Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) (13 page)

Hmm. Easy for him to say. I won’t be able to stop worrying until whoever stabbed Armand is safely behind bars. I gently ease my hand out of his and get to my feet. “I should be going.” I wonder if he’s about to kiss me again, but he doesn’t. He follows me outside and walks me to my car which is parked just across the road. It’s even chillier now, and I wrap my coat around me more tightly, a part of me wishing that Jack would snuggle in close to warm me up a little. But he doesn’t do that either.

“I’ll give you a call in the morning to update you on the investigation and what happens next,” he says as we reach Daisy and I blip the remote to unlock her.

Forcing a smile, I look up at him. “Thanks. That would be good.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I wake at the ridiculous hour of four in the morning. It’s pitch black outside. I’m not much of a morning person. Is this even classed as morning? It feels like it’s still the middle of the night. My mind refuses to switch off for long at the moment, so here I am, plus my stomach is churning with worry - and with hunger. Toast in hand, I sit at the dining table and wonder if I should start making contingency arrangements for the farm in case I do get arrested and held in a police cell for days or months on end. The very thought fills me with horror. I can’t ask Frazer to help out around here; he has more than enough on his plate at the moment as it is. Emma should be released from the hospital today, much to his relief. The children are staying on with their grandparents for a few more days to give their mum a chance to settle back in at home. I can’t ask Jack either; he’s already got work on his brother’s farm to sort and he’s trying to catch a killer and clear my name. Plus, in a few weeks he’ll be back working at the agency. Getting to my feet, I dump the half-eaten toast in the bin, any semblance of appetite now gone. At least Stella and David are arriving today which might help take my mind off things a bit.

As soon as it’s light outside, I pull on some wellington boots and head out to start my daily tasks. First up, feeding the chickens
.
Eskdale has about fifty free range hens which my uncle used to know all the names of. Sadly, I haven’t yet reached that level of knowledge and I hope they’re not so sensitive as to take umbrage with me and refuse to lay eggs on principle. I let them out of the various sheds where they have been snug overnight, protected from any wandering foxes, and set about feeding them before I collect up the latest eggs. Usually I find feeding the chickens to be quite a relaxing and contemplative experience, it’s one of my favourite jobs around Eskdale. Today though my thoughts are not calmed at all by going through my usual routine. Once the chickens are sorted and pecking happily in the field, I head to the greenhouses and start on feeding, watering and harvesting the plants. A few hours later most of my planned jobs for the morning have been sorted and I’m armed with loads of tomatoes, courgettes, spring onions and salad leaves to box up along with the eggs. I’ll deliver them to my customers later in the day.

Back indoors, I decide to tackle baking a cake for Stella and David. Scanning the bookshelves in the living room, I find one of my aunt’s old recipe books and thumb through it. The cakes inside it all sound delicious, but I know some of them I don’t have the ingredients for and others are way beyond my limited cooking abilities. Truth be told, all of them are way beyond my baking abilities. But today, for some reason, I feel more optimistic. Perhaps it’s the prospect of seeing Stella again. I’ve missed her so much. I miss seeing my parents on a regular basis too. I miss gathering in a local trendy coffee shop for a good gossip. I miss lots of things and people from my old life in London. Maybe one day I’ll go down there and stay with my parents or Stella and David for a weekend. I can always avoid the people and places I definitely don’t want to reconnect with. Maybe one day.

Deciding on carrot cake I gather together the ingredients and make a start. Grating the carrot and stirring the mixture makes me wish I was a better baker. Why didn’t I inherit the cake gene from my Aunt Molly?  I spoon the mixture into a tin and pop it into the Aga. Unfortunately, my aunt didn’t include oven details in this particular recipe. I guess she knew those off by heart. Closing the door on the Aga, I just hope I’ve guessed that part of the process right. Heading upstairs, I figure I should have enough time to take a quick shower and get changed before Stella and David arrive. With perfect timing I’m just walking back downstairs, dressed in my smartest jeans and a sweater, when I hear a car pull up in the yard. Rushing outside I envelop Stella in a huge hug before she’s even completely out of the car.

“I’ve missed you!” Stella says with a laugh as she stumbles out of David’s top-of-the-range car. The waves of her long red hair are restrained in a ponytail secured by a scarf of, no doubt carefully chosen for the season, autumnal colours.

