Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) (23 page)

“And we certainly did,” the Chief Inspector says, leading Bryony towards the door. “As all calls to the police station are automatically recorded, we have Mrs Seville’s confession all on tape. You two, don’t go anywhere, we’ll need you both back down at the police station to help clear this all up.”

Before we follow them out, Jack slips a hand into mine. “That was smart thinking and very brave,” he says, and then plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’m proud of you. And, finally, the police have the right woman for the murder!”

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

I pour the homemade vegetable soup into the flask, careful not to spill any. Tightening the lid as much as I can, I pack the thermos flask into the rucksack ready and waiting next to the back door. It’s already pretty full, but I manage to wedge the flask down the side between the crusty baguettes and a large packet of our favourite gourmet crisps. There’s also a carrot cake tucked inside a Tupperware container. It’s perfect. It’s even got cream cheese frosting. And it’s all my own work! Maybe I do have a tiny bit of the baking gene in me after all. It just took me about twenty or so attempts and lots of binned baked goods before the Aga and I made friends and my cakes stopped coming out raw or burnt. Nowadays I even enjoy baking. I never thought I’d say that! Glancing out of the window, I notice it’s still snowing quite heavily. I must be crazy, agreeing to go for a hilltop picnic in weather like this.

Zipping up my warm, waterproof jacket, I open the back door, waiting for my picnic companion to arrive. Within seconds the roar of the approaching quadbike drifts up on the wind. As it turns into the yard, I pick up the rucksack, shut the door and walk across the yard to where Jack has now brought the bike to a halt.

Climbing off, he takes the bag and fixes it securely to the storage area on the back of the bike, then kisses me on the only bit of my cheek exposed to the cold breeze. “All set?”

“Yep! Though why I ever agreed to your stupid idea of a Christmas Eve picnic on top of a freezing, wind-blown, snow-covered hill, goodness only knows!”

“It’s because you love me,” he replies cheekily, climbing back on to the bike and gesturing for me to hop on, too.

“I guess it must be!”

As we make our way along the tracks and up towards the top of Eskdale Fell, I marvel at the stunning landscape around us. I may have lived up here for almost two years now, but I still never tire of staring at the scenery like a tourist. I sigh and smile, glad to be alive, to be free. Bryony is in jail. Jack said he didn’t tell me of his concerns about the police arresting Carl and not Bryony at the time because he didn’t want to worry me when I thought I was a free woman. Anyway, it’s all over and done with now, thank goodness. It was even revealed in the course of the investigation that local councillor Alun Berwick wasn’t in any way involved with dodgy planning applications for the store through the local council. The person with a black mark against them on that front was the woman who was
head of the planning committee. Once she’d been arrested, Bryony was throwing names around left, right and centre in the interview room. Guess she wanted to bring as many people down with her as possible. She is one bitter woman.

In other news, the store is thriving, Frazer and Emma’s little girl has been named Milly, oh, and
Jack has been living up here for over a year now. He resigned from his agency job and has built up a thriving business right across Cumbria doing private investigations, specialist stuff on a consultancy basis for the police, and bodyguard assignments for visiting celebs. He’s renting a cottage in Amswick but has been gradually spending more and more time at Eskdale with me. Once the case was done and dusted and Jack had ditched London and the agency, we decided to throw ourselves headlong into a relationship.

Thirty minutes later, Jack sets the rucksack down next to the flat rocks on the top of the fell and unpacks a waterproof rug and a blanket. I set to on sorting the food, but he quickly pulls me down beside him onto the rug and wraps the blanket tightly around us both. Leaning forward, he pulls a bottle of champagne and two plastic mugs from his rucksack.

“Champagne? Wow, this
is
a great way to celebrate Christmas! Who wants to be in front of the TV pigging mince pies when you can be out in the snow with a flask of hot soup and a mug of champagne?”

“Well, I’ve kind of got my fingers crossed that Christmas isn’t all we’ll be celebrating today.” Unzipping the top section of his coat he reaches to the pocket inside and pulls out a small navy box, opening it. Inside is a single diamond on a band of gold. “Lizzie Carter, will you marry me?”

He offers the box towards me and I don’t think I can speak.

