Case of the Muffin Murders Read online

  Jillian stretched up on her tip-toes and gave me a peck on my cheek.

  “That’s very kind of you, Zachary. Thank you. I’ll pass that along to Taylor. Yes, you’re right. There is something amiss. Tell you what. I’ll tell you as much as I can without violating her confidence. You have to promise me that you’ll never tell Taylor I told you anything, okay?”

  I mimicked zipping my lips closed.

  “Poor Taylor is going through some serious financial difficulties,” Jillian began.

  “What? Really? I find that hard to believe. The bakery is doing awesome! It’s slammed every time I drive by it.”

  “The bakery is profitable, yes. However, she’s had a rash of equipment failures during the past month. One by itself is bad enough, but this’ll make four, I believe.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “First, one of her ovens went out. Then her espresso machine short-circuited. Last week, one of her sinks sprang a leak and sprayed water all over the wall, necessitating the replacement of all affected drywall. Now, her main refrigerated display rack fails, causing all her pastries and ice cream desserts to turn into little puddles of goo.”

  “Sounds awful damn suspicious,” I decided.

  Jillian nodded, “That’s what I think. I told her that she should consider reporting all this to the police, but she’s refused. It drives me insane. I think all these problems are related, but we don’t have any proof. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this is all just coincidental.”

  “Is there something I can do? I can help foot the cost of repairs.”

  “As can I, Zachary. I’ve already convinced her to give me the number to her service department. They’re sending out a repairman who will be out here bright and early tomorrow morning to either get the display case fixed or else bring a replacement. Plus, I’ve asked the service tech to personally check out the additional equipment. She doesn’t need any more surprises like that.”

  “That was really generous of you,” I told her. I glanced towards my Jeep and noticed that Sherlock was sitting in the driver’s seat and Watson was in the passenger’s. Both were sitting as prim as they could, as though they were posing for pictures, and both were staring straight at us. “Get a load of those two. I thought it felt like we were being watched.”

  Jillian walked over to my Jeep and made cooing noises at the dogs. Both Sherlock and Watson wiggled with delight as soon as they saw me reaching for my keys. Jillian scratched each of them behind their ears, which caused them both to roll onto their backs, thus spreading dog hair into every conceivable nook and cranny of my seats.

  Dogs.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” I said, as I turned back to Jillian. “If something else breaks inside Taylor’s bakery, then I’ll cover the cost of repairs. I insist,” I hastily added, as it looked like Jillian was preparing to object. “It’s what friends do.”

  “You are a keeper, Zachary. Very well. If something else happens, then I’ll be sure to let you know. However, I still think someone is trying to sabotage Taylor’s store.”

  “Does she have any enemies?” I asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Everyone loves her. She does a lot for the community. Plus, she’s the best baker in town.”

  “No arguments there.”

  “I won’t be able to have dinner with you tonight,” Jillian sadly informed me.

  “Man, that stinks. I’m sorry to hear that. Let me guess. You’re meeting with Taylor?”

  “Yes. I’m really worried about her. I need to try and cheer her up.”

  “Then go. Don’t worry about me. I think I’m gonna head home and fire up my tractor. Good God, I never thought I’d hear those words come out of my mouth.”

  Jillian giggled.

  In case you didn’t know, several months ago I purchased an additional 35 acres of land – from a retiring farmer – for Lentari Cellars, bringing our total up to 50. My wine master, Caden, also persuaded me to purchase a tractor to help with the day-to-day operations of the winery. Little did I know that it’d come with a front loader attachment and an enclosed climate-controlled cab. To say that it was a hoot and a half to drive would be an understatement.

  “Admit it, you’re going to go play with your toys again, aren’t you?” Jillian teased, as she looked at the eager expression on my face.

  “Well, just the one. I’m getting pretty good on it. I’ve been getting the winery’s new land ready for planting.”

  “Are you tilling the fields?” Jillian asked, astonished.

