Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) (22 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

“What do you want?” I hiss into the phone as I swiftly exit the kitchen, moving away from Jack.

Adam’s voice is smooth and deep on the other end of the line. I used to love that voice. I used to love that man, too. “Lizzie, I’m worried for you. Caught up in the middle of this murder investigation and this campaign business to try to save the local store. You’ve still got a nose for trouble, I see.”

I bristle at his words. “Trouble found me before thanks to you,” I retort. “I didn’t go looking for it. And how do you know about me being involved with the murder investigation?”

“Lizzie, come on, I’m a journalist. It’s my job to know these things. I know I made a mistake in the past but I want to make it up it you now. I can be on the motorway and with you in less than six hours. We can talk about what went wrong between us, sort things out. You saw what I did for you, right? The article I wrote in the paper about this save the store campaign you’re doing.  Come on, I miss you, Lizzie.”

Actually, I realise, it’s a good thing that I took this call. It’s time to end this cycle of dread. It’s time to put this all behind me for good so I can move on with my new life.

“Well, I don’t miss you, Adam. It’s over between us. And, don’t forget I know you well enough to have figured out the real reason for this call. You’re just trying to get an exclusive from me for your precious newspaper. Well, forget it!” I jab trembling fingers at my phone, ending the call, and spin round abruptly to find Jack leaning against the doorway.

“So, that was the ex, huh? Does he want to try to patch things up between the two of you?” His tone is light, jovial almost, but the flicker of confusion in his eyes betrays his real emotions.

“There is no way on this earth that’s ever going to happen!” I snap, and then make myself breathe and calm down. “Sorry.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“So, do you want to tell me about why he was calling and what happened with you guys in London?”

I brush past Jack, heading for the kitchen again. “He’d found out I was involved in Armand’s murder investigation and he wanted me to give him the inside scoop on the story, that’s why he was calling. Not because he wanted me back.”

“OK.” He follows me into the room, his blue eyes intense and questioning. “And what did happen between the two of you before?”

I slip onto a chair at the dining table and stare at my hands. Here goes… “I was sorting through the back of a wardrobe at my ex-boyfriend’s flat. I’d lost some shoes and thought they might be hiding in the deep dark depths of his built-in wardrobe. Anyway, long story short, I found a shoebox. I opened it and found a jewellery box inside. I opened that box and found a beautiful diamond ring. I assumed it was an engagement ring for me. I tried to keep quiet and be patient, not wanting to spoil any big moment he’d got planned.”

I lift my eyes to Jack’s to see him fidgeting and looking irritated. Is that jealousy I see flashing in his eyes?

“So, I waited and waited and waited,” I continue. “My birthday came and went, and no proposal. Adam, my ex, is a journalist. A very ambitious journalist. He was tied up trying to get to the bottom of some big case. He was getting agitated and I thought it was the stress of it all. He was aiming for promotion and needed this story to help his cause. Maybe when he gets promoted he’ll propose, I told myself. I was supposed to meet him one night after work in a bar but he texted me to say he was running late and wouldn’t be able to make it. It wasn’t far from home so…” I pause, inwardly flinching at the memory of that night. I take a deep breath and, staring at my hands, rush to finish the story. “I decided to walk home rather than wait for a bus. I was attacked not far from the bar on a side street.”

Jack swears under his breath and reaches his hands across the table to clasp mine.

“That was bad enough, but it wasn’t a random mugging. They were after Adam. It was a warning to him to back off. They targeted me to get him to ditch the story he was working on. I was terrified. They pushed me to the floor. My elbow was bashed and bruised. They were wearing hats and scarves so I couldn’t see their faces. They threatened me. I was crying and oh…” I stop and wipe at my eyes. I don’t want to go through all of this. Jack doesn’t need me to spell out what an emotional wreck I was after the attack, he’ll know the state I was in.  “Anyway,” I press on, “I would have called the police straight away but as the attacker left me he said, ‘tell your boyfriend to forget what he knows on the story.’ Then they said they’d be back for me if he didn’t do as they wanted.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Jack says, getting to his feet and coming round the table to give me a fierce hug. “Will you do something for me?”

I nod but don’t say anything, my mouth is dry and my throat tight.

“One day, when you’re ready, I want you to come to London with me and point this Adam guy out to me.”

“Why?” I ask warily.

“Don’t worry about the why,” he replies, his eyes full of fire.

“Jack,” I caution. I know exactly what he’ll do if he ever meets Adam – and it won’t be very pretty.

“One day, Lizzie, please?”

“Maybe…” I say, a part of me quite liking the idea of Adam finally getting his comeuppance.

Jack nods. “That’s good enough, for now. And, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me all of this. I just wanted to know what had gone on before we got… well, before we got too involved.”

