Sherlock lifted his head as I took my seat.
“Still no luck, boy. I swear, I’m gonna find a way to get one of those things yet. I don’t care how big of a mess they make.”
Sherlock gave me an inscrutable look and yawned.
“Want to head to the bakery and get some bagel bits? I know you guys love those treats.”
Whoops. I had said the ‘t’ word. I should’ve known better than that. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that Watson had already regained her feet and was panting contentedly. In fact, I swear she was smiling at me. Sherlock rose to a sitting position and watched me like a hawk.
“Farmhouse Bakery is just down the street. We’re close. I’ll just stop in and pick up a few bags, okay?”
The bakery was packed full of people. I checked my watch. I don’t know why. I haven’t worn one for years. Automatic habit, I guess. Since staring at epidermal cells is a very ineffective way of telling time, I pulled out my cell. It was just after 1pm. On a Wednesday. Honestly, I was surprised that many people were still on lunch break. Then again, one look at the spotless store, with its display cases filled with appealing pastries, croissants, and donuts, proved you didn’t need an excuse to stop by a bakery like this. Your nose would typically overrule any objection you might have.
I admired the wall behind the cashier, which held bins of different flavored bagels, and smiled. One of the pastimes I was really starting to enjoy was hanging out with Jillian on a daily basis. She loved her sourdough bagels. I was surprised to learn I really liked the everything bagel. Therefore, I was constantly stopping by to pick up our favorites. I know people were starting to talk, and I know many times, whenever Jillian’s name was spoken aloud, mine would follow shortly thereafter, but I didn’t care. I was starting to develop strong feelings for her, and I was pretty sure Jillian felt the same way I did.
I think that freaked out both of us. Our parents are thrilled, believe you me. Both of our parents wanted to see us get together, and let’s be honest about this. We both probably will. However, we aren’t there yet. Jillian lost her husband to cancer several years ago, while I lost my wife, you may recall, to a car accident just last year. Some wounds just take time to heal.
And others, I thought, as I eyed the fresh bagels stacked high in their wire-rack bins, might be healing faster than I would have thought possible. I purchased a baker’s dozen, added a tub of plain cream cheese, and then almost forgot to add a few bags of the bagel bits for the dogs.
As I turned to go, I couldn’t help but notice the number of familiar faces I saw in the bakery. Some were milling about, trying to decide what to purchase. Others were sitting at the booths lining the windows, overlooking Main Street. There, trying to decide which donuts to purchase, was Spencer “Woody” Woodson, owner of Toy Closet, PV’s one and only hobby shop. Over there, by the bread rack, was one older gentleman I was eager to avoid. I had to turn my back, as though I was checking out the pastry displays, in order to avoid catching Willard Olson’s eye.
Willard was the Post Master for PV’s Post Office. He was also president of the Northwest Nippers dog club. He had been actively inquiring when Sherlock and Watson would start attending the meetings, since he had cornered me a few months ago in the post office and made me join. He was an odd duck. Willard was single, eccentric, and owner of the worst toupee I had ever seen in my life.
Just then, I saw the Alex kid from Wired Coffee & Café walk through the door. He nodded at me and moved to the counter to make his selections. Well, I guess it was lunchtime. In line in front of him was a lady I recognized as a cashier from Gary’s Grocery.
“This is definitely a small town,” I muttered.
But do you know what? I was really starting to like that simple fact. Sure, I hadn’t cared for it when I first moved to town, but, then again, that might have been because the townsfolk had believed I was a murderer. Humph. Water under the bridge. I was pretty well-liked now, but I’m certain that was because of all the wine I’ve given away. Giving away booze has a tendency to make friends.
Cider Fest was approaching. It was the time of year when all the apple farms around PV would open their doors to the general public and start selling their wares. Fresh fruit, produce, jams, jellies, pies, and so on. Trust me, it was a smorgasbord to die for. As you may have guessed, it was also my favorite time of year.
