Cozy Mysteries : Death by Cake - The Orange Marmalade Cake Murders: (Cozy Food Mysteries Women Sleuths Series, Bakery Mystery Books) (Murder and cake Book 2)

by Luna Snow

  “He’s only after one thing Pam- my cake!”

  Wrapping a large piece of the orange marmalade cake in a paper napkin, she approached the open door and handed across the cake.

  “Here you are Jo, it’s on the house.”

  Closing the door quickly she rushed back into the kitchen before her blushes betrayed her inner feelings.

  Chapter Two

  The news that Jo Thompson was single again stirred something in her heart and all morning Abby grinned from ear to ear. She couldn’t help it. It wasn’t long before the first visitors started pouring into the small café for their morning coffee, and every time the little door-bell tinkled she looked up, half expecting it to be him. It was a stupid notion. The poor man would have been up baking since the early hours and would have gone home for a well-earned rest. Who knew how long it would be until she saw him again.

  The thought saddened her for a moment.

  “What flavour is that delicious looking cake?”

  The voice broke her reverie and Abby looked up over the counter. Two old ladies stood perusing the cakes and looked as if they had both stepped out of an Agatha Christie novel. They must have been sisters; the two were so alike in their woollen skirts and matching jackets. Abby wondered how they could stand the summer weather in such clothes, yet they both looked cool and comfortable in their wintry garb.

  “It’s an orange marmalade cake with a chocolate and almond nut base, vanilla sponge with an orange marmalade icing.”

  “Is it home made?” the old ladies eyes lit up in admiration.

  “Yes- I made it this very morning.”

  “Then we will have a pot of tea for two and a slice of the orange cake each please. Me and my sister Jean used to bake every week didn’t we dear, but we don’t bother as much now. My sister’s not supposed to have sugar, doctor’s orders since her stroke, but a piece every now and then doesn’t hurt, and it does look delicious doesn’t it dear.”

  The older looking sister nodded silently and Abby wondered if the stroke had robbed the poor woman of her speech.

  If you ladies would like a seat, I’ll bring your order over.”

  Abby watched as the two old dears made their way slowly over to a table next to the window. She wondered at their age; Jean seemed to struggle on her feet as her sister held her steady for support. Poor old things, they reminded Abby of her grandmother who had recently died. She had always said that it was no joke to get old; but what was the alternative?

  As Abby started to fill the white teapot with hot water, the bell jangled again and a larger than life figure entered the cafe. The curly red-haired and rather obese looking gentleman headed directly for the curio shop that was just through a little arch that separated the two businesses. He looked wealthy and Abby hoped that Pam would have a sale!

  As the old ladies settled themselves besides the window, a fashionable looking couple with two small ‘designer’ boys entered the tea room. Usually the village didn’t attract that type of visitor; it was usually the haunt of the over 50’s, and the family looked out of place in the old fashioned and slightly twee surroundings. It was still early, but already the blonde haired and blue-eyed boys looked bored to tears, one had obviously been crying and rubbed solemnly at his eyes with a small and chubby fist. The man looked annoyed, and sweeping back his expensive and highlighted hair, pushed through the small group to the counter.

  “Two cokes, a skinny latte and a double espresso”.

  He stared at Abby as she wiped away the water she had spilled on the counter top. She was waiting for a ‘please’, but she obviously wasn’t going to get one.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have coca –cola, I have fresh orange juice, milk or water for the kids?” she offered helpfully.

  The man sighed, rolling his eyes as the side of his mouth twitched with impatience and he turned to his family who were now standing right behind him.

  “I don’t know why we decided to holiday out here in the sticks Marie? No wretched wifi and no decent coffee. I’m afraid there’s no coke kids!”

  The boy with the red eyes began to sniffle once again and stamp his feet.

  “I want coke, I want coke!”