All of my old trust issues flood back. Adam wouldn’t so much as back off from a newspaper story to protect me - the woman he supposedly loved. Yet Jack threw himself wholeheartedly into danger, not to mention the prospect of losing his job, just to help me, to clear my name - and I was a complete stranger to him. The man before me - brave, unselfish, true - couldn’t be more different than Adam. When I’d found that ring in Adam’s wardrobe, I’d spent ages imagining how and when he would propose and picturing how special it would be. Now, I know no fancy restaurant can even come close to this perfect setting. Up on a snowy hilltop, just the two of us. It’s gorgeous and amazing – just like Jack. I’ve finally found the new me and am loving my new life, and the man in it. I even quite like helping Jack out a bit on his investigations – though I prefer it when I’m not one of the suspects on a case! Perhaps one day I can add amateur sleuth to my list of newly acquired skills – along with baking!

“Yes! Yes. I definitely will marry you!” I say, my voice high-pitched with excitement, tears of joy sliding down my cheeks.

I yank my glove off and Jack slides the ring onto my finger. It’s a perfect fit. How did he manage that? Who knows? That’s Jack for you! I lean in for a kiss and then pull back, suddenly remembering the Tupperware container nestled in the rucksack. “Wait! I have something for you, too! Though it’s nowhere near on the same scale!”

I rummage around in the bag and find the container, presenting it to Jack and triumphantly whipping off the lid to reveal the cake, complete with frosting. “And this one is actually edible!” I enthuse with a big smile. “I checked it!”

“It’s perfect. Congratulations! We’ll devour it while we drink the champagne!” he laughs.

I flop down on the rug again, snuggling close to him as he slips an arm around my shoulders. “You know, Catwoman, I think I fell for you from that very first moment I saw you at Eskdale,” he says. “Even though you were wanted for murder.”

FREE BOOK

You can also head back to the Roseby Hotel for another romantic comedy mystery,

this time with amateur sleuth Amber Reed in On Trial,

part of my Amber Reed Mystery series.

You can download this book for FREE via my website at

www.zannamackenzie.co.uk

HOLIDAY HEIST

It’s Christmas Eve and Lizzie Carter’s been engaged for the grand total of one hour when her private investigator fiancé Jack announces he has a confession to make - their holiday season plans need to be put on hold so that Jack can take on a new case!

A priceless necklace has been stolen from the hotel bedroom of a movie star actress and the woman in question insists Jack’s the man to track it down and bring it back safely.

Lizzie decides to turn amateur sleuth and tag along to help Jack out – two heads have got to be better than one, right? Plus, she can’t miss out on a chance to get inside the fabulously exclusive Roseby Hotel and admire their amazing festive decorations.

Can they solve the mystery, catch the thief who masterminded the holiday heist, return the necklace to its rightful owner, and still get to celebrate Christmas Day as planned?

The Celebrity Mystery series and the Amber Reed Mystery series combine amateur sleuths, secret agents, celebrities, romance, comedy and adventure into fun cozy mysteries.

Read on for an extract…

CHAPTER ONE

“I have a confession to make.” My fiancé-of-one-hour says as he walks back into my farmhouse kitchen.

I stop mixing the snowflake truffles I’m making for Christmas Day and look at him warily. “Oh?” The diamond engagement ring he just gave to me glistens on my finger. It’s all shiny and new and… well, exciting. “You’re not already married, are you? Hiding a wife somewhere?” I tease. “Or have you changed your mind about wanting to marry me and you want your gorgeous ring back?”

Jack walks over, slips his arms around my waist and nuzzles my ear. “Nope. Definitely not changed my mind, and no, I don’t have a wife, secret or otherwise.”

His hand snakes towards the mixing bowl, and I playfully tap it away. “Not until they’re finished! So, don’t keep me in suspense then, what’s your big confession?”

Jack steps back and runs a hand through his dark blonde hair. When he was a special agent for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency - otherwise known as the CCIA - he used to keep it closely cropped. Now, eighteen months after ditching the agency and setting up his own private investigator and security business, his hair is more casual and enticingly ruffled. He tilts his head towards the door. “You know that phone call I just took?”

My heart sinks. I have the dreadful feeling I know what he’s about to confess. “Oh, Jack, you didn’t, did you?”

Shooting me a smile I know is meant to sweeten my mood, he nods. “Sorry. I did. Look, I know tomorrow is Christmas Day and we have a whole family gathering thing planned with my brother and Emma and the kids, but work is work, I’m self-employed now, and this woman who called, well, she sounded pretty desperate.”

He’s right, I know he is, but still…it
is
Christmas.

“If I scoot over there right away, I might even have the case wrapped up before tomorrow’s big Mathis Family Festive Gathering,” he says persuasively, taking my hand and planting a string of kisses from fingertips to wrist.