A flash of purple caught my eye, causing me to hesitate by the front entrance. Purple was Jillian’s favorite color. Some part of me thought it might be her. Actually, I had hoped it was her. I had last seen Jillian a few days ago, when we had gone out to dinner at her favorite restaurant. Eager to see if it was her, I stepped back into the store.
It was! Jillian was wearing a dark purple sweatshirt, which was what had caught my eye. Hmm, this was strange. She was coming out of the STAFF ONLY door, with a woman who had short, curly blond hair, whom I knew to be one of Jillian’s best friends, Taylor Adams. Taylor just so happened to be the owner of the bakery.
What caught my attention was the look each of the women had on their faces. Taylor looked to be upset. In fact, I could see puffiness around her eyes. Had she been crying? Jillian was holding her friend’s hand and was giving her a sympathetic look. There was some type of hushed conversation going on, but what it was, I didn’t know. I couldn’t hear a thing.
Both women suddenly looked up at the same time and stared straight at me. Jillian broke into a smile. Taylor, however, looked embarrassed, and ducked back through the employee door and disappeared.
Jillian walked straight over to me and gave me a welcoming hug.
“Zachary! What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here?”
I held up the smaller of the two bags I was holding and wiggled it.
“Doggy bagel bits. Almost ran out of these. I didn’t want a canine mutiny on my hands, so here I am. Hey, is everything okay with you two?”
Jillian’s face instantly sobered.
“Yes. Everything is fine, thank you for asking. Taylor needed some advice, and a sympathetic shoulder to lean on. I offered her mine.”
“That was nice of you.”
“She and I are very good friends.”
“I’ll bet you could say that about most people here in town, couldn’t you?” I asked her, certain I already knew the answer.
Jillian shrugged and nodded her head yes. Having been born and raised in Pomme Valley, Jillian had lived in this town her whole life. So yes, she was bound to know a few of the townsfolk.
“How much did you hear?” Jillian suddenly asked, as she dropped her voice down to a whisper. “Damn. I thought we had kept our voices low enough so no one could hear anything.”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” I confirmed.
“Then why did you want to know if everything was okay?”
“Because I took one look at the two of you and knew something was up. Taylor looked upset. Her eyes were red and swollen, suggesting she had been recently crying. And you… well, you had this caring look on your face, so I figured there might be something wrong. I wanted to know, because if there was, then maybe I could help.”
Jillian slipped her arm through mine and steered me towards the exit.
“That’s awful sweet of you, but there’s nothing you can do. Taylor is experiencing some financial stress, and…”
“I could help with that,” I interrupted, which earned me another smile.
Jillian patted my arm, “That’s very kind of you. I’ll be sure to pass it along to Taylor. However, I’ve already extended an offer.”
“I can’t believe the bakery isn’t doing well,” I murmured, as I glanced around the busy store.
“She’s doing quite well here,” Jillian agreed. “Too well. That’s the problem. One of her refrigerated display cases is on the fritz. She doesn’t have the extra money to get it repaired. So I was talking to her about her choices.”
“Is it repairable?”
Jillian shook her head, “No, I’m afraid not. She
’s already had a tech out to look at it. Looks like the motor is shot and the electronics have been fried. If I had to guess, I’d say someone didn’t quite close the door all the way and the display case struggled to maintain the preset temp. Unfortunately, it failed, and several of her frozen desserts thawed, which caused them to melt, which then led to ice cream dripping onto parts of that motor which never should have been bothered.”
“Oh, man. That sucks.”
“Here she comes. Put on your happy face, Zachary.”
“Jillian, what do you think about... oh, hi Zack. I should’ve realized you’d still be around. What’s that? You bought bagel bits? I told you before that any and all doggie treats are on the house. I’ll see to it you get credited.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I shook my head. “A few bucks aren’t gonna break me. Besides, unless you’re prepared to accept free wine from me, I plan on paying for everything I take out of here.”
Taylor suddenly smiled and closed her eyes, “Mmm. Syrah, from Lentari Cellars. Don’t tempt me. Fine. You win.”
“Well played,” Jillian whispered in my ear.
“Thank you,” I whispered back.
