Crumbs and Misdemeanors

by Nancy Warren

  “Anyway, I’m doing so well this week, I’m not too worried. Sometimes, I need to stop thinking about baking and relax.” She shot me a wicked grin. “You know?”

  My face did its best to respond in kind, but the reason she didn’t have to worry about tomorrow was because of me. And Hamish. All she had to do was a passable effort, remember to turn her oven on, and she was set. She could afford to play with gorgeous Greeks while I had to hit the books and focus. I’d been more than happy to get some outside advice from a professional baker, but that wasn’t going to happen. I had no time left to practice. And there weren’t many hours left until we had to get back into the competition tent.

  The only person I felt sorrier for right now was Eloise.

  Gerry flapped his hands around manically. I tried to ignore him as I wished Florence a good night.

  She laughed throatily. “Oh, I already had that. Good night, darling Poppy.” She blew me an air kiss and was gone.

  I retreated to the safety of my bedroom. Or at least I hoped it was safe. There was nothing more unsettling than discovering a dead body, and when the cause of death was still unknown, then the whole world felt upside down.

  I’d just locked my bedroom door behind me when Gerry floated through. “Jeez, you can still be polite and hold a door open for me, you know.”

  I apologized and asked him to spill whatever he’d been chewing on downstairs. “It looked like you had something important to tell me. You seemed very impatient all of a sudden.”

  “Jeez, Pops. Having only one person in the universe who can actually hear what you’ve got to say can make even the most patient of men go crazy—and I’m not that patient! You promised you’d work on getting me out of here. Now another spirit’s flown past me. It’s not fair.”

  “It’s not a competition.” But I did feel for him, and I’d been thinking about this conundrum all week when I wasn’t worrying about bread. I didn’t have a plan to help Gerry. “I honestly don’t know. These things are kind of a mystery.”

  Gerry looked morose. “I feel like I’m being punished. Can’t you help me move on to wherever I’m supposed to go?”

  “I’ve never been able to help a ghost move on.”

  I thought about my kitchen ghost, Mildred, who’d been around for over a century, and I wondered why she’d never once asked if I could help her move on. Was it possible to truly enjoy being a spirit? Mildred certainly seemed to like pottering around the kitchen and telling me that I was doing it all wrong. If I wasn’t successful with Gerry, I’d need to find ways of convincing him that haunting the inn had its merits.

  “I’m going to ask Susan and Eve if they can help us,” I finally said. “Three witches are better than one. Maybe our combined powers can push you into the next world.”

  “You don’t sound very confident.”

  “The truth is, I think you have unfinished business here. Only I don’t know what it is.”

  Chapter 9

  The next morning, I was more tired than I could ever remember being. I’d pulled an all-nighter, and I still had the most difficult day of the challenge ahead of me.

  I hadn’t been able to sleep more than an hour or so, and when the alarm went off, there I was, wide awake and blinking up at the ceiling. I hadn’t been able to shake off the image of Eloise’s body, crushed on the ground, with all the products she used every day scattered around her.

  Could that be significant? Was whoever killed her sending some kind of message?

  And who was Eloise, anyway? I couldn’t understand why no one seemed to know anything about the pastry chef. Where she came from, where her family lived, the last place she’d worked. The lack of information haunted me. I was trying to build a picture of who this young woman was, what her life looked like, but I didn’t even have the smallest detail to go on. Nothing, except that she was good at baking bread and pastry.

  Hopefully when the police got to her home, they’d find letters and emails and a life full of people who cared about her and would miss her.

  The alternative was so lonely.

  She’d needed money for something. Maybe parents, a friend in trouble. Who knew what secrets she’d hidden? The detectives hadn’t been helped by Sol not getting proper information when he hired her, and I suspected he hadn’t heard the last of that. If he was investigated, what would they find out? Had he really been stealing meat, as Eloise had claimed?

