Diner World

06/ SOUFFLÉ

 The man lay face down in a half finished concoction of egg whites and whipped dreams, a dessert on the cusp of becoming a new soufflé. The dessert was to be one of many that lined the shelves surrounding the crime scene, a tapestry of French ingenuity and grace. The man was Jack Salasan and he had made his last soufflé at Salasan's Soufflés, a small brother and sister run establishment that had recently garnered accolades from the culinary world not only for its fine delicacies but also for its highly alliterative name. It seems that even the most uncultured of chefs could, in moments of fancy, appreciate the good use of a literary technique. One man who could not appreciate the alliteration was Mister Salasan, as he currently found himself with a knife in his back, dead.

The room was circular with small crenelations inset into the wall to provide a degree of decorative flair to the space. The wall itself was stark white, interrupted every now and again by small circular windows which provided a view to the color saturated outside world. Specialty curved moving trays were lined up perfectly against the continuous bend in the enclosure while a large circular workspace was featured prominently in the center of the room. It was here that Jack Salasan lay, bathing in a combination of his own blood and silky smooth soufflé mixture. The red fluid was frothy in parts due to the expertly whipped nature of the original egg whites, lending the scene a volatile texture. I had seen enough. The murderer would not be found in this room.

A long sinuous ramp ran down the side of the room and led to the first story of the building, a bright shop colored all in orange and red. A small smattering of customers had lined up at 9 AM just yesterday to partake of the first desserts from the newly opened store. It was in this quaint little store that Jane Salasan now found herself, brother widowed and without anything or anyone sweet to cling upon except her precious soufflés. I looked at the body once more and then walked down the ramp to join Jane in her misery. Jane had a short bob of auburn hair, shiny and well tended. She wore a thin blue headband to keep the strands in check and a periwinkle flower pinned within her locks. Her eyes matched the headband in hue but were slightly dulled by her recent loss. She wore a short blue dress covered by an equally short apron, smattered with what looked like sweet raspberry filling. This was a case that had been solved from the beginning, there was no real mystery to it. I inquired about the filling as Miss Salasan sat behind the counter.

"Raspberry," she said. I could sense the reprehension that she directed towards my person for even suggesting that it might be something else. "I was making raspberry filling earlier when Jack was inexplicably murdered."

"And is raspberry filling a different moniker for something far less innocuous? Perhaps blood?"

"Certainly not, Detective Horn. It is raspberry filling, sure as my dress is blue." Miss Salasan seemed to be getting more agitated as I talked to her, so I switched the subject to something far more pleasant.

"Nice day today, isn't it Jane? Can I call you Jane?"

"Certainly, Detective, but no it is not. The sky is gray as per usual, the river of blood is still flowing down Elm Street, and the locusts have swarmed the town twice already."

I smiled at the soufflé maker and gave her my best reassuring look. "Yes, but only twice. Yesterday they swarmed four times in a single hour. I think we are in for a very fine day."

My attempt at comfort was met with a complete devolution into tears on the part of Jane. I moved my hand towards her shoulder, thought better of it, and pulled away. She seemed positively distraught and not in the slightest bit inclined to accept any form of reassurance. A small soufflé that sat on the counter would surely be eaten in grief any time now. I motioned to the door and then signaled my departure. Miss Salasan had her head in her hands. She was still gushing a preposterous amount of tears from the depths of her striking blue eyes.