Tea? Coffee? Murder! - Murder Most Sweet E-Book

Ellen Barksdale

• Herausgeber: Bastei Entertainment
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: A Cosy Crime Mystery Series with Nathalie Ames
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 154

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

The Black Feather is hosting Earlsraven's annual cheesecake competition. This trial should be a sweet treat for the community, but instead it looks like the first prize is murder! Why has there been such a deadly ending to what should have been a fun contest? Nathalie, Louise and Constable Strutner are on hand to investigate what has all the ingredients of a most perplexing case.

About the series: There was nothing in the will about this ...

Cottages, English roses and rolling hills: that’s Earlsraven. In the middle of it all: the "Black Feather”. Not only does young Nathalie Ames unexpectedly inherit this cosy inn from her aunt, she also falls heir to her aunt’s secret double life! She solved criminal cases together with her cook Louise, a former agent of the British Crown. And while Nathalie is still trying to warm up to the quirky villagers, she discovers that sleuthing runs in the family.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Tea? Coffee? Murder! — The series

About this episode

Title

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

About the author

Next Episode

Copyright

Tea? Coffee? Murder! — The series

There was nothing about that in the will …

Cottages, English roses and gently rolling hills: that is Earlsraven. In the middle of it all: the “Black Feather”. Young Nathalie Ames unexpectedly inherits this cosy café from her aunt — and her aunt’s secret double life! Henrietta solved criminal cases together with her cook Louise, a former agent of the British Crown. And while Nathalie is still trying to warm up to the quirky villagers, she discovers that sleuthing runs in the family …

About this episode

Nathalie’s café is hosting Earlsraven’s annual cheesecake competition. But instead of a prize for the most delicious cake, there’s a deadly surprise!

Richard Ridlington, head judge and owner of the successful bakery chain Baker’s Belly, drops dead during the tasting. Was it murder? And could Rita Buffridge, the winner of the competition nine years in a row, have had something to do with his death? Nathalie and Louise help the constable with the investigation and realise that solving this case is far from being a piece of cake.

Ellen Barksdale

MURDER MOST SWEET

Prologue, in which it is decided to tempt fate

“There! Play it from there,” said the woman. “Right where he turns around.”

The other woman, who was a little older, tapped the button on the remote control. The tape crackled briefly, and interference flitted across the screen.

“You really should replace this old video,” moaned the younger woman in frustration. “The playback is getting worse and worse, and you haven’t been able to buy new tapes for years.”

“You know I love my video camera,” said the older woman. “Anyone can film with a mobile phone. Now shut up, I want to see this.”

“… and so, I declare Rita Buffridge the Bransmere Cheesecake Queen for the ninth year running,”announced a portly, white-haired man wearing a black suit and top hat. He artfully twirled his moustache and beckoned someone to join him on stage.

A black-haired woman in her early fifties walked up a few steps and stood by the gentleman in the top hat. Her face was beaming as the man handed her a certificate.

“Mrs Buffridge,” he said, “it is with great pleasure that I present you with the winning certificate and proclaim you — yet again — the Cheesecake Queen of Bransmere. It’s always a mystery to me how …”

“Fast forward,” said the younger woman. “Richard Ridlington always drones on. He could play a recording from the year before and just move his mouth — nobody would notice the difference.” She didn’t take her eyes off the screen. “Now.”

The older woman pressed the play button just as Rita Buffridge came into view, holding a microphone.

“I’d like to thank the judges for awarding me first place again,” said the woman. “Of course, I’m delighted and honoured, but I’m also a little embarrassed and, to be honest, I’m currently considering not entering the competition next year.”

“She said the same thing last year,” snorted the younger woman. “Want to bet that dear Rita already has her tenth acceptance speech ready?”

“Every lucky streak has to come to an end,” the other woman replied with a smile, holding up a small brown object.

The younger girl looked at the object. “And you’re sure this will work?”

