Bread, Dead and Wed

by Sherri Bryan

  “It’ll be great for her to experience stuff like this,” Nathan had said. “I went to camp twice when I was at school and I loved every minute.”

  Mrs. Willetts, Molly’s teacher, approached.

  “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Costello. Hi, Molly.” She gave Charlotte and Nathan a wink and looked up at the grey sky. “Shame we haven’t got a bit of sun to see us off, isn’t it? You know, Molly, if you want to come to camp, we’ll have to leave soon if we’re going to get to the farm in time to feed the animals this afternoon.”

  Molly’s wailing turned to a whimper. “What animals?” she said, in a muffled voice.

  “The animals at the farm. There are chickens and goats and cows and rabbits and sheep. And I think there are some lambs and puppies, too. Oh, and four rescue donkeys.”

  The whimpering stopped. “I didn’t know about the animals.” Molly sniffed as she peered at Mrs. Willetts through tear-drenched lashes. “Are you sure there’ll be animals?” she asked, quirking a sceptical brow, a mannerism she’d inherited from Nathan.

  Mrs. Willetts chuckled. “Yes, I’m positive.”

  “That sounds alright, doesn’t it, Mol?” said Nathan.

  She nodded, and released her grip on his neck. “When are we leaving?” she said, as she wriggled to get down from his arms and pulled a sleeve across her eyes. “I have to go and tell Esme and Erin!” she called over her shoulder to Charlotte and Nathan, throwing them a smile as she went in search of her friends.

  As she ran off, in a decidedly happier mood, Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.

  ____________

  Roy settled himself at a table on the café’s terrace and stretched out his long legs. “Charlotte’s Plaice? Is that a spelling mistake?”

  “No, it’s a play on words,” said Ava. “When Charlotte bought the café, the first thing she cooked was plaice, hence the name.”

  Izzy joined them at the table after admiring the boats in the marina. “What a fabulous spot,” she said, pulling off her hat and gloves. “What I wouldn’t give for a place like this of my own.” She pointed to Jess, who was serving a nearby table. “Is that Charlotte?”

  “Oh no,” said Harriett. “She’s on maternity leave. That’s Jess; they’re very close friends. Charlotte should be here any minute, though. And this is Betty. She’s a friend of mine and Ava’s.”

  Betty looked up from her magazine and reached out a hand. “I wondered when someone was going to introduce me,” she said, with a welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you both.”

  “I don’t suppose Charlotte’s looking for anyone to help out, is she?” asked Roy. “I could just see myself behind a bar, serving drinks and being front of house.”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” said Ava. “When Charlotte’s not here, her godmother, Laura, and Jess, run the place very well on their own, so I think you’d be surplus to requirements, dear. Charlotte and Jess have run it together ever since Charlotte came back from Spain and bought the place.”

  “Spain? Why was she in Spain?” asked Izzy.

  “She moved there with her parents when she was young. But they were killed in a car crash - terribly tragic - so she came back to St. Eves.”

  “Oh, that’s awful,” said Izzy. “Poor thing.”

  “Yes, it was awful,” said Betty. “They were lovely people.”

  “I think we’d better change the subject,” said Harriett. “Here she comes now. Let’s make some room at the table.”

  With the dogs in tow, Charlotte arrived on the terrace to be caught up in hugs and noisy cries of “welcome back” from her regular customers who were enjoying a spot of lunch.

  “I’ve only been gone since yesterday!” She laughed as she made her way to the table, the dogs pulling at their leads to get to Ava, who usually carried treats for them in her bag. “Hi, everyone.” She held out a hand to Roy and Izzy and introduced herself. “Sorry I’m a bit late,” she said, flopping into the seat. “It’s such a relief to sit down these days. And I can’t stop eating. Has anyone else ordered?”

  “No dear, we were waiting for you,” said Ava, as she waited for Pippin and Panda to sit before she passed them each a treat. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice if there was any update on Roman Haley on the news before you left home, did you?”

