Murder in the Cake: Cozy Murder Mystery (Harley Hill Mysteries Book 4) (16 page)

“And then it was happy ever after?”

His face darkened. “By the very fact you’re asking that question, you know it wasn’t.” Using his handkerchief, he dusted one of the awards. It was a big chunk of glass, very similar to the one in Henry Renholm’s restaurant.

“So what happened next?”

“Don’t play games with me. You know very well that Henry Renholm opened his mediocre bistro near here and somehow cheated his way to winning the Small Business of the Year Award, twice! Damn the man. I’d won it the year before he opened up and should have won it again.”

Just then there was a knock at the door. It opened a crack and a young waiter stuck his head inside. He opened his mouth to say something, but Farquar was in full flow and not happy about the interruption.

“How dare you disturb me? Can’t you see that I’m busy? Get out, you idiot, get out!” He shouted so loud that I almost jumped out of my seat. The door closed quickly. “Now, where were we, Miss. Hill?”

“You were telling me how Renholm robbed you of the Small Business of the Year Award.”

Farquar twisted the handkerchief like he was trying to wring a chicken’s neck. “He has some very influential friends. Although I can’t prove it, I know he used undue influence to win the award. It should have been mine, do you hear?”

I was feeling a little uncomfortable being alone in a room with someone who had a terrible temper and who might be a killer, but I was confident I could move a lot faster than him if I had to. As I checked possible escape routes, I happened to glance at the painting behind the desk. The glass reflected the laptop screen.

“If that’s true, why didn’t you register a complaint?”

He saw the direction of my gaze and went over to the desk. I stifled a laugh as I watched him try to shut down the laptop and completely fail to do so, despite hitting almost every key. Eventually he gave up and slammed the lid.
 

“Damn machines. My assistant, Miss Grey, insists that we need one, but I’ll never understand them. As to making a complaint, I did, several, but to no avail.” He wagged his finger at me. “The system is corrupt, I tell you. The bistro mafia runs it. I could… I could…”

“Kill them?”

“No.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. I was here when Renholm killed himself. Ask my assistant, ask Miss Grey, she can vouch for my whereabouts when Renholm was killed.”

“Killed? I thought you said he committed suicide? Tell me, do you like tapioca, Mr. Farquar?”

Farquar looked confused. Either he was a really good actor or my question genuinely stumped him. I just wasn’t sure which. If only I had sleuthing super powers—or Monty with me.
 

“Tapioca? What the devil are you talking about, girl?”

“Oh, you know, I’m just making small talk.” I smiled.
 

“Well, in that case, I think we’re done here,” he said coldly and gestured to the door. “Please, rejoin your party and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

I got up and headed to the door.
 

“Oh, and Miss Hill, after tonight consider yourself barred from Farquar’s Emporium—for life.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Farquar,” I said without batting an eyelid. “I’ll probably need to speak to you again at some point. Oh, and FYI, rock clubs are more my scene. I find all this dressing up and watching puppets a little dull.” I winked and left.

***

After my little tête-à-tête with Mr. Angry, I headed straight to the bar. I was tempted to have a stiff drink, to help me digest all the new information I’d discovered.
 

One thing I knew for certain was that the pieces of this murderous little puzzle were starting to fall into place, but I couldn’t quite see the whole picture yet.
 

Standing at the bar and surrounded by a group of drooling fans was the stunning puppeteer, Scarlet Grainger. She was sipping a martini and laughing at unfunny jokes.

She delicately dabbed the corner of her mouth with the tip of her finger while giving me the once-over.
 

I noted that she was wearing red satin gloves that matched her shimmering gown and the colour of her fiery locks.
 

As she lowered her hand, her glove slipped and I noticed there was a burn on her wrist. The puckered flesh was faded, indicating it was quite an old injury, but it must have been pretty nasty to leave such a bad scar.

Instead of a stiff drink, I was a good girl and ordered a glass of soda water and lime. There was something niggling at the back of my mind, but I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
 

I blamed my fuzzy brain on the champagne we’d enjoyed earlier. It was very unprofessional of me to drink when I was supposed to be working, but I’d got caught up in the moment and I was so happy to see Cole I let myself go.
 

