Murder By Muffin (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 3)

“Never mind what it is. Just fill up the syringe.”

“This is what you used to poison Tara,” I say.

“Only a little in her whiskey. She didn’t even notice. Until that last dose, when I gave her just the right amount.” He smiles causing a chill to run down my spine.

“Then it wasn’t an accident after all. You meant for her to die.”

“The bitch wouldn’t give me back my ten thousand dollars. Said she’d already spent it all. I did what I had to do.”

“What did you do with the whiskey bottle? The cops never found it, you know.”

“I threw it in the gulf. Pretty clever of me, huh?”

“You threw a glass bottle into the gulf?” Brittany gasps. “Do you know how environmentally incorrect that is?”

“So sue me.” He laughs. “Now be a good girl and fill up that syringe,” he says to me.

“Why?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart. So you can inject it into the muffins.”

“What … wait. You want me to pump up my muffins with cyanide? Are you crazy?”

“No, my dear Lucy, I’m afraid you’re the one who’s crazy. You poisoned Tara, and then when Brittany here found out, you poisoned her too. After you watched her die, you were so filled with remorse that you took your own life. Murder by muffin. It’s sort of a fitting ending for you, isn’t it?”

“No one is ever going to believe that.”

“Why not? Trust me, I can sell it. You both thought I was nothing but a mild-mannered city employee, right?”

Paco snarls at Darren, baring his teeth at him.

Darren makes a face at Paco. “Maybe once the two of you are gone, I’ll give Fido here some of the leftover muffin. Think he’ll like that?”

“You’re sick. What has Paco ever done to you?”

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.” He readjusts the knife over Brittany’s throat. “You’re wasting time. Go ahead and inject the muffins. Now.”

I do as he says, all the while trying desperately to think of a way out of this. If only I could get to my cell phone, but it’s on the desk, and there’s no way

I can reach it and dial 911 before he hurts Brittany. I look at Paco, who’s still snarling at Darren. His stance is rigid, and his eyes are glazed over with anger. I know he wants to lunge at Darren, but he’s smart enough to realize it would put Brittany’s life in danger.

I finish with the muffins.

“Good girl. Now take a big bite.”

“No way.”

“Either you take a bite or I slit Brittany’s throat. I have a feeling that would be very messy,” he singsongs.

I pick up the muffin like it’s a stick of lit dynamite.

My life flashes before my eyes. Of all the ways to die, it seems very unfair to be done in by a blueberry muffin. If I have to be poisoned, why couldn’t it be by eating something I enjoyed? Like one of my double chocolate chip muffins or, yes, I’ll admit it now that time is running out, one of Heidi’s crumb cake doughnuts? I make a vow that if somehow I get out of this scrape, I’ll never be jealous of Heidi and her doughnuts again.

Correction: Since jealousy is an emotion, I can’t help but feel it, but I’ll never act in a petty way toward Heidi again.

“Go ahead, Lucy,” taunts Darren, “or I cut Brittany’s throat open.”

I close my eyes. I have to do it. Maybe I can pretend to take a bite … or maybe …