Dying To Bake (A Right Royal Cozy Investigation Mystery): A female amateur sleuth whodunnit with a hint of humour, page 4
“Indeed.”
“Did you have any particular ideas in mind for the cabins?” she asked Perry, her mind racing with possibilities. She envisioned cosy interiors filled with warm colours and soft textures, spaces that would provide comfort and solace to the residents.
Perry smiled, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve got a few thoughts,” he admitted, his voice tinged with enthusiasm.
“Great, then let’s get some of them together to present to the charity board next month, shall we?”
They rose as Daisy opened one eye, then slowly lifted herself onto her back legs and stretched.
As the three of them exited the Breakfast Room, Bea was invigorated by the prospect of contributing to the charity. The rehabilitation centre would provide essential support to many individuals in need, and she was eager for herself and Perry to play their part.
6
9:45 AM, FRIDAY 16 APRIL
Looking around at the tranquil beauty of Francis Court, Bea strolled alongside Richard Fitzwilliam. Daisy scampered ahead, weaving in and out of the trees and bushes, her nose glued to the ground. As they ambled in companionable silence, Bea was acutely aware of Rich’s warm presence next to her as she caught a whiff of his musky aftershave. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The sun played off his brown hair and highlighted the powerful lines of his face. He looks quite handsome, she thought as he walked beside her with his hands in the pockets of his wool overcoat.
She drifted closer to him without realising it until her arm brushed his. Startled, she sprang away, her cheeks glowing as the heat travelled across her face. He must have noticed. How could he not? It seemed to her like the entire world had stopped when they’d touched, yet he hadn’t seemed to have reacted. She couldn’t bring herself to look over at him and risk making eye contact, so she looked up as a flock of birds darted through the air in perfect synchrony above her.
Suddenly, a wasp buzzed past her face, and she jumped back with a start.
“Are you alright, Bea?” Rich asked, a frown across his forehead. “You seem antsy.”
“Er, yes. It just took me by surprise.” She gave a quick snort. Oh my goodness! She needed to pull herself together. Change the subject… “So how are you feeling after your first course of rehab?” Having not seen him for almost a week, the first thing she’d noticed had been the healthy bloom that had replaced his previously sallow complexion.
“Great. I’m feeling much stronger.” He ran a hand through his short hair, peppered with grey at the temples. “In fact, I’m ready to go back to work.”
Bea’s heart sank. Could he be leaving again so soon? Surely he still had a few weeks before they would even consider assessing him to return to active duty? And anyway, didn’t he still have one more session of intensive physio to do before that? She opened her mouth to remind him they wouldn’t let him go back yet, then stopped. Wasn’t he always pointing out to her she liked to tell him what to do? You’re not his mother, Bea! She carried on walking and said nothing.
He sighed. “I can’t bear sitting around, unable to do anything.”
Is he bored with being here? She swallowed painfully. Is he bored with me?
Daisy suddenly darted off, her white fur a blur against the lush greenery. Her excited barks echoed through the air as she disappeared around a bend in the path.
“What’s she up to?” Rich asked, an amused smile on his face.
“She’s probably seen a squirrel or—”
Daisy reappeared, bounding towards them with two young boys in tow. Bea smiled. Her son, Sam, his reddish-brown hair tousled from exertion, and his best friend, Archie, a mop of curly brown hair topping his slender frame, were pushing their bikes towards them.
“Hello, you two,” she greeted as they drew close. “I thought you were going into the village to check out the market?”
“Hi, Mum. We were, but Archie’s got a flat,” Sam said when he reached them. He turned to Rich. “Oh, sorry, Fitzwilliam. I don’t think you’ve met my friend Archie yet. He’s at my school. Arch, this is Detective Chief Inspector Fitzwilliam. He works for the Protection and Investigation (Royal) Services.”
Archie’s eyes widened as he stared up at Rich.
“Nice to meet you, Archie,” Rich said, extending a hand to the boy.
