Free Pies & Peril by Janel Gradowski Page B

circled the business district in a ring of quaint, remodeled architectural gems.
    She chose a white, sleeveless dress. The full, flouncy skirt helped camouflage the extra padding her hips had accumulated as she sampled piece after piece of pie for the contest. A n aqua blue rhinestone belt and strappy wedge sandals added some spunk to the rather plain ensemble. She opened the doors of the jewelry chest that was only a few inches shorter than she was. Jewelry was one of her guilty pleasures, right up there with dark chocolate and silky smooth custard. The chest was packed to the bursting point. Sparkling cocktail rings with faux gems the size of walnuts mingled with the exquisite custom pieces Alex had given her on special occasions. She slipped on the ring he had surprised her with on their fifth anniversary. A thin silver band set with a bumpy, uncut aquamarine stone. Amy spritzed on some light floral perfume and went downstairs.
    The banana bread was cool enough to cut. She sliced a sliver off the end and tasted it. Good, but not quite as good as the rum version. Bananas, butter and rum—the flavor combination was a favorite of many people. How many diners order Bananas Foster for dessert at a restaurant? She scribbled a note on the edge of the recipe she had printed out. Maybe some banana liqueur would help boost the Bananas Foster flavors even more. She loosely wrapped the loaf in parchment paper to keep it from drying out. Time to visit Elliot.
    Fifteen minutes later Amy cradled the glass collection jar in one arm while tugging on the door of Maxson 's Bakery. Opening the cantankerous door would be a challenge for even a prime athlete. For a petite woman, carrying a fragile vessel while wearing high heels, the task was nearly impossible. It seemed like the bakery wanted to keep people out by making them struggle to get inside. Finally the springs relented, and Amy bolted inside before the door slammed closed. Once again, the place felt more like a meat locker than a bakery. No one was behind the cases filled with cookies and cupcakes, all sporting icing in a rainbow of colors. Saturated, primary colors seemed to be the theme despite the pastel colored smocks and shirts all of the bakery workers wore. There wasn't a pastel pink or purple anywhere among the frosted baked goods. Mothers with small children probably avoided the place after having their progeny's clothing stained from dye-filled crumbs.
    Amy set the collection jar on the counter next to the cash register. It was late afternoon, but all of the trays were full of baked goods. Either they had just restocked, or not many people had been in that day. Kristi Maxson barreled through the swinging door of the kitchen, carrying a tray of chocolate glazed doughnuts. She jumped back when she saw Amy. "Holy crap! You scared me."
    Well, hello to you too. "Sorry. I guess the buzzer on your door isn't working."
    Kristi glared at the door. "I guess not. What can I get for you?"
    " I'm taking donations to buy a memorial bench for Mandy Jo, one of those engraved stone ones at the park." She held up the oversized Mason jar and turned it so Kristi could read the sign. "Elliot said I could leave this here."
    " Good luck with that." Kristi wiped her hands on the work towel hanging from the apron ties wrapped around her waist. The fabric was smeared with swaths of blue and purple food coloring. The front of her jacket was also swirled with stains and clouds of cocoa powder. A dirty chef's jacket combined with the messy twisted up hairdo didn't make her look very professional. "Why would anybody want to memorialize that bitch? One of our counter girls quit last summer. She accidentally gave Mandy Jo the wrong flavor of muffin. The poor thing was sobbing like a baby after the brat's meltdown."
    Hopefully Kristi didn 't work in the front of the bakery often. Her blunt attitude and unkempt appearance wouldn't exactly entice customers to buy anything. Apparently Kristi's saving grace was