  “Nothing as meaningful as that,” I assured her. “The vast majority of my tractor work involves moving rocks, stumps, and anything else that would be in the way, from one spot to the other.”

  “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll try to call you tonight, okay? It all depends on how it goes at dinner.”

  “I look forward to it. Okay, guys. We’re heading home. Get in the back seat.”

  Nearly an hour later, after changing into a pair of faded jeans and one of what Jillian called my ‘ratty’ tee shirts, I snatched up the keys to my new John Deere 5083EN specialty tractor and headed outside. What was so special about my specialty tractor? Well, for starters, it was especially made for use in wineries. That meant it was narrower than most, so it could travel between rows of vines and not squish anything flat. I’ll also be the first to admit that there was no way in hell I’d trust myself to navigate that beast through the vines. I’ll let Caden handle that. But, if the task at hand involved driving the tractor over empty acreage, looking for obstacles to remove, then I’m your man.

  Once the tractor’s engine turned over, the grin appeared on my face. I noticed one of the loading doors to the winery opened. Caden’s face appeared. He quizzically looked over at me and mouthed a question, probably asking what I was doing. I pointed down at the loader attachment and then towards the new acreage to the north. Caden nodded, gave me a thumbs up, and ducked back inside.

  For the first time, I noticed there was nearly half a dozen cars parked behind the winery. I could only assume Caden was conducting another class. Pomme Valley must be prime grape growing land, ‘cause there always seemed to be a new set of faces attending Caden’s classes every time he held one at the winery.

  The winery’s loading doors opened again and a lanky teenage boy appeared. I recognized him as one of the winery’s two ‘interns’, Doug. Both he and Kimberly, the other intern, were students at the high school and volunteered their time at the winery in the hopes of gaining valuable hands-on experience.

  Doug looked at me, pointed at the old, beat up flat-bed truck Caden’s father had donated to the winery last month, and mouthed the words, need help? I nodded and pointed to the north. He gave me a thumbs up and ducked back inside the winery, emerging a few seconds later holding work gloves and twirling a set of keys.

  Just as I revved up the engine and started north, a blur of orange and black came bounding towards me. Sherlock and Watson situated themselves directly in front of the tractor and held their ground, causing me to come to an abrupt stop. I slid open the door and called the dogs over. I swear, ever since the dogs learned this tractor had a small ‘buddy seat’ installed next to my own, they insisted on accompanying me. Every time I fired this beast up, they were both there to chaperone, almost as if the dogs believed the mechanical monster would attack me at a moment’s notice. However, all of their uneasiness disappeared once we were moving. Sitting up on the buddy seat next to my own, the dogs were now up at window level, and could watch the passing scenery. Judging from the amount of doggie nose art decorating the windows on the left side of the tractor, I’d say they both loved it.

  “Now that we’re ready, your Royal Canineships, let’s get some work done, shall we?”

  Even though I was sitting on my ass, and barely moving my arms and legs, it was exhausting work. It’s not like you’re driving a typical car. The cockpit of this tractor had levers, knobs, and dials everywhere. This lever lifted the arms holding the bucket. That
one tipped the bucket in order to empty it. This other one was for attachments that could hook onto the rear of the tractor. And that one... that one? I have no idea. One of these days, when I’m alone and no one is watching, I’ll experiment with it. As for now, well, I was having fun.

  After two hours of solid work, I had pulled out two stumps, dug out three decent sized boulders, and scraped away at least 100 square meters of weeds and various plants that were threatening to reclaim the land. Doug did an admirable job of pacing alongside me, stopping only when I did, and then waiting patiently for me to load whatever I had found onto the back of his truck. I don’t know where he was dumping his loads, or how for that matter, and I didn’t care. We were doing something worthwhile for the winery, and it made me feel good. Well, I imagine he did, too, although probably not as much as the one sitting behind the controls of this enormous toy.

