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

  Abby was kept awake by other suspicions. The shop meant a lot to both her and Pam and the thought of a libel suit ruining them financially was unthinkable. But Pam had been really upset, and Arnold Beecher had been taunting her at the Old George. What if she had persuaded Ben to finish off the American to keep him quiet, or worse still,, maybe Pam had committed the foul deed herself? It was so confusing, but Abby could only be certain of one thing -she definitely wasn't the killer.

  Both women were bleary eyed when they met up in the kitchen the next morning, and the once good friends eyed each other warily over mugs of strong black coffee. The silence sat heavily like a great wall between them.

  The shrill ring of the telephone was almost a relief, and served to cut the tension as both girls ran to the phone and snatched at the receiver.

  “Hello”

  Pam was breathless with the effort.

  Abby watched her friends face as she listened intently down the phone, her features remaining fixed with only her pale pallor giving away her inner feelings.

  "Thank you for letting us know detective. Yes, we will be there; 10 o clock. Goodbye."

  Slowly Pam replaced the handset and stood motionless.

  "Well?'"

  Abby could hardly keep the impatience out of her voice.

  "That was the Police, they have arrested Ben!"

  Poor Pam was shaking, and the ill feeling between the two girls immediately disappeared.

  "Oh Pam, I'm so sorry. I'm sure it must be some kind of mistake?"

  "It's all my fault. I said all of the wrong things to the police last night. I was tired and they were confusing me."

  "But you only told them what happened Pam? You were just being truthful. It's not your fault. Now don't fret, I'm sure it's all a big misunderstanding."

  Abby wrapped her arms protectively around her friend.

  "What else did the police say!?

  "Only that we both have to go to the station at 10. Oh Abby, you don't really think that Ben had anything to do with this do you?”

  Abby paused, trying to keep her voice light.

  “Of course not Pam, I’m sure there is a good explanation for all of this. We’ve got an hour before we have to go to the Police station. I’m going to have a shower and get changed and I propose you do the same. We’ll feel much better and in better shape to try and sort all of this mess out.”

  As Pam showered, Abby stood at the sink and rinsed out the coffee cups.

  It certainly didn’t look good for poor old Ben.

  At the station they were not allowed to see him. He was still being questioned by the serious crime squad.

  Abby and Pam were taken into separate rooms to be questioned, and although both girls knew they were innocent, they both felt as guilty as if they had stabbed Arnold Beecher themselves.

  Detective McDonald entered the room and sat in the chair across the table from Abby. He was short and had a red angry face that made Abby feel even more nervous. After a brief introduction he went straight into the questioning.

  “Could you tell me a little about the accident that Arnold Beecher had in your cafe yesterday?”

  Abby frowned, wondering how the police had found out about the incident.

  “We were up at the Old George today making a few enquiries and two old ladies, Jean and Veronica Simpson told us what they saw and heard. I wonder if you can tell me what happened.”

  She wondered what the old dears had said, and tried to be cagey.

  “Well, I’m afraid Mr Beecher slipped on some water that a customer had spilled...”

  Detective McDonald looked at his notes.

  “Ah, that would be one Mr Pegram and his family, go on.”

  “Well, there’s not much else to say. Mr Beecher slipped and, well, he wasn’t too happy about it...”

  “Indeed not Miss Fisher. I believe that he actually said that he would sue you and your friend as owners of the cafe. Is that correct?”

  Abby could feel her cheeks start to burn, as if she were a criminal.

  “I believe he mentioned something about calling his lawyer.”

  The detective looked at his notes again.

  “And according to Miss Simpson, Mr Beecher said that he would sue you, and that you would be both financially ruined, is that correct?”

  “Well yes, but, you see Mr Beecher was quite an angry man and I guessed that he was full of bluster.”

  “So you didn’t take the man seriously Miss Fisher. It didn’t worry you and your friend Miss Stevens so much that you decided to kill him in cold blood? Perhaps you invited him back, late at night on the pretence of selling him the vase so you could silence him once and for all?”