  His mother, obviously the skinny latte drinker with a long gaunt face and size 0 jeans, stepped forward to try and hush the child. Her long dark hair bounced behind her in a pony tail. The whole family seemed to be clean and shiny, like the beautiful people from the washing powder commercials.

  Abby tried hard not to grin.

  “There, there William, never mind my darling, how about a nice slice of that cake?”

  The boy’s greedy eyes caught sight of the orange marmalade cake and he was transfixed.

  “I want a piece of cake. Now!” His surprisingly clean little fists tried to grasp at the cake on the counter top above his head.

  “Don’t do that darling. What about you Declan sweetie pie – would you like some cake too?”

  The other boy nodded and sucked at his thumb.

  “Two pieces of cake for the boys.”

  “Perhaps your boys would like a piece cut in half to share, they are quite large pieces for such small boys?”

  As Abby smiled over the counter, the smallest boy pulled a face.

  “Don’t want to share.”

  The woman with the perfect smile seemed to give a small whinny in reply, and as she opened her mouth to laugh politely, she revealed a set of perfect teeth.

  “Two pieces will be fine. The boys never share. Even when they were inside the womb they could never agree. Believe me darling I had indigestion for 9 months.”

  “I’m happy to cut a piece in two and serve them on separate plates – the boys would never know and it would save any waste?”

  Abby whispered conspiratorially into the Barbie blue eyes. She hated to see her beautiful creations wasted.

  The boy tugged at his mother’s arm in an aggressive manner.

  “I don’t think so dear, William would know; anything to keep the peace. And make it two glasses of water for the boys.”

  “Whereabouts are you staying?” Abby tried to make a connection with all of her customers, even if she didn’t quite warm to them. She had learned that the personal touch made all the difference in the service industry.

  The woman sighed.

  “We’re renting an old cottage just on the outskirts of the village for a week. It sounded idyllic at the time, but I’m afraid we are used to something a little more modern, and its’ hell trying to amuse the boys without wifi, let alone Jason!”

  The man rolled his eyes again.

  “You’re not kidding. It’s like living in the stone-age out here.”

  Abby pictured ‘Rose Cottage’ in her head. It was the only rental property in the village and was a wonderfully old thatched cottage property surrounded by a beautiful rose garden. She shuddered at the thought of the boys running wild about the old place. It had survived both civil and world wars, but was it ready for these two little horrors?

  She smiled sweetly back, and kept quiet despite her thoughts.

  As the family made their way over to one of the larger tables, Abby didn’t have the heart to tell the mother that she only used full fat milk in her coffee. The woman looked as though she needed some fat in her diet anyway.

  The man shouted angrily at the children to be quiet as they dragged the chairs across the floor and made a show of sitting down. Soon he was absorbed in trying to get a mobile phone signal and Abby could see him muttering profanities under his breath; his day wasn’t going to get any better.

  It was almost inevitable, and no sooner had Abby placed the tray of drinks onto the small cafe table, one of the twin boys jumped up and set the beakers of water tumbling to the floor, splashing the contents onto the polished wooden surface below.

  “Declan sweetie, don’t do that.”

  The woman reached for her coffee as if nothing had happened.

  Abby sighed and tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Don’t worry, I’ll see to it” and tried to smile at the two boys as she headed back to the counter. Not many children frequented the old cafe; it was mainly the haunt of the elderly on coach tours. The ‘grey pound’ had kept her business buoyant. Sometimes she had hoped for a younger customer to bring a bit of life to the cafe, but right now she was grateful that most of her clientele did not have tantrums. She definitely couldn’t deal with a ‘Declan or William’ everyday of the week, let alone the parents!

  As she sliced the cake and poured another beaker full of water, her attention drifted back to the antique side of the shop. The large man was now stood at the counter, red –faced and pointing a fat finger into Pam’s face. She could tell by his accent that he was American and he didn’t sound too happy.

  “Listen sweetie. I’m offering you good money for these; it’s the best offer you’re ever going to get. Now take it, don’t be a silly girl.”

