Vanilla Baked Murder: Cozy Mystery Book 3 (Kim’s Cozy Mystery series) (5 page)

Sam woke up on a Sunday morning motivated to make plans with a new council. With Harold gone, the council was now two members short.

I wonder who are the best candidates for these positions.

Normally on Sundays, Sam would unwind and take it easy: he would take his fiancée Kim to a nice restaurant or the movies. Instead, he had a campaign event playing baseball with a local Big Brother group in Huntington. He got out his baseball glove, and walked around the house looking for his “Louisville Slugger’” bat.

Where did I put it? I checked the attic and the basement. I wonder if it's in
….. Then it hit him: he had left it in the closet. He ran up the stairs in hot pursuit.

Finally, he placed the bat at the foot of the stairs. He then proceeded to put on a shirt that hugged his rock-hard chest. At this point, he was in a rush, wanting to start some warm-ups at Brooke’s Field.

Just then, the doorbell rang.
Who could it be?
He wondered.

He pulled the door open and saw Mrs. Harold in a broad hat and dark sunglasses.

“Mrs. Harold, I don’t think it's a good idea for us to meet,” Sam said quickly.

He was careful  to open the door just slightly, so he could politely tell her to leave.

“If you really need to speak with me, perhaps you can arrange a meeting with my secretary for tomorrow.”

She began to beg. “Please, I promise I will be very brief.” His hospitality got the better of him, and Sam opened the door.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” Sam asked, just to be polite.

“Yes please.”

Sam quickly walked to the kitchen, hiding his displeasure.
I'm going to be late for sure
, he thought, while pouring two glasses of water. He brought them out and placed coasters under them.

But the woman had vanished.
What the hell
, he thought, taking a breath. 
Maybe she went upstairs.

Slowly, he went up.  “Mrs. Harold, are you here?” he called out. When there was no reply, he proceeded back down the stairs, frustrated and unsure about what was going on.

When Sam had reached the third stair, wham! The bat connected with his right temple. He fell hard on the stairs, hitting his head and bleeding.

Mrs. Harold pulled him by his legs to the couch. She propped up his shoulders and chest to sit him up straight. His head was still leaking blood. She opened her purse and removed a chunk of baked vanilla bread laced with “Xilinx.”

“Sorry, handsome, this is your last meal,” Mrs. Harold said, holding the vanilla bread out toward his mouth.

“Hold it right there, Mrs. Harold!” Mulling busted through the front door in the nick of time. “Step away from Sam.” Mrs. Harold slowly moved one step back.

“I reviewed some footage from that night and I saw you placing some sort of pastry on Guttman’s plate. Then I knew you did it!” Mulling pointed the gun at Mrs. Harold’s chest.

“Bert never had the stomach to make the tough decisions,” the woman protested, “but I had to step in and run the show. We never had much power until now, and I couldn't let Sam or Guttman or anyone take that away. Not now, when we're finally on top.”

“I said don’t step any closer,” Mulling yelled, placing his finger on the trigger.

Mrs. Harold braced her foot forward and chuckled. “My days are already numbered.”  She shoved the vanilla bread into Sam’s mouth. Mulling responded by releasing two shots into her back, but he was too late: Sam had the poisonous vanilla bread in his mouth.

Mrs. Harold's last feeling was one of triumph as she fell to the floor.

Sam opened his eyes and instantly felt a pounding headache.”Aaah,” he mourned as the pain intensified. Glancing around, he soon realized he wasn't alone. He felt a bit embarrassed since he was moaning like a baby in the presence of a guest.

He sat up in bed to get a glimpse of his visitor. As he was pulling himself up, he saw a drip running through his arm. He looked around and saw the heart monitor.
A hospital.

He continued to focus his energy on the guest. Her legs were folded and she was fast asleep. She wore her orange apron and running sneakers.

“Kim would never be caught dead in public with her apron and running sneakers,” Sam thought. “She looks so beautiful when she's asleep.”  He wasn't sure if this was a dream or the real thing.

For a few minutes, he watched his ex-fiancée, then drifted off to dreamland.

At 7 am, Kim was still in Sam’s room. Slowly, she repositioned herself out of the chair and stretched her aching joints. “My back,” she muttered.

“Hey!” Mulling said as he walked into the room, “I know it' early, but I just wanted to see if Sam was awake and stable so I could get his statement.”

“I don’t think so,” Kim said. “He's looked the same since yesterday.”

With his eyes still closed, Sam opened his mouth. “I woke up last night.”

“You fool, why didn’t you tell me?” Kim answered with a mix of rage and relief. “Thank God!” Kim sighed for joy. A single tear came from her eyes.

Slowly, Sam became more conscious, as well as curious. “What happened to Mrs. Harold? She….” He tried to explain his last recollection.

Mulling tapped Sam's shoulder reassuringly.  “Hold on there, Bud; you don’t need to worry. We figured out everything. We caught her red-handed.” Somberly, he added, “She is actually no longer among the living. She didn’t survive the gunshot wound in her chest.”

Sam eyes widened as he slowly grasped what had taken place in his apartment. “So, she's dead,” he muttered hoarsely.

“Yes. I don’t know how much you remember, but Mrs. Harold tried to feed you poisoned vanilla bread.”

“What!” 

Kim had a puzzled face. “Why would Mrs. Harold try to harm Sam?”

“Well!” Mulling sighed as he shared the details of the investigation.

“From what I have gathered from a traumatized Mr. Harold, his wife was tired of him playing a minor role in the town. With the newly-changing Huntington, the Harolds had a stronger influence. After finally having a seat at the decision table, Mrs. Harold wanted more power. She wanted the same prominence that Catherine Guttman had enjoyed.”

Sam swayed his head “No.” In a low hoarse voice, he said, “Her husband had power while Guttman was alive; what more did she want, for God's sake?”

Mulling nodded. “That's the exact question I asked Harold.” Both Sam and Kim leaned in attentively. “It turns out that Mrs. Harold had had an affair with Guttman!”

“No way. Wow!” Sam gasped. “What is Harold's role in this?”

“To be honest, I think he was oblivious of Guttman's murder, and there is no evidence to show otherwise.”

Poor Harold: imagine your wife murdering her ex-lover!
Sam thought. Then, trying to be positive, he said aloud,

“To be honest, this is still one of my best days.”

A disgruntled Kim turned to Sam. “Don’t you understand; you were almost killed. How could you be glad?”

Sam cracked a smile. “Honestly, all I've wanted for months was to see you again, and now you're here.”

After his confession, silence filled the room. Mulling felt the sparks between Kim and Sam and decided to leave.

“I think I might come back a bit later.”

“Wait!” Sam yelled weakly. “Thanks, Mulling!”

Mulling nodded, “You’re welcome!”

When Mulling had exited the room, Kim stood silently staring at Sam, not sure how to respond to him. The only decision that made sense was to retreat.

“Well Sam, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, and since you’re doing fine. I think it's time to go.”

“Wait, before you go,” Sam said hoarsely. He pushed himself towards the edge of the bed. Kim watched him in horror as the man painfully tried to sit up on the edge of the bed.

“Before you go, I want you to know that I am not the same Sam; I have changed.” Kim looked at him in confusion. “I am Mayor Hamilton, and I would love to get to know you.” Sam stared seductively at Kim. She froze for a second.

“Nice to meet you, Mayor Hamilton.”

A letter from the Author

I just wanted to extend a thank you for all my wonderful amazing readers.
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