Murder in the Cake: Cozy Murder Mystery (Harley Hill Mysteries Book 4) (3 page)

“Listen, Chloe?” I said. “I would love to help you, honest. But I’m flying to the States tomorrow morning, and I’m going to be away for at least a couple of weeks. Come back then and we’ll talk. Okay?”

I might as well have punched her. The poor kid looked crushed. Her head went down; her shoulders sagged. “I shouldn’t have come.” She sniffed. Her cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry for bothering you.” And with that she turned and ran down the street, chased by a flurry of crisp autumnal leaves.
 

“Wait!” I called after her. “Do you have somewhere to go? Chloe? Chloe?”

She didn’t look back. She just kept on running.

“And the winner of the heel-of-the-year competition goes to Miss Harley Hill,” I mumbled under my breath as I watched her disappear around the corner. I was half tempted to run after her, but the tour party had snaked their way along the street and were blocking the path, asking me if John Lennon had ever stayed at Cordi’s while pointing to one of those terrible ‘maps to the homes of the stars’. I told them I doubted it very much. Dodging the numerous selfie sticks, I squeezed into the house. I closed the door on the snap-happy gang and put my back to it, where I stayed for a few minutes, just staring at the crumpled piece of paper in my hand. After a while I got a grip, put the number in my jeans pocket, and returned to the kitchen.
 

“Where have you been?” Maggie asked. “I was about to send a search party.”

“Oh, just… some tourists. It doesn’t matter,” I said. But of course, it did matter. All I could think of was that poor girl wandering the streets after being rejected.
 

Monty, the big old grey lump of a cat, jumped up onto the table, bellyflopped in front of me, and nudged his head against my hands, demanding ear scratches. I obliged and he let out a machine-gun rattle of purry merps.

“I know,” I said to the cat while stroking his big, fluffy head. “She’ll be okay.”

At least I hoped she’d be okay, and I hoped she’d come back in two weeks because I really did want to help her.

Chapter Three

The next morning we got to the airport on time, bright and early, three hours ahead of our flight. Cordi parked her battered old Mercedes in the long-stay car park, and we made our way through the crowds to the check-in lobby.
 

I don’t like flying and I don’t like airports. I don’t like the wired overexcitement of those going away, which is always tempered by anxiety, and I don’t like the tiredness of those coming home.
 

What can I say? I’m a grump, so sue me.
 

What made it even worse was that I was missing Cole, my gorgeous, undercover cop boyfriend. He was going to fly out and meet me tomorrow, but I really wanted him here now because, oh yeah, I was nervous as all heck about going to America to meet my long-lost parents.
 

No matter how many times I told myself what I was doing. I still felt sick. It was embarrassing. I’m a tough girl… supposedly. I felt like a little kid. Which reminded me: that poor kid Chloe. Yeah, I was looking forward to this trip as much as I’d look forward to a cruise on the
Titanic
.
 

Michael and Cordi were oblivious to my worries, which was some consolation. I didn’t want to bring them down.
 

They were in front of me, chatting excitedly, standing a little too close.
 

I know I’m only an amateur sleuth but even I’d noticed that over the last few weeks they’d been getting nice and friendly. Nothing overt, just close in a really sweet way. I was pleased, for both of them.
 

My brother’s ex-wife was a card-carrying unmentionable, and Cordi had recently divorced her husband, Alex. I knew him, he was a cop, and our paths had crossed on several cases. He had a certain roguish charm, but poor Cordi had a tough time with the whole divorce thing. She was lonely, hurt. I didn’t know him well, but my brother seemed like a nice guy. I hoped it worked out for them.

Cordi turned to me, snapping me out of my musing. “Did you manage to speak with Cole this morning? Did he say if he was going to join us?”

“I did, and yes, he’s hoping to fly out tomorrow, as soon as he’s finished the case he’s working on.”

“Oh, that’s great!” She smiled, squeezing my arm. “It will be fun, the four of us out there together.”

