self-degrading funk was not where Carla needed to be. "You aren't stupid. Everybody has dated the wrong person at some time. You help save lives in the ER every day. How can Pitts think you killed someone?"
"He doesn't know me. He doesn't know I can barely kill a spider. If he's trying to prove himself to his new boss, he may be willing to do whatever it takes to solve this case."
"Bonus points for ruining the life of a coworker in the process?"
Carla yawned. "Something like that."
It was definitely time to fortify her best friend with some stew. Comfort food may not cure problems, but it certainly could help soothe jangled nerves. She stood up and patted Carla's shoulder as she passed by on the way to the stove. "Maybe some beef stew will make you feel better."
She ladled the gravy-slicked vegetables and beef into deep, gray ceramic bowls. She placed them on a wooden serving tray and carefully ferried the meal to the table. Carla plucked a spoon out of the utensil basket and sampled the stew. "This is really good. A contest winner?"
"Not yet. I'm still tweaking it for a nationwide comfort-food recipe contest. Can you guess the secret ingredient?"
Carla wrinkled her nose. "I'm not good at picking ingredients out of recipes. I don't know…red wine."
"It has red wine, but that isn't the secret ingredient. I'll give you a hint. It's in the Asian food aisle at the grocery store."
"Soy sauce?"
"Close! Oyster sauce."
"Really? Well, it's a great addition. Lots of savory oh-mama, or whatever that word is."
Amy giggled. Carla was at least talking about food, instead of being a murder suspect, even though she didn't have the terminology correct. "The word is umami. Oooh-mommy. It's Japanese for pleasant savory taste."
They ate in silence for a few minutes. What was there to say? They were both aware of the big bad wolf of a murder investigation hiding in the pantry, breathing heavily. Unfortunately, ignoring the situation wouldn't make it go away.
After Carla yawned for the third time, Amy said, "Why don't you finish eating and then head to the guest room? I don't want you to drive back across town right now." Tired, beaten down, scared, and distracted was not a good combination of conditions to have while driving on icy roads in the dark. "You shouldn't have to work until tomorrow again, right?"
"I have to go in tomorrow afternoon. I'd be fine driving home, but if it makes you feel better, I'll stay here." She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. "I just need to call Bruce and let him know I'm here. Last night he held onto me like he was afraid Pitts was going to bust through the door and haul me off to jail."
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Amy needed to get groceries. Sure, she had a pantry full of shelf-stable ingredients and the knowledge to make many meals without having to leave the house, but grocery shopping was her favorite form of relaxing retail therapy. Carla had woken up in a better mood. After filling up on praline baked French toast and coffee, her friend headed back to her loft. Alex wasn't in bed when Amy woke up, so she had no idea when he left for work after coming home at 10:00 p.m. Life was tossing lemons at her. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise when she realized she was craving lemon pie.
She steered the mini shopping cart through the obstacle course of produce islands, searching for Meyer lemons. Since the fruit was a cross between the standard lemon and a Mandarin orange, the pie would be even sweeter. She could use an extra dose of sweetness in her life, to combat everything that was trying to make her bitter and sour. Columbo's Market always kept an impressive array of produce in stock, from navel oranges to purple Peruvian potatoes. The place was heaven for foodies, and she loved to just wander the aisles looking for unique ingredients to add to a recipe. All she had come in for were the lemons and a couple bundles of herbs to make savory shortbread cookies, her
"He doesn't know me. He doesn't know I can barely kill a spider. If he's trying to prove himself to his new boss, he may be willing to do whatever it takes to solve this case."
"Bonus points for ruining the life of a coworker in the process?"
Carla yawned. "Something like that."
It was definitely time to fortify her best friend with some stew. Comfort food may not cure problems, but it certainly could help soothe jangled nerves. She stood up and patted Carla's shoulder as she passed by on the way to the stove. "Maybe some beef stew will make you feel better."
She ladled the gravy-slicked vegetables and beef into deep, gray ceramic bowls. She placed them on a wooden serving tray and carefully ferried the meal to the table. Carla plucked a spoon out of the utensil basket and sampled the stew. "This is really good. A contest winner?"
"Not yet. I'm still tweaking it for a nationwide comfort-food recipe contest. Can you guess the secret ingredient?"
Carla wrinkled her nose. "I'm not good at picking ingredients out of recipes. I don't know…red wine."
"It has red wine, but that isn't the secret ingredient. I'll give you a hint. It's in the Asian food aisle at the grocery store."
"Soy sauce?"
"Close! Oyster sauce."
"Really? Well, it's a great addition. Lots of savory oh-mama, or whatever that word is."
Amy giggled. Carla was at least talking about food, instead of being a murder suspect, even though she didn't have the terminology correct. "The word is umami. Oooh-mommy. It's Japanese for pleasant savory taste."
They ate in silence for a few minutes. What was there to say? They were both aware of the big bad wolf of a murder investigation hiding in the pantry, breathing heavily. Unfortunately, ignoring the situation wouldn't make it go away.
After Carla yawned for the third time, Amy said, "Why don't you finish eating and then head to the guest room? I don't want you to drive back across town right now." Tired, beaten down, scared, and distracted was not a good combination of conditions to have while driving on icy roads in the dark. "You shouldn't have to work until tomorrow again, right?"
"I have to go in tomorrow afternoon. I'd be fine driving home, but if it makes you feel better, I'll stay here." She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. "I just need to call Bruce and let him know I'm here. Last night he held onto me like he was afraid Pitts was going to bust through the door and haul me off to jail."
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Amy needed to get groceries. Sure, she had a pantry full of shelf-stable ingredients and the knowledge to make many meals without having to leave the house, but grocery shopping was her favorite form of relaxing retail therapy. Carla had woken up in a better mood. After filling up on praline baked French toast and coffee, her friend headed back to her loft. Alex wasn't in bed when Amy woke up, so she had no idea when he left for work after coming home at 10:00 p.m. Life was tossing lemons at her. It shouldn't have been much of a surprise when she realized she was craving lemon pie.
She steered the mini shopping cart through the obstacle course of produce islands, searching for Meyer lemons. Since the fruit was a cross between the standard lemon and a Mandarin orange, the pie would be even sweeter. She could use an extra dose of sweetness in her life, to combat everything that was trying to make her bitter and sour. Columbo's Market always kept an impressive array of produce in stock, from navel oranges to purple Peruvian potatoes. The place was heaven for foodies, and she loved to just wander the aisles looking for unique ingredients to add to a recipe. All she had come in for were the lemons and a couple bundles of herbs to make savory shortbread cookies, her
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