Day 20: The Baker's Partner--Part One

            “Definitely not how I was expecting the day to go.”

            “Nope.  Definitely not.”

Eighteen hours earlier…

            Gentle rain slithered down his car window.  The streetlights gleamed softly off the drops, as he slightly shifted his driving wheel to match the curve of the road.

            Stefan Turner was headed to his work.  It was too early to be working, but Stefan was a baker and his job and customers demanded the early hours.

            It was only a ten-minute drive to his bakery.  Normally Stefan would have ridden his bike, but along with the fact that it was raining, Fall was coming and the mornings were getting cooler. 

            Stefan pulled into the designated parking place for him and shut down his car.  After struggling to get his finicky driver’s side door open, he unlocked the front door to his bakery and stepped inside.  He rubbed his hands together to warm them and headed directly to the kitchen behind the counter.

            Soon after shrugging off his coat and pulling on his apron, he began preparing to make the dinner buns that he made first every morning.  He placed a container of flour on the counter and popped of the lid.  He began scooping flour out of the container and into the bowl.  With his second reach into the flour container, Stefan felt his scoop hit something hard.

            “What is that?” Stefan asked himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

            He brushed the white powder away and removed the object from the container.  It was a revolver.

            “Wha…what?” Stefan said out loud, thoroughly confused by the strange turn of events.

            He stood in a stunned silence trying to figure out how a revolver would have found its way into his bucket of flour.

            “Well, how did that get there?”

            Stefan swung around at the sound of this new voice.  A tall figure was leaning against the counter.  He had wavy dark hair with faint scruff on his jawline.  He wore a grey three-piece suit but without a tie.

            “Arty?  What are you doing here?” asked Stefan.

            “Well a case of course, old friend,” the newcomer said with a cocky smile.  Arty pushed himself away from the counter.  “My case has to do with that revolver you just pulled from that container.  And you, dear fellow, have just defiled my crime scene.  Don’t you remember any standard crime scene procedure?”

            “Wait,” said Stefan, “this is part of your case?  How in the world did you know this gun would be in my flour?  And since when have you cared about crime scene procedure?”

            “I will tell you over a hot bun right after you finish making them,” said Arty, promptly plopping himself onto the kitchen floor.  “And I still don’t care at all about crime scene procedure.  I was simply pulling your leg.”