His words almost make it worth reliving that dreadful night, and offer me comfort and hope. He wants to get involved. I want to get involved. It surprises me – but I do. I wasn’t looking for love or a relationship but … well, it seems like they were looking for me.

“When Adam found out what had happened, he said he couldn’t back off from the story,” I continue. “It was too important to his career. That’s when I knew I was way down his list of priorities. In a fit of temper, I told him I’d never want his stupid ring anyway. He looked at me blankly and asked what ring. It turned out he had no intention of asking me to marry him. The ring had been given to him by his mother who had just divorced his dad. She didn’t want it, and his dad apparently wouldn’t take it back even though it was a family heirloom on his side. So, she gave it to Adam in the hope he might one day find the right girl, propose and put the ring on her finger.”

Jack gently kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

I force a smile. “It’s all in the past now. I have a whole new life I love, so in a weird kind of way, things worked out for the best.”

“You’ve also got me,” he says with a cheeky smile. “That’s if you want me.”

“I do, of course I do, but what about your work with the agency? You’ll have to leave Cumbria.”

“If they don’t fire me tomorrow when I go to HQ as summoned, then I’ll resign anyway. I’ve made up my mind. I’m passionate about what I do with the agency. I’ll go to any lengths to catch a killer and solve a case. Maybe, yeah, sometimes I do go too far. How can I do my job and remain detached though? If I have to bend the rules to get the job done, then I will. And, if they don’t like that, then maybe it’s time for me to move on.”

Ah. So the ‘something came up’ earlier wasn’t to do with the agency then.

“I think it’s time I got myself a new life too,” he continues. “The chief at the police station asked if I might be interested in doing some consultancy work for them. I’ve also got some leads on doing some freelance security work for a few hotels. The posh ones which have the celebrities staying with them all the time.”

I pull back and smile. “You mean be a bodyguard for them?”

“We prefer to call it private security agent.” He shrugs and grins. “But yeah, bodyguard.” We both burst out laughing.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he adds, “I think I’ve had enough travelling on investigations all over the world, living in hotels, my life in a suitcase. Plus, I’ve discovered Cumbria has a lot going for it these days. I can stick around and help Frazer on the farm. I can be Fun Uncle to my three nieces and nephews. I can wine and dine you. What do you think?”

“If that’s your way of asking if I want to be a part of your new life, then my answer is…” I plant a kiss on his lips and pull him close.

Very close.

And then the back door bursts open, abruptly ending our delicious kiss.

We both spin round to find Bryony standing in the kitchen.

A knife in her hands.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Jack pushes me behind him as Bryony storms into the room, brandishing the knife.

“You found out!” she yells at Jack. “I knew you were trouble!”

Found out what? I thought this was all over but now…

“Bryony, calm down,” Jack says, keeping his voice level and calm.

“Jack,” I screech, knowing
I
have zero chance of appearing calm. “What’s going on? What’s she talking about?”

“What? You mean you didn’t tell your little girlfriend?” Bryony hisses at us. Her eyes are blazing with anger and her lips are formed into a sneer.

“Tell me what?” I demand, my shoulders rigid, my whole body starting to tremble uncontrollably.

“Carl didn’t kill Armand. Bryony did,” Jack replies, his tone the kind you’d use to discuss the weather or what to have for dinner, not tell somebody that the crazy woman standing in their kitchen is a murderer.

“What? But the police, they arrested Carl! He confessed to it all,” I say, clutching anxiously at Jack’s arm.

“They got the wrong guy,” he replies.

“But…” my eyes dart around the room. What I’m frantically looking for, I have no idea.

“Stay behind me!” Jack whispers, leaning his head towards me slightly but not taking his eyes off of Bryony for even a second.

Some instinct makes me cower further behind Jack, but it isn’t only because I’m terrified. Out of sight of Bryony I edge my phone from the pocket of my jeans and dial the local police station. I crouch slightly, making it look as though I’m trying to hide, but it’s really to listen for when the call is answered. I hear a voice on the other end and thankfully manage to stifle my gasp of relief.

“The local police haven’t got a clue what they’re doing!” Bryony shouts. “Which is brilliant news for me. But then YOU had to go and get this agency guy involved. If he hadn’t have been around, then the police would have slung you in jail days ago. It was all working out perfectly.”

I take advantage of Bryony’s loud rant to whisper into the phone. “Eskdale Top. Help.”

Then I leave the line open, holding the phone up, behind Jack’s back, out of view, hoping and praying that the local constabulary can hear what is going on.

“They’d have figured it out soon enough,” Jack replies, keeping her talking even though he doesn’t know about the phone I’m holding behind him.