  This time the detective looked Abby straight in the eye.

  “Of course not detective, that’s ridiculous. It’s like I said. I heard a noise and went downstairs and found Mr Beecher dead in the shop. I know nothing else.”

  At that moment the door opened and a woman police officer stepped over to the detective and whispered something into his ear.

  He glanced up furtively at Abby.

  “That will be all for now Miss Fisher, we will be in touch if we need anything else from you.”

  The two officers left before Abby could say anything else, and she slowly made her way outside to the waiting area. She half expected to see Pam sat waiting for her, but the place was empty, so she sat uneasily on one of the grey plastic chairs. She had never felt so frightened in her life.

  Had she said the wrong thing? Was she a suspect? It was hard to know what the police thought and she wondered how Pam was getting on.

  The place was empty and the large clock on the wall beat out the seconds with a loud and mournful TICK. Abby had never felt so helpless in her life. If only she had someone like Jo Thompson to wrap his arms around her, someone to make her feel safe.

  Her thoughts were interrupted as the outside door opened and two officers walked in. Abby was shocked to see that Mr Pegram was walking between them.

  He scowled as he passed Abby. She had almost forgotten about him and his obnoxious family. Why on earth were the police questioning him? She thought back to the previous day. Mr Pegram had almost come to blows with Arnold Beecher, but surely he wasn’t a suspect? It must have been the old dears that told the police about him. They were only trying to be helpful.

  Another door opened, leading into one of the interview booths, and Detective Mike Brown stepped out. He glanced up at Abby.

  “You still here, I thought they had finished questioning you?”

  “I’m waiting for Pam.”

  The detective looked serious. ”I’m afraid we are keeping your friend Pam in for more questioning. It may be even overnight. I should go home if I were you.”

  Abby could hardly believe her ears.

  “But surely you don’t think Pam...I mean that’s impossible?”

  The detective raised an eyebrow.

  “Everything is possible Miss Fisher. We arrested Ben Slater early this morning. He has a previous conviction of GBH and the evidence from yourself and Miss Steven’s places him at the scene of the crime at the time Arnold Beecher was murdered. We also have witnesses to an argument and nearly a fight between the two men, and Arnold Beecher also threatened to sue Miss Stevens. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good for Mr Slater or your friend.”

  “But Arnold Beecher threatened to sue me, I’m an equal partner in the business, so surely that makes me a suspect too?”

  The detective looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “If we want to question you further Miss Fisher we know where you are. I suggest that you go home and get some rest. We will keep you updated on progress.”

  “Can I see Pam?”

  He checked his watch.

  “I’ll give you 5 minutes, she’s in here.”

  Pam looked terrible; there were no two ways about it. As soon as Abby walked into the room she rushed to her side.

  “Oh Abby, what am I going to do. I didn�
�t kill Arnold Beecher I swear, and neither did Ben. I just know it.”

  “You do know he has a previous conviction?”

  Pam looked tearfully at her friend.

  “He told me all about it ages ago Abby. It was at University, he and his pals were drunk and one guy started hurling racial abuse at his Asian friend. This guy’s father was a top lawyer and poor old Ben got the blame for a bit of fighting. Apparently in a drunken scuffle, this guy fell down some steps and broke a few bones and blamed Ben, and this guy’s father saw to it that Ben paid the price. It’s so unfair Abby, you must help us both.”

  “But what can I do Pam?”

  The poor girl looked at her friend in desperation.

  “I have no idea Abby, but you are our only hope.”

  Chapter Seven

  As Abby approached home, her heart jumped as she saw the blue bakers van parked outside her house. Jo Thompson was sat waiting for her outside the cafe. As soon as he saw her he rushed forward to greet her and couldn’t help but encircle the young woman in his arms.

  “Abby, I have been so worried about you. I heard the news this morning For god’s sake what’s going on?”

