Bull's Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #3

Chapter 36

Herman the Hermit's Blueberry Muffin Recipe

Dry Ingredients

1.5 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 cup sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

Couple shakes of salt

Wet Ingredients

1/3 cup unsweetened applesauce

1 egg

1/2 cup whole milk

Exactly 60 fresh blueberries

Directions

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Combine dry and wet ingredients in separate bowls, then mix everything together. Add milk if too thick. Divide batter evenly in a greased, 12-muffin pan. Place exactly five blueberries onto the top of each muffin. DO NOT MIX THE BLUEBERRIES INTO THE BATTER DIRECTLY. Bake for 15 minutes, and then check for doneness with a toothpick. Allow one hour for muffins to cool. Consider the muffins. Enjoy and eat.

"Consider the muffins? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" the man with the scars on his face says after Zandra finishes reading the recipe out loud.

It's been two hours since he led her into the basement of the starter mansion. It's finished, but compared to the rest of the house, it's a scrapyard. He explained to her that Gene had the house built specifically to show a more modest side for his gubernatorial ambitions. It's where he'll host press conferences, officials and other important people, scrubbing away the shine of the sprawling estate he actually sleeps in at night. That's why this house is a modest 10,000 square feet.

A man of the people.

It's also not stocked with food, furniture or much of anything else. It's staged as if it were prepared for a real estate showing, full of sparkle but devoid of life. The cabinets near the 10-burner stove in the kitchen show no sheen of grease.

Useful if 10 drunks wander into the house and they all need to light their cigarettes at the same time. You never know.

As such, the white walls of the basement are as untouched by outside flesh as Gene's limp dick. The air temperature is just right, which Zandra appreciates since she's supposed to spend the next 30 hours leading up to her court appointment here.

Supposed to.

The buzz of an overhead light keeps them awake After the drama of getting to the house died down, things got boring. Quickly. Zandra is shoved into a spot on the most expensive recliner she's ever sat on, which isn't saying much in terms of Gene's wealth. Her companion alternates between a pool table and a sofa across from Zandra.

Lots of time to look at those scars on his face. The thin lines of blood in them crusted over.

I got a good look at the pistol in his right hand, too. It's a Colt 1911, .45 caliber, and he keeps it cocked. He is not fucking around. Just has to aim and pull the trigger to make my head pop.

Can I get to it before he can do that?

"Consider the muffins. Maybe think before you eat? Mindful eating? I'm not sure, either," Zandra says, sans handcuffs, keeping her eyes on the 3x5 card. She can't slip one bit. All observation must happen in the periphery. He's watching her every twitch, hack and crack of the neck.