Third Degree (A Murder 101 Mystery)

basis with Queen so I excused myself and went over to the counter to talk to Greg while the two women made plans to start Queen on a new path of self-sufficiency.
    Greg had his head in the muffin case, assessing the freshness of what was in there. “The banana are still good,” I said, taking a piece off the muffin I had bought and tasting it.
    “Yeah, they’re moist. They stay for a while.” He pulled out a tray with lemon-poppy-seed muffins on it. “These always go first,” he said, wrapping them in plastic. His day was almost over and it was time to begin closing down the shop. He handed me some plastic-wrapped corn muffins. “These are almost done. Want to take them home? You can toast them for breakfast and they’ll still be good.”
    I was feeding two additional people now so I accepted the muffins. “Thanks.”
    He handed me a few more muffins in a paper bag. “Here. I hate to see food go to waste.”
    “I hope we’re not keeping you,” I said, accepting the bag.
    “Nah,” he said, pulling a large piece of Saran Wrap from the roll on the counter and placing it over the muffins he was going to try to sell the following day. “You take all the time you need.”
    I leaned on the counter and read the various advertisements and postcards that patrons had placed under the glass. “So you blew up things in the marines, huh?”
    Greg stopped wiping the inside of the muffin case and looked at me through the glass. “Sometimes.”
    “Huh,” I said, picking off pieces of my muffin.
    Greg came out from behind the muffin case and stood up, looking down at me. His round chubby face, usually exhibiting a serene calm, looked just a wee bit tense. “Why do you find that interesting?” he asked.
    “Oh, no reason,” I said, the tone of my voice completely unconvincing, if I had to admit it.
    Greg rested his forearms on the counter and leaned toward me. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re way off,” he said, a small smile on his lips.
    “What am I thinking?” I asked.
    He smiled wider. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that Carter’s car blowing up had something to do with me?”
    I put my hands up in a gesture of surrender and started laughing. “Okay, you got me,” I said. The exchange between the two of us had a modicum of tension to it so I tried to diffuse it a little with some humor. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I said, laughing harder.
    Greg joined in with some loud guffaws, causing Lydia and Queen to turn our way to find out what was so funny. “That’s rich!” he said.
    “I know!” I said, still going along with the idea that this was just a preposterous conclusion to come to, even though everything pointed in the same direction. The nasty blog posts, the animosity between the two men, the vociferous “Coffee Lover” who commented on Carter’s post and who may or may not have been Greg, the exploding car that certainly would have killed Carter had he not met his untimely demise right where I was currently standing. It was alternately completely plausible and completely ridiculous, considering who Greg was and what he stood for: peace, love, and understanding. I grabbed my midsection and laughed harder until I couldn’t breathe. Was this what I had become? A suspicious meddler who saw everyone as a suspect, despite my history with them? I looked up at Greg and he was still chuckling a little bit while he was cleaning out his large coffee urn, muttering to himself about how “you people are crazy.”
    I finished my muffin and threw the wrapper in the silver bullet-shaped trash bin and walked back over to the table, where Lydia and Queen were finishing up their conversation. Lydia looked at me, her eyes still hidden behind the big black sunglasses.
    “We’re all set here, Alison,” she said and stood. She took Queen’s hand and promised her that the whole thing would be worked out within twenty-four hours.
    I walked ahead with Lydia while Queen cleaned up the table. “Thank you, Lydia.”
    “You’re welcome,” she said. “I’m glad you called me.”
    “You didn’t sound glad when you heard it was me.”
    She fingered the diamond necklace around her neck. “That’s water under the bridge. I’m sorry that we misinterpreted your situation. My apologies on behalf of the group.”
    “Apology accepted.” I held the door open for her. “I’m just glad that something good has come from this whole mess.”
    Although I couldn’t see her eyes, I