The Sweet Baked Mystery Series - Books 1-6

by Katherine Hayton

  “Hello?” she asked the elderly man, stooped over by the door.

  He held up a bunch of discarded flowers in one hand and had a look of annoyance on his face. “Are these from the wedding that’s going on here?” he asked.

  The man took a step inside the kitchen and Holly saw that his lower legs and boots were dripping wet. He must have just come in from outside, leaving a coat somewhere en route to the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry,” Holly said. “I don’t know. Is there a problem?”

  “These here are toxic,” the man said, shaking the bunch. “I found them just thrown out of a window into the parking lot out back. The dogs could’ve gotten into ‘em.” In case Holly didn’t know where ‘out back’ was, he pointed through the window in front of the sink.

  “And you are?” Aidan enquired, his eyebrows raised.

  “I’m the gardener for Inglewood Manor,” the man replied. “Jenkins is my name, though that doesn’t matter.” He shook the wilted bunch of flowers again, and Holly recognized them from the suite upstairs. They’d come tumbling past the window when she came out to the kitchen. When was that? She frowned, trying to remember.

  “These petals are toxic,” Jenkins said. “Whoever selected these for the bridal bouquet should’ve been told that by the florist. You can’t just leave ‘em lying about. It’s dangerous.”

  “I’m sorry if they’ve caused a problem,” Aidan said. “I’ll pass the information along to the bride. She’s just recovering upstairs at the moment.”

  “Aye. That’ll be good.” The man paused, the frown on his face growing deeper. “It’s not me that cares, mind. If it were just me, I’d know enough not to eats them. But if the owner’s dogs were out there”—he pointed to the window again—“then they’d be having a sniff and a nibble. Bad news, they are.” He shook the bunch again, a petal working free of the loose stems to fall upon the floor. “To animals and to humans.”

  With a groan, the man bent down to scoop up the dropped petal. He then craned his neck to see into the sink. “Are you going to be long there, young misses? Only, it’s best these go down the InSinkErator and that’s the sink that has it.”

  Holly walked across to take the bunch from the man’s hands and plopped them down on the counter, wrapping them up in a discarded newspaper.

  “We’ll keep an eye on them and make sure nobody touches them by accident,” she said. “Then, when we’ve finished up with the dishes, we’ll pop them down the waste disposal unit, so they won’t cause any problems.”

  Jenkins nodded slowly. “Aye. Just make sure that you run the water for a long time afterward. A few drops of that poison in your bloodstream and you’re likely to drop down dead.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t believe it for a second. There’s no way that all this stuff is happening and it’s an accident.” She turned and pointed at Aidan. “Do you buy that?”

  He held his hands up and backed up half a step. “I’m not getting drawn into this. You know my opinion. We call the police and pass the information over to them.”

  “You’ve changed your tune,” Holly said. “When Matthewson was here earlier you practically accused him of trying to set people up for murder. Now, you’d rather he took the whole thing out of our hands?”

  “I’d rather someone did,” Aidan said. “Preferably someone with a lot of experience and no personal ties to anybody here. If any of you meet that criteria, please make yourselves known.”

  Holly frowned at him even though every word he spoke was utterly logical. Since Jenkins had dropped his bombshell, they’d been fighting in the kitchen over the best course of action to take.

  With a manor house full of suspects, a break in the weather could spell certain doom for solving the conundrum. Much as Holly would be for handing everything over to the police, she was also keenly aware that time was not on their side.

  “If we wait for the police to turn up, half of this crowd might have made a break for it. First off, we’d have to convince them of the seriousness of the situation—”

  “I think that one dead body and another in critical condition would do that,” Crystal said.

  That her sister had stepped into the role of the logical one, infuriated Holly even more. “I’m not suggesting that we never turn the information over to the police. I’m just saying that if we chase up a few confusing pieces of evidence before we do, they might have an easier time of it.”