Michael blushed and gave a shy smile. The queue was quite long and moving slowly. I estimated it would take us a good half hour to get to the front. Did I mention I hated airports? There are so many hoops to jump through thanks to this threat and that threat; it makes a person feel either like a criminal or a performing seal. It’s a total stress-out.
 

“What’s Cole working on?” Michael said over his shoulder.
 

“A fraud case,” I said. “Something to do with fake paintings being sold on the black market as the real deal. He’s part of an undercover team on this one. He’s up in Manchester until tomorrow.”
 

“Let’s hope he manages to make it back, then.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping.” I smiled at him. He seemed really happy, but I just wasn’t sure I shared his excitement. Airport hate aside, I was super nervous. What if I didn’t like my mum and dad; what if they didn’t like me?
 

I was conflicted. My emotions ran the full scale from nervous to angry to excited and back again. It made my head spin just thinking about it.
 

Hopefully a good long sleep on the plane would make me feel better.

We eventually reached the front of the queue. The clerk went through the paperwork, passport, and other checks with Michael first. It was at that point I realised I was shaking. I felt light-headed, and sweat was running down my back. I genuinely felt like I was going to throw up, so I staggered out of the queue and leaned against a pillar. Cordi came over, a look of concern written on her face.
 

The other people in the line stared at me as though my head were about to explode or something.
 

Between you and me, I thought it might.
 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Cordi asked, concerned.
 

“I… I think it’s just nerves,” I said.
 

“Are you scared of flying?”

“Well, yes, but it’s not just that.”
 

She nodded. “It’s meeting your parents, isn’t it? Oh, love,” she said and gave me a gentle hug.
 

Michael noticed something was wrong and came over. He looked worried. “We need to check in,” he said. “But if there’s something wrong…” he tailed off.

“I’m okay,” I said. “I just need a few minutes. You two carry on. I’ll catch up.”

Cordi didn’t look sure, but she and Michael left me and rejoined the queue. I was sweating like a pig and reached into my pocket for a tissue.
 

What I pulled out wasn’t a tissue, but rather Chloe’s phone number.
 

That was it, a sign. I knew what I had to do.

“You’re next, Harley,” Michael said. He still looked worried.
 

My head was pounding. I really wanted to go to America for Michael’s sake as much as my own, but I couldn’t. Trust your gut, someone once told me, and right now my gut was telling me I shouldn’t go. “I’m so sorry, Michael, Cordi, but I’m afraid I can’t leave. I have to go back to Notting Hill. Please don’t hate me!” I blurted.

Michael’s eyes widened with surprise, but Cordi gave me a knowing smile. “Right you are, sweetie,” she said, without a hint of anger or disappointment. “Let’s get you back home.” She put her arm around my shoulders. “We’ll have a nice cup of tea and a big fat slice of cake and talk about what’s bothering you, okay?”
 

“But what about the flights? Our parents?” Michael said. The poor guy was confused. He kept looking from me to the check-in desk.
 

He was torn. I understood.
 

“I’m sorry for letting you down, Michael, but I can’t go, not right now. Someone needs my help,
our
help, and I couldn’t live with myself if I just left her to struggle on alone.” I took his hand. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you call our folks? Tell them something really urgent came up and ask them if we can re-arrange? I promise I’ll go just as soon as this job’s done.”

Michael looked really disappointed but eventually nodded his agreement and gave me a big hug. “Don’t worry about it, sis,” he said. “I’ll sort it out.”

“Thank you, so much,” I said. I buried my head in his sweater. I felt so relieved I could have cried. “I’m so sorry for being a pain in the proverbial.”

“Hey, stop that. I know whatever it is must be important and that’s good enough for me.” He smiled and mussed my hair like a big brother would, I guess. “You just owe me a couple of slices of cake for covering for you. Now come on, let’s go home.”

We struggled out of check-in and made our way back through the labyrinth that is Heathrow to the car park, where we stowed our luggage in the back of Cordi’s car and headed back to Notting Hill.
 

My anxiety and nervousness about the whole situation had eased by the time we hit London morning traffic. Normally I’d be annoyed to be held up, but right then, I just felt relieved. I knew I’d made the right decision, but, boy, it hadn’t been easy.
 

