Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) (14 page)

I nod and decide I need to change the topic of conversation, and Stella’s engagement is a far better thing to discuss than my troubles. I admire her ring and instantly my mind flashes back to the ring I thought would forever sparkle on my own finger. Nestled in its red velvet box. A beautifully elegant ring. But it wasn’t to be. Forget about that, I tell myself and instead focus on Stella and her exciting news.

“So, when’s the big day then?”

“Next year. In July!” Stella says, her face lighting up. “I wanted to ask you to be my bridesmaid. Will you?”

“Of course! I’d be delighted. Have you chosen a venue?”

“Not yet. We haven’t even decided which country! I could fancy somewhere hot and sunny.” Stella laughs. “Right now though, I’m still getting my head around David making a decent woman of me at last.”

David shakes his head, mock serious. “Impossible. It’s far too late for that!”

Stella hits him playfully on the arm. “Cheeky!” Turning her attention back to me she continues, “We don’t know whether to go for a hotel in London, a church in Cumbria or venture overseas. Cyprus or the Caribbean would be brilliant.”

I force myself not to wince at the prospect of them choosing the Caribbean. Yes, gorgeous white beaches and blue skies would be amazing, but the price of flights and accommodation will be eye-watering, and my bank account doesn’t stretch to such things these days.

She shrugs. “Anyway, that’s why we’re here in Cumbria, to tell my parents the news and get a feel for where they’d like us to have the ceremony.”

I’m sure Stella already knows the answer to that question. They would opt for a church in Cumbria, no doubt about it. Then a terrifying thought occurs to me. What if I’m not available to attend my best friend’s wedding, wherever it’s held? What if I’m locked away in prison by then? I gulp and push down the now far too familiar wave of nausea which invariably accompanies these terrifying moments.

“I’m so happy for you both. Really I am. The two of you are perfect together. So what about my outfit then? Are you going to put me in a hideous lime green puffy bridesmaid’s outfit as tradition dictates?” I say, trying to lighten my mood.

“Never!” Stella retorts, looking horrified. “Actually, I’ve already seen the dress I’d quite like you to wear; it’s a rich purple colour, simple lines, really elegant. It will go perfectly with your peach perfect skin and golden blonde hair. It’s just a bodice and a long straight skirt. What do you think?”

I smile. “It sounds beautiful. Not sure I’ll do it justice, but I’ll give it my best. Might even clean the dirt from under my fingernails. After all, it is a special occasion.”

“Oh, don’t worry, what are a few grubby nails amongst friends!” Stella laughs. “We’re not fussed are we, David?”

David doesn’t reply. I sense he’s mentally switched off from our wedding talk.

“So, what about a fitting? Shall I come to London to try the dress on?” I’m not overly keen on the idea of returning to London, but of course I will, for Stella.

She waves a hand of dismissal. “Oh, not sure yet. We’ll sort something out soon.”

“Just let me know where and when. Now, shall I show you guys up to your room?”

The bedroom I’d chosen to give a makeover to in honour of Stella and David’s arrival is at the front of the house and the windows – now thankfully devoid of their cobwebs and grime – frame the spectacular view of Eskdale Fell wonderfully. It used to be my aunt and uncle’s room. It’s the biggest bedroom, with the best view, but I couldn’t bring myself to move in here so I opted for the spare room for myself.  Now, after its revamp, the original wide floorboards are swept and laid with the gold and deep burgundy rug I’ve pinched from my own room. The fresh cream bedlinen is dressed with a dark red fleece blanket and a large wicker chest stands at the bedside to act as a table. The room looks simple but welcoming, or so I hope.

“It’s gorgeous, thanks ever so much,” Stella says, giving me yet another hug. “So, can I come to the village store with you now? I’m itching to take a look around the area. Plus, you can tell me all about this guy you fancy!”

Hmm. Stella’s very persistent about things when she wants to be. In an attempt to try to steer the conversation away from Jack, I fill Stella in on the campaign to save the village store so that by the time we tootle through Amswick she’s thoroughly up to date on local goings on. There are several cars parked outside the store so I find a space further along the lane and lock Daisy.

