by K E O'Connor
“May I go now?” Jessica asked. “Great Aunt Mary will be worried where I am. She might have heard what happened at the food fair and be panicking.”
“Of course,” I said. “How are you getting back?”
“I walked here,” Jessica said. “The fresh air will do me good. I need something to clear my head after what’s happened.”
“Let me show you out.” Alice took hold of Jessica’s arm as she stood and collected her bags. “You can show me the things you bought at the food fair. I hope none of its spoiled.”
Jessica’s eyes widened for a second before she nodded. “Thanks. I never thought I’d be escorted anywhere by a princess.”
As they walked away, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I turned to see Campbell staring at me. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was simply helping someone in distress.”
“You were being nosy.”
“Princess Alice forced me to come with her when we heard Jessica scream.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! And my questioning was useful. I got good information out of her.”
Campbell crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me.
His intimidating stares wouldn’t work this time. “I’m helping.”
“That’s enough of you being a Little Miss Cluedo. I’ve already told you to keep your nose out of this.”
“I’m trying really hard to stay away. You’re not making it easy, especially when you go around terrifying suspects.”
“Is that so? So, you weren’t in the kitchen with Princess Alice discussing suspects in this murder?”
I shook my head. Campbell’s ability to overhear private conversations was worrying. “Only under instruction of Princess Alice, who insisted she know everything that happened. You’re telling me to go against a direct command of our Princess?”
He smirked. “I’ve got a handle on this. We have our suspects and inquiries are being made. Evidence has been collected from the body—”
“Do you know exactly when Pete was killed?” I asked. “That could be helpful in ruling people out.”
His nostrils flared, but he nodded. “At the most, he’d been dead ten minutes before he was found by Colin Cheeseman. People must have seen the killer go into that stall. We’ll find them.”
“I’ve no doubt you will,” I said. “Maybe I can be useful. I’ve already thought—”
“Stop thinking.” He pointed at the door. “Get back to the kitchen, and get on with your job.”
My hands clenched into fists. I wanted to figure out this mystery, but I couldn’t get distracted. Campbell was on the case, and I had a lot to do if I was taking part in tomorrow’s cake competition.
“I can see I’m getting through to you,” Campbell said. “Let’s keep it that way. You focus on the cakes and—”
“I know, you’ll focus on the security. I’m guessing you’re heading up this murder investigation?”
“Naturally. We’re linked in with the police and are working together. I’ll have this solved within forty-eight hours.”
“Good for you. I wish you all the best in your investigation.” I didn’t try to hide my annoyance as I turned and stomped away. I wanted to be a part of this, but I needed my focus totally on my cakes.
I had my reputation riding on this event. I couldn’t let anything distract me. Muffins always came before murder.
Chapter 7
“Just three tiny hours.” I followed Chef Heston around the kitchen. “That’s all I need to get my cake finished in time.”
“You should have done it yesterday,” he said. “On your own time.”
“I would have done, if it weren’t for the fact someone was murdered.” I’d spent two hours poring over recipe books last night and making my final decision over what cake to enter into the contest today. I was in two minds but had settled on the risky Neapolitan and red velvet layer cake. The problem was, I’d been so exhausted yesterday that I hadn’t baked it.
Despite getting up two hours early and trying to get ahead of myself, I still didn’t have enough time. And that had led me to begging Chef Heston.
He stopped so abruptly that I ran into his back.
He turned, placed his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me back. “You can have the time if you make me a promise.”
“What’s the promise?”
“That you win.”
I sucked in a deep breath. There was no way I could promise that. The competition would be tough, and I had no idea what the other cakes would be like. Most likely gorgeous. They’d blow mine off the table.
“I’ll give it my best shot.”
“No, you’ll win. You work for Audley Castle. You work in my kitchen. It’s not just your reputation on the line. If you lose, my judgment will come under scrutiny.”
“I promise, I won’t even mention you. I won’t say anything about the kitchen. I can enter under a false name if that’s any help. You don’t have to be associated with my baking.”
He tutted and shook his head. “You’re an excellent baker.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you to say. Now—”
“But if you don’t win, you’ll be pulling double shifts with no extra pay. And I’ll make sure you get all the peeling duties.”
I grimaced and looked away. I hated peeling vegetables. However, I needed this time. It was either accept the deal or pull out of the contest. And I was no quitter.
“Okay, I’ll win this competition.”
He glanced at the clock. “Your three hours start now.”
“And I’ll take my lunch break when the judging takes place,” I said.
He flapped a hand at me. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I grinned as I raced away and gathered the equipment I needed. I was setting up and measuring out my flour and sugar when Betsy Malone hurried into the kitchen.
Her eyes lit up, and she dashed over. “Everyone’s poking around and asking questions about the murder at the food fair.”
I kept my gaze on the recipe in front of me as I placed ingredients into a large mixing bowl. “I bet they are.”
She leaned closer, the faint smell of lemon cleaning polish drifting off her clothes. “When I was coming into work today, a shady guy stopped me. He wanted to know what I was doing going into the castle and did I work here?”
