The air was thick with anticipation and the rich aroma of baking as Spacedawg and Abraham, dressed in their chef whites, began the meticulous assembly of their Nanaimo bars. The competition floor buzzed with energy, each contestant locked in a battle of culinary wits.
“Make sure the base layer is compacted evenly; it sets the foundation,” Abraham directed, his hands expertly maneuvering through the ingredients.
“Just like setting up a new colony on a barren planet, eh?” Spacedawg joked, pressing down the crumbly mixture with a spatula. The duo’s banter was light, but their focus was razor-sharp, a needed contrast to the tension brewing around them.
Across the aisle, Chef Ramsey Gordon was eyeing their station with a predatory gaze. He sauntered over, his smirk wide. “Trying to revolutionize the humble Nanaimo bar, are we?” he teased, peering over to catch a glimpse of their work.
“Just adding a bit of Order 93 flair to it,” Spacedawg retorted, not missing a beat. But as he returned to his ingredients, he noticed something amiss. “Abraham, where’s the jar of special cocoa?”
Abraham’s brow furrowed as he scanned their neatly organized setup. “It was right here a minute ago. Did you move it?”
Before they could resolve the mystery, a murmur swept through the venue. The judges had begun their first rounds of tasting, their expressions a mix of delight and scrutiny as they sampled each entry. Spacedawg and Abraham received nods of approval for their innovative techniques, momentarily easing their concern over the missing ingredient.
However, the relief was short-lived. The whispers among the competitors grew louder, and it became clear that Spacedawg and Abraham weren’t the only victims of theft. Several chefs reported missing ingredients and utensils, turning the competition into a hotbed of suspicion and whispered accusations.
The situation escalated when an urgent announcement came over the PA system. “Attention, participants and guests. Please remain calm. We have an emergency situation.” The crowd’s restlessness turned into a hush of anxiety.
Spacedawg and Abraham, along with the others, were directed towards the main hall. There, they found the event organizer, Chef Pierre Lefebvre, being attended to by medical personnel, his office in disarray, the door ajar showing signs of a forced entry.
“The recipe book! It’s gone!” one of the assistant organizers exclaimed, frantically searching through the scattered papers.
The plot thickened when, amidst the chaos, a scream echoed from the pantry. The attendees rushed to the source, only to discover the lifeless body of Chef Ramsey Gordon, sprawled among sacks of flour and sugar. The room fell into a stunned silence, the seriousness of the situation sinking in.
Inspector Lachapelle, who had been attending the event incognito, stepped forward, her expression stern yet composed. “This event is now a crime scene. Please cooperate as we will need to question everyone.”
Turning to Spacedawg, she whispered, “Looks like our culinary contest just turned into a murder investigation. Ready to switch from chefs to detectives?”
Spacedawg nodded, the weight of their new role settling on his shoulders. “Let’s get to the bottom of this, Inspector. Someone’s cooking up more than just bars today.”
As the competition stood paused, the pair prepared to sift through clues and testimonies, knowing that solving these crimes could be the only way to salvage the integrity of the Great Nanaimo Bar Off. The kitchen was not just a place for cooking but now a ground for uncovering a murderer amidst them.
