Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) (25 page)

“Yes, I do, for insurance purposes. I have a copy of it on my phone.” Arabella scrolls through her mobile and shows us the image of herself at some awards ceremony. She’s dressed in a beautiful burgundy gown, the garnet and diamond necklace sparkling at her slim neck.

“Could you forward me a copy of that?” Jack asks.

She taps away for a second and then nods. “Done.”

“Right, if you’ve no further information regarding possible suspects,” Jack says, “then we’ll crack on with those interviews.”

Arabella shrugs in frustration. “I can’t think of anybody else. I haven’t got a stalker or anything if that’s what you’re wondering. I haven’t received any strange messages or noticed people following me. Nothing unusual at all.”

“Can I ask why you brought the necklace with you?” I ask tentatively. “With something so valuable, I know I’d be paranoid about taking it anywhere with me.”

“Of course you can ask.” She smiles at me, and for just a second I imagine I’m on the set of Compton Abbey and am part of an episode where the beautiful duchess has discovered a family heirloom has gone missing. “Ask me anything at all,” she continues. “I just want the necklace back. I bought it with me because it’s all I have left of my grandmother, and wearing the necklace makes me feel close to her again.” She pauses before adding, “You see, this will be the first Christmas since she passed away. I miss her so much. Please, you have to find the necklace.”

On the way down the stairs towards the bar, I glance across at Jack who is deep in thought. “So, what do you think? If someone stole the necklace from the safe, then that means they knew the combinations or knew how to crack a safe.”

“Yeah, there’s also a third option too, though. That the safe wasn’t locked properly by Arabella, maybe someone or something distracted her at the time. It could have been a phone call or even her fiancé talking to her or rushing her out of the room for this boat trip they had planned.”

“True,” I reply, my eyes drinking in the amazing pieces of art arranged down the walls of the staircase. “Easily done I suppose.” I recall how snappy Barbara was with Arabella and hope that she remembered to secure the necklace properly in the safe before she left the room for her boat trip. Her mother will forever hound her about it if we discover the necklace went missing simply because Arabella was careless.

CHAPTER THREE

In the smart surroundings of the bar, I’m dazzled by the strings of white fairy lights, gold bells and exquisite bows on the beautifully draped garlands of greenery. They follow the edge of the wooden bar and perfectly frame two stained glass windows. Wow. It must have taken ages to dress this place for the holidays. The room is surprisingly quiet, and we soon spot a movie-star-handsome man sitting alone at a table, staring out across the hotel’s floodlit lawns.

“Mr Turner?” Jack asks.

The man looks Jack up and down. “Yes. You must be the guy Arabella’s hired.”

“You sound as though you don’t approve of her decision,” Jack says, taking a seat uninvited.

I slide into a seat between the two of them as Jack introduces me. Vincent Turner is blond with a Germanic face. His eyes are such a vivid blue that they can’t be real; he must be wearing coloured contacts. He’s also a charmer. Leaning forward, he reaches for my hand, lifts it to his lips and plants a chaste kiss on my skin. I daren’t even risk a glance at Jack. I know he’ll either be rolling his eyes at Vincent’s gesture or scowling.

“I don’t know why she didn’t just call the local police,” he replies once he’s released my hand. Next, he reaches for the glass on the table in front of him, swirling whatever alcohol is inside it around twice before downing it in one gulp and placing the empty glass on the table. “That’s what they’re there for. They’re the experts.”

Jack gives a good-natured shrug. “I’m sure she had her reasons. Despite your reservations about me being here, I assume you’re willing to do anything you can to help us track down the necklace.”

Vincent nods and spreads his hands wide in a gesture of cooperation. “Of course, anything at all.”

“Where were you when the necklace went missing?” Jack asks him.

Ah. He’s checking their stories match up. Arabella said they were on the lake.

“With Arabella,” the man replies without hesitation. He tidies the cuffs of what I suspect is a designer label shirt, even though they’re already immaculate. “We hired a boat and a skipper and went out on the lake. The man and the boat were from a place in the local town, Dela-something?”

“Delamere,” I chip in.

Vincent flashes me an electrifying smile. “Yes, that’s the place, pretty lady, Delamere.”

I don’t need to look; I can feel Jack’s eyes glaring at Vincent’s flirting from here.

“We didn’t want to have to traipse all the way over there to get the boat. Arabella loves her fans, but there’s only so much adoration you can take, right? We simply wanted some quality quiet time together at Christmas, so we rang the boatyard and asked if they’d send the boat over to pick us up at the dock at the Roseby. They were only too delighted.” He tinkles with laughter, adding, “Of course, we paid them generously for doing so.”

“Unusual time of year for a trip on the water,” Jack says tersely. “It’s bitterly cold out there today. There was even some snow earlier.”

Vincent shrugs. “Arabella and I have a lot of shared interests, and being on the water is one of them. Whenever we get the opportunity, which believe me, is not often, we seize the opportunity to head onto the water and escape for a little while.”