I paused from my frantic measuring and looked at her. “A shady guy? Was it a reporter looking for a scoop?”
“No. At least, he didn’t look like one. He didn’t have one of those plastic tag thingies around his neck with his press credentials on.”
“What did he look like?”
“Dark, sinister. He wore a leather jacket. I smelled trouble.” Betsy sniffed.
That sounded like Ricky, the man who’d spoken to Pete the morning before he died. “What was he asking you about?”
“When he found out that I cleaned at the castle, he started interrogating me about who they thought killed Pete. As if I’m supposed to know anything like that. I’m not one to gossip.”
I smiled affectionately at her. Betsy was one of the biggest gossips I knew. She got all the best gossip because of her ability to glide silently through the castle, cleaning without getting in the way. When people thought they couldn’t be overheard, that’s when the juicy secrets came out.
“What did you tell him?” I cracked eggs with one hand as I continued to skim through the recipe.
“I told him it was none of his business. I said he should stop asking questions or someone might think he had something to do with it.”
I grinned. “What did he say to that?”
“He scuttled off, especially when I said I was on first name terms with the head of security. He didn’t like that one bit.”
“Was he asking about suspects because he hoped the police had charged someone? If he’s involved, he won’t want the police paying him attention. They won’t do that if they have a suspect in their sights.”
“I can’t answer that
. But he had a bad look about him,” Betsy said. “I didn’t trust him an inch. And, I was down the pub last night, just having a soft drink, mind you. I’m not one for alcohol.”
I suppressed a smile. I had to keep my cooking sherry away from Betsy when she was in the wrong mood. I’d heard all about her antics at last year’s employee Christmas party. She definitely liked to drink.
“Did you hear something useful?” I asked.
“I should say.” She leaned closer. “There was this horribly smug little man standing at the bar. He was telling the story of how he saw Pete’s body. Everything he was saying was so gruesome. It turned my stomach.”
“He must have been in the crowd after Pete was discovered.”
“Either that or he did it. He was talking in great detail about a silver pie slicer sticking out of the man’s back.” She shuddered and pulled a face. “It was disgraceful. And the worst thing was, he kept saying that he deserved it. He told everyone within earshot that Pete wasn’t a nice man and cheated everyone he knew. He had it coming.”
“Do you remember what this man looked like?” I asked.
“Short, a little dumpy, dark hair with a combover. Small dark eyes. Another one not to be trusted.”
That sounded like Dennis Lambeth. He needed to be more discreet about saying Pete deserved to die or the police would take a long hard look at him if they weren’t already.
“Anyway, I can’t stop. Still a dozen rooms to clean. You be careful, young Holly. There’s a killer on the loose.” She patted my arm.
I nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m not involved in this one. I’m entering the cake competition today.”
“Best you do something fun and safe like that,” Betsy said. “It’s a nasty business.” She nodded before bustling out of the kitchen.
I mulled over what Betsy had told me as I continued to mix the ingredients for my cake. It was very possible that Ricky or Dennis were involved in this murder.
Dennis hated Pete, and his business was in trouble. And when Ricky had spoken to Pete, his tone wasn’t friendly. Could they have been involved in a business deal gone bad? Had Ricky been here to collect on a debt and Pete refused to come good? Whatever it was, Ricky and Dennis needed to be on the list of suspects.
I slowed my vigorous mixing. Should I tell Campbell about this? He’d warned me to keep out of the investigation and would only accuse me of snooping if I told him this information. But it might lead him right to the killer.
I focused on my batter, beating it to ensure the sponge would be light and fluffy. I was just getting the familiar burn in my biceps telling me that I was almost done with my whisking, when the kitchen door was pushed open.
Campbell marched through, his shoulders tight around his ears and his hands clenched. “Come with me.”
This sounded like trouble. I shook my head. “No can do. I’m at a crucial stage with my sponge whisking. If I stop now, I’ll lose the air.”
“Then lose the air. You’re needed.” He turned and walked away.
I was tempted to ignore him, but his tone was deadly serious. I hurried after him, continuing to whisk my cake batter, keeping the bowl wedged under my arm. I pushed the door open with one hip and walked into the corridor to find Campbell waiting.
He turned, glanced at the cake bowl, and shook his head. “There’s been a security situation. I’m needed elsewhere.”
“What happened?” I don’t know why I asked. Campbell would never tell me.
“A member of the family has been ... compromised.”
“Compromised how?” It sounded like I was in the middle of a spy movie.
“That’s on a need-to-know basis. I have to leave immediately. You’re to fill in as my temporary assistant.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Temporary assistant of what?”
“I need you to speak to the remaining witnesses in the Pete Saunders murder.”
I nearly dropped my mixing bowl. “Is this a joke?”
“We’ve already established that I don’t make jokes.”
“I’m not trained. I don’t know how to question people. What if I mess up?”
