Sweeter Than Sugar

            The day of June fifth dawned much like any other Sunday. Cookie streched her right arm out and grabbed a whisk from the rack hanging above the counter, and viciously beat the eggs in the metal bowl.
            "I wonder why Selema hasn't shown up yet," she thought to herself with a rye smile. For Cookie knew of course why the kitchen girl hadn't shown.
            As Cookie bustled about the lavish kitchen, Kira burst through the swinging door.
            "Its Selema!" she screamed. "I think she's dead!"
            Cookie calmly continued to make breakfast. Dominik Diamond, her wealthy employer, was nice and generous, but he didn't like to be kept waiting.
            "Calm down Kira," Cookie sighed, "Just because Selema hasn't shown up yes doesn't meant she's dead." Cookie stepped around Kira to attend the screaming kettle.
              "No!" Kira cried. "Cookie, I found her!"
              Cookie paused, and studied the girl. She was slim and pretty, to be sure, but she lacked a certain beauty. "Where is she?"
              And with that, Kira rushed Cookie off, not towards the servents' quarters, but towards the hallway in the main house, where the Master bedroom was. And sure enough, there was Selema, laying motionless on the floor, her tongue draped out from between her lips, her face oddly purpled and swollen.
              Cookie sighed, "Poor child." Stepping around the girl's lifeless body, Cookie rapt three times on Dominik's bedroom door. Behind her, Cookie could hear Kira's heartbroken wails.
              Presently, Dominik answered th door, and upon hearing Kira's sobs, laid his eyes on the girl sprawled upon the floor.
              Noon that day, the body had been cleared up and taken away by the undertaker. Dominik paced his study anxiously. As far as he was aware, he was the last to have seen the simple kitchen girl alive.
              This thought distrubed him. Had he blacked out and killed her? "No," he thought, "I can account for the entire night." Surely if he had blacked out, there would have been a period of time he wouldn't be able to recall.
              He, Dominik, had invited Selema to join him in his quarters, taken by the girl's simple wit and hidden charms, and of course those deep blue eyes that had the ability to captivate the soul.
              They had talked, enjoyed some tea and coconut cookies, then had turned in for the night, not wanting to come on too strong, or compromise Selema's position in his home.
              Dominik stopped his pacing. Cookie had known Selema was in his quarters that night. It had been Cookie who had sent up the tray ladden with fresh tea, cream, sugar, and delicious cookies.
              Picking up the old fashioned ring-dial phone, he raced to dial the local police station. Reporting his suspicions about the night before to the police cheif, things seemed to fall into place.
              Cookie had always resented the kitchen girl, Selema, claiming that she slacked off, leaving her with more work. She had many a time made a case for the girl's dismissial.
              It wouldn't have been difficult for Cookie to have waited outside the door for Selema to reappear and strangle her to death. Selema was a little wisp of a thing: she would have been no match for the robust Cookie.
              Twenty minutes later, Cookie was led out of the manor in cuffs, escorted by four fine officer's of the law on suspicion of murder.

              Dominik slumped down into a dining room chair at five o'clock that evening, dismayed at the simultaneous loss of his romantic interest and his cook of eleven years.
              Kira slipped into the dining room, and offered her employer a tray of cookies and tea, hoping to comfort him.
              "Please, join me Kira," Dominik uttered, trying to sound pleasent, "This house is empty enough for one person to be alone, let alone two."
              "Why thank you," Kira said, slipping into a chair, and helping herself to a coconut cookie.
              "These are delicious," Dominik commented, "You must tell me your secret."
              "Peanut oil," Kira replied, "I find that it gives cookies a taste sweeter than sugar."
              The fact that Selema had a deadly peanut allergy went unnoticed between sips of tea, snatches of conversation, and the last of a night-old batch of coconut cookies.