Chapter 32

A HALF-BAKED HUNCH

Alchemy Bakeries Corporate Office, Los Angeles, California, United States

“Who are you?” the woman asked, a pinched look on her face. “What do you want?”

“We are investigating the string of deaths at Alchemy Bakeries,” Sherlock stated. “We have a few questions for you.”

The woman sighed heavily. “Oh, good. It would be great if we figured out what was happening before it shut us down. It’s been so unnerving having head bakers die at various bakeries.”

“Extremely,” King Rudolf chirped. “Now who are you? For the record.” He held out his hand like he had a recording device or something. But actually, it was just his silver flask.

The woman flustered slightly. “Well, I’m Ginger Snaps, the senior baker for Alchemy Bakeries, as Cocoa told you.”

“Yeah, I was just disbelieving that was your real name,” Rudolf muttered, unscrewing the lid from the flask. “Like where are you weirdos getting your names from?”

Ginger scoffed. “I was born with this name. And it’s completely normal.”

“Sure,” he murmured, shaking his head. “And you are the senior baker. Does that mean there are no others?”

“That’s right,” she replied. “I supervise a team of junior bakers but I’m the one in charge of the products.”

“Does that mean you send out the levain to the bakeries?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, yes,” she answered. “I cut and mark all the levains.”

“Ha!” King Rudolf stated, pointing directly at the woman.

She gave him a skeptical expression. “Of course, the last one to check these is our Quality Control Officer and then the CEO. Then they are sent out to the various bakeries.”

King Rudolf pulled back his hand a little sheepishly. He glanced to the side. “I mean…nothing…nothing at all.”

“Can you take us to this Quality Control Officer and the CEO for Alchemy Bakeries?” Sherlock asked. “We have some questions for them.”

“Oh, about the murders?” Ginger asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock answered. “Although we didn’t say that they were such…”

The woman stiffened. “Well, I just assumed that’s what they were. I mean, a bunch of head bakers die randomly after their shifts. It all seems to point to murder.”

“Maybe,” Sherlock muttered, noncommittally.

“Maybe you should be an investigator,” Rudolf said, taking a swig. “But first, we’ll meet with your bosses.”

“Oh, Eddie isn’t my boss,” Ginger corrected. “As a Quality Control Officer, he’s on the same level as me. But yes, I’ll take you to meet with him and our CEO. They will no doubt be arguing, so put on your adult ears, just in case they are using bad words.”

King Rudolf covered his ears, shaking his head. “Thanks. I don’t want to hear naughty language…”