Case of the Muffin Murders Page 15

  “Well,” I commented uneasily, “now that everyone is wide awake, and we know who bought the fourth muffin, what do we do? Does that mean that there’s someone out there, waiting to stalk Jillian? Or, and this is even worse, could someone already be stalking her?”

  We all looked over at the front of the store and out onto the busy street, as if we all expected to see some shady character watching us from a rooftop with a telescope. Vance rose to his feet and then immediately dropped into a squat. He carefully pulled up his pant leg to reveal an ankle holster. He pulled out his .38 revolver and handed it to me, butt first.

  “As a member of the Pomme Valley Police Department, I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but this is extenuating circumstances. I’m not going to let anything happen to Jillian, either. Zack, do you know how to handle a gun?”

  I shook my head no and stared at the pistol in Vance’s hand, “I’ve never had a reason to. I’m not a fan of guns, and would probably end up shooting myself in the foot should I try to handle one now.”

  I suddenly felt a hand on my arm. Jillian rose to her feet and smiled warmly at me and then looked down at the revolver. That earned our detective friend a frown.

  “Please put that away, Vance. I don’t think we’ll be needing it.”

  “Your life may be in danger,” Vance reminded her, using a soft, but firm tone. “Do you really want to risk it?”

  I started to reach for the gun when Jillian smacked my hand out of the way.

  “Look, boys. I appreciate what you’re doing for me. More than you could possibly know. However, without really knowing more about the situation, wouldn’t you want to make sure we don’t make any rash decisions? What if whoever was responsible for this was counting on us acting this way?”

  “Are you suggesting you’re okay with being alone with this wacko still on the loose?” I demanded, shaking my head. “I don’t like guns, and I’ve never carried one, but I’m certainly willing to start, especially when the stakes are so high.”

  Jillian shook her head, sending her long brown curls tumbling, “Of course I’m not suggesting I like knowing that someone may be out there, gunning for me. I may not look like it, and you certainly can’t hear it, but inside, I’m screaming my head off. I don’t like this situation. I don’t like knowing we have a murderer in our midst.”

  “We’ll catch him,” I vowed.

  “I’ll second that,” Vance added. “Okay, here’s what I suggest we do. Taylor? Do you have any objections to having a bunch of people poke around your store?”

  Taylor’s bleary eyes met the detective’s.

  “No, not really. Why do you ask?”

  “I think it’s high time we check this place out, from top to bottom. If what you say is true, and all these things have been happening to this store all within the last two weeks, then I’d say there’s a better than average chance that there might be other problems hidden throughout this store.”

  “Other problems?” I asked. “As in, those that are waiting to happen? Do you really think whoever is responsible stashed other little ‘presents’ around here?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Vance decided. “Or her. You never know in this day and age.”

  “It would make sense,” Jillian added. “Sabotage as much as possible with the hopes that eventually, whatever was sabotaged will break. That’s clever.”

  “There’s no proof of that,” Taylor insisted. “Don’t you think you guys are all grasping at straws? I think you might be reading too much into this. This is just a run of bad luck, that’s all.”

  “So you object to us poking around?” I asked.

  Just then, I caught a snippet of a look that passed between Taylor and Jillian. I glanced at Taylor just in time to see her give Jillian a slight nod of her head. There was definitely something going on there.

  The four of us slowly approached the counter. Taylor’s two young employees were chatting animatedly amongst themselves as they wiped down counters, rearranged pastries in the display cases, and shuffled bins of bagels around while pulling out the empties. The girl noticed us approaching and said something to her coworker, which resulted in both teens ceasing their cleaning efforts.

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing, Emily,” Taylor instructed. “Don’t mind us. Oh. This is Zack and that’s Vance. You already know Jillian. They’re going to be looking around the store.”

  “What are you looking for?” Emily asked. “Perhaps we can help?”

  “No, thank you,” Taylor told them. “I need you to run the counter. You and Garret help the customers. In fact, I just saw a car pull up. Try to keep their attention on you two and not on what we’re doing, okay?”

  Emily nodded, “You got it, Ms. Adams.”

  “Where do we start?” I asked, as we all stepped into Taylor’s back room. “Look at this place. I wouldn’t even know where to start, let alone what to look for.”

  Taylor Adams’ storeroom may not have been that big, but what she lacked for in space she made up for in ingenuity. There wasn’t that much room to move around. Boxes were stacked all the way to the ceiling. Shelving was everywhere, and practically every square inch of space had something in it.

  This wasn’t gonna be easy.

  It was at this time that I noticed Jillian wasn’t with us. Okay, I’ll admit I panicked. A little. I found her on the other side of the door, out in the main public part of the store. Wouldn’t you know it, she was on her cell phone. I was about ready to excuse myself when I overheard a little of her conversation.

  “...as soon as possible. You will? That’d be fantastic, Pete. I really appreciate it. Hey, do you happen to have Mike O’Reilly’s phone number? I thought I had it in my cell phone, but I don’t. You do? That’s great. Thank you so much. Yes, we’ll be here for probably the next hour or two. Thanks, Pete. You’re the best.”

