Case of the Muffin Murders

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “So,” I was saying, as I deliberately raised my voice so that I’d be overheard, “whenever she gets there, whatever she wants, give it to her. I’ll cover the tab. What’s that? No, I don’t know when. Okay, that’s great. Thanks, Gary.”

  “Gary?” Jillian repeated, puzzled. “From the grocery store?”

  I nodded as I slipped back into the booth next to Jillian, “Yep. He’s expecting to fill a large order for the bakery at any time. The tab will be covered by Lentari Cellars, as a way of giving back to the community.”

  “You heard us talking,” Taylor accused.

  “Yep,” I confirmed.

  “You really shouldn’t eavesdrop, Zachary,” Jillian scolded, although I could tell from the way she was fighting to suppress a smile that she wasn’t angry with me. In fact, her beautiful green eyes were starting to get a little misty.

  “Then you guys shouldn’t talk so loud.”

  “Zack, you… you don’t have to buy me new supplies,” Taylor hesitantly said. “I’ll manage. Somehow.”

  “Gary knows you’re coming, so whenever you’re ready, head on over” I casually explained, completely ignoring Taylor’s objection. I then looked at Jillian and smiled, “Could I have a word with you?”

  “Of course.”

  We both slid out of the booth and headed outside.

  “What is it?” Jillian asked, as soon as the door swung shut behind me.

  I glanced over at Vance, who was pacing along the front of the store. Whoever he was talking to must have been talking his ear off, ‘cause all I heard from him were grunts and an occasional ‘I see’. I took Jillian’s hand and headed in the opposite direction.

  “Can I ask you a personal question? And please remember, it’s totally acceptable to tell me no.”

  “How mysterious! Very well. You may ask. I’m pretty sure I will answer you.”

  “What is the deal with you and Taylor?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” Jillian wanted to know. “In what context? I can tell you that she’s a good friend of mine, but something tells me that’s not what you’re looking for.”

  I shook my head, “It isn’t. Several times today I witnessed behavior from you that makes me think you’re more than just a friend when it comes to Taylor and this bakery. Eye contact with the employees, scolding Taylor when you found out she gave away a cake to the rude lady, and now hiring all those guys to make sure there weren’t any more unpleasant surprises hidden amongst the equipment. So, I guess I’m asking if you’re a business partner.”

  Jillian was silent for a few moments. We walked past Maurader’s Grill, the restaurant to the direct left of the bakery, and stopped at the cross street. We then turned around and headed back to the bakery.

  “I haven’t really told anyone what I’m about to tell you,” Jillian slowly began. “Yes, I do have a financial stake in the bakery, but my role is more of a silent partner. I helped Taylor with the financial backing to open this bakery and several other shops in town. When Michael passed away, he left me with more money than I would ever know what to do with. So, what did I do? I bought the first storefront on Main when it became available and started my own business. Then, when my friends wanted to do the same, but lacked the cash or the credit to make that a reality, I stepped in and helped them in ways that no one else knows about.”

  “You really are this town’s Secret Santa, aren’t you?” I asked, amazed. Better make that amazed, impressed, and immensely proud.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Jillian argued. “I just like helping people realize their dreams.”

  Vance suddenly strode up to us, looking excited, which was the direct opposite of what I saw him like ten minutes ago.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I just got the results from the autopsies.”

  “I hate to ask this,” I hesitantly began, “but I feel I should. Which VIC are we talking about?”

  “The captain borrowed MEs from Medford. All the autopsies were completed around the same time, including Mr. Timmons. Get a load of this. We already knew that our 2nd VIC died by carbon monoxide poisoning, right?”

  Both Jillian and I nodded.

  “Well, here’s the kicker: chloral hydrate was found in Mrs. Malone’s system.”

  Since I didn’t know squat about chemistry, I had to ask the inevitable.

  “What’s chloral hydrate? What’s it do to you?”