  What a condescending male chauvinist! Pam looked white-faced and furious as she shook her head in response to the larger than life character. Pam looked as if she needed some help and after Abby had served the coffee and cake, she headed over to help her friend.

  “Anything I can help with Pam?”

  The poor girl looked almost in tears.

  “You can tell your friend here to be sensible and let me buy this from her. I’m offering a good price.”

  A fat hand waved a fist of hundred dollar bills in her face.

  On the counter sat a small painted pot. It was very prettily decorated but seemed quite simple and insignificant.

  “What’s up Pam?”

  The young woman picked up the vase tenderly.

  “It’s the first thing my grandfather ever gave to me. I loved the patterns on it from a child and he gave it to me for my 10th birthday. I have treasured it ever since.”

  The man sneered.

  “Sentimentality – you can’t do anything with sentiment. It’s money that talks. I’m offering you $1000. Now take it and stop this nonsense.”

  Pam shook her head and picked up the pot and placed it firmly back on the shelf where it had sat since the shop irst opened.

  “Not for sale.”

  “I’ll offer you double, $2000?”

  Pam shook her head and the obese man looked as though his eyes would pop from his head.

  “$3000, my last offer. No-one else would give you that much for it.”

  His fleshy fist banged down in annoyance on the counter top.

  Sticking out her chin in defiance, Pam looked him squarely in the eye.

  “No way Jose. Besides, why does it mean so much to you?”

  The fat cheeks turned red.

  “I collect these, I’m rich and I can afford it. People don’t say no to me. I always get my way in the end. I’m here for a few days, staying in the old Inn up the way. Don’t worry I’ll be back and you will sell me that piece.”

  With a final glare he stomped out of the room and into the small tea room.

  “Well, what a rude man, what arrogance- I don’t care what he says or how much he offers me I am definitely not going to sell it to him!”

  Abbey looked at the small vase and back at her friend. $3000 would certainly come in handy; it wasn’t as if Pam had lots of money.

  “Are you sure Pam?”

  The young woman narrowed her eyes.

  “Most definitely!”

  A crash from inside the tea room sent both women running to the archway. The young father was stood furiously in front of the large American, and angry words were being exchanged. Two chairs had overturned and one of the young boys was crying and nursing a bump to his head. The thin woman stood in a state of disbelief, looking in dismay at her designer jeans that were now drenched in the not so skinny latte.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing you great oaf?”

  The younger man was now red faced and looked ready to punch the big guy in the face.

  “You overweight, obese blundering idiot, you almost squashed my son, barging into our table like that. And look at my wife’s jeans. They’re ruined. I expect some kind of compensation from you. Aren’t you even going to apologise?”

  The fat man seemed unsteady on his feet for a moment, as he rubbed at his knee and surveyed the scene of devastation caused by his own bulk. The look of concern only lasted for a split second and very soon the ruddy face had taken on an unfortunate sneer.

  “You limeys, always bleating on, always think you’re so superior. Something on the floor here made me slip.”

  Looking down her noticed the pool of water around his feet.

  “If you had control of your kids and they hadn’t been slopping this water around then I wouldn’t have slipped.”

  Lunging forward he pretended to swipe at one of the boy’s whilst baring his teeth at the same time. The boy shrank away towards his mother and started wailing.

  “Now look what you have done. How dare you insult my wife and children? For goodness sake man, take yourself outside before you do any more damage, or else...”

  “Or else what? You English are so full of horse manure. What you going to do? Challenge me to a duel? “

  The rubbery lips curled into a derisive sneer.

  The two men were up close, eye to eye and a hush had descended on the tea room as all attention turned to the spectacle.

  The younger man clenched his fists as he squared up to the bulk of the man stood before him.

  “You could have broken my sons arm barging passed like that. Have you American’s no manners? I have a good mind to sue.”

  The man laughed again.

