Bonbons and Broomsticks (BEWITCHED BY CHOCOLATE Mysteries ~ Book 5)
Page 25
“Mother!” I said, forgetting the rule about restrained, ladylike volume. “I do not need you to set up a date for me with Lincoln Green!”
“Oh, but it’s not a date, really. It’s just sort of… socialising. He’s ever so nice—and Helen tells me that he’s one of the top Intensive Care specialists in the U.K., you know. He’s bought a townhouse here in North Oxford—a beautiful Victorian maisonette.” She looked around distractedly. “Helen gave me his number and if I can just get into my iPad, I could find it for you… I don’t know why, darling, but my password isn’t working…”
“Did you capitalise the first letter? You know that the first letter is always a capital in your Apple ID password.”
“Oh… is it, dear? Well, you’ll have to show me after dinner.”
That would be the sixth time I’d showed her this week. I sighed. I don’t know what had possessed me to suggest that my mother should get an iPad.
My mother was continuing, “Helen sent me a recent photo of Lincoln and my, he’s grown up into such a handsome young man! It seems like only yesterday that he was that adorable little boy going off to Eton and now he’s a dashing young doctor.” She sighed dreamily.
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her. I was sure Lincoln Green was a lovely chap. In fact, I’d sort of known him since childhood. Helen Green was my mother’s closest friend and Lincoln and his younger sister, Vanessa, had been frequent visitors to our house when we were growing up. I remembered a tall, serious-looking boy with impeccable manners. I was sure he had grown up into a very nice young man but I had no particular desire to renew the acquaintance. Nevertheless, from the look my mother was giving me, I could see that I was not going to avoid this acquaintance easily. I wondered if it might be easier just to have the date with him and get it over with.
***
The next morning, I discovered a flat tyre on my bike and had to swap my usual routine of cycling to the tearoom for a bus ride into Meadowford-on-Smythe. As I alighted from the bus, I took a deep breath of the fresh morning air, a smile coming to my face. Much as I hated early starts, I had to admit that there was something nice about being awake at this time, when the streets were still empty, the air was quiet except for the chirping of birds, and everywhere was that hushed feeling of waiting for the day to begin.
I crossed the village high street and walked the few hundred yards down to the Little Stables Tearoom, feeling the same rush of pride as I did every morning when I saw the sign hanging above the front door. I was looking forward to another busy day. And it seemed that customers were arriving already. As I approached the entrance of the tearoom courtyard, I saw someone sitting at one of the outdoor tables, facing away from me. Blimey, they’re early. The tearoom didn’t officially open until nine o’clock—nearly another thirty minutes—but I decided I didn’t mind starting a bit earlier to keep a customer happy.
“Be with you in a minute!” I called.
I glanced at the figure again as I walked past and my heart sank as I recognised those heavy-set shoulders and square-shaped head with the large, prominent ears. It was the American from yesterday. I had been hoping that he would have changed his mind about coming back here for breakfast. Still, a customer was a customer.
I hurried into the tearoom and bustled about, putting on my apron, pulling back the curtains, re-arranging some tables and chairs. Fletcher wasn’t in yet, which was a bit odd. Normally, he would be here already to get an early start on the day’s baking. Never mind, I could offer the American some coffee while he was waiting. Grabbing a menu, I let myself out the back door and into the courtyard.
“You can come and sit inside the tearoom now, if you like, sir. It’s a bit chilly out here.…”
I trailed off as I walked around his chair and turned to face him.
The American was leaning back, his eyes staring and his face a strange mottled colour. There was something wedged in his mouth—a scone, I realised—and his face was contorted painfully around it, with crumbs littering the front of his shirt.
My first thought was: “Oh my God, he’s choking!” and I sprang forward to help him, even as my brain finally made sense of what I was seeing. My fingers brushed the clammy skin of his neck and I jerked back.
He wasn’t choking.
He was dead.
READ MORE: AMAZON | AMAZON UK
Books in the Oxford Tearoom Mysteries:
A Scone To Die For (Book 1)
Tea with Milk and Murder (Book 2)
Two Down, Bun To Go (Book 3)
Till Death Do Us Tart (Book 4)
Muffins and Mourning Tea (Book 5)
Four Puddings and a Funeral (Book 6)
Another One Bites the Crust (Book 7)
Apple Strudel Alibi (Book 8)
All-Butter ShortDead (Prequel)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
H.Y. Hanna is an award-winning mystery and suspense writer and the author of the bestselling Oxford Tearoom Mysteries. She has also written romantic suspense and sweet romance, as well as a children's middle-grade mystery series. After graduating from Oxford University with a BA in Biological Sciences and a MSt in Social Anthropology, Hsin-Yi tried her hand at a variety of jobs, before returning to her first love: writing.
She worked as a freelance journalist for several years, with articles and short stories published in the UK, Australia and NZ, and has won awards for her novels, poetry, short stories and journalism.
A globe-trotter all her life, Hsin-Yi has lived in a variety of cultures, from Dubai to Auckland, London to New Jersey, but is now happily settled in Perth, Western Australia, with her husband and a rescue kitty named Muesli. You can learn more about her (and the real-life Muesli who inspired the cat character in the story) and her other books at: www.hyhanna.com.
Sign up to her mailing list to be notified about new releases, exclusive giveaways and other book news: http://www.hyhanna.com/newsletter
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, I am forever grateful to my beta readers: Connie Leap, Charles Winthrop and Basma Alwesh for making time in their busy lives to read the first draft and give me such helpful and insightful feedback. My thanks also to my editor and proofreader for being such a great team to work with.
And to my wonderful husband, for his constant support and encouragement – for always listening, always cheering me on and always believing in me.
***
Copyright © 2018 by H.Y. Hanna
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-0-6481449-7-7
www.hyhanna.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, persons or animals, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
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