“I miss the scenery up here,” Stella says with a heartfelt sigh as we stroll down the road, taking in our surroundings. She stops and lifts her eyes towards the top of the Green Beck Fell which dominates the village. “It’s stunning.”

“I was born here, have lived here for months and yet I still feel like a tourist, stopping to admire the views,” I say as I slip my arm through hers. I’ve so missed Stella.

Several people pass us and nod, smiling and saying hello. Maybe the previous air of apprehension and tension in the village has dissipated somewhat now. People are moving on with their lives, back to going about their daily business. The house next door to the store is clothed in a rambling rose which has long since finished flowering but the property’s front garden is a riot of seasonal colour. Yes, things do somehow seem more cheerful in Amswick today.

We head into the village store, find everything on the list and arrive back at Eskdale in less than an hour. Brenda wasn’t around. Wendy from a nearby village was behind the counter at the shop so we were done and sorted in speedy time. No chatting about the campaign or updates about the planning status. By the time Daisy is bumping down the track, back to Eskdale and to David, who opted not to join us on our trip, it’s looking like rain is heading in again across the fells. I load up Daisy in the barn with David’s help, hopeful of delivering my fresh supplies to customers before the brewing storm arrives. Stella says she’ll head off with David to see her parents while I’m out, so I don’t feel too guilty about abandoning my guests. There aren’t many establishments to drop things off with today, anyway. I’m still trying to build up my customer list, spreading the word, leaving flyers with whoever will take them, but progress is slow. I need the wages from my job at the Veggies to help pay the bills, and I don’t know when the restaurant will be allowed to open again. Maybe I’ll get a call later updating me. Though I’ll have mixed feelings about working there again, needs must. I haven’t heard anything from Jack yet today either. I’ll give him a ring later or perhaps call in at Frazer’s farm on my way home and see if he’s around. I push aside thoughts of the investigation and continue with my deliveries. Thankfully all my customers seem pleased to see me
and
my fresh produce. A part of me had worried people might cancel their orders or be a bit off with me, bearing in mind the rumours circulating about my possible involvement with Armand’s demise.

Soon, I’m heading back to Eskdale and decide to call at the farm in search of Jack and to check up on how Emma is doing now she’s back home. As I pull into the yard I’m careful to avoid the huge piles of cow muck dotted about, remembering Jack’s warning from before. Climbing from Daisy I make a beeline for the farmhouse.

Emma opens the door and beams a warm smile at me. She’s dressed in maternity leggings and a pretty floral smock, her cropped blonde hair perfectly framing her delicate features. “Lizzie, lovie! What a welcome surprise, come inside. I hope you can join me for a tea or coffee. I’m going stir crazy being cooped up inside and told to rest all the time!”

“I’d love a coffee, thanks. The weather seems to have taken a turn for the worst this afternoon. It’s starting to feel more like winter than September.” I follow her into the welcoming and deliciously cosy kitchen. She bustles around - well, as much as somebody eight and a half months pregnant can bustle - and makes us both a drink, placing a perfectly risen and beautifully decorated Victoria sponge cake on the table in front of me. I have cake envy. Why doesn’t my baking turn out like that?

“The cake is fresh. I made it earlier.” She shoots me a conspiratorial look. “I’m so bored. This sitting around and putting my feet up business, it just isn’t me at all. The boys are making such a fuss, not letting me do anything. I was glad when they both went off to the fields, out of my way.”

She sets a mug of coffee on the table. The kitchen at Wellbeck Farm has a lived-in feel to it. It’s similar to my own up at Eskdale, just in better shape. The Aga is bright red, matching the quarry floor tiles, and there’s a beautiful old pine dresser in one corner of the room, its shelves groaning under the weight of a matching dinner set, mugs and teapot. The whole thing screams chaotic but much-loved family home.