  “Ah, you English are so full of crap. I mean, look at this place. There’s hardly room to move around as it is, this place should carry a health warning. It should be me that sues for damages. I cracked my knee on that table. What is it with these godforsaken villages and twee houses? They should all be pulled down and replaced with a Wal-Mart. Everything in this dismal country is crumbling, even your weather is crummy. I think all of the damp weather has rotted your brains. And why don’t you stop that spoilt brat from wailing, he’s giving me indigestion,”

  As Jason Pegram raised his fist in anger, he grabbed the older man by the jacket, pulling the older man towards him in an act of unrestrained violence.

  For a moment the cocksure American looked shaken.

  Standing in alarm the young woman stood and placed a thin, tanned hand on her husband’s shoulder and pulled him away.

  “For goodness sake Jason, sit down. There’s no need to get into such a state. We don’t want any more trouble with your temper. Not after last time. The man’s just an ignorant pig and doesn’t deserve any more of our attention. Try and ignore him. By the look of him he could probably have a heart attack if you so much as lay a little finger on him. And you know what these Americans are like- he would be suing us from the grave. Now Declan sweetie, dry your eyes. The nasty fat man will be gone soon.”

  “Nanananananananananana Fat man.” Declan sniffled through his tears. He was a great fan of the caped crusader.

  “So the little guy’s a comedian eh, not bad for a stupid kid.” The sneering face looked serious for once, as his hand brushed his jacket where he had been grabbed.

  The small boy stood defiantly in front of his mother.

  “I’m not stoopid!”

  “Ha, I don’t believe it kid. You look pretty ‘stoopid’ to me. Here’s betting that you don’t even know your own name and address?”

  “I do too.”

  Before his mother could hold her fake tanned hand over the small mouth to stop him speaking, the boy gushed out his full name and address, including two rather pretentious middle names.

  “Well Declan Harvey Peregrine Pegram, here is something that will make you laugh even harder. Your daddy over there will be hearing from my lawyer. I’ve been assaulted and I have witnesses, not to mention the damage to my knee.”

  He rubbed at his joint and pulled a face to demonstrate the f
act that he had been injured.

  The woman looked nervous for a moment and gently touched the arm of her husband.

  “If there is anyone to blame for all of this then surely it is the cafe owner. It must be a health and safety breach to leave all of this water on the floor. That should have been mopped up straight away, or even one of those signs displayed to indicate a slipping hazard?”

  All eyes now turned to Abby and Pam who stood watching from the archway.

  “Sure I’ll be suing this place for damages too. I’ve just had a knee replacement and it cost me a small fortune. When my lawyer has done with you people you will be closed down. Now I need your details.”

  He limped steadily towards the counter as if to make a point.

  There was nothing Abby or Pam could do but to hand over their contact numbers as the American wrote down their details. Abby could feel the fury rising inside of her, but tried to stay as calm as she could. The water spillage wasn’t her fault but she should have mopped the water up straight away. If she hadn’t been distracted by this awful man then the accident would never had happened in the first place.

  She knew of cases like this where owners had been sued for hundreds of thousands of pounds. The American was sure to make a big deal out of the incident. If he did sue then they could be closed down, pure and simple.

  Her hands started to tremble as the man left the cafe, and she bit her lip to fight back the tears of frustration that were already clouding her eyes.

  The young family were also collecting their things, as Jason Pegram headed for the counter.

  “It goes without saying that we will not be paying our bill. My wife and children are most upset by this whole episode. No doubt you will be hearing from my solicitors too.”

  Without a further word, the father ushered his brood out of the door as the two girls looked on, too shaken by the incident to argue.

  It was only when they were out of sight that Pam allowed her tears to fall.

  “Oh Abby, what are we going to do? If that man sues he could ruin us?”

  Abby tried to smile. “I’m sure he was all bluster – you know what these Americans are like. Try not to let it get you down. Come on, let’s tidy up.”