“Listen, Jillian,” Taylor began. “You promised me you’d help me decide which of my newest batch of muffins I should permanently add to my menu. Have you made a decision yet?”
My ears perked up at this. New muffin flavors? I raised a hand.
“World’s best guinea pig right here. I’ll grab a booth. Send ‘em out and I’ll tell you which ones you need to keep. Just be prepared to keep all of them.”
Both Taylor and Jillian laughed.
“Silly man,” Taylor quipped. “Decisions are for women.”
Jillian snorted and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“I see my talents will be wasted here,” I grumbled. I did offer the girls a smile. “Fine. At least tell me what the flavors were.”
Jillian nodded, “Let’s see. The first muffin Taylor presented to me was blueberry sour cream. The berries were perfectly ripe and the sour cream added the perfect amount of moisture without adding any tang from the cream.”
“You’re killing me, Smalls,” I moaned.
Ignoring my reference to a beloved family baseball movie, Jillian continued, “Then there was the one with the red currants and cream cheese. While good, it wasn’t my favorite.”
“Why not?” Taylor asked, without looking up. She was busy writing notes on a notepad.
“Something about those two flavors didn’t work for me.”
“Noted. What about the third? Oregon Daylight?”
“Oregon Daylight?” I repeated, confused. “What flavor is that?”
“Orange and gooseberries.”
“Gooseberries? I’ve heard of them but have no idea what they taste like.”
“It’s a berry that’s native to Oregon,” Jillian answered. She slowly nodded. “They have a moderate taste, but I should warn you about something.”
Taylor was suddenly concerned, “What? What is it?”
“Gooseberries have to be eaten in moderation. If someone consumes too many berries, then you’ll more than likely end up with a bad stomach ache.”
“Good to know,” Taylor nodded, as she continued to scribble in her notebook. “Jillian, what would you use?”
Jillian became pensive and tapper her fingers on the table. She glanced over at me, and then back at Taylor, “I have it. I’d use huckleberries. I saw a fresh batch of red huckleberries at Gary’s Grocery yesterday. I’ll bet they’d go great in a muffin.”
Taylor snapped her fingers, “Red huckleberries! They have a sweet/tart taste about them, and are high in vitamin C. Good idea!”
“Huckleberries,” I chortled.
“What?” Taylor asked, bewildered.
“I’m your huckleberry,” I chuckled.
I had two sets of female eyes staring blankly at me.
“Oh, come on! Haven’t either of you seen Tombstone? It was a fantastic movie! Val Kilmer’s performance as Doc Holliday was Oscar-worthy!”
Jillian shook her head, “I don’t really care for westerns.”
“Neither do I,” Taylor agreed. “Know what I do like? Romance movies. Oh, to see and experience two people in love is truly magical. It… uh, oh. I think we lost Zack.”
I was mimicking a snoring person, complete with sound effects. Jillian punched me in my gut. Not hard, mind you, but enough to get my attention.
“Are you awake now?”
I rubbed my belly and sheepishly grinned. Taylor looked over at me.
“What’s your favorite flavor muffin, Zack?”
I sank down into a booth and thoughtfully stroked my chin, “Ooo, what a good question. Let’s see. Anything with chocolate is always good. Oh! And blueberries. And cinnamon! Anything with cinnamon can only be a plus. Umm, you might as well add… what? What are you two smiling at?”
Both Taylor and Jillian appeared to be on the verge of bursting out laughing.
“Did I say something funny?”
Taylor smiled and added another note, “Zachary loves muffins. Any muffins. Got it.”
I frowned and shook my head. Taylor noticed as she was reaching for her coffee.
“No? That’s not right? What flavors don’t you like, because so far, it sounds like you like them all?”
Taylor took a drink as I considered my answer.
“Boy muffins.”
“Huh?” Jillian asked, puzzled. “What are ‘boy muffins’? I’ve never heard of them.”
“I only like girl muffins,” I clarified, as a smile spread across my face. I was really enjoying the girls’ confusion.
