Murder At The Bake Off (Celebrity Mysteries 3) (13 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When I proudly enter my cake in the bake-off competition, I’m thrilled to see it actually looks the part. I place it carefully on the table in the big marquee, pausing for a moment to check out all the wonderful cakes around mine. Even though I had expert help on this project, the work is all my own—that much I insisted upon. Petula suggested the additional ingredients to make the cake more original and guided me from mixing bowl to finished and iced cake, but it was all done with my own hands. I know I can’t win because Petula is a judge, but even so, I’m pleased with what I’ve achieved. I’m also lost in admiration for a nearby three-tier chocolate cake, complete with truffles, when two strong hands slide around my waist.

Jack’s voice whispers in my ear, “Petula told me you were in here.”

“She’s OK, isn’t she? I only left her for a few minutes.”

He nods. “Yeah, she’s fine. Preparing for her big moment as the judge of this competition.”

“Have you found Geraldine yet?”

“No. I’ve get all the stewards and volunteer security team on alert, looking for her. I thought I’d take just a minute to catch up with you in the meantime.”

I tilt my head as he nuzzles my neck and gives me a lovely hug.

“Tammy, the festival organiser, keeps harassing me about some guy, some persistent hack who insists on talking to me about the security for the festival and wants some quotes about why we failed Cherry.”

“Nobody failed Cherry,” I say, annoyed by the cheek of this story-hungry journalist. Then an unwanted thought pops into my head. An irritating and persistent journalist demanding people make time to speak to him, out to cause trouble. No. It can’t be. Can it? “Who is this person? Did Tammy give a name?”

“No. She’s going to introduce me to him in the organiser’s tent in five minutes. Like I haven’t got more important things to attend to right now. So, which one is yours?” he asks.

“Mine?”

What’s Petula been saying to him?

“Yeah, come on. You may be Catwoman, sneaking around these past few weeks with all your baking attempts and trying to hide them from me, but I’m a private investigator, remember? I know all the tricks. Why did you feel you had to hide the fact you were entering the competition from me, anyway?”

I sigh. I don’t want to tell him about my wedding cake dream. If I do manage to achieve it, then revealing my secret now would ruin the surprise. “I guess I was just embarrassed by my baking ineptitude. I honestly thought that Aga had it in for me. And that I was incapable of taking ingredients and a recipe and the end result being presentable and edible.”

Jack turns me around in his arms and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You do know that I’m not with you for your kitchen prowess, right?”

I fake a surprised expression. “You’re not? Why else would you be with me?”

Jack leans in close and whispers in my ear, his words making me blush. I’m revelling in the deliciousness of it all, when through the flaps of the marquee I spot something which makes my blood run cold. “Jack!”

He pulls away, instantly on alert, his eyes scanning the room. “What is it?”

“I think I just spotted Maggie and Rudy, here at the festival. What are they doing here? You don’t think they’re going to use the herbs again, this time on Petula, do you?”

Jack’s already heading for the marquee entrance, scanning the crowd for our suspects.

“But why would they do that? We had their possible motive for Cherry’s demise, the money issues, but there’s no reason for killing off Petula as well,” I say, hot on his heels.

“Not one that we know of,” he replies as we dodge our way through the ever-growing crowds turning up for the baking festival’s grand opening ceremony. “Doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

Great. That’s reassuring.

Jack’s on his phone, instructing the men drafted in as stewards and basic festival security to be on the lookout for Maggie and Rudy as well as Geraldine, describing their appearance and then checking with me for what they were wearing today.

“It was only a glimpse of them, but she had a red jacket on…oh, and a tweed hat. Rudy was in black, I think, with a woolly hat.”

Jack relays this information to the others, and we resume our search.

The public address system blasts out, calling everyone to the larger of the two marquees, announcing that the official opening ceremony with Petula Musgrove will be taking place there in fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes. That isn’t long to crack this case and catch the killer. Will the murderer strike again? What if the target is Petula?

Jack’s phone rings, and he answers with a curt, “Yep.”

As he listens to the voice on the other end, he pulls up short and I cannon into the back of him. “What? Seriously? Yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks. I owe you.”

“What?” I ask, standing next to him, still scanning the crowds, still hoping to spot Maggie or Geraldine. “Is it about the case?”

“Yeah. When you told me about Marvin’s PA earlier, I cross-checked some of the former guests at the Roseby. It was a long shot.”

“But it paid off?” I ask hopefully.

“Yeah. A woman called Geraldine Fuller stayed at the hotel for one night, three weeks before Cherry arrived for her visit.”

“Three weeks ago. Petula mentioned that Marvin proposed to Cherry a month ago. The timing would fit if this was all about Marvin exacting revenge for her rejection.” I pause for breath. “But, it could just be that he sent his PA to the hotel to check it would be OK for Cherry to stay there. You know, that it would be suitable for her.”