  Oh, it was fun to drive.

  We had just extricated a boulder the size of a large barbecue when my cell rang. I put it on speaker and kept working at the controls. After all, I now had a sizeable hole I needed to fill.

  “Hello, Zachary. Are you busy?”

  “Hi, Jillian. Well, I’m presently working, only I’m having a lot of fun at the same time.”

  “You’re still driving your tractor, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty as charged. I’m working on clearing the new acreage for Caden. I don’t know what he has planned for this land, but I do want it ready. So, Doug and I have been pulling out stumps, digging out large rocks, and so forth.”

  “Do you have a minute to talk? I mean, Doug isn’t in the cab with you, is he?”

  “Nope. The only eavesdroppers in here are two corgis, who are both too busy staring out the window to bother with anyone at the moment.”

  “Oh. Perfect. Hi, Sherlock! Hello, Watson! I hope you’re keeping a good eye on your daddy for me!”

  Both dogs perked up at the familiar voice. Sherlock gave a quick, cursory glance around the cab and, once he noticed I was the only human present, snorted with exasperation. His attention returned to the fascinating sights just on the other side of the glass. Watson quickly looked over at me, cocked her head, and then returned to the window.

  “They both looked around, but neither did much of anything else,” I reported.

  “That’s okay. Listen, I wanted a chance to talk to you in private. I wanted to tell you a little more about Taylor and her situation.”

  “By doing so, you’re not violating some woman’s sacred blood oath, are you?”

  “A sacred blood oath? No, not this time. I’ll just have to sacrifice a chicken tomorrow and my conscience will be clear.”

  I laughed at first but then sat up straight on my seat.

  “Umm, you’re not serious, are you?”

  I had Jillian laughing now.

  “You silly man. You joke around with me and I can’t do the same with you? No, I’ll be fine. I won’t divulge too many specifics about Taylor’s life, but what I can share, I will.”

  “Okay. Hit me with your best shot.”

  “And in case you missed it, you’re buying me dinner tomorrow night. I think I’m in the mood for fried chicken.”

  I snorted, causing both dogs to briefly glance my way. Man alive, I really enjoyed spending time with this woman. Times certainly change. A year ago, you would never have heard me saying that.

  “You’re on.”

  “You heard me say earlier that Taylor is financially stressed, right?”

  “Right, even though her bakery is doing fantastic.”

  “That’s right. However, her personal life isn’t going too hot right now, either.”

  “Her personal life? I thought you told me she didn’t have kids. She’s not married, is she?”

  “No. For three years she was married to an unfaithful jackass who had a penchant for placing blame on someone else.”

  “Ah, geez. You’re kidding. The guy cheats and then makes her feel like it’s her fault? What a prick.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Continuing on, she’s having a rash of bad luck at home, too.”

  “I remember. You started to tell me a little about it.”

  “What you’ve heard was only the tip of the iceberg. To give you some context, in the last four weeks, the roof of her house has sprung a leak, her car has had to go into the shop twice, and poor Bentley has been feeling so ill that she’s had to take him in to the vet to get some bloodwork done. And I don’t need to tell you how expensive the veterinarian’s office can be.”

  “Is Bentley a dog?”

  “He’s Taylor’s one and only pet. He’s a cat. Maine Coon, I believe.”

  “Oh. Couldn’t Harry give her some type of break?”

  “He did. He only charged her for the supplies he used. At cost.”

  “And you’re not even including what’s been happening to her store, are you?”

  “That’s right. I haven’t. Now do you see? Do you see why Taylor has been so stressed?”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say either that poor girl has the worst luck in the world, or else...”

  “...or else someone is trying to set her up,” Jillian finished for me, after I trailed off.

  “I say we get Vance involved,” I decided. “There’s something fishy going on. She should have her ex-husband checked out.”

  “Why do you say that?” Jillian curiously asked.

  “Well, you told me the Ex has all the warmth and charisma of a slug, so he’d be high up on my list of people needing background checks.”