  I heard the cry of a hawk and ran to the window, but I didn’t see the gorgeous bird. I was glad that he was around. His presence was a reminder of my quest to learn more about my father’s identity. A quest that I hadn’t moved forward. All night I’d been besieged by the feeling that I’d let everyone down. I’d let Elspeth down yesterday with my terrible bread; I’d let Gerry down by arriving for another weekend without a solution to help him pass over. But no one had fared worse than Eloise, who’d helped me, and now she was dead.

  As if my stress level wasn’t high enough, I had to bake a showstopper bread sculpture that would save my place in the competition. I felt sick to my stomach—like I’d eaten too much raw cookie dough.

  I dragged myself around and woke up Gateau in the process. She’d scampered back in through the window sometime in the early hours and settled herself beside me, instantly falling asleep. It’d been a new low to be jealous of how easily she slept. Now she meowed, yawned, and stretched, and I spent a moment stroking her soft, silky fur. Just one stroke and I began to feel soothed and some of my diminished confidence began to return. Time to get up and bake. I had to give every ounce of energy to my time in the tent. Everything else could wait until filming finished. Put your best whisk forward, Pops.

  I switched on the shower and turned the dial way up until steam began to fill the room. I stared at the mirror as it clouded over, half hoping that my mother or father would use the gushing water as a way to talk to me. A message of hope and strength in the mirror would be the tonic I needed. But nothing appeared. Not even a simple drawing of a heart in the clouded mirror, no attempt at a message that would tell me I was loved. I sighed and put myself under the water. I wanted the heat to seep into my skin, to enliven my bones. Under the pulsing water, I said Eve’s protection spell once more. After Gerry’s snooping had discovered that there were no missing bolts from the pantry shelves to be found on the floor, I was in no doubt that Eloise’s death wasn’t an accident. Someone had dismantled those shelves on purpose—which meant that right now, there was a murderer on the loose.

  I dressed quickly, pulling on yesterday’s slacks and replacing the blue T-shirt with an identical clean one. I ran a brush through my hair and slipped a pair of simple silver studs into my ears. Eve’s amulet and Elspeth’s necklace went on next, and I touched both stones, grateful for their strength.

  Gateau languished in the morning sunshine streaming in through the window. I touched her little pink nose to mine. “Wish me luck, my feline friend,” I said. “I’m going to need it if you want to keep enjoying these expensive bedsheets and cozy armchairs.” She looked at me, bemused, and rolled onto her back, her eyes squinting in the sunlight. Nothing fazed that cat, not even the prospect of her favorite napping place disappearing. I raced out the door, keen to get down to breakfast and fuel up for the day. I was going to need a whole load of calories to get me going.

  Downstairs, everyone was already eating. But the kitchen doorway behind the bar was sectioned off with police tape. And there was no cooked breakfast. Of course, there wasn’t—the kitchen was out of bounds. How could I have not realized that would be the case?

  Hamish waved me over and patted the empty seat next to him. In the middle of the table was a cafetiere of coffee, a pot of tea, muffins and bread with ham and hard-boiled eggs. I took a blueberry muffin and bread and an egg. “You can thank the village bakery for the baked goods, and Sol, the chef, boiled those eggs in his home kitchen and brought along the ham. Kind of him.”

  “It was,” I said, wondering if the ham had been stolen from Bro
omewode Inn to start with. I poured myself a large cup of black coffee, which I needed more than anything. Maggie and Gaurav were talking bread and stopped to wish me a good morning before carrying on. Those two really were wheat fanatics—I’d never seen anyone that animated over bagels. I just couldn’t get on the bread craze myself.

  “You look beat, Pops,” Hamish said.

  That was so not the kind of comment I needed right now.

  “I haven’t slept,” I admitted. But before I could say more, Hamish told me that he’d already heard all about last night. “Another tragedy,” he said quietly. “The police are next door. They told me you found the body. I’m so sorry that happened to you. It must have been terrifying down here all alone in the dark.”

  All alone except for Gerry.

  I nodded and asked if the police had discovered any clues about Eloise’s death or anything about her life. No one seemed to know a thing about who Eloise really was. When I thought about it, it was terribly sad.