Jillian looked at Taylor, who shrugged and sipped on her coffee, “I think you need to clarify, Zachary. What do you mean by that?”
“You know, don’t you? Are you really gonna make me say it? Fine. I can’t stand boy muffins. That is to say, muffins with nuts.”
Taylor choked on her coffee and hurriedly reached for a napkin. Jillian’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at me. Finally, after a few moments, her head began to shake and the corners of her mouth turned upwards in a smile.
“Zachary Michael, you’re incorrigible. Taylor, are you okay?”
The bakery store owner finished mopping up her spilled coffee and grinned at me.
“I like you, Zack. You make me laugh. I’ve never thought about muffins in that way before, and I’m not sure I ever want to again.”
I snickered loudly, which caused Jillian to fire another concerned look my way.
“So,” Taylor continued, as she sat down at the same booth I was using, “of the three flavors you heard Jillian talk about, which one would be your favorite?”
“Without tasting them first? Well, based on what I’ve heard, I’d choose the blueberry one. It sounds fantastic.”
“Thank you, Zack. You, too, Jillian. You guys have been a big help. Especially you, Jillian. And you know why.”
Jillian nodded thoughtfully and remained silent. My cell phone chose that time to start ringing. A quick check of the display had me grinning.
“Hey Vance. What’s up, buddy? Are we still on for bowling tonight? You promised me you’d show me a few tips. I swear I’m gonna beat Jillian yet.”
“I’m going to have to take a rain check, pal.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Not really, no. I’ll probably be tied up for the rest of the night working this case.”
“Oh? Can you tell me anything about it?”
“The only thing I can say at this time is that I’m heading out to a 10-54.”
“A10-54? What’s that?”
“A possible dead body.”
TWO
“There’s been a murder?” I asked, dumbfounded. For the record, Pomme Valley used to be a nice, quiet, crime-free community where it wasn’t unheard of to leave your car unlocked, or your house unsecured. Now, however, it would appear that crime had followed me here from Phoenix. Prior to my
moving here, Pomme Valley hadn’t seen a murder in nearly 50 years. Now, with me as an official resident of PV, this murder would make the fifth. And yes, we’re gonna sweep that little tidbit under the rug.
Jillian suddenly clasped my hand tightly in hers. She had overheard my outburst and was holding a finger to her lips. She pushed me towards the exit. In fact, several other people were staring at me with a look of horror on their faces. Swell. The last thing I wanted to do was get Vance into trouble.
“Who said anything about a murder?” Vance demanded. “I said it’s a code 10-54. It’s a possible dead body. Until I have a chance to check things out, I can’t say anything for certain. Don’t jump the gun on me, buddy.”
“Sorry. My bad. Hey, listen. I have the dogs with me. Do you need any help?”
“Not at this time, no. I haven’t had a chance to check out the crime scene yet, which means neither have the techs. If I do, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. Please do. We haven’t worked a case since we broke up that dog-napping ring.”
“Are you suggesting there’s not enough crime in PV? Seriously?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Good. I’ll call you later.”
“Hey, before you go, has anything showed up from…”
“No, Zack. Nothing yet. I told you I’d let you know when it did. Give it some time.”
“Has there been a murder?” Jillian whispered, once she saw I had finished my phone call.
“Hopefully not. Vance has been called out to a scene where there’s a potential dead body.”
“I sure hope no one is hurt. How horrible.”
We started walking to my Jeep, which was, conveniently enough, parked next to Jillian’s SUV. Once we were far enough away from the bakery’s storefront, I looked over at Jillian and hooked a thumb back at the store.
“Okay, so what was really going on in there?”
“Why do you ask?” Jillian casually asked.
“If you don’t want me to know, then I’ll drop the subject.”
“You did hear us in there,” Jillian accused.
“Believe it or not, I really didn’t,” I insisted. “I was married before. I do know when a woman is sincerely upset. And right now, that’s Taylor. Something is bothering her. She’s a friend of mine, too. If there’s something I can do to help, then I’m hoping you’ll let me do just that.”
Case of the Muffin Murders Page 2
