A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(13)

At the moment, however, they were all gathered around a basket of muffins, gazing at it as though it were a basket of tarantulas. Or rattlesnakes. Or claymores. She wondered if they feared all pastries or just muffins in general.

“What’s up, guys?”

Two of the deputies started and turned around to her.

“Nothing, Sheriff,” Deputy Salazar said, worry lining her face.

The other two ignored the intrusion and continued to stare. Sun looked closer at the muffins, growing wary herself.

She pinned Quincy with her best authoritative glare. “What’s going on?”

He offered her one word. “Muffins.”

“Yes. I can see that. They look delish.”

At that moment, she wedged between Anita and Deputy Price and went in. They were homemade. The muffins, not Anita and Price, who may or may not have been homemade. They could have been conceived in a hot air balloon for all she knew. And the deputies smelled nowhere near as nice as the muffins that, even wrapped in plastic, filled the area with a blueberry kind of heaven.

A microsecond before her fingertips made contact, however, a loud unified gasp echoed around her. Every single person drew back in horror.

She paused and glanced around at each panic-stricken face. The deputies were all taller than she was, so it took a bit of effort.

“What?” she asked, growing annoyed.

Anita glared at Quincy. “She doesn’t know?”

Quincy’s gaze dropped, along with his chin, the act demonstrative of the guilt he clearly felt.

“You didn’t tell her?” Deputy Salazar asked. Apparently, Quincy had been appointed to tell Sun about the muffins and had shirked his duties.

“Tell her what?” another female deputy asked.

Sun turned to the only other person in the room as confused as she was, a new recruit named Azaria Bell. Much like Sun herself, Zee had no idea why every law enforcement officer at the Del Sol County Sheriff’s Office was scared of a basket of muffins.

It did boggle the mind.

“Okay,” Sun said, growing exasperated, “why are you guys scared of muffins, and who needs therapy because of it? Show of hands.”

“These aren’t just muffins,” Quincy said, his tone hushed as though they were listening. The muffins. The inanimate baked goods just sitting there, begging to be eaten.

“They look like muffins to me,” she whispered back.

“Me, too,” Zee agreed, not bothering to whisper.

Now Sun just felt silly.

“And they smell like muffins,” Zee continued.

“Right?” Sun reached for one again, and Quincy almost dislocated her shoulder when he grabbed her arm and jerked her back.

Sun slapped his hands off her as though they were in a girl fight. Petty but effective. Then she turned to face her posse, her gaze landing on Anita, her office manager and the one person Sun least expected to be afraid of muffins. But her eyes were just as wide as her deputies’.

“That’s it.” She wielded an index finger like a weapon. “Someone explain what is going on. Are they poisoned? Because if someone is trying to kill us, shouldn’t we be investigating?”

“They aren’t poisoned,” Deputy Salazar said. She was a curvy girl with big brown eyes and a smile that could light up a mental ward. “They were made by Ruby Moore.”

“Oh, my gosh.” Sun brightened and thought back. “I remember Mrs. Moore. She’s so cute, and she was always so nice. Why is she trying to kill us?”

Quincy finally broke the tension with a surrendering sigh. “She’s not trying to kill us, boss. It’s just every time she sends muffins, strange things happen.”

Deputy Price concurred with a nod. “And the bigger the basket, the stranger the events.”

Sun squinted in doubt. “What kind of strange things?”

Quincy shrugged. “You know. Traffic accidents. Breakins. Attempted murders with a cheese grater.”

“So, the things we get paid to police?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“All hell breaks loose,” Anita said. “The world goes crazy. No one is safe.”

Sun studied the young woman as she spoke, fighting a grin. She didn’t want to give away the fact that she found her adorable. And she was the only person in the room shorter than the sheriff.

“The last time Ruby sent muffins,” she continued, “Mrs. Papadeaux tried to cut Doug’s penis off when he flashed her in the park.”

Sun leaned into Quincy. “It amazes me how that man is still the town flasher.”

“In an attempt to get away from her, Doug darted out into traffic.” Anita was very into the story by that point, acting out Doug, the town flasher, darting into traffic.

“Isn’t he, like, a hundred and twelve?” Sun asked him.

“And we had a bona fide pileup.”

Deputy Salazar whispered beside her, “He only looks a hundred and twelve.”

“He’s led a rough life,” Quincy said in explanation. “He’s only in his early sixties.”

“Sixties?” Sun asked, horrified. “Remind me to use sunscreen.”

“A pileup!” Anita said, waving her arms in the air.

Sun thought back. “I read about that. It was two cars and a tractor.”