  “She was renting a room in town—” Hamish said.

  “From Reginald, Susan Bentley’s friend,” I interrupted.

  Hamish chuckled. “You’re already in the know, I see. But DI Hembly discovered that she’d been paying in cash. Reginald never asked for an ID, far too trusting, if you ask me, so she could have been using a false name.”

  “Oh, no. But there must have been things in her room from her past? Old letters? A passport? A computer with email?” I thought about what I’d take with me if I was moving for a job, even for a few months. I’d have photos of family and friends, a computer full of the details of my life. Even my coat pockets would be crammed with notes and receipts. “Why would she use a false name? It makes no sense.”

  “No one’s saying she did. It’s a possibility, that’s all. Obviously, investigators will be searching her flat for clues.”

  “Eloise seemed so … ” I trailed off. What did I really know about Eloise? We’d spent a couple of hours together, and although she’d been helpful, she was also jumpy and clearly in some kind of money trouble.

  Hamish nodded seriously. “Why is the right question. The investigation is only beginning, but Sgt. Lane happened to see the neighbors out first thing this morning, obviously gawking to see police vehicles in the road.” He grimaced. It was easy to forget that Hamish was a police officer in Scotland when we were all baking together. “One of the first thing that happens when we arrive. They asked if they could help.”

  I bit into the pain au raisin and waited for Hamish to finish his mouthful of pain au chocolat and elaborate. At least the pastries were delicious, buttery and heavy on the cinnamon, just how I liked it.

  “But the neighbors didn’t know her. They’d only waved at Eloise. They mentioned they’d seen her with a man a few times but only from afar. They couldn’t identify who she was with.”

  “So it could have been a local or a stranger?”

  “Presumably. Like I said, this is day one of what could be a long investigation.”

  I was perplexed. What exactly was Eloise hiding? Or was she hiding from someone? Had she been in danger and fled to Broomewode Village to escape, only to have the past catch up with her? I was full of questions. Hamish must have sensed my curiosity because he laid a cool hand on mine. He gestured to the police tape. “You’ve got a nose for trouble. A gut instinct that you should trust. But you have to put all that aside today and focus. We’re both in trouble this week, and as much as I want to go on to the next round, I want to see you back here next week. No silly mistakes today, okay?”

  I nodded solemnly and finished my breakfast in silence, trying to keep my mind from whirring. I was well into my second cup of coffee when Florence appeared, waved, and then joined us when she realized there was no buffet of hot food. Although she was dressed in yesterday’s wonderful outfit, Florence’s usual bright energy was depleted.

  She looked pale, and dark shadows bloomed beneath her eyes. Was she regretting how much of her rest time she’d spent with the handsome Greek bartender and waiter? I waited for her to recite her dramatic evening—Florence wasn’t exactly the most discreet of people. But she only poured herself a coffee and put an egg and ham on her plate.

  “Are you excited about today?” Maggie asked her. There was no doubt that the grandmother of baking was pretty pumped. Usually Florence would gush about the competition at any opportunity, but all she said was, “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

  Which quelled Maggie. She turned to Gaurav and rolled her eyes. He said, “I for one am anxious to get started while the weather is still cool.”

  He was right. The show had to go on, and it was showstopper time. I drained my coffee and tried to focus on the task ahead. Maggie accompanied me when I went upstairs to brush my teeth. “I’m sure you’ll have a better day today,” she said kindly, which was sadistic if you asked me. I had nothing positive to reply to her. Not with a growing caffeine buzz and sense of impending doom. If only I could make a classic cake today and save myself with my skills. A lovely Victoria sponge, lemon drizzle, or red velvet. I’d even take on a patisserie challenge, attempt something delicate with pastry or a tricky genoise sponge. But alas. Instead, a flower sculpture constructed from bread was my destiny. I’d been counting on some magic ingredient from Eloise to aid my efforts, and instead I felt her death weighing heavy on my mind. Combine that with no sleep, the death card and a killer on the loose, and a bread garden seemed pretty unimportant.

