where patients could have anything from a highly contagious virus to knives hidden in their socks, she never thought standing up to answer the door could be so risky. She sat up and peeked over the back of the tan, faux-suede couch. The upholstery matched the wall and carpet color of the rented home. It felt as though she was living in Vanilla Land.

A gust of cold air accompanied Amy through the front door. As usual, she was dragging a cooler strapped to a luggage cart behind her. "How's my bun doing?" she called as she turned left into the kitchen.

"Still in the oven."

There was thumping and muted banging as Amy transferred microwaveable meals into the refrigerator. Carla was just starting to get comfortable in the kitchen for the first time in her life when she was unexpectedly relegated to bed rest. So Amy took on the task of making single-portion meals for Carla to warm up while she was home alone. Several times a week, she also stopped by to play personal chef and whip up a freshly cooked dinner for her and Bruce to share. Would the newly acquired culinary skills Carla had developed after the wedding still be intact when she could finally move again?

Amy suddenly appeared at the end of the couch. She plopped down by Carla's feet and said, "I'm so sorry I couldn't come yesterday. After having fun until 3:00 a.m. on Sunday, my little two-hour fill-in shift at the market wiped me out. So what kind of takeout did Shepler bring home?"