  “I’ve already had Vance do that. Last week, actually.”

  “Oh. Why do I have a feeling you’re going to tell me some bad news?”

  “Because I am, I’m afraid. Her ex-husband checks out. He’s still an unscrupulous jerk, but thus far, he seems to be keeping himself out of trouble. And in the state of Utah.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “Nuts. Well, there goes that theory. Hmm, hang on a sec, Jillian. I just finished filling in this hole and now Doug is pointing at something off to the left. Looks like another stump.”

  “Do you need me to get off the phone?”

  “Nope. I just need to move the tractor around to… there. That ought to do it. Okay, sorry. Please continue.”

  “As I mentioned earlier, I have been helping Taylor out. Financially. I’ve paid for so many different types of repairs that I’ve been able to leave notices at practically all service departments here in town. It means that, if Taylor were to call, then they would send me the bill.”

  My eyebrows shot up, “That’s gotta be expensive. You must let me help out. I can afford it.”

  “I can, too, so don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  I heard a beep. A glance at my cell confirmed I was receiving another call. It was Vance.

  “I heard a beep. Are you getting another call?”

  “It’s Vance. He can go to voice mail.”

  “No, you had better take the call. He might be calling to ask for help. Will you call me tomorrow?”

  “Count on it.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, Zachary.”

  “You, too, Jillian.” I tapped the screen and switched calls. “Hey Vance, what’s up?”

  “Hey, buddy. Sorry for not calling until now, but we’ve been understandably busy. Our 10-54 turned out to be a 10-55.”

  “What’s that short for? False alarm?”

  “No. A 10-55 is our code for ‘Coroner’s Case’. It’s not a code that gets used too much, although I have to tell you, ever since you moved to town, it...”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” I grumbled. “You’ve found another dead body. What number is this one? The fifth since I’ve moved to town? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. So, what can you tell me about this one? Was it anyone we know?”

  “This was a lady in her mid-thirties, by the name of Megan La
nders. According to the neighbors, she was well liked, kept mostly to herself whenever she was home, and was single. Not too much else is known about her. Although, in this case, we do have the Cause of Death: poisoning.”

  “That was quick. How’d you find out so fast?”

  “We may have to outsource our advanced blood panels, but our own lab is capable of doing a basic toxic panel in a short amount of time.”

  “What kind of... hold on a sec, Vance. Doug? Hey, Doug? I think we need to call it a day. I don’t think your truck is gonna hold anything else. Look at the tires. We may have overloaded it with that last stump. Let’s head back. Good work today, pal.”

  “Who’s Doug?”

  “Slave labor.”

  “Ah. Some kid? What, you have interns now?”

  “You got it. Sorry, you were saying?”

  “I wasn’t saying anything. You were about to ask me something.”

  “I was? Damn. It’s totally gone. I... wait. No, I’ve got it. I was asking about bloodwork. What kinds of toxins does the basic panel detect?”

  “Oh, just arsenic, cadmium, umm... chromium, lead, and mercury.”

  “And what was the toxin of choice for this lady?”

  “Arsenic.”

  “Not very imaginative. You’re sure?”

  “I’m not sure, no. But the lab is. Their gas chromatography spectrometer says it’s a dead giveaway. Hmmm. That’s a lousy choice of words. You know what I mean.”

  “Where does one go to get arsenic around here? I mean, it’s not like you can get it at the pharmacy, right?”

  “Correct. Not only that, we’re looking for... wait a moment. I wrote it down. Okay, we’re looking for trivalent arsenic. It’s 60 times more toxic than pentavalent arsenic. That’s what was found in the blood.”

  “Okay, you just used two big words on me that went way the hell over my head. What was the first one? Tri-something-or-other?”

  “Trivalent arsenic, versus pentavalent arsenic. In case you’re wondering what the difference is, one is absorbed by the gut...”