  I returned with a minty-fresh mouth and was about to leave for the tent when Edward strode into the room. He was dressed for his new role as gamekeeper on the estate. I was pleased for Edward—and only hoped he could manage to keep the shotgun-happy earl out of trouble.

  Edward seemed to be looking for someone but stopped in his tracks when he spotted the police tape. He said good morning to everyone and asked what had happened. “Please don’t tell me someone’s been hurt.”

  That was a funny thing to say. If I’d walked into the inn and seen police tape, my first thought would have been that there’d been a break-in, some kind of robbery maybe.

  Hamish relayed that Eloise had died in the kitchen last night. All the color drained from Edward’s face. He sat down on a dining chair.

  “We’re not even sure Eloise is her real name,” Florence said, always with the drama. “No one knows anything about her. And she looked so ordinary.”

  Edward ran a hand through his blond hair. “False name? Dead? But that’s impossible. I saw her last night. What happened?”

  “She was murdered,” Florence added. If a phrase could sound like a drumroll, hers did.

  Hamish glared at her. “We don’t know that for certain. It’s dangerous to assume foul play. You don’t want to spread rumors during a police investigation.” His firm voice and tough words were a chill reminder of what he did during the week.

  Edward looked sick.

  “You all right?” Hamish asked him.

  “I’m just shocked,” Edward murmured.

  Poor Edward. He was taking Eloise’s death so hard. Did he know her better than the others? Maybe he could help us piece together a picture of who Eloise really was. And then I wondered if Edward was the man the pastry chef’s neighbors had seen her with.

  But Edward had seemed sweet on Lauren, a girl from the village. He didn’t seem like the type to be a two-timer, but in my experience, you never really knew with men.

  I turned to him. “Did you say you saw her last night?”

  Edward swallowed and seemed to stall, as if he was gathering his thoughts. Eventually, he said, “Yes. It was in the evening. We literally bumped into each other. She was in such a hurry—said she was running late to meet someone.”

  Hamish and I looked at each other. Could Eloise have been inadvertently hurrying into the arms of her killer?

  “Do you know who she was meeting?” Hamish asked.

  Edward shook his head. Of course he didn’t—that would be too easy. I studied Edward’s face. Like D
arius last night, he looked more worried than upset. Did all the men of Broomewode Village know more about the mysterious Eloise than they were letting on?

  “I’m sorry to detract from such a sorry story,” Maggie said quietly, “but we’re going to be late to the tent at this rate.”

  On our way out, we passed Darius, who looked as bleary-eyed as Florence and I. He reached out and touched Florence’s arm. She paused, and Darius whispered something in her ear. She laughed but shook her head. Oh, if only I had super-hearing powers. I was absolutely dying to know what had just passed between those two. I caught Hamish watching the scene closely, too. But he only raised a brow and ushered me outside into the glorious sunshine. Even when he didn’t appear to be paying attention, I suspected he was alert.

  I lagged behind the group, tired and feeling entirely bent out of shape. The day was almost cruelly beautiful. The scent of honeysuckle was in the air, and the morning light was bright, already warming my tired skin. But not even the beautiful grounds of Broomewode Hall could raise my spirits. The image of Eloise’s body was frozen in my mind. Yet again, someone I’d recently met had passed away in suspicious circumstances, and with the death card plaguing my mind, maybe this week was going to be the end of me entirely.

  Chapter 10

  “Is it me, or are the lights in here brighter than usual?” I said to Florence.

  She tossed back her hair and laughed. “It’s business as usual in the tent this morning. You’re just distracted. But you’ve got to relax, Poppy. Else it’s going to be curtains for you.”

  Hmm, thanks, Florence. What wonderful words of encouragement. For someone who’d had as late a night as me, and who’d been up last night talking to the police about a dead body, Florence was pretty upbeat. Also, while Gina had told me she couldn’t work miracles—and what on earth had I been thinking getting so little sleep?—Florence had needed hardly any time at all in Gina’s chair before appearing radiant and dewy. It wasn’t fair.