First, the tomato was the suspect. There was something about the way she glimmered there in the light of the grocery store like a back-alley whore house light bulb. And then there were the questions about her provenance. Not to mention, all the people who came into contact with her came down sick. Some poor bastards even died. It seemed she left a trail of bodies in her wake. She was the lady in red, a fruity Typhoid Mary, and she had to be stopped.
But then again, maybe the tomato was a red herring (?). Maybe she was too obvious. Maybe she'd been covering for her old salsa partner, Senor Jalapeno, the entire time. Or maybe, they were in it together.
My suspicions were confirmed when I opened the L.A. Times and read this:
The same salmonella strain once thought to have originated in raw tomatoes was found in a Mexican-grown jalapeno in a Texas distributing plant, the Food and Drug Administration said Monday, prompting a nationwide warning for consumers to avoid fresh jalapenos and food products made with fresh jalapeno peppers.
So, that was it then, the tomato was in cahoots with her foreign pal. This changed everything. What could they possibly want, what could they be getting out of this reign of terror...
Then I remembered, I had eaten a taco just last night! I'd been so caught up in the case that I didn't even think about what I was doing. They'd both infiltrated my dinner! Damn! I decided I'd better call Doc—and fast.