A smile played around the other woman’s lips. “Dead certain, my dear. Dead certain.”

Chapter One, in which there is something unexpected for Nathalie and Louise

“Are we too early?”

Nathalie looked up from her desk to see Evan Joyce standing in the doorway of her office with fellow artist Belle Starr. Evan had let his hair to grow over the last few months and was looking a bit like Marc Bolan again. This was how he’d looked when he’d first turned up at Earlsraven less than six months ago, when he and his bohemian comrades had turned a big Earlsraven house into an artists’ commune. Belle Starr’s long hair was currently dyed bright green, but who knows what it might be next time — a sunny yellow or a metallic grey.

A glance at the clock showed Nathalie that it was almost five o’clock. “No, you’re right on time,” she said with a smile, and pointed to the two chairs in front of her desk. She nervously moved a curl of hair behind her ear.

“We’re both intrigued, Nathalie. What did you want to see us about?” asked Evan.

“I have a project to propose to you.”

“An art project?” said Belle, who was a talented painter and sculptor.

“No — well — yes, but not primarily,” Nathalie replied. “I don’t know if you know the empty shop over in Stapledon.”

“Wasn’t that a supermarket?” said Evan.

“Yes, that’s right,” she confirmed, “It’s been empty for a few years now.” Nathalie saw her cook walking past the office. “Louise, do you have a few minutes?”

The older woman with the distinctive silvery-white short hairstyle turned around and came into the office. “Sure. What is it?”

“I’d like to make a suggestion to Belle and Evan, and I want to talk to you about it too,” said Nathalie.

“Okay, but listen out in case they need me in the kitchen.” Louise walked round the desk so that she could take a seat in the chair by the window.

“Thanks,” said Nathalie. “Well, I’ll cut to the chase. I want to open a community supermarket in this shop in Stapledon.”

“What’s a community supermarket?” asked Belle.

“It’s a supermarket that only sells products that are grown, harvested and processed here in the area,” said Nathalie. “It’s not the supermarket that decides what goes on the shelves, but the producers themselves. The idea is that the supermarket doesn’t buy the goods, but only provides a space that can be used by the producers, like in a market.”

“So where do we come in? I mean … if they do everything themselves?” asked Evan, sounding a little disappointed.

“Well, the farmers won’t be there selling their produce themselves. I want to offer them a package to sell their goods for them. I’ll need a certain number of people to receive the goods, put them on shelves, keep track of the sales and keep everything in good condition.” She looked back and forth between Evan and Belle. “Is that something you would be interested in? There would also be another one-off task: the design of the supermarket.”

“Do you mean the front or the inside?” asked Evan.

“Both. I don’t yet have a clear idea of what it could look like. What I do know is that it shouldn’t look like a normal supermarket. We need something striking that will make customers curious as they pass through Stapledon. I’d like to ask you to come up with some designs.”

The two artists looked at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Will we have a free hand?” asked Belle. Her eyes sparkled.

“Within the theme,” Nathalie hastily clarified. “It should have a connection to agriculture, and it should be recognisable as a shop where you can buy food. I don’t want anything that looks like a crashed UFO or a second Stonehenge.”

Evan nodded as if he understood the assignment, but Belle frowned a bit, proving that Nathalie had been right to put the brakes on any very outlandish ideas.

“So — if it’s feasible — can you come up with some ideas for designs by the middle of next month? And, also in that time, I need to know if you’re interested in the longer-term work in the market. Maybe others in your community might be interested too.” She handed Evan a piece of paper. “This is an overview of the positions that will need to be filled and the likely working hours. I’ve added the number of hours so that you can think about how you all could maybe divide them up.”

Evan and Belle looked at each other. For a moment it seemed as if they were talking via mind transfer.

Then Evan said, “It’s a totally crazy idea. It could be a disaster … I love it. I’m in. I can’t believe that you trust me … that you trust us all to make this work. I … wow … I don’t know what to say.”