  “It’s a sedative,” Vance answered. “We think someone slipped chloral hydrate to our 2nd VIC, which knocked her out so that she didn’t wake up when she was placed in her car with the engine running.”

  “That’s horrible!” Jillian exclaimed. “Whoever slipped that drug to her was making sure she didn’t wake up? What a dreadful thing to do!”

  “What about the first VIC?” I asked.

  Vance shrugged, “That was an open and shut case. Arsenic poisoning.”

  “And the third?” Jillian hesitantly asked. “I heard the third victim died from an allergic reaction. Do they know what he was allergic to?”

  Vance nodded, “Peanuts. They found a high concentration of peanut extract in Mr. Timmons’ stomach.”

  Rusty wheels ground into motion.

  “Wait a minute,” I began, raising a hand. “Didn’t Sherlock find a...”

  “Yep,” Vance confirmed. “It was a match to the syringe I jabbed myself with at the first crime scene. It’s being considered the murder weapon for the third murder.”

  “So, that means someone used that syringe to inject peanut oil into a muffin here?” I asked.

  “Extract,” Jillian corrected.

  “Whatever. So, whoever our perp is, they managed to inject peanut extract into a muffin, without being detected, and then decided to bury the syringe in our first VIC’s backyard? How the hell would they happen to know that the muffin would be bought by someone with a fatal peanut allergy? I don’t get it.”

  Vance slapped me on the back, “Thank you, Zack. That’s my point, exactly.”

  The three of us moved back inside and sat back down at our booth. Taylor was presently behind the counter, checking through her ingredients and supplies. Vance waved her back over.

  “Go easy on her,” Jillian softly pleaded. “She’s been through so much today.”

  “It’s only going to get worse from here,” Vance sadly told her. “This bakery is responsible for the deaths of at least two people, with a strong third. Plus, there’s you, Jillian. We cannot discredit the simple fact that everyone else who has eaten one of those weird berries...”

  “Salal berries,” Jillian interrupted.

  “...is presently dead. Taylor only sold four. You ate the fourth. That would suggest that something is going to happen to you.”

  “Like hell it does,” I vowed.

  “What’s going on?” Taylor asked, as she slid into place next to Vance.

  “Taylor, I have a couple of unpleasant questions for you. I’m sorry, there’s no other way to say this but to just get it out in the open. Do you have any peanut extract here?”

  Taylor nodded, “Of course. This wouldn’t be much of a bakery if I didn’t keep a variety of extracts here. I don’t use it much, since I prefer to use fresh peanuts, but I do have a supply of it here. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

  “Could you go get it for me?”

  Taylor shrugged and left the table. A few moments later, she returned with a small brown bottle and placed it down before us. Jillian leaned forward to study the label. From my vantage point, I could see that the bottle was labeled correctly and didn’t appear to have been tampered with. Vance pulled on a pair of latex gloves and carefully picked the bottle up. He unscrewed the top and gingerly sniffed the contents. There was no mistaking what was in that bottle. The scent of peanuts wafted across our table.

  “Do you smell anything else?” Jillian wanted to know.

  Vance frowned, sniffed again, and then shook his head, “All I smell are peanuts. There could be essence of
sardines in there and I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

  Jillian held out her hand. Vance handed her a set of gloves and, once she was wearing them, passed the bottle over. Once she had the bottle, Jillian took a tentative sniff, too. Then she offered it to me.

  “The only thing I can smell is peanuts,” I decided, electing to not touch the bottle. I have large hands. Latex gloves have never really fit that well for me.

  Jillian finally nodded, “I don’t smell anything else. I... hmm. Taylor, when was the last time you used this?”

  Taylor was silent for a few moments before answering, “I’m not sure. I’d say at least a few months. Like I said earlier, I much rather prefer to use fresh roasted peanuts than that extract. Gives better flavor and therefore, better products.”

  “How many times have you used it?” Jillian asked.

  Taylor shrugged, “Perhaps... perhaps less than half a dozen? Not much, I’m afraid. Why?”

