Banana Muffins & Mayhem Read Free Page B

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."
    The two detectives exchanged stone-faced glances. Shepler shook his head slightly and said, "That's just the way she is."
    Apparently, there was some kind of law enforcement silent communication language. What body language-posed question was Shepler verbally answering? Amy pulled her shoulders back so that she stood a fraction of an inch taller. Both of the police officers and Alex still towered over her—she was always the short tulip in the bouquet of life. She had gotten used to that. Neither her height nor her personality were going to change, so she may as well own up to the latter with pride. High-heeled shoes didn't even help with the other situation. They only made her feet hurt, which then made her cranky…and still shorter than the average thirteen-year-old.
    "Do you know of any other people who thought Ms. Plymouth was rude or unpleasant?" Detective Foster asked Amy.
    "She was one of the main topics of conversation at the party last night, both because of how she acted throughout the day and because she wasn't there. Nobody was impressed with her behavior, but nobody was anywhere near upset enough to murder her."
    "In your opinion," the female detective added to Amy's sentence.
    The conversation paused as they all turned to watch Phoebe's body being lifted onto a stretcher. A man wearing a vest with CSI printed on it took pictures of the area where the trash bag had been wedged. The coroner zipped up the black body bag, driving home the fact that Phoebe Plymouth was dead. And her body had been found at Alex's business.
    Detective Foster cleared her throat. She stared at the alley that ran between the other buildings on the block and connected to Quantum's parking lot. "There are a lot of Dumpsters in that alley. I wonder why the body was dumped next to this one." She glanced at Shepler before heading toward the enclosure. Apparently she didn't care to have her audible questions answered.
    Shepler very studiously avoided making eye contact with Amy as he addressed Alex. "I'm confident Lauren will be able to solve this case quickly. She has good instincts."
    Amy tilted her head to the side so that she could see around Shepler and watch his female counterpart as she squatted down in front of the green trash bin. That was an odd comment. Why did he feel the need to say he was confident in her murder solving skills?
    "I just remembered I need to make a quick phone call," Amy said as she pulled her phone out of her purse. Before either of the men could respond, she turned and hightailed it to the main sidewalk. Once she was safely on the other side of the building, she dialed Carla.
    Her best friend answered on the sixth ring. She sounded out of breath. A quick