Jack shakes his head. “Nope. The Roseby isn’t the kind of hotel you have to send somebody to so they can make sure it’s up to standard before a special guest arrives. It has an excellent reputation. So, why did Marvin send Geraldine to the hotel?”

“To scope out the crockery and check the lay of the land so he could be organised for an attempted murder? But why would he kill Cherry? She was his client.” I’m frantically trying to make sense of this new information at the same time as I’m trying to spot our suspects in the ever-increasing crowds.

“Good question. He takes rejection really badly if that’s why he killed her. Let’s run with all of them being suspects—Maggie, Rudy, Geraldine and Marvin—until we can get hold of them and find out what the hell is going on,” Jack says, striding off into the crowds again. “You say this Geraldine hand-delivered the flowers to Petula? We need to find her and talk to her. Fast.”

“Oh, she also said Marvin would be dropping by later. He had some business to attend to first. Could that be in connection with Cherry’s murder?”

“Yeah, could well be. Chances are, he wouldn’t want to get his hands dirty himself, so he’d have employed somebody to poison Cherry for him. An expert. Booked them into the hotel, so they were a guest and it could be an inside job.”

“You don’t think he might be planning to do the same thing again, do you? Petula keeps rejecting him as an agent. He might have got miffed off and lined up the assassin to target Petula today.”

“We can’t rule that out,” Jack agrees.

The tannoy cranks into action again. This time even louder. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s just ten minutes until the grand opening ceremony with Petula Musgrove and special guests. Please claim your spot in the marquee as soon as possible. Standing room only available now.”

Ten minutes!

“Hell, I need to cancel this meeting with the newshound,” Jack says, pulling his phone out again.

“I’ll do that!” I squeal far too enthusiastically. “I’ll detour to the organiser’s tent and sort it out for you.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely. It will only take a minute. I’ll meet up with you in the main marquee.”

We push and shove our way through the flocks of people heading towards the marquee, with me shouting our apologies as we cut a human swath through the mass of people.

“Marquee!” Jack yells, pointing in the direction of the place Petula is about to perform the opening ceremony.

I nod and veer off towards the organiser’s tent. My heart is racing and I feel sick, which is ridiculous because this journalist could be anybody. The chances of it being Adam are about one in a million. Even so, I still can’t stop the sense of apprehension engulfing me. If it is Adam, then fine, I can do this. If it isn’t, then I have no reason to worry. 

Pushing aside the tent flap, I spot Tammy chatting to a man. They have their backs to me but I’d recognise that blond hair anywhere.

It is Adam.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OK. I can do this. Pushing aside all the hurt and painful memories, I draw in a breath and then storm across the tent towards him. There’s no way I want him to meet Jack. It’s not slimy Adam’s safety I’m worried about, this is about protecting Jack. If he meets Adam and finds out who he is, then Jack might do something he shouldn’t and Adam will sue him –ruining his business and his career.

“Lizzie?”

Great. He’s seen me. Deep breath.

“Lizzie! It is you.” Adam starts walking right towards me.

I’ve regretted letting Adam and the uncomfortable memories surrounding him, keep such a grip on me since I left him and my life in London behind years ago. This is my chance to get closure and move on without having to keep looking back over my shoulder.

He moves to engulf me in a hug but I deftly sidestep him. A frown races across his clean cut features but is quickly replaced by a smirk. “I knew those women in the village shop were spinning me a line. Just trying to protect you from your ex, were they?”

“I asked them to lie to you.” I draw myself up to my full height and place my hands on my hips, adopting my I-mean-business stance.

He smirks again and it takes everything I’ve got not to bop him on the nose.

“Because you’ve never got over me,” he says with a smug nod of his head.

What? How conceited can this guy be? He wasn’t this bad when I was dating him. I’m sure of it. He could be sweet and kind. He could also be selfish and thoughtless.

I wave my left hand in front of his face and he spots my engagement ring. “Adam, I got over you the instant I realised you thought more of your precious job and career ambitions than you did about me.”

His face pales.

“You’re scum, Adam Fischer. Full of your own self-importance. Selfish. Manipulative. Scheming. I was crazy not to notice until it was too late. One thing you are good at is acting, pretending to be something you’re not. It took me far too long to see through your façade.”

“Lizzie,” he reaches for a hand but I snatch it away.

“I’m just here to cancel your meeting with the security guy for the festival.”

He tilts his head, curiosity blazing in his eyes. “And why would you be the one doing that? His personal assistant, are you?”

A deep voice interrupts us. “No. She’s my fiancée, actually.”

Oh no. Jack’s here.