  “Because this bottle is nearly empty,” Jillian exclaimed. She held the bottle out so Taylor could see for herself.

  “There was more in there the last time I opened it,” Taylor agreed. She turned to Vance. “Why? Why are you asking me this?”

  “Because the third victim had a severe allergic reaction to peanuts and peanut extract was found in his system.”

  The color drained out of Taylor’s face and she hesitantly pulled herself out of the booth. However, almost immediately, she started to stumble. Vance practically leapt out of his seat and gently - but firmly - pushed the emotionally drained baker back into the booth. Taylor sat in a daze; unblinking. Jillian took her hand.

  “Taylor? Stay with us, honey. We all know you didn’t do this, but we’re going to need your help to figure out who did. Where did you keep this bottle of peanut extract?”

  “It’d be… it’d be behind the counter, down in cabinet two with all the other spices and extracts.”

  “How many people know where this is?” Vance wanted to know. Yes, before you ask, I can confirm that my detective friend was holding his notebook once more.

  “Everyone who has ever worked here knows where I keep my supplies. I’m always making something, so I’m in and out of the cabinets all the time.”

  “The second VIC died yesterday,” Vance began. “Going under the assumption that death occurs four days after the muffin has been consumed, that’d mean the peanut extract injection would’ve occurred on Monday. Taylor, who was working that day?”

  “I can get you an employee list and their schedules,” Taylor helpfully supplied.

  Vance was nodding, “Yes, please. I think we need to have a little chat with whoever was working that day.”

  Taylor hurried to her back storeroom and was gone for about thirty seconds. When she came back, she was holding several sheets of paper. I could see that it was a printed weekly calendar, and that someone – presumably Taylor – had scribbled down names on each day. The second sheet had a list of about six to seven names on it, plus their contact information.

  “So, who was here last Monday?” Vance wanted to know, as he came up behind Taylor and read the schedule over her shoulder.

  Taylor glanced at the schedule and then looked over at the two kids manning the store.

  “Emily was here, along with Tina. They’re both very dependable, trustworthy kids. Tina has been with me for over two years, while Emily has been here for just over a year. I’ve never had a problem with either of them.”

  Vance tapped the schedule sheet, “And the rest of them? What can you tell me about them?”

  “Well, every single one of them is a student at PVHS,” Taylor began. “They’re good, honest, hard-working kids.”

  “Do you think any of them are capable of injecting that peanut oil into a muffin?” I asked.

  “Extract,” Taylor and Jillian both corrected, at the same time.

  “Whatever. Do you think anyone would have the gumption to pull something like this off, knowing that it would result in another human being’s death?”

  Taylor didn’t bat an eye. She was immediately shaking her head no.

  Vance’ cell rang, causing all of us to jump back in our seats.

  “Detective Samuelson. Yes, Captain. I’m still here at the bakery. I was just going over… what’s that? You want to what? Are you sure, captain? We don’t know how long it’s going to take to… yes, captain. I heard you loud and clear the first time. Very well. I’ll let Ms. Adams know.”

  Vance ended the call and sighed heavily.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “You look like you were just given some bad news.”

  Vance slowly nodded, “Not for me, but for Taylor.”

  “Oh, God,” Taylor moaned. “I’m being arrested.”

  Jillian took her friend’s hand and clasped it in her own, “You don’t know that for certain, Taylor. Let’s cross that bridge should we happen to come to it, okay?”

  “You’re not arresting her, are you?” I hesitantly asked.

  Much to my relief, and I’m sure Jillian and Taylor felt the same, Vance shook his head.

  “No. At least, not at this time. I have been tasked, however, with seeing if you, Taylor, will voluntarily close the bakery down until we figure out who’s responsible for this mess. What do you say?”

  At that time, Emily came by and placed drinks down in front of us. Taylor and Jillian were given bottles of water, Vance was given black coffee, and I had a huge soda. I took a tentative sip and then smiled broadly. Regular, bad-for-me diet soda! Awesome!