“How did you two meet?” I ask.

He turns those mesmerising blue eyes on me again. “On the set of Compton Abbey. You’re familiar with the TV show, right?”

I nod. Oh, you know, I’ve watched the odd episode or two. Well, all of them. Twice. It’s only one of my favourite shows. I’m not about to admit as much to him, though.

“You work behind the scenes?” Jack asks while making notes.

Vincent laughs. “I am with the production company. I’m a backer, not a cameraman.”

Jack looks up from his scribbling. “You fund the show?”

“Not just me. There are a number of people involved in the company. We’re called Turn It Around. We invest in all sorts of projects, but I’m one of the key people that pushed for supporting this particular project. I love a good period drama. There just isn’t enough culture in the world these days, don’t you think?”

I wouldn’t have a clue. Culture is not something which plays a big role in my life, farming in the backwaters of rural Cumbria. I fidget in my seat, feeling like a country hick. I used to have a high-flying corporate life in London. I used to go to concerts and the theatre, but my old life went pear-shaped and I moved up here to Cumbria to start a new one. After that, I took a sabbatical and ended up running my uncle’s old farm Eskdale Top. And now I much prefer my new life. “How long have you and Arabella been together?” I ask, wanting to steer the conversation back to the investigation.

“Six months.”

“That’s a pretty quick engagement then,” Jack says, tapping his pen repeatedly against the arm of the chair.

“When you meet the right woman, you just know,” Vincent replies silkily.

Jack shoots me a quick look, and I go all warm and fuzzy. Yay! He thinks I’m the right woman for him. And I know Jack the Spy is definitely the right man for me. Jack the Spy is my little nickname for him. His nickname for me is Catwoman – it’s a long story as to how that one came about!

“And how long have you been engaged?” I ask.

“Two months,” Vincent replies, winking at me as he does so. Oh boy, is he a flirt or what?  And doing it right in front of Jack too. He’s brazen. Then I remember Jack didn’t introduce me as his fiancée this time around, simply as Lizzie.  Ah. Maybe Vincent isn’t quite so bold then. He snaps his fingers to attract the attention of a barman and orders himself another drink. “Can I get you two anything?”

“Not for me, thanks,” Jack says, and I shake my head. “We’ll leave you in peace for now.”

“Where to now?” I check as we make our way out of the bar.

“A couple more questions for Arabella, I think,” Jack says, heading for the stairs. I can tell he’s well and truly slipped into investigation mode and his mind is firmly on solving this case. I just hope we can do it before Christmas Day dawns.

Arabella answers her hotel suite door with an eager expression on her face. “Have you found it already? Oooh, please tell me you have.”

“Afraid not,” Jack replies, adding an apologetic smile. “I just wanted to ask you a few more things.”

Arabella steps back from the door. “Come in.”

We settle on the sofa, and my eyes flick towards the view out of the huge bay window. It may be dark outside, but I think I can just about make out flurries of snowflakes drifting in the pools of golden light which illuminate key features of the ground’s landscaping.

“When you and your fiancé left the room to go on your boat trip, were you in a rush?” Jack asks without preamble.

Arabella looks thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I suppose we were a little. Vincent hates to be late for things, and he was chivvying me along so we’d be down on the hotel’s boat jetty with time to spare. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering if you might have not closed the safe properly due to being pre-occupied with being in time for your boat trip appointment,” Jack says, watching her closely.

“I suppose it’s a possibility,” she eventually concedes. “But even if I didn’t lock it properly, that still doesn’t change the fact that somebody took the necklace from my room.”

“No, it doesn’t change that fact,” he replies, “but it does alter how it was taken and make things much easier logistically for the thief.”

“You mean it didn’t need to be a jewel thief capable of safe cracking?” Arabella clarifies, looking even more crestfallen. “Please, don’t mention this possibility to my mother. She’s already blaming me for all of this. If she thinks for one moment that I might have been remiss in locking it away securely, she’ll make my life a living hell.”

My thoughts exactly.

“I won’t utter a word about it,” Jack assures her.

She looks so upset, twisting her hands back and forth in her lap, that I feel an enormous surge of sympathy and compassion for her. We have to find this necklace – and fast!

“We had a little chat with Vincent in the bar,” continues Jack. “Can you give me a bit of background on him?”

Arabella sighs and shoots him an annoyed glare. “Not you too! It’s bad enough that my mother thinks my fiancé stole it, now you do as well?”

“I’m not accusing anybody of anything.” Jack flips through the pages of his notes. “I’d just like to know more about him.”

“Well, we met on the set of Compton Abbey. He’s part of the team who funded the series. He has plenty enough money of his own, so has no reason to steal my necklace or, as my mother claims, be a gold digger. He’s spent a lot of time travelling the world. I suppose you’d say he’s a bit nomadic in some ways. Well, he used to be.”

“He mentioned the two of you have a lot in common,” I chip in. “That’s always a good sign in a relationship, don’t you think?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes, absolutely. We do have lots in common. We both share a love of English literature, dramas, historic houses, we even like the same music, film and shows at the theatre.”

