Murder At The Bake Off (Celebrity Mysteries 3) (18 page)

“Nice?” Esme chips in. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, it kind of was as far as Poppy was concerned,” Lottie replies with a look of regret. “Poor Poppy didn’t have much luck with the guys. She always chose the losers. She wanted to be the one to help them turn their lives around. I was always there for her though, no matter how many scumbags broke her heart. I was her shoulder to cry on.”

“So, you must have been surprised when she got involved with a famous rock star,” Esme edges. “It looked as though her luck had changed at last.”

Lottie sighs. “I hoped that was the case but, I have to confess, I didn’t see things lasting with Taylor.” She leans forward and lowers her voice, though I’m not sure who she’s doing it for. The marquee is empty except for the six of us and we’re all sat close together. “Let’s be honest, he’s
waaaay
out of her league. When she told me she was seeing him I thought she was making it up.”

“And why would she do that?” Mitch quizzes, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, I tend to do pretty well with the men,” she says, flicking a wave of hair back over her shoulder. “And I thought she might be jealous of me. I’d been seeing a few guys at the same time, nothing serious. They were all wealthy, handsome and successful. I wondered if she’d got fed up of being in my shadows as far as dating was concerned so she’d gone and invented a famous boyfriend.”

“But then you met Taylor and knew he was a real boyfriend, not a fake one,” I say.

She nods. “Yes. I was amazed but I thought, well, good for her. She deserves a decent guy in her life, at last.”

“We were worried Taylor would soon get bored with dating, you know, a
regular
woman,” Deedee chips in, setting her empty glass on the table.

“What do you mean by a
regular
woman?” I clarify.

Fidgeting a little in her chair and looking a touch uncomfortable, she replies, “As a rock musician he must be used to glamorous women - actresses, models, socialites. Let’s face it, Poppy is far from any of those things.”

Deedee has a slightly irritating squeaky voice. She’s bordering on the anorexic side of slim and is even paler than Esme. I do my agency visual check on her. Black hair. Blue eyes. A sapphire engagement ring on her finger.

“Will you excuse me?” Connie says, getting unsteadily to her feet. “I think I need to use the ladies’ room.”

As she hobbles away, almost colliding with the table the possibly faux cake is sitting on, Lottie says, “If you’re looking for a kidnapper amongst the wedding party then I’d put Connie on your list.”

“Oh? Why would that be?” Mitch asks.

“Connie and Poppy work together. They both went up for a big promotion a month or so ago. Poppy got the job, a huge pay rise and major recognition. Connie was not a happy bunny.”

“So you think she kidnapped her moments before she was due to get married as some kind of revenge?” I ask.

“I’m not saying that’s what happened,” Lottie edges. “I’m just saying Connie was really mad about losing out.”

“I think I’ll go and check on Connie, make sure she’s OK,” Deedee says, standing up. “She looked a little shaky when she left. She might be throwing up in the ladies’ or something.”

Mitch pushes to his feet. “And on that note, I think we’ll leave the questioning for now. We’ll catch up with Connie later.”

Time now: 19:45

Time to deadline: 22 hours and 15 minutes

Once we’re in the hotel’s staff quarters again I realise how hungry I am. The same thought must have occurred to Mitch as he leans against the huge pine table in the kitchen and asks, “Can either of you two cook? I’m starving.”

“What?
WHAT?
Just because we’re women you expect us to cook a meal for you? Are you from the Dark Ages or something?” Esme explodes.

Mitch shrugs. “I’ll take that as a no then, shall I?”

“It’s a no,” Esme and I both chorus together. My culinary abilities are passable but whether I can cook or not is beside the point. I’m not making this Neanderthal a meal anytime soon. Unless he orders me to, which, as the special agent in charge of this investigation, technically he
could
do. And, as the trainee support officer desperate for a job, I’d probably have to comply.

“You’re useless,” he mutters, stomping out of the room.

“Is he for real?” Esme asks, shaking her head. “OK, under duress, I would admit he’s pretty sexy. He’s got that whole smouldering eyes thing going on.” She fiddles with a strand of hair and I think I spot a hint of flushed cheeks about her.

Does she
fancy
Mitch? Surely not. All they do is bicker. But then it wouldn’t be the first time a girl fell for a CCIA agent.

Ahem.

“But when it comes to personality he’s not doing himself any favours,” she continues. “Please tell me all the CCIA agents aren’t like him.”

“I’ve only come across a few of them, one of whom I know very well.” My cheeks grow warm at the memory of just how well I know Charlie. I clear my throat and push such thoughts, lovely as they are, aside. “Thankfully, the ones I know are nothing like Mitch.”

“Oh, tell me more,” she says with an eager grin, rubbing her hands together. “You blushed and looked all distracted, does that mean you’re involved with one of these agents you know?”

I nod shyly. “Yes, it does. He’s the one who got me into doing this support officer training. I ended up helping him out on an investigation and he thought I’d be good at the job and the next thing… well, here I am.”

“What’s his name?” she asks.

“Charlie Huxton,” I reply, wondering if I should be telling her this. I’m still a little nervous about the whole trying-to-get-a-job-at-the-place-my-boyfriend-works scenario.

“Not come across him yet. To be honest I’ve only really met the woman who’s been my mentor. Liza McIntyre. She’s great. Been with the agency for over ten years. She did warn me there might be some chauvinists in the bunch who think that a female support officer means they get all their admin sorted and their meals cooked. Looks like Mitch falls firmly in to that category. I do love a challenge though.” Veering off at a tangent she asks, “Are you hungry as well?”

“Very,” I reply, as I start opening cupboards in search of food. “There’s some dried pasta in here. Maybe we could make something with that?”

