canvas bag embellished with an image of San Pasqual, the kitchen saint.
âWhat is all this anyway?â I asked.
My friend and boss pushed back her thick round spectacles. âYouâve had too much sugar, havenât you? Youâre like my great-granddaughter Rosa. Too much sugar makes her cranky and edgy.â
I clamped my mouth shut, realizing that any retort might indeed sound cranky and edgy. Plus, Flori was right. I hadnât simply added extra syrup, Iâd made syrup soup of my pancakes. That, on top of the police station coffee and two too many cups at Tres Amigas and touching a dead body, and I was definitely on edge.
Flori thrust the pretty, overstuffed tote at me. âSleuthing supplies. If you wonât take them for Sun Tzu, think of the Girl Scouts.â
I recalled my one summer in the Girl Scouts before cookie sales stressed me out. What was the motto? Sell more cookies? No. âBe prepared?â
âExactly,â Flori said. âJust like Sun Tzu said.â She handed me the tote.
I lifted the bag a few times. If nothing else, it was useful for weight-training exercise. âWhat did you pack in here? Melons? Lead?â
âMy tactical-force binoculars thatâll let you spy on anything, a fresh notepad, bottled water because you should avoid dehydration at high altitudes, a pen, a plastic bag for your cell phone in case it rains, which is unlikely, or if you fall in a hot tub, also unlikely but it does happen, as you know . . .â
I lifted out one of the lunch sacks.
âBe careful with those!â Flori exclaimed.
I dropped the bag as if singed.
âOne bag has muffins in it in case you get hungry,â Flori explained. âThe otherâs pepper spray. Hot Flash, itâs called. The spray button is sensitive. Thatâs why I put it in the bag.â
Juan, sitting on a stool by the counter, chuckled. Easy for him to be cheerful. He was tucking into a plate of bacon, eggs, and cheesy chiles rellenos . I wouldnât have minded some more bacon. I wouldnât even have minded washing pots, pans, and knives like Addie was doing.
âJolly fine,â Addie said.
I knew why I felt grumpy, and it wasnât just the sugar. I dreaded a return to the murder scene. More than that, I didnât want to get involved in another murder investigation. No! I wanted to yell. Let the police handle it. Let Jake, âthe Strong Defender,â prove Linda innocent.
Then I caught Floriâs worried frown and thought of her ticking off the ways in which Linda looked guilty. If Celia were in trouble, Iâd want all the help I could get. Besides, Linda was my friend and a good, kind person who had come to my aid in the past.
I took a deep breath and focused on the positive. I was getting another springtime walk to the Plaza. And muffins. I asked Flori about their flavor, mainly to delay some more.
âMy health food muffins. To keep up your strength,â she said.
This was good news. Floriâs health food muffins arenât the no-sugar, all-bran doorstops the name implies. Theyâre rich chocolate with chocolate chips. The healthy, in Floriâs mind, comes from using olive oil instead of her usual choices, butter and lard.
I stalled a little longer by rearranging the tote. Grabbing what I hoped was the bag of muffins and not the pepper spray, I moved it to the top. I didnât want smashed muffins. I also didnât want to accidentally Hot Flash myself. Something fluffy came along with the muffin bag. âWhatâs this pink, furryââ I started to say. Then I realized.
âAck!â I let go of the pink fur in horror.
Addie looked over my shoulder and tittered.
âHandcuffs,â Flori said, answering what Iâd already figured out. âCute, arenât they? I found them at a yard sale a few weeks ago. Now donât give me that face, Rita, I ran them through the dishwasher. The keyâs
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