  It was good to feel his arms around her and for a moment Abby allowed herself to relax against his strong body before taking his hand and leading him inside.

  The coffee was soon made, and Jo sat quietly at the table while Abby filled him in on the detail.

  “What can I do to help poor Pam and Ben, I know Pam isn’t the murderer and if she says Ben didn’t do it, then that’s enough for me. What can we do Jo?”

  Jo thought for a moment.

  “I’m not sure Abby. There’s not a lot to go on. All I can assume from what you have told me is that Arnold Beecher was looking for that vase, the one that Pam didn’t want to sell him, and for some reason someone wanted him dead. Either they knew that he was going to be there, or maybe he disturbed the murderer? His killing might just have been an unfortunate set of circumstances. Arnold Beecher knew something, or had seen something, and somebody wanted to keep him quiet.”

  Abby sighed. “But how on earth do we unpick all of this?”

  Jo smiled. “We can set a trap. If that vase is at the centre of this then we can use that as bait. We can set it on display in the shop again. Hopefully it will lure the killer back to the shop.”

  Abby looked suitably impressed, but there was one thing bothering her.

  “But what if the killer does return, what then?”

  Jo had been baking since 4 am and suddenly felt hungry. He eyed the remainder of the orange marmalade cake and smiled.

  “Let’s discuss that over coffee and cake shall we?”

  Chapter Eight

  The next day Abby was allowed to re-open the cafe and shop. Poor Pam had been detained overnight at the Police Station but for their plan to work, Jo and Abby had decided to carry on regardless. The old Indian vase was put proudly on display, and the pair sat back and waited. It seemed pointless to Abby, the police seemed to be convinced that they had their murderer and that Pam had played a part in the killing; but Jo kept her strong. With him by her side she felt as if she could take on the world.

  The day went quickly, many of the customers were merely ghoulish spectators, come to gaze upon the grisly murder site, and the locals wanted Abby to fill them in on the macabre details. By closing time Abby was exhausted, and it was with some relief that she finally locked the door.

  She had never had so many customers; murder was definitely good for business. Everyone had been most sympathetic, and even the old ladies, Veronica and Jean had made an appearance. It was their last day in the village before their coach party moved on and they wanted to apologise to Abby.

  “I hope we didn’t say the wrong thing to the Police my dear. They asked me and my sister so many questions. It makes one feel quite flustered. Isn’t that right Jean?

  The older sibling nodded.

  “I do hope we haven’t put your friend in an awkward position?”

  Abby reassured the two old ladies and plied them both with free tea and cake to show that there weren’t any hard feelings.

  “A penny for them?”

  Jo had been helping out all day in the cafe and looked tired.

  Abby smiled. She had been far away, thinking about her poor friend and how she could help.

  “Well, we have got through today, but I’m still not sure if it has helped Pam or Ben at all?”

  Despite his tiredness, Jo smiled.

  “I’m sure the day is not quite finished. Besides, we have to bake a cake for tomorrow?”

  Abby was tired. The last thing she needed was to start baking, and she frowned back at Jo.

  “Do we have to, can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  The baker shook his head.

  “I’m afraid not Abby. You need to make one of your finest Orange Marmalade cakes with all of the trimmings.”

  The young woman frowned.

  “Don’t worry, I will help you.”

  Chapter Nine

  When a loud crash splintered the silence in the early morning hours, Abby sat up in bed, wide awake with her heart beating fast. It was only the thought that Jo was sleeping on the floor next to her bed that stopped her from panicking completely.

  Jo was soon awake and the two sat together on the bed.

  By the time they had ventured downstairs the place was empty. Whoever had thrown the brick through the window had long since disappeared and taken the old Indian vase.

  As Jo and Abby stood in the gloom, she gazed in awe at the smashed glass that had once formed the window of the curio shop.

  The young man smiled at Abby.

  “Come with me.”

