I had some bananas that were getting too ripe.
I had a banana-nut muffin mix.
I combined the two items and baked 1 dozen muffins last night.
I set them on the counter to cool and went to bed.
This morning we awoke to a Muffin Mystery.
So was Handsome Hubby. The boys frequently accuse HH of taking more than his fair share of cookies, and they named him as an initial suspect. I called HH at work and quickly ruled him out. He didn’t have an alibi, but I consider him to be a credible source and there is a lack of motive.
There were a few shreds of the foil muffin cups on the floor (which, excuse me, could have been left by 5 of the 6 people who live in this house) but no crumbs or any other evidence of the 9 missing muffins.
The dog was allowed in last night, and the cat has been getting on the counter to look at the fish. (We’re actually rather worried about Bob) Everyone was considered a suspect. (Well, not Bob.)
The evidence (or lack thereof) started to point to the dog. The cat had better access, but the dog had more motive.
Forensic evidence shows us that the muffin pan has signs of blunt trauma… scratches on the top of the pan could only have come from thicker, rather dulled claws and were made by someone with little to no manual dexterity.
Then there was this:
She may look all cute and innocent, but there is enough evidence to charge her with the Muffin Massacre.
Book ’em, Danno!