“It’s been too long,” I reply, standing back to give her room to breathe. “You look fabulous!”

She waves her left hand in front of my face as she grins from ear to ear. “Maybe that’s what getting engaged does for me!”

I grab at her hand, inspecting the small but beautifully-formed diamond nestling on a band of white gold on her perfectly manicured finger. “You didn’t!” I gasp, delighted for her.

“We did!” she says as David comes round the car to give me a friendly hug. I stand on tiptoe and peck his cheek in congratulations. David is far and away the tallest person I know. Oh, actually, come to think of it, Jack’s probably about the same height.

“I’m so pleased for you both!” I squeal.

Stella links her arm through mine, her expression now suddenly serious. “I so wanted to tell you but I was worried and, well, if this is difficult for you, I understand, truly I do, and I’ll say no more about it. But I couldn’t not tell my best friend… you do understand?” she asks anxiously. “Is it OK?”

I nod and beam a smile at her. “Of course it is!”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m absolutely positive!” I reply as I lead both of them inside. In the kitchen I stand in the middle of the floor and raise my arms. “Well, this is Eskdale. My home these days. Come in, make yourselves comfortable.” Suddenly, I feel a little embarrassed. The wooden cabinets now look scuffed and battered rather than rustic. The sofa in the corner of the room somehow seems more saggy and faded today. Despite my best attempts to clean and smarten up the place, there’s still a definite air of shabbiness lingering and I know it’s a far cry from the smart little apartment in London which Stella and David share.

“It’s gorgeous,” Stella enthuses. “I adore it!” She gives me a reassuring hug.

David nods his approval. “It’s a proper farmhouse. So cosy and homely. Sorry we didn’t get chance to come up here sooner to see you. Things have been crazy in London.”

“Even worse than usual,” Stella chips in. “Working all hours. I really have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I say, with a flicker of regret.

“So, any chance of a cup of coffee? I’m parched.” Stella moves to the Aga. “Oh, wow, this is like one of those you see in the lifestyle magazines. They say there’s quite an art to cooking using them. Is it true?” She stops and sniffs the air. “Can I smell burning?”

Oh, sugar! The carrot cake is still inside the Aga! I’d completely forgotten about it.  Grabbing a tea towel, I open the oven door and peer inside. Great. It’s a disaster. “Sorry,” I say as I pull the cake out and place it on a wooden board on the worktop. “It’s a bit on the burnt side.”

Stella rests a hand on my shoulder. “No worries! If we cut the top off then the inside will be perfectly edible!”

I doubt it but I smile and nod, grateful for her optimism. “I’m still getting to grips with the Aga,” I say by way of excuse.

“David, since you’re the one who loves cooking, you should give it a go. Cook us up a nice meal tonight, perhaps? What do you think, Lizzie?”

“Sounds good to me.” David is a brilliant cook. “I’ll look forward to it. Let me know what you need and I’ll head to the local shop for groceries. Provided it’s not too exotic and something they don’t stock, otherwise I’ll end up driving thirty minutes to the nearest supermarket.”

“What do you fancy from my extensive recipe repertoire?” David asks, checking out the Aga as he speaks, opening doors and squinting at dials.

“How about that chicken pasta bake you made the other week at home?” Stella suggests. “That was delicious. Lizzie?”

“Sounds great. I’ve already got some chicken in the fridge and some pasta in the cupboard. What else do you need?”

“I’ll do a list,” David replies.

“So, do I dare ask?” Stella looks at me, concern in her bright blue eyes. “How are things with this scary business with your boss?”

David stops making his list and turns to face us both. “Yeah, Stella told me about this Armand guy getting stabbed. Everyone must be pretty freaked out by it.”

I nod. That’s an understatement. “Very freaked out. It gets worse too. I was the last one to leave the restaurant kitchen on the night he was murdered so I’m on the suspects list.”

“What? No! They’re not
still
thinking you had anything to do with it though, surely?” Stella asks.

“Afraid so. I don’t have an alibi. I came home but, as I now live alone, nobody was here to corroborate that fact. So…”

David and Stella exchange anxious glances. Whether it’s about my status as a suspect murderer or relates to my comment about living alone these days, I’m not sure. Probably both. One of us has to broach the subject, so it may as well be me. “So, have you seen anything of Adam? How is he?”