  Taking the young woman by the hand he led her to the kitchen. Abby gasped as he flicked on the light. The Orange Marmalade cake that they had made earlier had been sliced into, and an enormous piece was missing.

  Abby looked at Jo in bemusement.

  “I don’t understand. What do we do now?”

  Jo yawned. “Now we phone the Police!”

  Detective Mike Brown was not pleased to be woken so late in the night. He was almost ready for retirement and had come to the conclusion many years ago that police work was a young man’s game.

  He was intrigued by the call.

  Abby Fisher had called the station and asked that he meet her in the Old George pub for breakfast and that she would be able to identify the murderer. Mike Brown was convinced he had already caught the murderer, but his detective nose got the better of him and it was with some interest that he set off for an early breakfast to the pub.

  Abby was nervous. She had agreed to Jo’s plan without fully understanding the details, but now she worried that it made no sense. What if it was all a wild goose chase? The police wouldn’t be very happy for wasting their time, and what would become of Pam?”

  The detective joined them as they sat over coffee.

  “Well, what’s this all about?”

  “We think we might have caught the killer detective?” Jo spoke with an air of mystery.

  “Well man, what do you mean? I haven’t got all day. It’s a crime to waste police time you know”

  “Just wait.”

  The three watched as the customers staying at the Old George came down, one by one, for breakfast. The Pegram family appeared and Jo stood and looked them carefully up and down from a distance.

  “I didn’t know they were staying here. I thought they were staying at Rose Cottage?”

  “They were just leaving for home when we arrived yesterday. We decided to pay for the family to stay here so we could question Mr Pegram.”

  “It isn’t him.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Jo Thompson tapped his nose. “Trust me detective.”

  For the next 10 minutes they watched in silence as the guests tucked into their breakfasts; after a while Detective Brown started to get impatient.

  “Well, Mr Thompson. I haven’t got a
ll day. Surely everyone is accounted for now?”

  The young man shrugged and looked up at Abby.

  “I’m sorry Abby. I tried.”

  At that moment old Miss Simpson entered the breakfast room, struggling to shuffle to the breakfast table without her sister for support.

  Feeling gallant, Detective Brown rushed to her side.

  “Miss Simpson, let me help you. The old woman looked surprised to see the detective but held out her arm. She looked so frail, and without her sister to help out she looked even more helpless.

  “Where is your sister this morning? I hope she is well?”

  The old woman nodded and smiled as they walked to the table, and Abby and Jo joined them.

  As Miss Simpson settled down to toast and tea, Jo pulled the detective to one side.

  “We need to see the other Miss Simpson.”

  The detective looked perplexed.

  “Why on earth should we disturb the poor old dear? She obviously needs a lie in.”

  “Trust me, it’s just a hunch.”

  The detective and Jo set off to Miss Simpson’s room, leaving a perplexed Abby behind to keep her sister company. The two siblings had seemed to be joined at the hip and Abby hoped that nothing serious had happened.

  Within 5 minutes a police siren could be heard wailing to a stop outside of the pub as Jo stepped back into the small breakfast area, a wide smile upon his face.

  Abby looked bemused. “W hat is it?”

  He pointed out of the window. Detective Brown was leading Miss Veronica Simpson slowly towards the police car. At first she had her back towards Abby, but as she turned to climb into the awaiting police car, Abby looked surprised.

  “Whatever has happened?”

  Miss Veronica Simpson looked like a clown. Her mouth and chin were covered in a bright orange glow.

  Jo laughed. “When I helped you with the Orange Marmalade cake, I didn’t tell you that I had made the icing with orange indelible ink. I thought if the murderer was after the Indian vase then they were sure to return and try and steal it if it meant so much to them. They couldn’t resist a slice of your cake on the night of the murder, so I was hoping they would be tempted again, and they fell into the trap, hook, line and sinker. Poor Miss Simpson thought that nobody would think a frail old lady would be capable of such a thing.”