“What would Sam Spade say?” I whispered to myself.
 

Annoyed, I headed back to our table.
 

I didn’t think I’d been gone that long. I could spend ages in the ladies when I needed to fix my hair or do my make-up, but nevertheless, when I saw the others, I could see that they were worried.
 

Cole and Michael visibly relaxed when Cordi pointed me out to them as I made my way between the tables.
 

She waved and I waved back, almost hitting a woman who stood up just at that precise moment.

“Oh, I am—” I was about to apologise when I realized that the woman I’d almost slapped was none other than Lady Jana Kessingworth, and she wasn’t alone. “Oh, hello there, your ladyship.” I smiled. “Who’s your friend?”

Kessingworth turned as white as a sheet. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “I don’t know him.”
 

Despite his attempt to casually hide his face behind a menu, the guy sitting at the table looked visibly hurt at that.
 

I knew I recognised him from somewhere, I just couldn’t think where it was.
 

One thing was certain: the guy, who had a tattooed neck and was wearing an earring, wasn’t her noble fiancé.

“Are you sure, Lady Kessingworth? Only, you were sitting right next to him…”

Kessingworth wasn’t sticking around to chat. She rushed to the exit without as much as a second glance. I was too tired to go after her, and besides, I had enough to think about after my interview with Farquar. I headed over to our table and sat down.

“Was that…?” Cordi said.

“Yes, it was.”

Cordi drained her glass. “How very interesting. Now, where on earth have you been, Harley dear? I went to the ladies’, but I couldn’t see you anywhere.”

“Give me a chance to gather my thoughts and I’ll tell you all about my little adventure.”

Cole reached across the table, putting his hand on mine. A tingle ran down my spine. “I was worried about you,” he said.

I smiled. “Hey, you know me.”

“Exactly.” He leaned over and kissed me. “That’s why I was worried.”

***

On the way home in the taxi, I told them about my conversation with Farquar.

“I don’t want to tell you what to do, Harley,” Michael said, which made it a sure bet that he was about to tell me what to do. “But next time, please don’t go off like that without telling anyone. Farquar could be a killer.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Mike,” I said. He looked hurt, so I added, “But I appreciate your concern, bro.”

Cole folded his arms and gave me his best serious copper look. “He is right, though, babe. You should never go on a job without backup.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” I said, and rested my head on his shoulder.
 

He sighed. “Stop being cute when I’m trying to be stern with you.”

“Sorry, darling, but I can’t help it. You look so handsome when you’re being stern.”

Cordi, who up until that moment had been half asleep, woke up with a start and blinked like a slightly drunken owl. “But what was Lady Kessingworth doing there with the waiter?” she said and then promptly fell back asleep.

“That’s it!” I said to a sleeping Cordi. Cole and Michael looked at each other, clearly confused. “I have the best sleuthing partner in the world.”

Cole threw his hands in the air. “Okay, I’ll bite. What on earth are you two on about?”

“The man Lady Kessingworth said she wasn’t with? He was a waiter at Café H. I recognize him from the photographs on the café wall.”

“You mean…?”

I nodded. “Lady Kessingworth was probably cheating on poor, old Henry Renholm and is still cheating on her fiancé, Prince Charming.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asked.

“No, but I intend to find out, and I’m also going to investigate Farquar’s alibi and speak to his assistant, Miss Grey.”

“Wonderful idea,” Cordi mumbled in her sleep.

“I can’t wait to find out what Lady Jana has to say for herself.”

“Sounds like you’re going to be a busy girl,” Cole said. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, thanks. Cordi, Mike, and I can handle this. You get on with what you have to do with your day job.”

“Right you are, boss,” he said, and put his arm around me as the taxi crawled through the crowded, dark streets of London.

I snuggled close to Cole. “Boss, eh? I like the sound of that.”