“Yeah, with your help!” she yells. “I couldn’t let that happen. I thought I’d get your girlfriend charged with murder for definite when I tried to hide the murder weapon here in the barn. I even had to wade into some tarn up on the fell road to retrieve it first from where I’d flung it under the water after I’d killed Armand. But then someone turned up here and got in the way! I thought I’d hide it and then planned the car accident, thinking it would look like suicide or that you were so consumed with guilt about what you’d done, killing your boss, that you weren’t concentrating and just drove right off the road!”

So there was a prowler here that night of the storm! The flashlight I spotted out in the barns was Bryony trying to hide the knife to try and frame me. Was it also her who tampered with Daisy’s brakes?  I’m certainly not about to ask her!

“Well, there won’t be any saving going on this time, because I’m going to dispose of both of you, right here, right now.”

“The police will just track you down and arrest you,” I chip in, earning myself a quick glare from Jack.

“Before you do kill me, I just want to know why you killed your husband,” Jack surprises me by saying. He’s so calm. I suppose that’s his agency training. How many other such life-threatening situations has he faced over the years?

I try to swallow, but my mouth and throat refuse to co-operate. Panic, fear, terror, they’re all here and rampaging away inside of me. I feel as though I’m about to explode. We
have
to do something! Even if the police understand my message and can actually hear what is going on here, then Bryony could still have time to murder both of us before they arrive at Eskdale.

She frowns at him. “Seriously? You want to talk?” Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, her cloak-like coat flying out behind her, the knife still in her hand, she eventually shrugs and then nods. “OK. Neither of you are going to be around long enough anyway to go telling to anyone else.”

Stopping by the dining table, she stares at us. “Well, of course you’ve figured out Carl was lying. He said he stabbed Armand but he was just trying to protect me.” A sickly smile spreads across her face. “You see, Carl and I were involved. He loves me. The fact I’m Armand’s wife, the man who beat him in the Culinary Cook Off competition, well, I think that probably added to the attraction for him. But, not to worry. I think we both had some, shall we say, ulterior motives for our relationship.”

“You always laid the blame for your sister’s death at Armand’s door,” Jacks states, the tone of his voice perfectly relaxed. “Yes, the two of you had grieved together but it was all a means to an eventual end for you, wasn’t it? It was all about wanting to keep him close, so that when the time was right, you’d take your revenge and end his life.”

“I knew what I was doing, yes. I’m an astute businesswoman and made sure to have my tentacles in all aspects of Armand’s life so I could have multiple ways to ruin him.” She peers at me, and my nerves ratchet up even further, though in the circumstances, I’d have thought that to be impossible. “The mysterious landlord of the village store you’ve been working so hard to save… is me! The stuff about change of use from a store to holiday lets was all a ruse. In reality, I wanted to set up a rival restaurant, run by Carl. With the fierce rivalry between Carl and Armand, I knew it would attract lots of publicity and customers. There would easily be enough interest and hype to get people flocking in. I also knew it would make Armand angry and belittle him and his efforts to support the campaign to save the store. That was a bonus. I have no use for the place now, though, so you can rest in peace on that front.”

“It’s OK.” Jack turns his head and whispers to me, as though he can read my mind and sense my frustration. Then, reaching a hand back, he grips one of my own in a reassuring squeeze.

I wish I could believe him. We seriously need to get out of here before Bryony flips out again and adds two more murders to her tally – ours!

“Obviously, you’re motivated by revenge and vindication for your sister’s death,” he says to Bryony. “And you’re not bothered whose lives you destroy in the process. Getting Carl to lie for you. Getting your parents to lie for you. They provided your alibi for the night Armand was murdered. You made your own parents lie for you. Were they a part of all of this? Did they know about your plan to exact revenge by killing Armand?”

“No!” she shouts, nostrils flaring, her eyes glaring at us. Placing the knife on the table for a moment, she runs both hands through her hair in the gesture of somebody close to losing their mind. “They’ve been through enough already with what happened to Bethany.” Seeing both of us looking at the knife, she adds, “Don’t even think about it! I can reach it much faster from here than you possibly could from all the way over there.”

“And how do you think they felt when they saw their only living daughter marry the man who was the reason Bethany died, hmm?” Jack continues unfazed. “Bethany would never have been in Australia or in that car if it wasn’t for him, right?”

“They understood,” Bryony says, her voice suddenly growing quiet but her tone still menacing as she picks up the knife again.

“I don’t think they did,” Jack says with a disapproving shake of his head.

What is he doing? He’s irritating her, and she’s mad enough as it is.

“How did you find out it was me?” she demands.