  Jillian finished her call and then looked up at me with a surprised look on her face.

  “What were you just doing?” I asked. A knowing smile crept over my face. “You just called some friends to help us check for problems, didn’t you?”

  “None of us are qualified electricians,” Jillian explained. “Mike is. He’ll be able to tell if anything has been tampered with. And Pete? He owns a service shop that does house calls. He and his crew can fix just about anything that plugs into an electrical outlet. I figure he’d be a good person to have on our team. I want this place to undergo a thorough inspection. I’m with Vance on this. I think someone has set their sights on bringing Taylor down, and I, for one, am not about to let that happen.”

  “Do you have a minute? I have something to run by you.”

  “Of course, Zachary. What’s on your mind?”

  Less than an hour later, we had no fewer than a dozen guys climbing all over Taylor’s bakery. As per my suggestion, Jillian had contacted yet another friend of hers, who just so happened to be a carpenter, and had him build a strong, tamper-proof locking cabinet for Taylor’s security system. For the record, I insisted on footing the bill for this one. My idea, my bill. For once, Jillian didn’t argue. Besides, I had explained to her, I didn’t want just anyone to be able to take down her video cameras again just by pressing a simple button. Therefore, I wanted to be sure there would be no more access to that damn reset button, thank you very much. Once the cabinet was completed, I walked Taylor through changing her admin password.

  “Who do you think could have done all this?” I heard Jillian’s voice suddenly ask, nearly twenty minutes later.

  I was standing on the top rung of a small 6ft ladder. I had wanted to give the attic crawlspace a once-over, so I had moved several ceiling panels out of the way. Now that I was done, I was slowly sliding them back into place.

  “I’ve been wondering that, too,” I admitted, as I climbed down the ladder. “Maintenance men, perhaps?”

  “Suggesting service technicians?” Jillian asked. She shook her head. “They’re sent out here to fix problems, not create them. I
sincerely doubt it was them. Besides, the only service tech Taylor would have called would be Pete and his crew.”

  “Okay. How about, uh, her employees?”

  “The employees were my first guess,” Jillian admitted. “However, I’d have to rule them out.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because unless you’re suggesting there’s more than one person here willing to commit murder, it couldn’t be one of these kids. There are always two here. For safety’s sake, Taylor always make sure there’s more than one person here. That’s a stipulation she won’t ever bend on.”

  “Okay. Well, what about someone from the general public?”

  “That would mean someone from the general public would have had to make their way through the door marked ‘Staff Only’ and have enough time to reset the security system? And what about the display case? Or the walk-in freezer? Whoever did this had time to do it unobserved.”

  “With the security system down, could someone have come in after hours? Say, for example, if they had their own key?”

  Jillian nodded, “It was a possibility I considered. That’s why I have called for a locksmith to change all the locks. He should be here any minute.”

  “How much is this costing you?” I asked, genuinely concerned. “Can I share some of the expense?”

  Jillian smiled and shook her head, “That’s sweet of you to offer, but trust me. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got this covered.”

  “We have our first hit,” Vance reported, nearly thirty minutes later, as he stuck his head through the storeroom door.

  Jillian made it to the back room first.

  “What did you find?”

  Pete, the man who was leading the service repair crew currently crawling through the ceiling and checking out the electrical appliances, approached. He was younger than me, had jet black hair, and had to be skinnier than Caden, my winemaster. I guess it made sense. This guy has probably crawled through more tight spaces than a laboratory rat in a maze.

  “The big refrigerated display was about to go,” Pete reported. “The mounting bolts on the condenser fan motor had been loosened, and I mean every single one of them was loose. I would say that in the next day or so the compressor would have worked its way loose and it would’ve gone down. Hard.”

  “That case was just repaired last week,” Jillian announced. “Pete, if I’m not mistaken, it was your company that performed the repairs.”

  “I thought this place looked familiar.”

  “You don’t remember coming out here before?” I skeptically asked.

  Pete frowned as he glanced my way. Jillian immediately stepped between the two of us, because I’m sure she noticed the reciprocating frown I was now wearing.

  “Pete, this is Zachary Anderson, owner of Lentari Cellars. Zachary, this is Pete Andrews, owner of AAA Service & Repair. Boys, play nice. We’re all trying to help Taylor.”

  I thrust out my hand, feeling contrite.

  “Sorry. You’ve probably gone on hundreds of service calls. You can’t be expected to remember all of them.”

  “Thousands,” Pete agreed, as he gave my hand a firm shake. “Don’t worry about it. To answer your question, no, I don’t remember coming out here. But...” He turned to face the display case. “...that? That I remember. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the condenser when we left. In fact... yes. It’s coming back to me. We were called out here because this case lost the ability to maintain temperature. The condenser had failed, so we replaced it. There’s no way in hell we left it loose like that.”

  “So, it was sabotage,” Vance grimly observed. “I knew it.”

  “No,” Jillian corrected. “I knew it. That makes me wonder what else has been tampered with.”