Chapter Eighteen

Cole stayed the night, but when I woke up the next morning at around 9:00 a.m., he’d gone. In his place was a fat grey cat.
 

Monty pawed at my head until I gave in and got up.
 

When I passed Cordi’s bedroom door, I noticed it was closed.
 

Monty
merped
at me.
 

“Oh, I see, because you couldn’t bug Cordi, you decided to bug me, huh?”

He
merped
again before trotting off downstairs. I followed him into the kitchen, where he impatiently paced back and forth by his food bowl.
 

Still half asleep, I fed him.
 

Sensing breakfast was in the offing, Max wandered in from the living room, followed by Cleo, who had a bit of a hissing competition with Monty before tucking into her kibble.

“This place is like a zoo. Does anyone mind if I eat something now?” I said.

None of the animals bothered to stop eating long enough to tell me their thoughts on the matter.
 

I fixed myself a three-egg omelette with crispy bacon and put on a pot of fresh roast coffee. I made sure to make extra because I knew the smell of coffee brewing would lure my partner out of bed.
 

Sure enough, as I was about to dig in to my breakfast, Cordi wandered into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you stop me?” she said as she stumbled over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of black gold.

“Why didn’t I stop you what?” I asked between mouthfuls of breakfast.

“Drinking all that champagne. I feel like I’ve been shot in the head.”

“I recall at one point last night you declared that only a fool would try to come between a woman and a glass of fizz.”

She sat down next to me. “Drunk me is an idiot. In future I order you not to listen to drunk me.”
 

“I’ll remember you said that. How’s Michael?”

“Sleeping like a baby. I thought it best to leave him.” She grinned from over the rim of her coffee cup. “Poor darling was up late last night.”

I had to laugh. “You guys. You’re worse than a couple of lovesick teens.”

“I know, marvellous, isn’t it? But then, you and Cole seemed to be…
awake
for quite some time after we got back, either that or you were having some very vivid dreams.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Miss Silvers,” I said with an almost straight face.

“Night-time manoeuvres aside, what’s the plan for today, Harley? I vaguely recall you mentioning something about checking alibis.”

“Yeah, I need to track down that waiter that Jana was with, the one who worked at Café H.”

“You’ll need to check the company’s records, which were probably on that computer the police confiscated.”

“I’ll check the disc Alex, er, our police contact gave us.”

Cordi’s face darkened. “My head is killing me.”

“Why don’t you take a couple of painkillers and go back to bed for a bit.”

“But you need my help.”

“It’s okay, I’ll manage. I’m feeling like I’m on a roll with this case.”

***

After Cordi staggered back to bed, I went to the office and booted up the disk Alex had given me.
 

It didn’t take long to find the name and address of the waiter. His name was Rick Drake and there was an address for him near Camden Lock. I checked it out on Google Street View. It was above a motorbike repair shop.
 

I was going to need backup.

Sitting back, I put my arms behind my head. Monty jumped up onto the desk and decided that the computer keyboard was the perfect place for him to sit. “So, Monty, who should I call, Cole or Alex?”

Monty didn’t answer as such. He just padded around on the keyboard. The letter A scrolled across the screen.

“Okay, furball, Alex it is.”

***

I called Alex and told him that I needed some backup going to see the waiter.
 

He didn’t hesitate and offered to go with me straightaway. I arranged to meet him near the place. I didn’t tell Cordi. I felt a little guilty, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

The garage was in an area of Camden called Chalk Farm. It was a cool area, becoming more gentrified by the year, but still retained a bit of edginess.
 

Now that we had some income, I was able to get a cab to the place. I got out and waited at the end of the street where I’d arranged to meet Alex. Half an hour later than we were supposed to meet, I gave up on him. I should have known better than to rely on Alex Cobb.
 

The bike shop was next to a hairdresser. There were lots of shiny motorbikes parked up outside and in the window.
 

As well as huge hogs and Japanese sport bikes, it sold cute little scooters tricked out for the girl about town. Scooters and mopeds weren’t my cup of tea; when I was in Tokyo hanging with my hacker friends, I had a 250cc motorbike.