Jack shakes his head, a smile creasing his mouth in a conspiratorial way. “Sorry to break it to you, Bryony but at the end of the day there’s no way Carl will be formally charged with murder. He was at that cookery course at the hotel in Cumbria, like he said. His alibi checked out. He claimed he’d had time to get from the hotel to the Veggies on the night of the stabbing, but according to my own investigations, four independent witnesses spotted him in the bar at the hotel where he’d been teaching. They each said it was well past midnight. There’s no way he could have been at the Veggies at the time of death to kill Armand. Yeah, he’s got motive. He and Armand were fierce rivals from the cooking competition, so he probably thought people would have gone for it, but unfortunately the witnesses at the hotel mean his could-be-a-lie alibi turned into a cast iron alibi, which backfired on him and you. The police will be told about the witnesses and given their details. I’ve already arranged that with one of my contacts. So killing us won’t make any difference to the outcome for you. You’ll still be charged with murder and thrown into jail.”

“You’re bluffing,” she snorts. “And anyway, the fact witnesses can testify to Carl’s being elsewhere during the time of the murder doesn’t put me in the picture for Armand’s death.”

“It does when there’s evidence you were in Cumbria on the night of the murder, not in London like you claimed. You and your car are on CCTV footage getting petrol at a garage in Cumbria just thirty minutes after the time of death.”

She blanches slightly at his words but quickly recovers, waving her knife at us again, stepping closer. Advancing on her prey. “It still doesn’t make me a murderer, just a liar. I wondered if you knew something and what it was you knew when I saw you leave the police station. I was watching you. Those calls you made, I heard you talking. I heard what you said. I was hiding behind a gate at the side of the police station. They’d just let me go but warned me to stay in the area for now.”

Oh wow! So, when Jack stepped away from me saying there were some things he needed to sort, the messages and calls, they were all about Bryony.

“Why didn’t you turn around and walk straight back into the police station and tell them what you knew?” she demands.

“Because I hadn’t had everything confirmed at that stage. I needed some more pieces to be in place before I could prove it was you.”

Bryony tuts and shakes her head in mock disapproval. “And now it’s all too late. Such a shame!”

I need to do something, to stall her, in the vague hope that the police might actually be on their way. “Why now though?” I venture forward slightly and ask. Forcing my lips to form the words even though my mouth feels dry and wooden. “Yes, it was the anniversary of Bethany’s death but it’s been four years. You could have taken revenge on any of the previous years. Why this year?”

She glares at me. “Armand filing for divorce did it. I knew I needed to move fast if I wanted to bring him down. To exact the revenge I planned, we still needed to be married. So, it forced my hand to do something on this anniversary.” 

“You could have ruined him by going to the newspapers and TV people and telling how Armand’s girlfriend had died and made out he was somehow involved with it. That would have given him loads of bad publicity and could have ruined his reputation and his business.”

“Not enough,” she replies emphatically. “I wanted his death. I needed to take his life completely.”

“I’m surprised the rabid press hounds didn’t uncover the truth themselves, though, maybe at the height of his fame when he was on that reality TV show,” I plough on desperately. “They’re always looking to dig up dirt.”

“Ah, but everyone knew him as Armand Seville, not Michael. His name change was for more reasons than just being pretentious.” She waves the knife once more and takes another step towards us. “Enough with all of this talk and distraction. The time has come.” Pointing the knife at me she says, “You, move over towards me. Slowly. You’re first.”

Shaking my head I back away. NO! NO! NO!

“Leave her out of this,” Jack chips in, his voice actually anxious this time.

“Don’t be foolish! She knows as much as you do now! Come on, she’s first!”

She lunges towards us, and as I duck out of her way my phone clatters to the floor, momentarily distracting Bryony. But it’s enough… Jack grabs Bryony’s arm, holding the knife away from him, and propelling her backwards towards the kitchen table. When her thighs connect with the table behind her, she stumbles and Jack does another one of his Ninja-type manoeuvres, causing her to drop the knife before swiftly turning her around and securing her in an arm lock as she fights against him. What now? I don’t know whether to try and help Jack or fumble on the floor for my phone to call the police again or…

“Can you get something strong to tie her hands up with?” Jack asks me.

Bryony continues to struggle, but he holds her firm. I dart for the kitchen drawer where I keep scissors, tape, string, screwdrivers and other odds and ends. Just as yank it open, I hear the sound of approaching cars. Not wanting to delay getting Bryony secured, I resist checking if it’s the cavalry arriving and head towards Jack, unravelling the ball of rough string and starting to wrap it tightly around a still-battling Bryony. We have her all bundled up by the time the police storm into the room.

A surprised Jack turns to me, one eyebrow raised. “How did they know?”

“I called them while Bryony was ranting and raving. I just whispered the name of the farm and the word
help
, then I left the line open in the hope they’d hear everything that was going on.”