  “No, there’s been nothing new, just that he’s still in a critical condition. It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

  “I think he’s a goner,” said Roy, bending down to tickle the dogs. “Excruciating stomach pains don’t just come from nowhere, do they?”

  “It must have been something he ate,” said Betty. “I get the most awful wind if I eat something that doesn’t agree with me, and the pain just doubles me over.”

  “Yes, but that’s hardly the same, is it?” said Harriett. “That always goes away, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh yes,” said Betty. “Usually after I…”

  “Yes, thank you very much, Bet!” interrupted Ava, her eyebrows shooting up at the turn the lunchtime conversation had taken. “I’m sure Roy and Izzy aren’t interested in hearing about your gas.” She leaned over and muttered to Charlotte. “Although, between you and me, I’m sure if someone lit a match in her general direction, it’d blast her into outer space.”

  “Afternoon, everyone.” Jess appeared at the table and gave Charlotte a hug. “Sorry it’s taken me a while to get to you.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re obviously in the middle of the lunchtime rush, and we were quite happy admiring the view,” said Izzy. “I’m either stuck indoors, or in a traffic jam for most of the day. You’re so lucky to work in such a fabulous setting.”

  “Yeah,” said Roy. “And I spend most of the day in a kitchen. This view beats that one hands down.”

  When all the orders were taken, and drinks had been delivered to the table, an easy conversation developed amongst the group.

  “So, how do you two know each other?” asked Betty.

  “We met a few years ago at a music festival, didn’t we, Iz?” said Roy. “But we lost touch until we met up again last year. You know how it is, I was busy, Izzy was busy, but we eventually got back in touch and arranged to meet up.”

  “So, are you a chef?” said Charlotte. “You said you worked in a kitchen.”

  “Nothing so grand,” he replied. “What I’d really like to do is be famous for doing something that makes people sit up and take notice, but as that’s not likely, I’m working as a kitchen assistant in a care home instead.”

  He grinned. “I do all the jobs no one else wants to do. You know; preparing the veg, washing up, cleaning. Sometimes I help take the meals round to the residents, which is great—I’ve been told I’ve got an excellent bedside manner.” He cleared his throat. “I’m looking for another job, though; the care home’s only temporary. I used to be a medical supplies salesman, but I was made redundant last year.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Charlotte.

  “Don’t be. It wasn’t all bad. One of the nurses I know at the local hospital put in a good word for me when the position at the care home came up and I got my details in early. I couldn’t believe it when I got the job.” He sighed. “Thank God I’d already paid for Becky’s course before I was made redundant. There’s no way I could have afforded it on the measly salary I earn now.”

  “Well, whoever she is, Becky’s a very lucky girl,” said Charlotte. “I hope she appreciates how thoughtful you are.”

  There was an awkward silence. “Doubtful,” said Roy, forcing a laugh. “We broke up last year, just after Izzy had told me about Roman’s course and I’d booked Becky onto it as a surprise. She met up with a guy at her school reunion and decided she’d rather be with him than me. Ironically, he looks very similar to Roman Haley, minus the twirly moustache.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Charlotte’s cheeks flushed. “Me and my big mouth. I suppose there’s no chance of a reconciliation?”

  “Not likely. Our divorce was finalised on Christmas Eve. It was a pretty
dismal year all round.”

  “Oh,” said Charlotte, her cheeks flaming. “Well, couldn’t you at least have got your money back for the course?”

  Roy shrugged. “Some of it, but it hardly seemed worth it, so I decided to come along myself. Not that I’m a Haley fan - I think the guy’s an absolute moron - unlike Becky who thought the sun shone out of his backside.” He scowled. “I thought I might as well do something, though, rather than mope around thinking about her.”

  He looked around the table and gave everyone a crooked grin. “Sorry, I’m sure the last thing you’re interested in are the specifics of my love life. Or should I say, the lack of it. Anyway, that’s about all there is to know about me: Roy Tanner; an ordinary guy who’s extraordinarily unlucky in love.” He looked away and fixed a stare on the boats, bobbing on the gentle motion of the sea, and Betty filled another awkward silence.