  “Holly,” Crystal said, placing a hand on her forearm. “This isn’t a game. Derek was well when Wendy called the hospital a few minutes ago. That doesn’t mean it’s certain he’ll pull through and even if he does, there might be lasting damage. He’s our friend. We need to do what’s in his best interest, not what’s in ours.”

  “I think following up on the leads we know about is in his best interest.”

  “And nobody else agrees with you.” Crystal waved her hand around the group, who all duly nodded. “What does that tell you?”

  Holly shook her head and sighed. “I suppose that tells me I should get on the phone to Sergeant Matthewson.”

  “Thank goodness. The lady finally sees sense.”

  Aidan’s timing was once again at odds with the mood of the room. A fact he probably worked out from the dirty look that Holly shot his way.

  As she pushed open the kitchen door, Holly bumped straight into Wendy. She was half-bent over and gave a jump of surprise.

  “What are you doing?” Holly asked.

  “I dropped my hair pin earlier,” Wendy said, a blush working its way up from her neck to her cheek. “I just thought I’d look for it.”

  Holly glanced down at the floor, then looked back up at Wendy with a frown. The woman’s neatly cropped curls didn’t look in need of a hairpin.

  “Were you listening in?” she asked.

  Wendy started to shake her head, then reluctantly nodded. “I couldn’t help it. I’m so worried about Derek, and then I heard your raised voices and thought that something terrible might be happening.”

  “Nothing worse than what’s happened already,” Holly said in a gentle voice. “I’m just about to phone the station and tell them about something the gardener passed onto us. That’s all.”

  Wendy nodded, but a frown passed over her face. “What was all that talk about flowers?”

  Holly shook her head. “I’ll talk to the police and then if they want to explain it to you, they can.”

  All of a sudden, the day caught up with her and Holly felt exhausted. From the moment she’d woken up that morning, she’d been chasing from one crisis into another. She couldn’t imagine how much worse it was for Wendy or her daughter. The outcomes affected them far more severely than they did her.

  Holly gave a brief laugh and Wendy raised her face up, brows drawn in obvious query. “I was just thinking that when I woke up this morning, I thought the worst thing that could happen was the decorations on some cupcakes not being done in time.”

  Wendy offered a wan smile in return. “I thought the worse that could happen would be someone speaking up during that pause after ‘If anybody knows of any reason…’”

  “How’s Sheila doing?”

  Wendy shook her head. “She’s fast asleep at the moment. I don’t think she slept a lot last night and then after her trek to get here…”

  She trailed off, conveniently missing out the bit about the indulgence of wine. Then Holly shrugged. Why not? Sheila didn’t owe her or anybody else an explanation.

  “I hope she feels better when she wakes up. At least the hospital didn’t have bad news.”

  “They didn’t have good news, either,” Wendy said and shook her head. “I just wish we could be by poor Derek’s side right now. If only I’d found those car keys.”

  Holly looked at the phone, sitting on the table a few yards away. She didn’t know whether she was postponing the call to the police because she didn’t want to, or because Wendy deserved a few minutes of someone being kind. />
  “I’m sure the council will clear the roads soon.” Too soon for Holly’s liking. “Once that’s done, you can travel down to Christchurch. I dare say, you’ll be sitting with Derek by tonight.”

  “I hope so.” Wendy shuffled from foot to foot, and Holly took the cue.

  “I’ll just head off and make that call,” she said. “Why don’t you go back upstairs and look after Sheila? That’s the most important role for you today.”

  Once she’d disappeared up the staircase, Holly crossed over to the phone. She picked up the receiver, expecting the dial tone. Instead, it was silent and still.

  “Oh, no,” she muttered as she replaced the handle and tried again. Still no luck. Had the phone lines really gone down once more?

  Thinking that third time might be lucky, Holly picked up the whole phone and lifted the receiver once more. As it moved, she saw that the wire connecting it to the wall swing free.