“We’ll have to discuss it with the others, of course,” Belle added, “but I don’t think anyone’s going to turn this down. You’re giving us a real chance here, you know that?”

“Well, I believe you can do it,” she replied. “It’ll need a manager, of course. Ideally, I’d like to give a position like that to someone who has a degree in business administration. You don’t happen to know anyone, do you, Evan?” she asked with a smile.

“How do you know about that?” he replied.

Nathalie raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just say I have my sources.” She avoided looking at Louise as much as possible.

“Interesting,” he said, while Belle looked back and forth between him and Nathalie. “What else have your sources told you about me?” he said.

“Well, if you only knew, Evan,” she replied in a tone that could mean anything, which was her intention. Let him ponder a little.

Suddenly a light went on for Belle. “You have a business, degree, Evan? Man, that’s so … so … orthodox.”

He turned to face her. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “I think it’s good. I wish I had something to fall back on if the art thing doesn’t work out.”

“You’ll get that at Nathalie’s market,” he said.

Belle smiled. “Absolutely. Thank you, Nathalie!”

Evan looked at Nathalie — his expression was hard to read. It was something akin to surprise and gratitude she thought, but there was something else and she was afraid to guess at what that might be.

*

After the two of them had thanked her again and said goodbye, Nathalie expected Louise to join her at the table. But the cook made no move to give up her seat next to the window. Instead, she sat in silence, taking in the view of the terrace in front of the restaurant.

“What do you think, Louise?”

After a few moments, Louise spoke. “A community supermarket,” she said, in an indefinable tone of voice.

“Not a good idea?”

The older woman looked thoughtful. “It’s a good idea, but … I mean … looking after a pub, café and hotel should be enough work, shouldn’t it?”

Nathalie shrugged. “I admit, at the beginning, I had rather ambitious plans for how I wanted to reorganise everything here and make it more efficient.”

“I remember that,” said Louise with a grin. “I was wondering when you were going to start.”

“Oh, ha-ha.”

Louise laughed.

Nathalie turned her chair round to face Louise. “Everything works. It’s not totally efficient, I still say that, but to change things — jeopardise well-established processes — just didn’t make sense.”

“A wise decision,” Louise said.

Nathalie had to laugh. “Yes, I got some advice about that from someone. I forget who. In any case, I don’t feel overworked because I have such amazing staff.”

Louise nodded. “No arguments there.”

“Besides,” she continued, “I’m going to hire a manager to take care of things.”

“And that’s really going to be Evan?”

“Maybe. That depends on whether he has the confidence to do it.”

“And what if he’s no good and you’re dating him?” Her lips curled into a mischievous smile.

Nathalie let out a little yelp. “Louise! Shut up! That’s not happening!”

“Just saying. You never know,” Louise teased.

“It’s nice to have artists in the community. I’m just trying to help them out and I think the area will really appreciate a community supermarket. It will only amount to a handful more figures to add to the accounts.”

“Speaking of numbers,” said Louise, sounding as if she had been waiting for an opportunity to make this point, “I have to speak bluntly about this. Are there jobs at stake here, including mine? Even if you think it won’t be much more work for you than before … isn’t it a bit risky financially?”

Although Louise was her employee, she had also become a good friend, so Nathalie was upset that she had caused her to worry about her job.

“Two weeks ago, I received a letter from a Spanish bank,” she said. “I found out that Aunt Henrietta had an account there in which a, well, let’s call it ‘a considerable sum’ had been invested for ten years. Those ten years ended at the beginning of January. I have access to that money now. I can use some of it to buy the old supermarket and refurbish it. After that, I think the running costs will be covered by the amounts paid by the farmers. That’s if everyone cooperates in the way I hope they will.”

“That’s great news. I can’t see why they wouldn’t want to be involved. The idea is good, the farmers will jump at it, and it’ll keep our troupe of artists busy,” said Louise. She looked thoughtful. “An account at a bank in Spain … And you hadn’t found any reference to this account in Henrietta’s documents before?”