Archie took his hand. “Do you have to stop Sam and his mum from being kidnapped?” he blurted out.
“That’s part of my job, yes,” Rich replied, attempting to suppress a grin.
“And he got shot a little while ago!” Sam told Archie, his eyes flashing with excitement. “Right in his middle! He’s here getting better.”
Archie’s mouth opened to form an O shape. “Really? Did it hurt? Do you have a scar?”
Bea stifled a laugh. Boys! They always get down to the heart of the matter quickly.
“Er, yes. It hurt a bit, but I’m much better now. And yes, I have a scar.” Rich shifted on his feet.
“Cool!” the boys chorused.
Bea put her hand up to her nose and mouth to cover a snort.
“So what seems to be the problem?” Rich asked, nodding at the bikes.
Archie gestured to his, where a deflated tire hung limply. “I popped my tyre, sir.”
“We thought Mr Ward might help,” Sam added.
Rich slowly crouched down, examining the damaged wheel with a critical eye. “I can show you how to fix this if you’d like. There should be some tools in the garage block we can use.”
“Really?” Sam’s brown eyes lit up with gratitude.
“That would be brilliant!” Archie cried.
“Okay. Then meet me there in fifteen minutes, and we’ll get it sorted,” Rich assured them.
With a nod and an exchange of excited whispers, the boys took off towards the garages, leaving Bea and Rich to resume their walk.
“Shall we?” He held out an arm and steered her towards the entrance of the formal gardens. Bea nodded as her thoughts drifted to the unexpected friendship that seemed to have developed between Rich and her son over the past eight weeks. Sam had briefly met Rich last October when they’d been involved in the messy business at Fenn House. Her son had been fascinated by Rich’s job and slightly in awe of the senior police officer. But it had only been after Rich had come to recuperate at Francis Court that they had really got to know each other.
Bea smiled, recalling how Sam had pestered her to take him with her to visit Rich at Hope Cottage. She’d been reluctant at first, concerned that Rich would rather not have to entertain a curious fourteen-year-old boy. But he’d surprised her when he’d answered all of Sam’s questions about his injury with patience and care, and in turn had asked her son about school and, in particular, the sports he loved. When it had turned out that Rich had played rugby for the Army, they’d chatted away, Daisy happily sandwiched between them, about positions and game strategy. Since that first visit, Sam had regularly accompanied her or Simon to Hope Cottage or had joined her, Rich, and Daisy on a walk around the village or the estate.
It warmed her heart to see them so comfortable in each other’s company. Another positive male role model in Sam’s life was always welcome as far as she was concerned.
“Thank you for offering to help the boys,” Bea said warmly as they strolled through the rose garden, the bushes just beginning to show their buds. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I don’t mind,” Rich replied with a smile. “My nephews are almost the same age as Sam, so I’ve done my fair share of bike repairs over the years.”
Daisy suddenly barked and tore off towards a couple in the distance. Recognising the pair, Bea waved at her brother, Fred, walking next to Summer York.
“Is that the woman who’s stolen Fred’s heart?” Rich asked curiously, his brown eyes following Bea’s gaze.
“Indeed,” she confirmed, feeling a touch of surprise at her brother’s openness with Rich. “Fred told you about her?”
“I bumped into him when I got back last night. He mentioned he’d met the woman of his dreams.” Fred was another member of her family who seemed to have struck up a friendship with the chief inspector. The result of the arrest from the incident at Gollingham Palace, when Rich had been shot apprehending a killer, had led to multiple other arrests of organised crime suspects around the world. Fred, a special observer for MI6, the British intelligence service, had been working with her and Rich to expose them. Fred now seemed to consider Rich a buddy-in-arms.
How seamlessly Rich has integrated into our lives. Almost without me noticing.
As Fred and Summer approached, Daisy pranced around their feet, clearly delighted by the attention. Fred’s face was alight with happiness. “Summer, this is Richard Fitzwilliam,” Fred said, his voice full of pride. “Fitz, meet Summer York.”