“That’s quite a coincidence, having so much in common,” Jack says.

“These kinds of things happen when two people are meant to be together,” Arabella replies, looking like a woman utterly besotted with the man in her life.

I can see how a man like Vincent could sweep a woman off her feet.

Jack presses on with the questioning. “Have you met his family?”

Arabella shakes her head. “No. They live in Australia, so I haven’t got around to meeting them yet. Vincent doesn’t have much contact with them anyway.”

“I see,” Jack says, his words loaded with meaning. Clearly he thinks something is amiss about Vincent.

“I’m sorry, I’ve a killer of a headache coming on.” Arabella rubs a hand over her forehead.

“We’ll leave you to get some rest,” I say, tugging a surprised Jack to his feet.

Out in the corridor, Jack shoots me a questioning look.

“Sorry, but I thought she seemed as though she needed a bit of space. We can get on with the other interviews for now and go back to her if necessary later, can’t we?” I wheedle, slipping an arm through his.

Jack chuckles and nods. “Yes, boss, we can indeed.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“So, what’s with all this stuff about Arabella and Vincent having so much in common? You think there’s something odd there?” I ask as I snuggle close to Jack on a velvet sofa in one of the hotel’s resident lounges. I love the citrusy tang of his shower gel and the solid warmth of him.

“Maybe…” he replies, placing the boot of his right foot on his left knee and looking thoughtful.  “It’s just that some of the things about Vincent Turner point towards him being a bit of a player, a con artist even. No contact with a family who he claims live in Australia. That could easily be a lie designed to keep Arabella away from his real family and the truth about him. She says he travelled around a lot, had a nomadic existence. That’s another potential tick in the hustler box. He meets her on the set of Compton Abbey and suddenly they have all these things in common. Again, a bit suspicious.”

“You think he did some digging around and found out her likes and dislikes and adopted the same things himself?”

Jack nods. “It’s easily done, even with somebody who isn’t famous. Arabella has done countless interviews which he could access online, but there’s also social media stuff and loads of ways of finding out about people’s lives.”

I shudder. “That’s a little creepy.”

“True, but sometimes these things work in your favour as well.”

“But why would he go to all of that trouble? If he’s a backer of the TV series, then he’s already got money, so he isn’t after that. Which ties in with the question of why he’d steal the necklace. It’s not as though he’s really a jewel thief and is about to fence it to some dealer to break it up into parts which will be tricky to recognise or trace.”

Jack gives me a sideways look. “You’ve been watching crime shows again, haven’t you?”

“I like them,” I reply, squeezing his arm. “Plus, it’s research.”

“You’re planning on embracing a life of crime then, are you?” he asks, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Not sure yet,” I muse.

“Well, if you decide to go over to the dark side, give me some notice, will you?”

“Why? Are you planning on tracking me down and setting me back on the right road?” I tease, flashing him a playful smile. “It might be fun, having you stalking me.”

Jack laughs. “I can think of much more fun things to do with you.”

“Anyway,” I add as my cheeks flush bright red. It feels wise to steer this conversation back into safer territory. “Vincent was with Arabella out on the lake at the time the necklace was stolen, so he has the perfect alibi.”

“Which is, again, all rather convenient, don’t you think?”

Maybe. “So, what next in the Great Holiday Heist investigation?”

“Back to reception,” he says, getting to his feet. “I want to check calls made to and from the bedrooms of Arabella and her party.”

Jack is firmly back in work mode. Focus, I tell myself, is good, otherwise the missing necklace is not going to get tracked down this side of our looming Christmas Day deadline. I was so looking forward to tomorrow and being part of a kid’s version of Christmas – all impatiently ripped-off wrapping paper in the eagerness to explore the exciting gifts hidden inside, eating too many sweets and staying up way beyond the usual bedtime. Jack’s brother Frazer and his wife Emma have three young children, and I’m feeling a bit hyped up myself at the prospect of spending the day with them all at their Wellbeck farmhouse. My mind darts momentarily to the snowflake truffle mixture languishing in the fridge at home. I need to get them finished before tomorrow lunch so I can take them along with us as my contribution to the festive foods fuelling the hectic family Christmas. I feel torn. A part of me wanting to be here with Jack, helping if I can with the case in the hope it can all been done and sorted before the clock strikes midnight. Yet, at the same time, the other part of me is thinking I should be at home, finishing up my festive preparations.

While Jack asks the receptionist to summon Gerald again so he can get access to phone information for the rooms, I loiter by the jaw-dropping Christmas tree. I wonder if they got an interior designer to come in and dress the whole hotel. They must have done. Each delicate bauble is perfectly placed, each ribbon of gold beads woven carefully amongst the branches. Checking to make sure nobody is watching, I tentatively stretch out a hand, stroking it down the smooth, shiny surface of one of the priceless-looking ornaments.

“Don’t touch please!”

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