“No. I’ve looked through all the documents, but I haven’t come across any bank statements from Spain, and I haven’t been able to find any correspondence with that bank either. I’m now wondering if there are any other things I don’t know about. Other accounts, any safe deposit boxes … anything like that.”

“Hm, I think I could find out,” said Louise. “I could ask my contacts if they could see if there are any activities of Henrietta’s that you don’t know about yet.”

Nathalie shook her head. “I don’t want you to have to call in any favours.”

“Not necessary for that kind of information,” Louise said. “One of my ex-colleagues will do it on the side, if I ask nicely.”

“Thank you!”

“You don’t have to thank me, Nathalie,” the cook replied, unusually seriously. “And you know you’re welcome to talk to me any time about what’s on your mind, right? Your worries are my worries.”

Nathalie was touched. “I’m grateful for that, Louise. Very much. Are you needed in the kitchen? How about we go next door to my flat?” she said. “Then we can get a comfy seat and a glass of wine.”

Louise stood up from her chair. “The team are prepping for dinner service. I’ll check on how they’re getting on and let you know. Good idea though.”

“I’ll assume the lovely team have things in hand and I’ll get a bottle from the bar,” said Nathalie and she walked along the narrow corridor that ran between the café and the pub. In the busy pub, she gave a friendly nod to the staff behind the bar as she passed by, took a bottle of red wine from the wine rack and returned to the passageway.

“Miss Ames?” she heard someone call. “Miss Ames!”

Nathalie turned round and saw a blonde woman in her early twenties waving a thin folder up in the air.

“Yes?” said Nathalie.

The woman approached the bar. Dressed in the very latest fashion, she looked a bit out of place in the rustic Black Feather, though she would have looked right at home in Nathalie’s home town of Liverpool. Here, surrounded by Earlsraven locals, long-distance lorry drivers, businessmen, and tourists passing through on their way to London or Cornwall, she looked rather exotic.

“I’m Lydia Beaumont,” she said. “My mum Rose is on the judging panel and has asked me to go round all the places where the posters were put up. I’ve just seen that your poster is no longer hanging outside. I assume it’s been blown away in the wind. That’s why I’d like to give you a new one so that people can see where they need to go.”

“Poster? Panel?” Nathalie repeated, puzzled.

“The cheesecake competition,” Lydia Beaumont replied, looking a little irritated, as if it was obvious.

“Cheesecake competition?” said Nathalie. “Sounds interesting. When is it taking place?”

The young woman looked at her strangely. “Well … on Saturday.”

“This Saturday?”

“Erm … yes, exactly.”

“And where?”

Lydia narrowed her eyes for a moment, as if she was wondering whether Nathalie was testing her or pulling her leg. “Well … here,” she said.

“Here?”

“Here at the Black Feather.”

Chapter Two, in which Constable Strutner visits and a plan is revealed

“Ah, that’s right — the cheesecake competition,” said Louise when Nathalie came into the flat a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and the announcement poster. Louise had already put two glasses on the coffee table. “I thought it was supposed to be somewhere else this year — not here.”

Nathalie sighed, handed Louise the bottle and sat down on the couch. “I didn’t even know the competition existed, let alone that it was held here.”

“I’m so sorry,” replied the older woman, pulling the cork out of the bottle and pouring the wine. “You’re a victim of your own success.”

“What do you mean?”

Louise pushed the second glass towards her. “We’re all so used to you now. Even though it’s only been a year since you took over the Black Feather, it feels like you’ve been here forever. You’ve taken your aunt’s place so perfectly that we forget that you couldn’t possibly know certain things.”

“Well … thank you for the compliment!”

Louise took a sip of wine. “Mmm, that’s good,” she said, and glanced at the label.

“However, it doesn’t change the fact that we have to host a cheesecake competition in four days’ time, and I have no idea how to do it.”