The room was silent. Nobody said a word. He just sat comfortably in his chair, observing them, as he had been doing for the last few minutes. He'd had to arrange an urgent meeting, but this could not be delayed.
As ever, only those four people had had access to the crime scene. Come to think of it, it had been quite obvious in an office full of people with bad habits and foggy intentions that someone would eventually slip up, but to do it at a moment like that, when the victim had been in such a critical state… They almost repelled him.
Jake Harding was the prime suspect, naturally. He had wanted the job for years and now he'd finally seen a way to get it. He seemed the perfect choice. But, then again, there were the other three.
Mrs. Pennyworth, whose friendly cheerfulness had lately gradually been replaced by an apparently deepening depression and anxiety; she was a mess compared to her usual orderly appearance, slumped in her chair, a couple of weeks worth of dark circles under her swollen eyes, looking at the floor and constantly fidgeting with her wedding ring. Her divorce was obviously not coming nicely – with a job like hers it was most likely that her to-be-ex-husband would keep the children. In such a condition of constant stress she seemed very likely to commit such a crime (to be frank, you could see it from the looks of her).
Or Aurora Cartridge, who was casually leaning on the side of the window, hardly at all trying to conceal her smile. She had always been too confident, looking down on everyone as if she had them all sorted out. She did look smart though, too smart to make such a mistake (which could also be the perfect cover). However, she'd probably know who it had been, although her amusement seemed much too great for her to just tell him.
And, lastly, Mousington – a man who was small in every possible way and the one of them who looked least threatening. He was constantly shifting in his chair and pretending to drink from his nearly empty cup of coffee (when in fact all too obviously trying to hide behind it, eyeing everyone nervously over the rim). He could as well have been using his innocent looks to disguise a growing bitterness of having been made a fool of in front of everyone for his little everyday obsessions, which would give him every necessary motive to commit the crime, something he seemed quite capable of doing under the given circumstances.
He sighed. "Okay, this is getting us nowhere", he started. "I believe we are all aware of the fact that the culprit is in this room and it is high time for them to confess."
For some this case might seem a trivial matter, but he just felt he had to know. "So tell me", he paused, eyes fixed upon the suspects, observing, ready to spot any involuntary gesture or facial expression that could give away their guilt.
"Who ate my muffins?!"