David and Adam have several mutual friends.

“He misses you,” Stella replies before David can get a word out of his mouth. “But that’s tough because he’s an idiot and deserves to be alone.”

I turn to David, who I know is more likely to tell me the full unvarnished truth rather than sugar coat it like Stella is more likely to do. “He’s alone?”

David nods. “Yeah. I mean, we’re guys, so, well, you know, we don’t really get into all that emotional stuff when we’re sharing a drink in the pub or kicking a football about at five-a-side but…”

“He knows he’s made a huge mistake and I told him when I saw him at a party last week,” Stella cuts in. “I said, Adam, you’re a first class idiot and there’s no way on this planet Lizzie will so much as speak to you, let alone contemplate getting back with you.”

“Which is true, right?” Stella adds, looking at me questioningly. “I mean, you wouldn’t get back with him, would you?”

I shake my head. I’m feeling a bit vulnerable and emotional right now, thanks to the murderer accusations, and because of that, I suppose a part of me is craving familiar times when I thought my life was perfect. Times with Adam. But they were far from perfect. “No, of course not,” I belatedly answer Stella’s question.

“So, come on then, what’s the latest with this business of you being suspected of killing your boss?” David asks as he finishes scribbling his grocery list and hands it to me. I quickly skim through it, relieved to see I can get everything on it from the village store.

“There’s a guy helping me investigate the case to find out who really killed Armand,” I say, tucking the list into the pocket of my jeans. “He’s been amazing.”

“Guy?” Stella says, narrowing her eyes at me. “What guy?”

“Jack. His brother runs the farm next to Eskdale. He’s a spy, well, a special agent, works solving crimes for famous people.”

“Sounds a bit dodgy,” Stella says, leaning against the Aga, probably in search of some warmth. The farmhouse is a little on the chilly side today. Signs of autumn fast approaching, I suppose. “Have you got references? You’re not paying him loads of money, are you?”

“I’m not paying him at all. He wouldn’t take any money.” I hesitate, knowing Stella, clearly in overprotective mode, won’t take kindly to the news Jack is suspended for reasons unknown from his special agent job and that’s why he has time on his hands to help me. “I know his brother Frazer. He’s a respectable married guy, and he wouldn’t let me get involved with Jack if it wasn’t safe.”

“Define
involved
,” Stella says, crossing her arms over her designer label sweater.

I flap my hands at her, dismissing the question. “I don’t mean involved in the way you’re thinking. He’s just helping me out, using his work contacts to do some digging. That’s all.” I neglect to mention the breaking and entering incident at the Veggies. There are some things it’s best if Stella doesn’t know and that, I’m sure, comes under that category. I can probably add the kiss Jack and I shared to that, too.

“How are you really doing?” Stella asks, concern in her eyes. “Be honest with me, Lizzie. I don’t just mean with this chef business, I mean with Adam and what happened in London. The nightmares haven’t started up again, have they?”

Pasting a smile on my face, I try to sound positive. “No, thankfully. Adam is still calling and emailing me though. I ignore him of course, but seeing his name is useful in reminding me how stupid I was.”

“Hey! Do not blame yourself, Lizzie Carter! He’s selfish and pig-headed. It was all his fault.”

I tug at the sleeve of my jumper. “A part of me did wonder if his latest attempt to contact me might be in connection with Armand’s story. He knows I’m up in Cumbria and…”

Stella slips an arm around my shoulders. “That’s all he knows. Nobody has told him where you live.”

“I know, but Adam can find out anything if he wants to. I was too trusting with him, too naive. I swore I’d never do that again but now, here I am, trusting a stranger, this time to keep me out of jail! OK, I admit, this is different. It’s more a business arrangement with Jack, nothing personal or a relationship.” I shake my head, a whirl of confusing emotions. “What am I doing, asking Jack to help me, Stella? But, realistically, do I have any other serious options? My investigative skills are none existent. I need Jack’s expertise and contacts. Maybe a part of me needs his reassurances as well – right now, they’re helping to keep me sane!”

Stella gives me a hug. “Oh, sweetheart, things will all come good, I know they will.”