  “And what about you, Izzy,” she asked, dunking a cocktail cherry into her apple juice. “What do you do with your time when you’re not in St. Eves?”

  “Well, let’s see… I live in a village called Mousehoole; I’m also divorced; I’m a member of my local ladies’ cricket team; my pride and joy is my little Fiat that I’ve just had resprayed lime-green, and I’m a buyer for a tea company.” Izzy grinned and nibbled on the lemon slice from her tonic water. “It’s only part-time - I job- share with another girl - but I love it.”

  “Ah, I saw your car in the carpark,” said Charlotte. “You tend to see a lot of the same cars every day, so unfamiliar ones stand out. And I don’t know anything about cricket, but a tea buyer sounds like my dream job—I’m an absolute tea nut! My mum drank gallons of it when she was pregnant with me, and I definitely got the taste for it. Even when we lived in Spain, where they take their coffee very seriously, Mum and I always managed to sniff out a proper cup of tea.”

  “A woman after my own heart,” said Izzy, raising her glass. “I can’t even function until I’ve had at least two cups of tea in the morning.”

  “I like tea and coffee,” said Betty. “It depends on my mood. My mum loved coffee and my dad loved tea. I’ve still got all his old teapots at home. He used to collect them.”

  “Really? Oh, I’d love to see them,” said Izzy. “I love stuff like that.”

  “Well, you’re welcome any time, love,” said Betty. “Here, I’ll jot my number down and you can call me. We can arrange something for before you leave. And I can take you to the social club—it’ll be nice to have a new face around the place. Be prepared to be chatted up by all the old widowers, though.”

  Izzy laughed as she slipped Betty’s phone number into her pocket. “I’ll remember that. And I’ll definitely give you a call.”

  “Oh look, here comes Jess, the food must be on its way.” Harriett smoothed her serviette over her lap.

  Jess was unusually flustered as she approached the table. “Sorry, your food’s not ready yet, but I had to come and tell you that there’s just been a newsflash. Roman Haley died an hour ago. And his death is being treated as suspicious.”

  Chapter 7

  Majestic in its prime seafront position, The President Hotel’s elegant ivory façade was bathed in the muted glow of the weak spring sunshine.

  Usually, a lone doorman stood outside St. Eves’ only five-star hotel; hailing taxis, welcoming guests, and bidding them farewell. Today, though, he was being besieged by reporters who wanted to know if he’d been on duty when the ambulance had arrived, and whether he’d seen Roman Haley being stretchered away.

  Ever since the medical staff at the hospital had expressed doubt that the cause of death could be due to something more sinister than natural causes, there was only one question that Nathan, along with Detective Sergeants Ben Dillon and Fiona Farrell wanted answered as they arrived at the hotel: Had Roman Haley been murdered?

  “The whole world and his wife’s going to have trampled all over the bedroom by now,” snapped Fiona. “If there has been any foul play, any evidence that may have been left behind is going to be completely contaminated.”

  As they walked into the entrance lobby, the hotel Manager, Simon Clancy, virtually flung himself at them with relief.

  “Oh, thank God you’re here!” he said dramatically, as he grabbed Nathan by the elbow and steered him towards his office. “There’s a hysterical woman in there,” he jabbed a finger towards the door, “and Roman Haley’s lying dead in a hospital bed after falling ill at this hotel.”

  He rubbed his right temple with the pads of his fingers. “Of course, death is nothing we can’t deal with… especially not after the last time we had an ‘incident’ here.” He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers as he referenced the time a woman had been pushed to her death from the rooftop restaurant. “But what I can’t deal with is that.” He jerked a thumb at his office door. “She came back from the hospital in a terrible state. I’ve been trying to get some sense out of her, but she’s so distraught, she can barely speak. She was wailing so much, I thought it best to stick her in there. At least she’s out of the way of any guests.”

  “Who is she?” asked Fiona.

  “Monique Hathaway, the grieving personal assistant. It was her who found him.” Simon pursed his lips before dropping his voice to a whisper. “In her bed, if you don’t mind, not his. That’s one thing the news report got wrong, but I’m in no hurry to put it right. I don’t want people thinking The President is that sort of hotel. The last thing we need is to be inundated with bed hoppers.”

