Banana Muffins & Mayhem - Culinary Competition Mystery #5

Chapter 6

(Amy)

Amy brought the palms of her hands together in front of her chest. She stayed in that pose, with her legs folded and eyes closed, as she followed Rori's instructions to breathe in...then out. Yoga was known for its meditative properties, which were supposed to help clear a cluttered mind. But that was a tall order when her thoughts were reproducing like furry little Star Trek tribbles. It would be wonderful if the class would summon a big dollop of cosmic awareness, though, so she could figure out who killed Phoebe before the murder hurt Alex's business or, if Charlotte was on the right track with the look-alike angle, Amy ended up in the cemetery. And was Tommy glossing over the important parts of her supposedly random encounter with the spoiled television star? The flute music ended, and Amy cracked open one eye. She was the only student left.

Rori was still at the front of the room. She winked as she rolled up her pink yoga mat and said, "Looks like you were really into meditating this morning."

Amy straightened out one leg and grimaced as a cramp pulsed through her hip muscles. How long had she been sitting with her legs in pretzel position? "I didn't sleep well last night. Not sure if I was meditating or sleeping and dreaming while sitting up."

Rori laughed as she slipped on a gauzy, white shawl-neck sweater over her tank top. "Either one is restorative. I know what you mean about being tired from insomnia. I've had it too, and I've really been struggling by the time my evening classes roll around."

"What's wrong? I figured you'd have herbal remedies and all kinds of homeopathic techniques to help you sleep," Amy said as she walked to the arrangement of storage cubbies near the door. She used a low row of the wooden cubes as a bench. A very wobbly tree pose during class indicated there could be trouble if she tried to put on her slip-on sneakers while standing.

"I feel bad about Phoebe's death." Rori tugged at one of her spring-like, blonde curls. "I helped Aubergine set everything up concerning her appearance. When we found out we could book her to make an appearance in Kellerton, we were so excited since we both loved the show."

"You couldn't have known what would happen," Amy offered as a way to try to help her friend feel better. It was basically the same reasoning she had used with the bookstore owner, but she couldn't think of a better thing to say.

She could sympathize with the guilt both Rori and Aubergine were feeling. If the murder was randomly committed by a local psycho, Phoebe would still be alive. However, Amy had a hunch that scenario hadn't happened. It was possible—so was cracking an egg and finding two yolks inside—but unlikely. Amy gathered her rolled mat and tote bag. She turned toward the open door as a man was walking past in the hallway. Familiarity smacked her in the back of the head, but her sleep-deprived brain refused to budge on letting her know where she had seen him before. Since he was in Rori's studio, maybe she could help. "Do you know who that guy is?"

Rori nodded. "The producer of Old House/New Style. I overheard him talking to the receptionist when he was checking in a few days ago. He said something about being stuck in town, so he was taking a few classes here to stay in shape."

So he was part of the entourage that Sophie had mentioned. Now that Amy knew who he was, when exactly had she seen him before? Even though he was probably the person who had filmed the Charlotte versus Phoebe tablescape debacle, she didn't recall seeing him there. She tilted her head to the left and then the right—to stretch out her re-tightening neck muscles and try to jar loose the memory. As she stared at the window, an image appeared in her mind as though it were a Polaroid photo revealing itself. A photo. That's where she had seen him. He was the rumpled man who had been in many of her pictures of Phoebe at the cooking contest. No wonder she hadn't looked nervous with him lurking so near. He wasn't a stalker. He was her boss.