Due to roadworks, it took us two hours to get back home.
 

When we arrived, Michael went off to call our parents. I tried the number Chloe had given me but no luck. In desperation I asked Cordi if she’d help me go look for her in the neighbourhood.
 

Being the all-round good egg that she was, she agreed in a flash. We set off into the cool autumnal day with a pale sun slanting through the shivering trees.

Like a down and out tour guide, I took Cordi to all the places I would have frequented if I’d been on the streets in this neck of the woods. I could tell it was quite the eye-opener for her. We took a tour of underpasses, back alleys and derelict buildings—all known hang-outs for down-and-outs and teenage dropouts.
 

I really wanted to find Chloe, but I also dreaded it. I didn’t want to find the kid sleeping in a cardboard box or huddled in a shop doorway.
 

We walked around for hours looking for her, asking people if they’d seen anyone fitting her description. The sun began to set over the jagged skyline of London Town. Cordi and I were exhausted, although I’ll give my partner this, she can keep up a good pace even in her heels.

The busy offices began to disgorge the thousands of workers all head down and rushing for the tube, eager to get home. In a few hours the workers would be home and the revellers would take over the streets, looking for a fun night on the town, which of course meant drunks would be about too and other undesirables.
 

I really wanted to find Chloe. I knew how dark those streets could get.
 

We returned to where we’d parked up, somewhat dejected. “Shall we go back to where we started?” Cordi asked as she buckled up. She looked really tired.

“I can’t ask you to do that, C,” I said. I wanted to cry. “I’m so sorry. I’ve messed everyone’s plans up and for what? I’ve lost her.” I put my head in my hands. Harley Hill: strike one.

“Hey. Stop that. Don’t you remember the first time we met?” She lifted my chin out of my hands and smiled at me. “I wanted to give you the job because I could see you needed help, just like Chloe needs our help.”
 

“Yeah, I know. I’m so grateful. I just can’t stop thinking about that look on her face when I turned her down. I’ve spent a lifetime feeling rejected; I never wanted to make anyone else feel the same way. It’s like I’m being tested, you know?”
 

Cordi fired up the engine and swerved the old, rusting Mercedes around a stationary bus and headed toward London Bridge to cross back over the Thames and then head to Notting Hill. When we got to a clear section of road, Cordi picked up the conversation again.
 

“I know what you mean about feeling tested. I think we are, every day. I know you, I know how tenacious you can be.” She smiled and looked at me, which, although sweet, made me a little nervous. “My blisters tell me your efforts won’t be wasted.”

“That’s great, Cordi, but the, er, road?”

“What? Oh, right.” She looked back at the road as though she’d forgotten she’d been the one driving.

We didn’t speak much on the way back. Cordi sang along to some Sinatra playing on the stereo. I gazed out of the window as night fell on the city. It was dark when we pulled up outside the house. A dark figure was sitting on the steps, outside the front door. My pulse quickened and I jumped out of the car and rushed over.
 

A little face peered at me from the shadows of her hood. “Harley?” she said.
 

“Chloe! What… how?”
 

She pulled her hood back. “Hi. A friend of mine, Tom down at the church mission in Holland Park, told me his friend Reverend George rang him because ‘those detective ladies off the TV’ had gone to the Bridge Outreach Centre, looking for me. I wasn’t sure if it was you, because you said you were going away for a couple of weeks, but I thought, maybe.” She shrugged.
 

“You thought right.” Relief flooded my limbs. “I’ve been all over London looking for you. I couldn’t get through on the number you gave me.”

“Sorry, must have had a duff signal.”

“No worries.”
 

Cordi got out of the car and came over. “This must be Chloe.” Cordi smiled.
 

“It is,” I said.

“Hello, Chloe, I’m Cordelia Silvers. I work with Harley. She’s told me all about you. Shall we go inside? I really need to take these shoes off and put the kettle on.”
 

Chloe looked up at us. Tears tracked down her dirty cheeks. She nodded, too choked up to speak.
 

“I know I make a good cuppa, but I’ve never had anyone cry over it before,” Cordi quipped.