Chapter 14 #3
Her most innocent friend was starting to sound like a seasoned criminal, Christine thought.
But she didn’t look like one. Girlfriend was wearing a full apron in a brown and gold autumn leaf pattern, with her name embroidered across the front, and she was mixing ingredients in a large bowl with a big wooden spoon.
“I’m reducing the recipe to a quarter batch,” Bonnie said. “I can’t go much lower.”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, yes, because we don’t want any extra muffins to dispose of. They’ll be potent.”
“Well…make a really big one then.”
“That’s why I bought the giant muffin pan. Do you have a mixer?” Bonnie asked. “I didn’t bring a mixer.”
“Have one. Not sure where it is.” Christine started opening cupboards and searching her own kitchen, finally locating the device still in its original cardboard box. She took it out and plunked it onto the counter.
Bonnie looked at it, looked at Christine, crooked an eyebrow.
“What? I haven’t needed it.”
Shrugging, Bonnie unpacked the thing. Then she took the beaters to the sink and turned on the water.
“Bonnie?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you rinsing the beaters?” Christine asked.
“Because they’re exposed to bugs and chemicals and stuff during shipping and— Oh.”
“Yeah,” Christine said. “No need to protect our poison cupcake from contaminants, is there?”
“Muffin,” Bonnie corrected. Then she put the beaters to work. She added a little maple syrup, a pile of blueberries, and then a handful of halved pecans. “Now the dry ingredients. I’ll fold the stuff in slowly, so it doesn’t make a dust cloud but you should still step back.”
Christine stepped all the way across the room.
Bonnie pulled a mask and a pair of gloves from her apron pocket and put them on. Then she opened the mason jar of brown powder and poured it slowly and carefully, into already measured-out flour, baking powder, and crushed Benadryl. As she stirred, she was careful not to raise a dust.
“Jesus, Bon-Bon, this looks like a scene out of Breaking Bad.”
Bonnie added wet ingredients to the dry and stirred with extreme care until the flours were entirely mixed in, no dust, no foul.
Christine moved closer again as Bonnie poured all the batter into two sections of a jumbo muffin pan that had six.
The oven was already hot, so she slid the pan inside, took off her gloves and mask, and washed the bowl and the mason jar immediately.
The muffins came out thirty minutes later.
Bonnie, leaning over the open oven with a pot holder, said, “Oh, those look so nice, don’t they?”
Christine tipped her head to one side, studying her friend as Bonnie placed the pan on the counter and sprinkled coarsely-ground sugar over the two muffins until they sparkled. She looked like an artist who’d just finished a masterpiece.
Huh.
“Where are we putting the second one?” Bonnie asked when she finished admiring her handiwork. “Somewhere safe.”
“Garbage disposal?”
“Not yet,” Bonnie said. “If the first one doesn’t work, we might need it.”
Christine looked around the kitchen. Then snapped her fingers and took a little round Tupperware bowl from the cabinet and a Sharpie from the drawer. She held out the dish.
Bonnie donned her gloves, took one of the still-hot muffins from the pan, and placed it carefully into the dish. Christine snapped on the lid, then wrote across it. “SPOILED. TOXIC. DO NOT EAT.”
“Jeeze, Chrissy, that’s a little on the nose, isn’t it? Might as well label it Pedo-Poison.”
“It’s only staying until the deed is done,” she said. “Then, garbage disposal.”
“What about Jeff?” Bonnie asked.
Christine pulled open the large drawer-freezer on the bottom of her fridge, moved frozen foods aside, and tucked the deadly muffin into a rear corner way down in the bottom. Then she piled the other foods over it.
“Jeff would only open the freezer if he planned to feed himself, which has never ever happened in the nineteen years we’ve been together.
He either orders takeout or makes me cook.
And by cook, I mean move items from the freezer, to the oven, to the table.
Nope. Jeff doesn’t even open the freezer. Trust me. He’ll never find it.”
She closed the freezer and turned around to see Jeff cupping his hands around his face and peeking through the glass doors.
“Did I hear my name?”
“Yes, and how much more?” Christine whispered.
The two women looked at each other fast. Jeff slid the door open. Christine pasted on a fake smile and said, “You shouldn’t ask questions this close to your birthday.”
Bonnie shoved the other muffin, already wrapped in cellophane, into her deep bag, ran to the sink for a dishcloth, and came back to wipe down the counter she’d already cleared. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” she said. “I was just…demonstrating a recipe.”
Jeff sent a surprised look at his wife. “You’re baking, now?”
“Don’t get excited,” Christine said. “Bonnie tried her best, but it didn’t take.”
“I have to run,” Bonnie said quickly.
“I’m driving you, remember?” Christine grabbed her purse, sunglasses, and jacket, and said, “I’ll be back later, Jeff. I have stuff with the girls today.”