  Putting the phone back down, Holly leaned forward to grab the loose cord. At first, she thought it must have come unplugged. It was a nasty shock when it pulled up and the end shone where the wires had been severed.

  “I feel awful saying this,” Holly said as a starter. She’d just explained about the phone, watching looks of horror descend quickly into anger. “But I think that it’s possible Wendy had something to do with this.”

  “Why would she cut the telephone cord?” Emma asked. “That’s the only way she and Sheila have of checking on Derek.”

  “I don’t mean just the telephone cord.”

  Holly blushed as the group turned toward her. Three faces, all creased with concern—perhaps about Wendy or maybe that Holly had lost her mind.

  “Look, I don’t want to believe it, but it’s starting to fit the facts. Why else would Wendy be listening outside the door?”

  “Because someone tried to murder her son-in-law and she thinks we know something and won’t share it?” Aidan paused a moment. “All of which is true.”

  “No.” Emma shook her head, and Holly felt a knife twist in her gut. She was an awful person, accusing a friend when she should have kept her thoughts to herself.

  But Emma continued, “It all fits.” She turned to Aidan. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you have to admit that Wendy is the person with the most access and the most opportunity.”

  Emma turned back to Holly and Crystal. “Did Jenkins say what type of flower it was?”

  They shook their heads, Holly reaching for her bag to pull out her phone and google it. A second later, she remembered and pushed it away. No phone. No internet.

  “You probably don’t know this, but Wendy has a show garden. She breeds rare specimens for sale and shipping all over the world.”

  Holly shook her head, she hadn’t known.

  “People think she’s mad for doing it here. Just the cost of getting it to Christchurch is prohibitive, but from what I’ve heard, the ones buying are just as nutty. They’ll pay hundreds or even thousands sometimes for a cutting.”

  Holly pushed away from the countertop and began to pace. “Even if Wendy didn’t grow it herself, she would know about it.”

  “I really don’t like where this line of thinking is going.” Aidan crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t a puzzle that we should solve. Wendy is a friend who has just had a disastrous day and needs our support.”

  “And what if it was you lying dead in the morgue instead of Arnold?” Emma mimicked Aidan’s body language, crossing her arms and jutting her chin out. “Somebody in this building is responsible for him and Derek. They should be the people you spend your sympathy on. Wendy had the means and opportunity.”

  “Why would she even do it?” Aidan said. “You missed one out of that lot. Motive. What did Wendy gain from hurting either one of them?”

  Aidan’s voice had increased in volume with every word until at the end, he was shouting. The sound of the door banging open was louder still.

  Holly turned and saw Wendy standing near the cupboards, her face white and strained. Holly gave a tug on Aidan’s arm, warning him to be quiet but when he turned and saw the new arrival he just gave Wendy a nod.

  “Do you know what we’re all in here discussing?” Aidan asked her. “You’ve got two people insisting that you used some of your rare plants to poison Arnold and Derek.”

  “Don’t,” Holly cried out. The stab of guilt into her stomach twisted a blade so keenly that she doubled over. “It’s a private conversation.”

  “Why? The lady’s standing right there. Shouldn’t she know what rumors you’re spreading behind your back?”

  He leaned over and opened the edge of the newspaper that Holly had wrapped the deadly flowers in. “Do you recognize this?” he asked Wendy. “They’re saying”—he pointed to Holly and Emma—“that this came from your exotic plant garden and has been used to poison two men.”

  Wendy’s face became even more strained as she stared at the wilting plant inside the newspaper. She bit at the corner of her lip, so hard that a line of blood trickled down.

  Holly began to cry and turned to stare out the window instead of watching the results of her betrayal. How could you have even had that thought, let alone voiced it?

  Wendy advanced a step further into the room. Now that Aidan had stopped laying out the facts of their discussion, the room was otherwise silent.

  “Why do you think that I poisoned my son-in-law?”

  The question seemed aimed at Holly, and she was about to turn and give a fumbling answer when Emma spoke instead.