  “We’re going to check out every other appliance,” Pete informed us. “And I’m talking about checking everything, all the way down to the coffee pots. If there’s a problem with anything, we’ll find it. As for that case? Don’t worry, Ms. Adams. It’s working fine now and will continue to do so, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Taylor was sitting in a nearby booth, listening intently. Her eyes had filled with tears and she nodded appreciatively. Just then, Garret approached Taylor and waited until she looked his way.

  “Yes, Garret? What is it?”

  “They’re service techs, aren’t they?” Garret asked, as he pointed at several of Pete’s crew who were removing access panels on various appliances. “Could you have them check out the small case by the bread bins?”

  Taylor blinked a few times as she rose from her seat to approach the small case on the far side of the counter, furthest from the door.

  “What about it?”

  “We’ve received half a dozen complaints about the donuts today, and I just figured maybe the refrigeration is going on that case, too.”

  “That case doesn’t have refrigeration, honey,” Taylor told the boy. “Forget about that for now. Complaints? About my donuts? You’re kidding. What’s the matter with them? Is that why they haven’t been selling lately?”

  “I guess so, Ms. Adams. People have said that they don’t taste right.”

  I slapped a dollar onto the counter and pointed at a cinnamon crumb donut on the top shelf.

  “We can settle this right now. Garret, is it? I’ll take that crumb donut there, up on top. Thanks.”

  “There’s no charge for that,” Taylor told me. “I’ll never charge you for anything in here, Zack. Not when you’ve helped me out as much as you have.”

  I slid the dollar over to Garret and ignored Taylor, “The donuts are 59 cents. That means you owe me 41 cents, pal.”

  Garret nodded, rang up the sale, and handed me my change along with my donut.

  “Man alive, I love these things. This is why I could never work here. I’d weigh at least 500 pounds, easy.” I took a healthy bite, which had to be at least a third of the entire donut. I only managed to get in one chew before my taste buds kicked in with a resounding, ‘Houston, we have a problem’.

  This was a donut? It was horrendous. I’m not even sure how to describe the taste where it’d give the nasty flavors running rampant in my mouth justice. I must have had a peculiar look on my face because suddenly Jillian was handing me her soda. How bad was the taste? I downed the soda, all in one fell swoop, and it was Dr. Pepper, my least favorite flavor of soda.

  “Was it that bad?” Taylor ask, horrified.

  In answer, I held out the donut, inviting her to take a bite for herself. Taylor hesitantly broke off a small piece and sampled it. Her eyes widened with shock and she spit the piece out into a napkin. Once more, her eyes filled with tears. Jillian held out her hand. She wanted to take a taste of the donut, too. I passed over the last of the donut and watched, intrigued, to see whether or not Jillian would be able to stomach the bizarre flavors. She ended up spitting it out, but not before a knowing look passed over her face.

  “Taylor, let’s check your flour bin.”

  “What for? There’s nothing wrong with the flour.”

  “Let’s go check, shall we?”

  We followed Taylor behind the counter. She reached for a handle and pulled out a large, plastic-lined bin filled about half-way with flour. The bin was so large that it actually had casters under it, which made pulling it out – and presumably pushing it in – that much easier.

  Jillian walked over to the bin, retrieved the cup that Taylor used to scoop out flour, and spread a little on the counter. She continued to spread the flour over the surface of the counter in sweeping motions, as though she was preparing to dust the counter so she could work with raw bread dough. Jillian suddenly frowned, then ran her hands over the counter again, and finally held her hand up to her face. A look of surprise appeared, followed almost immediately by a look of sheer outrage.

  “What is it?” Taylor asked, as she peered into the bin. “It’s just flour, Jillian.”

  “Flour mixed with salt, you mean,” Jillian corrected, with a scowl.
“Someone has poured salt into your flour bin. That’s why the donut tasted the way it did. How much of this flour have you used?”

  “Oh, dear God, I use that flour for everything. I’m ruined!”

  “No, you’re not. Don’t get melodramatic on me. We just need to get this bin changed out with fresh, new flour. I also think we need to expand our search to include your raw ingredients.”

  Vance’s cell rang just then. He excused himself and walked outside to take the call. I slowly paced around the store while I waited for Vance to return.

  “But I don’t have the money right now to replace everything,” I heard Taylor frantically whisper. Apparently, the acoustics in this building were fantastic. “This couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

  “Don’t worry about the price of the supplies. I’ve got you covered.”

  “Jillian, you’ve already done so much. I couldn’t possibly ask you for money now.”

  “If you don’t accept it from me, then I’m sure Zack will be more than happy to loan you the money.”

  “You didn’t tell him what was going on here, did you?” I heard Taylor’s horrified voice ask.

  “Of course not. He’s already volunteered to help, all without knowing anything.”

  “I couldn’t possibly borrow money from him.”

  I watched Jillian put her hands on her hips and regard Taylor with a neutral expression.

  “So, you’re considering borrowing money from Zack, but you have already shot me down?”

  “You have already done so much,” Taylor insisted.

  A thought occurred. I looked up the number to the local grocery store and asked for Gary, of Gary’s Grocery, myself. Then, while explaining that Taylor will eventually be heading to his store to pick up some fresh supplies since we can no longer trust anything in the store, I wandered back to the table.