“You might not be trained, but you notice things, and people seem to like you. We’ve made inroads in this investigation, but I need to take most of my team from the castle to deal with this other matter. That leaves a skeleton crew to ensure the family’s safety. They can’t deal with this investigation as well. Here’s a list of people you need to talk to.” He thrust a piece of paper at me.
I had no free hand to take it. “Tuck it in my apron pocket. I’ll have a look when I get a moment.”
“You need to make more than a moment for this,” he said. “I might not be back for a few days.”
“This sounds serious,” I said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Lord Rupert, does it?”
“That’s on a—”
“I get it. It’s need-to-know, and I definitely don’t need to know. Or do I?”
“Correct. It’s not your business. All you need to do is ask the questions on that sheet of paper. Establish where people were, what they thought of Pete, and if they had any motive for killing him. That’s it. You can’t mess that up, unless you do anything foolish.”
“I never do anything foolish,” I said. “Are you certain you want me to do this? Maybe you should get someone from the local police to speak to the remaining suspects.”
“This matter is under my jurisdiction,” he said. “The police do what they can, but there’s only three of them covering the village. I’ve informed them that you’re my assistant. They’ll be there as backup should you need them, but it’s a simple operation. You won’t need to arrest someone.”
“I will if I get a confession.”
“You won’t. It’s never that simple. Gather the information and pass it to me. And before you get ahead of yourself, this is temporary. I’m leaving Saracen in charge of overall castle security. That means he’s also in charge of you.”
I gulped. Saracen in charge of me. He barely talked and was super scary, almost as terrifying as Campbell.
“Can’t Saracen ask the remaining suspects the questions?”
“Saracen has a specific ... skill set. It’s not dealing with people.”
“Is it killing dangerous types with his bare hands and hiding the evidence?”
“It’s worse. He’s your liaison. Update him twice a day. If you find anyone who causes you alarm, tell him. He’ll deal with it.”
“Will the person still be alive after he’s dealt with them?”
Campbell tilted his head slightly. “It’s fifty-fifty odds they will come out unharmed, but it’s the best I can do in this situation. Are you with me on this?”
It was less than ideal. I had my cake competition to focus upon. But I was interested in getting to the bottom of this mystery. Still, I wavered.
“Holly, are you in?” The urgency in Campbell’s voice snapped me to attention.
“I’m in. But make Saracen promise he won’t scare the life out of me.”
“I can’t promise that. Saracen has a particular way about him. It works. He gets the job done. Don’t mess around and stay out of his face, and you’ll get through this in one piece.”
Eek. That was a terrible guarantee. “But what about—”
Campbell held up a finger. “Go ahead, Alpha two.”
I couldn’t hear anything. Sometimes, I could hear the other end of Campbell’s conversation when he spoke into his sleeve mic. They must be in silent mode so they wouldn’t let slip what this mysterious security situation was all about.
I burned with longing to know. It sounded intense and exciting. Maybe I’d taken the wrong career path by becoming a baker. I could have been a super spy, just like Campbell. But if I did that, I’d miss the baking. I doubted you got the guarantee of triple chocolate brownies every day when you were on a spy mission to save the world.
“Understood. Out.” Campbell lowered his sleeve. “Walk with me.” He turned and st
rode along the corridor.
I had to jog to keep up with him, being careful not to let cake batter slop over the sides of the mixing bowl. “I’ll do what I can, but I’ve got the cake contest this afternoon. I’m not abandoning that.”
“I’m not asking you to. Fit the questions in around work, but make sure you complete your mission. Don’t let me down.” He pulled open the door and strode toward the helipad behind the castle.
“I won’t.” My heart raced and a smile spread across my face. I was a former secret agent’s assistant. Did that make me an assistant secret agent? Agent in training? Probably more like Campbell’s lackey.
“I’m trusting you, Holly.” Campbell turned and walked away before I had a chance to speak. He slid into a sleek black helicopter, and it took off.
It was so James Bond, I couldn’t help but be impressed. Maybe Campbell thought I could be valuable to him after all.
I turned and hurried back to the kitchen. I’d solve this mystery and prove that I was a valuable asset.
I pulled open the door and yelped as I staggered back, the cake batter slopping all over my arm.
Saracen stood in the doorway, blocking my entrance. His eyes were masked by sunglasses, and his bulky frame strained the seams of his black suit. His dark hair was cropped short and his shoulders were so wide they almost touched the doorframe.
“Um, hi there. I believe you’re looking after me while Campbell’s gone,” I stuttered.
Saracen nodded.
“That’s great. I’m busy right now with my Neapolitan cake, but we can get to solving Pete’s murder later. Does that suit your schedule?”
He nodded again.
Was I going to get any words out of him?
“Well, okay. That’s brilliant. Come on Saracen. To the kitchen. We have a cake to bake.”
Chapter 8
“Hold it delicately between your index finger and your thumb, like you’re holding a thin piece of glass.” I tried to keep annoyance out of my tone. Saracen was close to breaking his sixth iced miniature rose, and it was my last spare. “Keep it steady, then I’ll surround it in icing and stick it to the cake.”