“Delighted to meet you, Summer,” Rich said, his smile genuine.
He can be so charming sometimes.
“Thank you, Richard,” Summer replied graciously, returning his smile. “Fred speaks highly of you.”
“Does he now?” Rich raised an eyebrow. Fred shrugged. Bea suppressed a grin.
“Oh, by the way, Fitz, I’ve been meaning to invite you to come and look at Three Lakes, the rehab centre I was telling you about. You’re ex-military, so I thought you might be interested. We’re at the point where we can have visitors on-site now. Do you fancy it?” Fred asked.
Rich nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
He turned and winked at Bea. “Maybe they can give me a few tips,” he whispered, patting his midriff. Bea grinned.
“Excellent!” Fred clapped his hands together, not appearing to have heard Rich’s aside. “How about we go in about an hour?”
“Great,” Rich agreed. “I have a job to do over at the garages. Meet you there?”
Fred dipped his head, and he and Summer bid their farewells.
“They seem comfortable together,” Rich said as Fred and Summer strolled around the corner and out of sight.
“I think they’re very happy,” Bea said. Then she frowned.
“But?” Rich prompted.
“I worry what will happen when the press gets wind of their relationship.” She knew from last summer when she’d had a brief liaison with a famous chef just how brutal that scrutiny could be. “They can be ruthless, especially with someone as high-profile as Fred.”
“Let’s hope they can weather the storm,” Rich said. “If they can get through that, then they’ll get through anything.”
“Um,” Bea replied. “She hasn’t met my grandmother yet!”
7
LUNCHTIME, FRIDAY 16 APRIL
In the Breakfast Room at Francis Court, Bea absentmindedly stroked the top of Daisy’s head as the little dog sat quietly on her lap, her paws hanging over the side of her mistress’ leg as she gazed out of the window that lined one wall. On the lookout for squirrels, no doubt. The bright and airy restaurant was filled with sunlight spilling in from the large windows, and a grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a calming shine over those seated at the tables around the room. The clinking of cutlery against plates added a peaceful backdrop to the chatter that filled the restaurant.
Around their table, Perry perched on the edge of his chair in anticipation of his lunch being delivered while his husband, Simon, discussed this morning’s filming with Ryan.
“We finally got it right on the seventh take,” Ryan said, grinning. “I’m not sure why we have to do these little skits, you know. Hamilton and Summer are the funny ones. Vera just stares at the camera without smiling, which seems to be what they want, and I’m standing there like a wooden pole just manically smiling.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Simon said.
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
“Well, not by the seventh take anyway,” Perry chimed in. They all laughed.
Bea caught sight of two unfamiliar faces entering the restaurant. The men paused in the doorway, scanning the room for a table. Ryan noticed them too and waved them over.
“It’s Harvey Jury and Austin Matthews from Bake Off Wars.” Perry leaned over and whispered to Bea, “Harvey’s the food producer, and Austin’s the director.”
Daisy wriggled in Bea’s arms as they approached the group.
“Ryan, Simon,” the younger of the two men greeted them. “Austin and I are just grabbing a quick lunch. The cafe is full, so we thought we’d try this place for a change.”
“Yes, we’re on a tight schedule today,” Austin added, bustling with energy, his metal-framed glasses perched on his round face. “But we’ve still got to eat.”
“Harvey, Austin, this is Lady Beatrice, the Countess of Rossex,” Ryan said, gesturing towards Bea. “And this is Simon’s husband, Perry Juke. You may have seen him on set.”
“Nice to meet you,” Bea said warmly, taking in their appearances with curiosity.
“Likewise,” Harvey replied, offering her a small smile, then nodded at Perry.
“An absolute pleasure,” Austin chimed in, his blue eyes glancing around the room as if he was already preparing to move onto his next task. “Well, we’d best find somewhere to sit.”
“Enjoy your lunch,” Ryan said as the duo left to claim a nearby table.