“So, how are you feeling? Besides being bored.”

“I’m fine. I just want to have this baby, get my other babies back from their grandparents and get life back to normal. Well, as close to normal as you can get with a new born baby on the premises,” she adds with a chuckle.

“You must miss them all,” I say, quickly realising how stupid that sounds.

Emma takes a seat in an armchair and lifts her legs onto a footstool. “I do, but enough about that. I want to talk about the exciting goings on around here. Right, lovie, what’s the latest on who killed Armand?” she asks eagerly. “I’m desperate for gossip.”

“Well, the Veggies is still closed for business,” I reply tentatively. Is she supposed to be talking about murders? What about her blood pressure? “The police are continuing with the investigations,” I add, hoping she’ll be happy with that.

“Pah!” Emma flaps a hand in dismissal. “That’s what they say when they don’t want to tell people the good stuff. All of this continuing with their investigations business. If you don’t mind me saying so, I’d heard you were the last one to see him that night. Must be pretty scary for you.”

I nod and force a smile. “Yeah, it is. The police even have me on their suspects list.”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself about that. Jack will sort you out. He’s helping find the killer, isn’t he? He’ll have this case done and sorted well before the police do, mark my words.”

I nibble on the generous slice of cake. It’s delicious. The sponge as light as the proverbial feather and the blackberry jam sharp and oozing from between the layers. The jam is, I have no doubt, homemade from the berries on the bushes dotted amongst the hedgerows around the fields of the farm. “So, Jack is good at his job then?”

Emma finishes her own slice of cake and nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes, very much so. One of the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency’s top guys – or so he claims!”

“You don’t know why he’s suspended from duty, do you?” I ask, fidgeting in my seat. I’m still not sure I want to know why, but the curiosity is getting to me a little. Well, a lot actually.

“No idea, lovie,” Emma replies, trying to get comfortable in her own chair. “With Jack, I find it’s better not to ask.”

“Frazer said pretty much the same thing.”

“We love him dearly, but Jack can be a bit of a rogue at times. He’s brilliant around the farm though so I’m just grateful his suspension coincided with Frazer needing some extra help around this place. The kids love him too. Their fun Uncle Jack is always good for getting them up to mischief. Then he takes all the blame and they get off scot free!”

“Actually, as well as seeing how you were, I was hoping to see Jack too.”

Emma flashes me a cheeky smile and raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Oh, not like that!” I say, blushing. “I meant I wanted to speak to him about the investigation, to see if there was any further news.”

She nods solemnly. “Well, he’s around somewhere on the farm but goodness knows where or how long it will be before he appears at the farmhouse.”

“Right. I suppose I’d better get back to Eskdale anyway.” I stand up and pull on my coat. “Thanks for the coffee and for the cake but I really should get going. I’ve got some friends staying and they’ll be back at Eskdale by now. You take care.”

“Ah, as if I could do anything else with the men around here fussing over me.”

Pushing open the back door I leap back as it collides with something solid.

“Ouch!”

Gingerly I peer around it to find a rain sodden Jack clutching at his nose. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”  I stand back, mortified, and let him inside. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Well, I admit I’m seeing stars a bit at the moment but I’ll be OK.” He lightly rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’ve survived worse.”

Of course he has. The fading black eye and scars are testament to that fact.

Emma heaves herself to her feet. “I’ll get you some ice.”

“No. I can manage.” Jack heads for the fridge freezer in the corner of the farmhouse kitchen. “You put your feet back up.”

Sighing, Emma does just that. “Lizzie called to see you.”

He shoots me an appraising look as he presses an icepack wrapped in a tea towel to the side of his nose.

“About the investigation,” I hastily add. “I wondered if there was any news.”

“I was going to call up at Eskdale tonight to suggest we go and pay a visit to this Vanessa, see if she’s the waitress who told the police about your little incident with Armand behind the dumpster.”

“What incident?” Emma asks, leaning forward eagerly, her eyes flashing with curiosity. “What happened?”