We both turn to see Jack standing right behind me. He does not look happy.

I gulp. Am I going to need to separate the two of them before all hell breaks loose?

My ex steps forward, offering a hand to shake. “Adam Fischer, the journalist who wanted a chat with you.”

I watch, rooted to the spot, as Jack shakes Adam’s hand.

“Jack Mathis. Head of event security.”

What is going on? Isn’t Jack supposed to be tracking Maggie and Rudy down? We don’t have time for this garbage with Adam. We have a murderer to catch. My throat goes dry.

“Lizzie, I’m just going to do this quick interview and then I’ll meet you in Petula’s dressing room, OK?”

What? No way am I leaving these two alone.

“Jack,” I warn.

“It’s fine. We’re just going to talk. That’s all, right?” He shoots a pointed look in Adam’s direction.

If anything, Adam looks even paler now. Jack is a good few inches taller than him and pretty solidly built, emphasising the fact Adam’s physique is more desk-bound than muscle-bound.

“I’m staying right here,” I reply with a determined glare at Jack.

He shrugs. “Fine. Let’s grab a table and talk.” Facing Adam he adds, “Sorry, I’ve got a lot on at the moment and can only spare you five minutes.”

Irritation streaks through Adam’s eyes but he says nothing.

We find a table and I take a seat between the two of them. I wish I had a paper bag handy because I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate.

“Ask away,” Jack says, leaning back in his chair as though he’s perfectly at ease.

Adam ferrets for his notebook and a pen. “Right. I understand you were found crouched over Cherry’s dead body in her hotel suite?”

Hell. Typical Adam. No pulling punches when it comes to interviews for stories.

Jack nods. “That’s right.”

“And yet you still manged to keep your job as security consultant for the festival at which a celebrity you were supposed to be looking after ended up dead. How did you manage to pull that off? You were even arrested at the Roseby. I have witnesses to that fact.”

I glance nervously at Jack, expecting to see steam pouring out of his ears. He’s sitting opposite Adam, a man he’s been wanting to ‘chat with’ for ages. Yet Jack seems perfectly chilled and calm about the whole thing.

“Let me answer your questions in order,” Jack replies, resting his right foot on his left knee, looking relaxed and unflustered. “I was next to Cherry’s dead body because Lizzie and I had just arrived to take afternoon tea with her. I was the first people on the scene. I immediately called the police and medical team. I accompanied the officers to the local station to assist with their enquiries in every way possible. I was not arrested at any point.” He pauses as Adam scribbles all this down. When Adam finishes writing and looks up, he adds, “Caught up so far?”

Adam scowls but nods. “What about your job here? How can they give you the responsibility to look after Petula Musgrove when you’ve shown your obvious incompetence when it comes to being a bodyguard?”

I flinch and hold my breath.

“Because I have an excellent reputation and people know and trust me.” Jack removes his foot from his knee and leans forward, placing both hands flat on the table. “I used to be a special agent, top secret stuff. Licensed to carry a gun and a highly trained shot.”

Adam grabs his notebook, retreating in his seat, a flicker of concern on his face.

Yay Jack!

“Have you ever killed somebody doing your job?” Adam comes back with. He flashes me a look of triumph. I know exactly what he’s up to. Trying to make Jack out to be a bully and cold-hearted.

“No,” Jack says, getting to his feet, leaning in and towering over Adam. “There’s always a first time though.”

Adam gulps.

“Are we done here?” Jack asks as I stand up and link a hand into one of his. “Because Lizzie and I have a killer to catch. If you stick around, we’ll give you an exclusive on the story. The murderer revealed.”

“You will?” Adam looks from me to Jack. “Why?”

“Because I owe you one. If you hadn’t screwed up then Lizzie might never have left London and we wouldn’t be planning our wedding and be sickeningly happy.” He squeezes my hand and I squeeze his right back. I
so
love this man.

“Oh, er, right. Yeah.” Adam flips his notebook closed.

“Oh, one more thing,” Jack says as though he’s just recalled something that had slipped his mind. He takes a step towards Adam. “If you ever come near Lizzie again, I will personally hunt you down. If another woman ends up getting harmed because of you and your dodgy dealings – and I mean any female, anywhere, any time – I will know about and I will make you very sorry. Do you understand?”

Adam leans back, something which looks suspiciously like fear etched onto his face. “Understood.”

I tug Jack towards the exit, eager to be as far away from my ex as possible and also worried time is getting on and we need to protect Petula and track down who murdered Cherry.

But, once we’re outside, I do pause for a second. “Are you OK?”

Jack sighs and runs a hand through his already ruffled air. “You shouldn’t have gone to see him like that, sweetheart. You knew who the journalist was, didn’t you? That’s why you offered to head him off.”