Bea watched them leave, noting the contrast between Harvey’s stocky build and Austin’s slight frame. As she turned back to her friends, she found Ryan and Simon exchanging meaningful glances.
“Is it just me, or does it seem odd that they’re having lunch together?” Simon asked quietly, leaning in closer to the group. “I wouldn’t have pegged them as friends.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them speak to each other off set,” Ryan added.
“Well, I’ve heard something that may shed some light on it,” Perry said conspiratorially. “Apparently, Harvey and Austin were seen with Mark Jacobs in Windstanton a couple of evenings ago having a drink in a pub there.”
How does Perry know these things? “Isn’t he the judge you replaced, Ryan?” she asked.
Ryan nodded. “Why would they be meeting up?”
“And what’s Mark even doing in the area?” Simon asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
“He and Austin were tight, according to Ana.” Perry glanced over to the table where the two men sat. “Austin fought hard to keep him on.”
Ah, so the young runner is Perry’s source of gossip…
“I wonder what they’re up to?” Ryan ran his hand across his chin.
The group fell quiet, a twinge of unease creeping into the cosy atmosphere, as if the two men at the restaurant hinted at something more significant than a simple lunch meeting.
Nicky arrived with their food, breaking the silence. Bea dropped Daisy gently to the floor as Nicky placed a tuna toastie on the table in front of her. “Thanks, Nicky,” she said, opening her napkin and placing it on her knees.
Just then, a burst of deep laughter echoed through the restaurant. Bea’s gaze followed the sound to the entrance, where two men stood. They looked very similar from a distance, both dark-skinned and sporting black beards. She instantly recognised the slightly taller of the two as Mark Jacobs, the well-known chef and ex-judge of the previous season’s Bake Off Wars. The other man, dressed casually in joggers and a hoodie, looked familiar too, but she couldn’t place him. Was he another crew member that she’d seen around the place?
“Talk of the devil,” Ryan murmured under his breath, casting a sidelong glance at Simon.
“What’s Mark doing with Hamilton Moore?” Perry asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the two men.
Who?
Perry saw the look on her face. “He’s the other new presenter on the show.”
“Ah.” She smiled gratefully. Under the table, Daisy gave a low woof, and Bea leaned down to pat her on her head.
“No idea,” Ryan replied to Simon, his brow furrowed in concentration as his eyes followed them across the room. The two men headed to a free table in the nearest corner. As they got closer, it was easier to make out the differences between them. Mark had a touch of grey at his temples. Hamilton was younger and athletic looking. Mark stopped as he spied Harvey and Austin. He tapped Hamilton on the shoulder and gestured towards the other two men, then he changed direction and, with Hamilton following, went over to join them. They greeted each other with enthusiastic handshakes and bright smiles.
“Something seems a bit off about this,” Ryan said, a sandwich halfway up to his mouth.
“Could Mark be planning something?” Perry suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like a coup.”
“I hope not!” Ryan replied quickly, putting down his knife and fork. “Or else I’ll be out of a job before the show even gets aired.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Simon reassured him as he cut his chicken salad baguette in two.
“Yes,” Perry agreed. “They’re probably just old friends catching up.”
As Bea took a mouthful of food, she stole a look over at where all four men now sat. The light streamed through the windows, lighting up their table. Mark and Hamilton had both assumed a more serious demeanour, leaning in close as the men talked in hushed tones. Mark’s eyes occasionally darted around the room, while Hamilton looked pensive, his hands clutching the armrests of his chair as though he were about to stand up any minute. Harvey and Austin seemed to be listening intently and nodded occasionally. Whatever they’re talking about, it seems serious. Certainly more than just a casual chat.
Bea glanced around the rest of the room; no one else seemed to notice their presence at all. Everyone was too engrossed in their own conversations or too busy eating lunch to pay much attention to them. Even so, Bea thought, if they were up to no good, surely they would’ve found somewhere less public to conduct their business?