  Then I noticed Jillian place her phone, face down, on the table in front of her. Taylor did the same. I also noticed Taylor had started nodding. Was she agreeing to close up shop? At least until the person responsible for this mess was apprehended?

  “It’s not an unreasonable request,” Taylor slowly began. “Three people have died, and my bakery is linked to all three. Yes, Vance, I will voluntarily shut Farmhouse Bakery down until things blow over. But… but what about Jillian? We can’t forget that she’s the one who ate the fourth muffin. What are we going to do for her?”

  I had been wondering that, too, when all of a sudden I heard my own voice say, “She’s going to be coming home with me tonight.”

  At that exact moment, unfortunately, the bakery had become so still that you could’ve heard a pin drop. I don’t know why all sounds chose that exact moment to fall silent, or if mysterious cosmic forces decided that everyone should have an obligatory pause in their conversations all at the same time, but nevertheless, it happened. As a result, every damn person in the bakery, including Taylor’s two teen employees and the service techs still inspecting the store for problems, turned to give me a speculative look.

  Vance held up a closed fist and waited patiently for me to bump it with my own.

  “Nice one, pal. A little louder next time. There might be someone over at Marauder’s Grill who doesn’t know what your intentions are for tonight.”

  I felt my face flame up, “What? Get your mind out of the damn gutter! That’s not what I meant.”

  “Suuuuuure it is,” Vance teased.

  I heard a series of giggles come from my left, namely from Jillian.

  “You want me to stay at your place tonight?” Jillian was now speaking with a very impressive southern accent. “Why Zachary Anderson, I do declare you have made me all atwitter about your nocturnal plans for this evening.”

  I ended up doing something between a scoff and a snort. Unfortunately, it resulted in me snotting my soda and spurting it out of my mouth, which then dribbled down my chin to collect on my shirt. Hell, I looked like the guy from that old comedy, Airplane, who had a drinking problem ‘cause he always missed his face when he went to take a drink from his glass.

  Jillian was instantly apologetic; I could tell from the way she was yanking napkins out of the dispenser and handing them to me. However, the little snot was also laughing so hard she couldn’t even look at me. For that matter, so was everyone else at the table. And sur
e, as long as we’re at it, I’ll expand that observation and include everyone else in the store.

  I stood up and bowed, “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here for the rest of the week.”

  I hastily sat back down and continued to dab at my shirt in an attempt to sop up my spilled soda. For the record, the use of paper napkins to absorb spilled liquid only resulted in making a bigger mess.

  “What I meant,” I said, after I tossed all the sodden napkins into the trash, “was that I wanted to keep an eye on Jillian. There’s a chance her life could be in danger, and I’ll tell you right here and right now that I am not going through that shit again. I don’t have the strength.”

  No one said a peep at the table. Jillian gripped my hand in hers and laid her head on my shoulder. Taylor sniffed loudly and then laid her hand on top of Jillian’s. Vance was instantly contrite.

  “I’m sorry, pal. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  I shook my head, “Forget it. I have a chance to do something to help protect a person I care about. I’m not going to squander that chance. So, Jillian, I’ll swing you by your place so you can collect a few things and then you’ll be staying with me until this is all over and done with.”

  I felt Jillian nod her head on my shoulder.

  “Good. Taylor? That goes for you, too. I have plenty of room at my place. I’d like you to consider going there, too.”

  “Me?” Taylor asked, shocked. “Why me? I have a place of my own.”

  “Zack is right,” Vance was saying. “There’s still someone out there gunning for you, Taylor. I feel like we’re starting to close in on him or her, and that usually leads to hastily made decisions from desperate people. I don’t know about you, but I’d kinda like to avoid that at all costs. I know I can speak for the captain and say that he’d agree with me.”

  “So, what do we do now?” I asked.

  “We’re gonna catch this sucker,” Vance stated. “And I know how we’re going to do it.”

  “How?” Taylor asked.

  Vance looked straight at Jillian and his face hardened.

  “With bait.”