I tingle inside, knowing he’s just trying to wheedle his way around me, but even so, his kisses are warm and inviting and so deliciously tempting. Pushing my thoughts back towards the issue at hand I reply, “You’re good, Jack Mathis, but even you’d be stretching it to solve a case in little more than twenty four hours!” I gently trace a finger over my beautiful engagement ring. “We were going to make our big announcement tomorrow.”

“And we still can,” he reasons. “Even if I have to work in the morning, I should be back in time for dinner, and then we can tell everybody we’re getting married.”

“OK.” I sigh. “What’s the case anyway?” A horrible thought pops into my head. “It’s not another murder, is it? I think the village has only just fully recovered from Armand’s death and, especially at this time of year, another one would be totally horrific and…”

Jack stops me mid-sentence. “Don’t worry. No murder this time around. It’s a stolen necklace at one of the posh hotels in the tourist area. An actress says her priceless family heirloom has vanished from her bedroom. She’s in a complete meltdown about it. I have to get over there and figure out what’s going on. Want to come with me? You could ditch the cake making for now and finish it later.”

“It’s not cake, it’s going to be snowflake truffles.” I glance at the mixing bowl. I’ve only just managed to create cakes and desserts which are actually edible. Before that they were either burnt on the top or raw inside.

Or both.

Which I why I chose this particular recipe. Even I can’t get it wrong.

“I really shouldn’t get involved,” I say to Jack. “I mean, it’s not like last time, when I was a suspect and we ended up figuring the case out together.”

Jack and I met when he was suspended from working for the CCIA for bending some rules to catch a killer. Whilst he was off work he came up to Cumbria from London so he could help his brother Frazer run Wellbeck Farm, whilst Frazer’s wife Emma had their third child. Wellbeck is just down the lane from my own much-smaller place, Eskdale Top, which I inherited from my Uncle Joe. A while back I used to be a waitress at a local restaurant to help make ends meet and my boss, celebrity chef Armand, was murdered. As I was the last member of staff to leave the kitchen on that night the police put me at the top of their suspects list. Jack helped clear my name and catch the real killer.

“I know, but you could still come along and help me out. The actress in question is staying at the Roseby,” he adds, knowing how much I love that particular hotel.

My chances of getting through its doors as a legitimate guest are zero due to its scarily high prices and its exclusive clientele, but I’ve read about it in magazines and have adored it from afar for ages. The Roseby nestles in the hills about the tourist honeypot of Delamere. It’s set in acres of grounds and has stunning views out over the lake. It’s also
the
place for the rich and famous to stay in this part of the beautiful Lake District.

“Come on, you know you want to see what the Roseby’s Christmas decorations are like,” he says with a cheeky grin, tugging at my hand invitingly.

He knows me so well.

I debate for almost a second and then shove the truffle mix in the fridge. I’ll finish it later.

“Oh, and did I mention the actress who rang me about the case is Arabella Saunders?” he says, revealing his trump card.

I stop stock still in the middle of the kitchen. “What? NO!” I gasp, coming over all fangirlish.

“Yep.” He nods, knowing he’s got me now.

“Give me five minutes to get changed,” I yell as I sprint for the stairs.

“You don’t need to change. You look great as you are,” Jack shouts after me.

“Jack,” I yell back, halfway up the staircase. “We’re talking the Roseby here!
And
Arabella Saunders. I can’t go in like this.” Glancing down at my scruffy jeans, fluffy slippers and one of Jack’s old sweatshirts, my cheeks colour at the very thought of turning up at the uber-smart hotel in this outfit.

He shrugs. “OK. You’ve got five minutes, and I’m clock-watching.”

Ten minutes later I arrive back in my rustic farmhouse kitchen wearing a mocha-coloured wool dress and brown knee-high boots. My blonde hair is brushed and pulled back into a neat ponytail – mainly because I haven’t got around to washing it yet today. I even managed to slick some lip gloss on whilst flying down the stairs without falling over and twisting my ankle in the process.

“Do I look OK?” I ask Jack, who is slumped on the battered sofa next to the Aga, checking something on his mobile.

He lifts his eyes from the phone and grins, getting to his feet. “Better than OK, I’d say. Definitely worth the extra five minutes waiting time,” he adds cheekily. “Come on, let’s get a move on. We’ve got a case to solve and a necklace to find. The Roseby awaits.”