Marcella grabs a bottle of cleaner and begins spraying the counter. “Yes, I threw it out along with the other muffins that had scattered on the floor. Then I took the garbage out back since it was full.”
Reaching into the open cabinet under the sink, I take out a box of gloves. “Matteo and Lucia, follow me.” Turning to Marcella I add, “if you see any other muffins around, throw them out. Don’t eat them. Matter of fact, just throw out all the food, I’ll go grocery shopping for more.”
Stepping through the slider door, I walk across the back porch and down the steps. The garbage cans are on the side of the house.
“What are we doing?” Matteo follows me. “We should be getting back to the hospital to check on Nonna and Gigi.”
“We will,” I open the lid of the first trash can where the garbage is stored. The second one houses the recyclables. I toss a pair of gloves to each of them. “But right now we have to godumpster diving for some muffins, specifically the half muffin that was in Nonna’s hand.”
“We have two family members in serious condition and you drag us out of the hospital to go dumpster diving for soggy muffins,” Matteo repeats.
Lucia wrinkles her nose. “Why are we doing this?”
“Do you still have your contact at the forensic lab?” I pull out a few small bags of garbage and place them on the ground.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I know once you take that muffin to get tested, it’s going to come back positive for cyanide.” I grit my teeth and grab the edge of the trash can. The heavy plastic bends and groans under my grip.
Using all of my strength, I tip it over, and let the contents spill out in a messy avalanche. A bunch of big black garbage bags thud onto the grass along with a half-crushed cereal box, crumpled napkins, and stray food wrappers. The sharp stench of spoiled food wafts through the air.
“Ugh,” Lucia gags, “That smells terrible.”
“You can tell this girl has never had to take out her own trash,” Matteo teases as he swats a fly.
“You haven’t either,” Lucia snaps.
“Let’s stay on task people,” I swat another fly.
Matteo squats down and pulls a small pocket knife from his jacket. He flicks it open and takes the nearest bag, slicing it down the middle. Coffee grounds, egg shells, half-eaten pasta, and a few damp napkins are revealed.
Lucia turns her face away and coughs, covering her nose with the inside of her elbow.
“You can hit a man right in between the eyes with a bullet, you’ve killed I don’t even know how many men, but you can’t handle the smell of garbage?” Matteo sifts through the contents with his gloved hands.
Crouching next to Matteo, I slice open the next bag with the knife and start digging through the garbage. My skin starts to sweat against the plastic of the gloves as I look through food scraps, packing materials, and broken items, but find nothing.
Matteo cuts into another bag and a smell is released that turns my stomach. I can’t explain what exactly it is, but it smells rancid.
“Jesus,” he mutters, gagging a little. “What the fuck is in this bag?”
“Found one!” Lucia yells. She reaches into a bag and pulls out a whole muffin.
The blueberry-speckled top is still intact, but smeared with coffee grounds and the sides are streaked with something oily.
I want to throw up.
Marcella opens the side window. “I think you’ll be needing these.” She tosses out a box of sandwich bags, then closes it.
Holding the muffin at arm’s length, Lucia reaches over and grabs one of the plastic bags out of the box. She drops it inside and seals it shut.
“I found one too,” Matteo holds up another whole muffin in triumph.
The bottom is squashed and there is a piece of paper towel hanging from it. He drops it in another sandwich bag. “How many muffins are there?”
“I don’t know but the half muffin is the most important. Keep searching.”
We continue to dig through the bags.