  “Your family has always been at war with the Masters. Nobody could believe it when Sheila and Derek began dating. They were calling it Romeo and Juliet, and everyone’s spent the last year waiting for it to end in tragedy.”

  “And you think I’d kill someone because I didn’t like his dad?”

  Holly heard a strange note in Wendy’s voice and turned around. Along with the strain lines framing her face, Wendy now had the ghost of satisfaction lining her mouth, curving it into a tiny smile.

  “I don’t know what you’re capable of,” Emma said. “I don’t know you at all, lady.”

  A pause followed, so long that the air bulged with its possible meanings. The silence grew so loud, so oppressive, that Holly wished somebody would say something, anything, to break it.

  Still, she kept her own lip buttoned. Holly had said too much for the time being.

  “I did it.” When the confession came, Wendy’s voice was so small that Holly almost missed it. They were words that should have boomed out of a proud chest. Instead, they trickled from the corner of Wendy’s mouth like a thin line of drool.

  “I did it. Arnold was an accident, but I poisoned Derek Masters. I painted the oleander toxin on the inside of the glass I knew he’d drink from.”

  Wendy held out her thin wrists, pressed hard together, shaking. “You may as well arrest me and lock me up now. I did it.”

  With those final words came a broad smile that sent a chill into Holly’s heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The storm came to an abrupt halt as soon as Wendy confessed her guilt. It was as though it had raged in protest at the terrible acts being committed. When they came to a timely end, it moved on to wail at another town.

  It was Emma who remembered that the church would have a phone that worked. While Holly and Aidan kept a wary eye on Wendy, Emma fetched the minister and drove the short distance to bring help.

  With Sergeant Matthewson in Christchurch, the station sent its on-call police constable in his stead. PC Mayhew seemed perfectly capable. Within a few short minutes at Inglewood Manor, he secured the prisoner and drove her back to Hanmer Springs to lock her in the cell.

  “Should we wake Sheila up and tell her the good news?” Emma asked. Her voice had such an edge of tiredness to it that Holly feared she might collapse.

  “I say we let her sleep it off,” she responded. “The bad news will be waiting for her when she wakes up, so she might as well get
a good rest.”

  As William came into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine for the continuing festivities, he met a glum ensemble.

  “What’s up?” he asked, moving over to put his arm around Emma’s shoulders.

  Holly and Crystal left them to it. The twist of pain in Holly’s stomach earlier had settled into a dull ache. She rubbed her abdomen as they walked outside to retrieve their vehicles.

  “Going without saying goodbye, are you?” Aidan called out. He’d disappeared while the policeman was dealing with Wendy, but now stood on the gravel near the entrance, Elvira, and Esmerelda hanging about behind him.

  “Goodbye,” Holly dutifully called out. “We’re heading home while the going’s good.”

  “The forecast doesn’t show any further rain on the way,” Aidan said.

  “It didn’t show this storm approaching, either.” Holly shifted her weight from foot to foot as she stood by her sedan door. What was the normal etiquette here? All Holly wanted was to get home.

  “Hey,” a man said walking out of the front door. His trouser legs were stained with juice.

  He grabbed at Elvira’s shoulder and spun her around. “You were seated at one of the rear tables with your friends, right? Care to tell me how all the wine glasses were filled up with juice and then turned upside-down? Look at me!”

  He swept his hand across the stained pants leg, his lip curling in disgust.

  “That was me,” Esmerelda said, stepping between Elvira and the man. “I was teaching the girls about the miracles of physics. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Yeah, I have a problem. It’s called a dry-cleaning bill.”

  Esmerelda gave a short bark of laughter. “Well, nobody told you to lift the glasses off the table, did they? If you tried to move them and made a mess, that’s not on my granddaughter or on me. All right?”

  When he didn’t answer immediately, she shoved her face so close to the man’s that he took a step back, his shoulders softening in defeat. “Okay,” he said, raising his hands palms-out. “I just got a bit heated.”