  Simon was a mean-spirited stickler for the rules, and the fact that Roman had slept in someone else’s bed, rather than his own, seemed to bother him more than the fact that he was dead. “Anyway, can you please sort her out?”

  Nathan nodded. “Okay. Fiona and I will have a word with her. Ben, can you get up to the room and see what’s going on? We’ll catch up with you in a while.”

  “If you could get rid of her asap, I’d appreciate it,” said Simon, as he ran his hands over his bald head and down his cheeks, giving him the appearance of a mournful Bloodhound. “I need my office back.”

  ____________

  Once she’d calmed down, Monique blew her nose forcefully and pulled off her false eyelashes.

  “I was at the hospital and they told me to come back here. They said there was nothing I could do and I should try to get some sleep, seeing as I’d been there all night.” Her eyes widened. “How they expect me to sleep after what’s happened, I don’t know. Although, even if I could, I can’t get into my room.”

  “Yes, sorry about that,” said Fiona. “We’re checking it, so you won’t be allowed back in until we’ve finished. We’ll be as quick as we can, but I’m sure you understand the need for us to be thorough. I’m sure Mr. Clancy will move you to another room but, in the meantime, is there anything in your room you need urgently? Medication, for instance?”

  Monique shook her head. “No, there’s nothing. I’ve got my phone—that’s all I need for now. I can buy anything else I need.”

  “I know this must be very difficult for you, but can you tell us what happened last night?” asked Fiona.

  Monique blew her nose again and rubbed her eyes. “After we got back to the hotel, Roman went to his room to shower and change and then he came to my room at around six. We were supposed to be going out for dinner, but his stomach pains were getting worse so he decided he didn’t want anything to eat. I’ve never known him to skip a meal, so he must have been really bad.”

  “Did he say how he was feeling?”

  “Dizzy and sick, with terrible stomach cramps. He was in the bathroom for ages and when he came out, he was shaking and he looked grey. He said he just wanted to go to bed and sleep it off, so I left him and went down to the hotel restaurant.” She picked at a hangnail on her thumb. “You’re probably thinking I should have guessed there was something seriously wrong, but I honestly thought he just had a stomach bug.”

  “And what happened later?” asked Fiona. “Take your time,
there’s no rush.”

  Monique took another tissue from a pack in her pocket and gulped.

  “I got back around half-past ten and he was in bed, lying on his side. I thought he was asleep but when I went to the bathroom, I had to walk past him and I saw that his eyes were half open. He’d thrown up all over the pillowcase and there was so much sweat pouring out of him, his hair was stuck to him and the sheets were soaked—they were clinging to him. I still thought he must have some kind of bug, or something, but when I spoke to him, he didn’t respond. I shook him and I just knew something was wrong. It was as though he was paralysed - he couldn’t move - so I called reception and they got an ambulance.”

  She began to sob again. “I feel so awful. If only I’d got back from the restaurant earlier, he’d have got to the hospital quicker, but I got chatting to some of the other guests, and lost track of time. Roman might still be alive if I hadn’t.”

  “Do you remember who the guests were?”

  “There was a couple on their honeymoon; Abigail and John, and a businessman called Tony. We got chatting at the bar, and I ended up staying for longer than I should.” Monique frowned through her tears. “And I’ve just remembered something. At the hospital, they asked me what Roman had to eat yesterday. I couldn’t think straight at the time but I’ve just remembered that all he had was Eggs Benedict for breakfast in the hotel dining room, and then he ate in the restaurant again at lunchtime—he had a double bacon burger and fries. After that, all he had was bread and cheese at the tasting session.”

  Nathan frowned. “The what?”

  “The tasting session. It’s what we call the last half hour of the day at the culinary school. It’s when all the students taste each other’s baking, but if Roman’s around, he goes along too.” Monique looked tired, and gripped by anxiety. “I mean, when he was around, he used to go along.” She sighed. “Do you think you’d be able to let the hospital know? About what he ate, I mean.”