Esme opens the fridge and sifts through its contents. “Olives. Mozzarella. Garlic. I think we have the makings of a decent meal here. Pasta it is. Let’s get started.”

As I chop onions, she fills a pan with water and places it on the hob. “Plus, there’s the added bonus that we’ll both stink of garlic which will no doubt irritate our Lord and Master even more!” she says with a chuckle. “So, tell me all about this Charlie of yours.”

“Well, he was sent to Derbyshire, where I live, to investigate when the brother of an actor was murdered. I knew the actor and he asked me to keep an eye on Charlie throughout the investigation and…”

“You did much more than keep an eye on him, huh?” she says, nudging my arm playfully.

“Something like that, just far more complicated. Anyway, I ended up helping out on the case and we got involved. Before he was sent off on his next assignment he suggested I might want to look into working for the agency.”

Tipping the pasta into the boiling water, Esme asks, “Is he away a lot? You know, with his agency work? He must get sent all over the world. To be honest, that’s a part of the appeal for me with applying for this job. I was bored of sitting behind a desk all day and wanted a career that was more of a challenge.”

“What did you used to do?”

“I was part of a marketing team for a big company producing snack foods. Quite a jump from that to traveling the world and rubbing elbows with celebrities, don’t you reckon? So, how long is it since you’ve seen your Charlie then?”

I sigh. “Almost two weeks. Somehow we’ve managed to meet up a couple of times during these past few months, when he’s had a brief break between cases and my agency training has allowed.”

“So where is he now?” she asks, taking a seat at the table while we wait for our dinner to cook.

I shrug. “I don’t know. That’s the thing with agency work. He’s not really allowed to tell me any details about his cases. Where he is, or what he’s working on. If I pass this assignment and get to work for the CCIA I hope we’ll get assigned to work together, at least some of the time, which will make things easier all round.”

“But he’s not the only reason you’re applying to work for the agency, right?” Esme asks with a frown.

I shake my head. “No, not at all. I used to be an admin assistant at the local paper and make up the horoscopes. When I wasn’t doing that I worked part-time in the village pub. I loved my life but when I got involved in the murder investigation well, I found I loved doing that kind of work more. It’s scary and exciting and challenging. I know it’ll mean working in difficult circumstances but it’s hugely satisfying when you’ve helped to capture the bad guy.”

“Yeah, it must be.” She nods. “You’re lucky, getting to sample life in this field, helping out on that case you mentioned, before working with the agency properly. Plus, you know an agent, so you’ve got a real feel for the lifestyle and the demands of the job. I can’t wait to get started on my first proper case. I
have
to pass this assignment and get offered a job. My bank account is looking very sad indeed. Even though we get a basic allowance to help towards living expenses while we’re training with the agency, it doesn’t stretch very far, does it? I seriously need a job and some decent income at the end of all this.”

“Me too, and not only because of my finances. I’m not sure I could go back to the life I used to have. I want to be out there working on cases.” I get to my feet to check the pasta and a thought pops into my head. “You don’t think Mitch might be up to something while we’re here cooking ourselves dinner, do you?”

Esme turns to face me. “Wouldn’t put it past him. We are on a tight deadline here. Perhaps
we
shouldn’t be sitting here making food. Even if we are starving.” She casts a look of longing at the hob of the cooker, where our meal is almost ready. “So, do we have to ditch this delicious smelling food and go investigate or what?”

I turn off the cooker. “I suppose we’d better put food on hold and go and see what he’s up to, just in case. I get the feeling he’s not a team player and he seems pretty keen to keep both of us out of the loop on this investigation.”

“Yeah, the only thing he wants us for is to cook his dinner and there’s no way I was about to let that happen. No matter how much I want this job!” She pushes to her feet. “Where shall we start? The marina? He could have gone back down there.”

I nod. “Sounds like as good a place to start as any. Let’s head back to the marina. Even if he’s not there, we could have a bit of a rifle around on our own without Mitch dishing out orders. See if we can find anything useful.”

“You’re on!”

Time now: 20.30

Time to deadline – 21 hours and 30 minutes

Esme and I crouch behind some trees close to the wooden docks of the hotel’s marina. The smell of damp leaves and fungi assaults my nostrils and makes me want to sneeze. I put a hand over my mouth just in case, to stave off any sneezes which might give away the fact we’re following Mitch.

“How much trouble do you reckon we’ll get into for ditching Mitch and going it alone?” I say, as we debate our next move. “Whoever is running this assignment must be watching all of us. They’ll know we’re doing this.”

“Yeah, they’ll also know that Mitch isn’t being a team player and including us properly in this investigation, so who can blame us for striking out on our own? We both need to prove our value to the agency and we’re not going to be able to do that with the methods Mitch is employing for this investigation, are we?”

A loud thud gets our attention back on the reason we’re lurking in the bushes on a cold and dark autumn evening. Where did that noise come from? One of the islands? One of the boats? Just then, Mitch appears around the edge of a boat which wasn’t moored up here when we made our earlier visit. We hold our breath, watch and wait. He hops off the deck of the boat and sprints across the dock, back towards the edge of the woods where Esme and I are hiding. At the last moment, he detours away from the path back up to the hotel and instead heads down the same wooden jetty we’d visited earlier. Is he going to pay another visit to the three boats we checked out before?

He reaches the battered blue boat which looked as though it had seen better days and steps softly onto its deck before disappearing out of site behind its wooden cabin.

“Now what?” I whisper to Esme. “If we try to get a better look there’s nothing to hide behind and he’ll spot us.”

“True. Let’s give him a few minutes. He might not be able to get into the boat anyway.”

I think of the breaking and entering skills Charlie demonstrated when I ended up helping him track down a murderer in my home town several months ago.

I bet Mitch
can
manage to find a way into the boat. He is a special agent, after all.