An Apple a Day Keeps the Police at Bay
written by: Kevin Barney
Three apples coated, nine to go. I always make twelve at a time because of the fabulous cooling tray that I had picked up for $3 at a flea market. The tray had shallow divots that I lined with parchment paper for the apples to cool after they were dunked in my grandmother’s sweet brandy syrup. Wash them, clean them, set them un-candied into the tray. One by one, I would coat them. Then back into the parchment-lined divots to cool.
I picked the 4th apple by the stick, ready to dunk, when my roommate Patricia entered, her eyes big. She and her boyfriend, Phil, were always arguing. Mainly about him being unable to remain faithful.
She looked at the apple in my hand, then back to me, then to the apples on the tray, back to me. “I need to –” She grabbed onto the doorknob to steady herself, which caused the door to swing. Already off-balance, she swung with the door, lost her balance, and landed in the kitchen chair.
“Is it Phil?” I asked.
She nodded. “The police are here.” She pointed to where the police presumably were. I handed her the un-candied apple and left.
Two minutes later, I came back, followed by Officer Neal. Phil was dead.
Patricia was still holding the un-candied apple in her hand. “I saw it all. A mustachioed man hit him in the head with an eight-ball. Then he went out the window.”
“Can you describe him?” The cop asked. She nodded. “I’ll get a sketch artist.” The cop walked out of the kitchen.
“You saw it?” I took the un-candied apple from her. I went to set it down on the tray, but all twelve spots were already full.
“I did. It was awful. You should let the apples cool for longer than normal.” She took the un-candied apple from me and bit into it. I turned back to the tray, slightly confused. The fourth divot was filled. The stick was at an odd angle, and it was smaller than the apples I normally bought.
Why were there thirteen apples? I thought as Patricia asked me a question. “Could you imagine getting hit in the head with an eight ball?”
Suddenly, I knew. There was no mustachioed man. The murder weapon was cooling after being covered in a sweet brandy syrup.
She bit into the apple again. Smiled.
- An Apple a Day Keeps the Police at Bay - April 6, 2026
