Banana Muffins & Mayhem - Culinary Competition Mystery #5

Chapter 2

(Amy)

"So that's where she went."

Every person, from the coroner to several curious bystanders who had gathered on the nearby sidewalk, turned to look at Amy after her declaration. Okay...so she could've phrased that better. The trash bag had just been opened completely to reveal that the sandal and attached leg belonged to the very obviously dead Phoebe Plymouth. She swallowed and added, "I mean, nobody knew where she went last night. Unfortunately, this explains why she didn't show up at the wrap-up party."

Detective Bruce Shepler, the husband of Amy's best friend, took a step closer to Phoebe's body. His shadow fell over the garbage bag, which had been extricated from the Dumpster enclosure and now lay in the middle of a nearby parking space. When the coroner sliced open the bag there was no doubt who was inside. The TV star's signature white-blonde hair was drenched with blood. She stayed frozen in a fetal position even though she had been freed from the confines of the plastic tomb.

Amy turned away before she added vomit to the crime scene. She had seen dead bodies before, but that didn't mean her stomach enjoyed the experience. The more she gawked at the blood-covered star, the queasier she became. She wasn't a fan of horror stories—in books, on the movie screen, and especially not in real life.

Shepler pointed to the landing in front of Quantum Media's back door. "Why don't we go over there and chat."

A tall woman with limp dark-blonde hair tagged along as he, Amy, and Alex made their way to the cement pad. "This is Detective Lauren Foster," Shepler said as he nodded at the woman. "Since the victim was found here, I have a conflict of interest being friends with you two. Detective Foster will be taking care of this case." He gestured at Amy. "This is Amy Ridley, who found the body, and her husband, Alex. He owns Quantum Media."

The corner of the female detective's mouth twitched. Her eyes were ice-blue and just as cold. "So you know the victim?" she asked Amy.

"Well...I don't know her. I know who she is. That's Phoebe Plymouth, the host of the public broadcasting show Old House/New Style. She was a guest at the Cabin Fever Cure downtown yesterday—doing several presentations with local business owners and judging the recipe contest where I won one of the categories. So I did chat with her briefly while our pictures were being taken by a photographer."

Detective Foster looked at Shepler as though he could translate the strange language Amy was speaking. Fine. She understood that all people didn't have the same interests as she did, so she could elaborate. "Main Street was blocked off yesterday for the event. There were tents set up to host craft, cooking, and home decorating demonstrations. Also, there were sidewalk sales and a cooking contest where all of the dishes had to be made in muffin tins." Amy sucked in a breath when Shepler shot her a cease and desist glare. "But maybe you know all of that."

"I saw coverage of it on the news last night." The detective's low ponytail flipped over her shoulder as she turned to look at Alex. "Did you know the victim?"

He shrugged. "I have never seen her television show...or her until now."

"She isn't from around here," Amy volunteered. "She lives in Traverse City, and that is also where the show is filmed."

The detective frowned. She used a stylus to write notes on a tablet computer. "So when was the last time you saw the victim alive, Mrs. Ridley?"

"Around 4:00 p.m., during the trophy presentation for the recipe contest. She just sat at the judge's table playing on her phone instead of showing any interest in what was happening around her. It was very strange behavior, but she had been like that all day. I saw her do a demonstration where she had no filter—saying whatever popped into her head with no apparent thought about how inappropriate or offensive she was being. Her actions were upsetting since so many people were looking forward to seeing her in person."