“I didn’t know for definite, but I thought it might be him.”

“Lizzie, I’m not the kind of guy who orders people around, especially not the woman he loves, but I just wish you’d be more careful.” He places his hands on my hips. “I worry about you, that’s all.”

“I worry about you too.”

“I can look after myself.”

“I know.” I plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what? Caring? Worrying?”

“Yes, but also for being so amazing back there with Adam. I was worried you’d get mad with him and maybe punch him or something. He’d have sued you and your career could have been ruined. That’s why I tried to head him off.”

“OK. So we worry about each other,” he says with a soft sigh and a shake of his head. “Goes with the territory, I guess. Yes, there was a time when I’d have lost my temper with Adam, but when it came down to it, I figured what matters now is that you’re safe and we’re together. Plus, I can do without landing myself on the police radar again quite so soon, this time for beating up a journalist. I’d quite like to keep my freedom and my business! So, let’s go and solve this case, shall we?”

He’s right. “Yes. Let’s.”

He grabs my hand, pulling me towards the back entrance to the main tent. A burly-looking guy is standing guard, and as we approach, he opens the flap of the marquee so we can slip inside, behind the stage area. This space is almost as crowded as the public areas. People are bustling around all over the place; it’s manic. A cluster of people are muttering about lights and sound and somebody else is telling them it’s now only five minutes to lift off.

Sugar. Where are our suspects? I then spot a red coat disappearing behind a curtained-off section. “There!” I start running in the direction of the coat, hoping it was Maggie I saw, not somebody else with a similar jacket. Jack’s right behind me.

A stern-looking woman holds up her hand, inches in front of my face, to stop me. “You can’t come in here. This is the dressing room area. Only people with an all-access pass are allowed though here,” she barks at me.

Jack appears at my shoulder and the woman instantly changes her attitude. The glare is quickly replaced with a smile. “Jack! Lovely to see you.”

“We need to talk to Petula,” he says, and the woman instantly steps aside.

Petula is still in her dressing room, and Maggie and Rudy are with her.

“Jack and Elizabeth,” Petula greets us. Then, spotting our expressions, she adds, “Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t realise you knew Cherry’s daughter Maggie,” I say, my eyes swivelling from one person to another, uncertain what is going on.

Petula slips her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Of course. Maggie is much the same age as my own daughter. The two of them used to play together as children when Cherry and I were working on cookery shows and fetes and public appearances. Didn’t you, dear?” Petula gives Maggie a fierce hug. “I’d been trying to act as mediator between the two of them these past few months since they had the silly falling out. I invited Maggie along today to open the festival with me as a tribute to her mother. We’ll be holding a special moment of silence in remembrance, and Maggie will be speaking about how amazing her mother was.”

Oh. Right. It doesn’t sound as though Maggie’s here as a potential murderer, then. Judging by the state of Maggie’s red-rimmed eyes, I’m feeling inclined to cross her off our list of suspects altogether now. Was that day at the masterclass all an act? Did she put on a professional face and get on with the job, rather than disappoint the people on the course? Have we got this all wrong? And what about Rudy? Was he the one behind Cherry’s demise, or was it Marvin?

Maggie’s gaze settles on me, and she frowns in recognition. “Don’t I know you? Yes, I do! You were at the gluten-free baking workshop I ran the other day. You’re the one whose loaf stuck to the non-stick paper.”

“Guilty as charged,” I admit sheepishly.

“So why are you here now?” Her expression grows frosty. “You’re not a journalist, are you?”

I shake my head, waving my hands in a placating gesture.  “No, no. Honestly, I’m not.”

“She’s with me,” Jack cuts in. “I’m a private investigator working on your mother’s case. She attended your workshop to gain information on my behalf.”

“But…I don’t understand,” Maggie says. “Why were you investigating me?”

Rudy steps up to her side and clasps her hand. “The two of you had a falling out over money. Of course they’re going to investigate you. They also investigated me. They pretended to be health food store owners and called at Metcalfe Supplements with some story about wanting to stock my products. You guys thought Maggie and I plotted to kill Cherry, didn’t you?”

Maggie gasps. “What? My mother and I may have had our disagreements, but I loved her. How could you think I would do such a thing?”

“Don’t be so harsh on them,” Petula intervenes. “They’re just trying to ensure justice is served and the murderer ends up where he or she belongs, behind bars. They had to investigate all the options.”

The announcer’s voice booms through the public address system, deafeningly loud here at the back of the marquee behind the stage. “Ladies and gentleman, the time has arrived. Please put your hands together and give a huge welcome to baker extraordinaire, Petula Musgrove!”

“I need to get on that stage,” Petula says, getting to her feet.

“It’s not safe,” I protest.