Dying To Bake (A Right Royal Cozy Investigation Mystery): A female amateur sleuth whodunnit with a hint of humour, page 5
She returned her attention back to her table just in time to see Perry slip a piece of chicken underneath the table and into the open jaws of Daisy. He glanced up and caught her eye. She gave him a look. He blushed, and looking at his sandwich, he took a large bite.
Next to him, Simon was staring out of the window. He looks worried. Despite what he’d said to Ryan, did he think Mark was up to something? Bea stifled a sigh. After the craziness of the last year, she really just wanted a quiet life with no drama. Yet somehow she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get what she wanted while Bake Off Wars was at Francis Court.
8
BACK TO 11:25 AM, MONDAY 19 APRIL
Vera Bolt? Bea stood dumbstruck, her green eyes wide as she stared at Ana Halsall. The words that had just escaped Ana’s lips echoed in Bea’s head, threatening to overwhelm her.
She looked over at Perry, who was leaning against the wall. His blue eyes were shining with excitement as he processed the news. “Who would have thought it?” he whispered, slowly shaking his head. “The nation’s sweetheart. The Queen of Bakes. Dead!”
Ana bowed her head, wringing her hands anxiously. “I found her on the floor of The Tent. It’s like something out of a nightmare.”
Bea’s mind raced, attempting to make sense of the situation. Was it an accident? Or could it be murder? Her heart pounded in her chest, refusing to calm down as dread seeped into every corner of her thoughts. Not again! Daisy gently nudged her in the leg, and she looked down into her large black eyes.
“There’s blood everywhere,” Ana continued, her voice cracking. She shook her head. “It’s horrible.” She moaned softly.
For a moment, no one spoke. Bea’s head was thick with disbelief. Get a grip, Bea! You need to check she really is dead. Now!
“Right,” Bea said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Ana, stay here with Daisy and keep watch. When you see either the police or estate security, direct them inside.” She turned to her little dog. “Daisy, stay here with Ana,” Bea instructed, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her. “Good girl.”
She turned to Perry. “We need to go in and see what’s happened.”
He nodded slowly, then grasped the door handle, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. They rushed into the building, their footsteps echoing loudly through the empty halls. “Where’s The Tent?” Bea cried above the noise.
“End of the corridor, on the right,” he replied, his face pale but focused.
She hurried on despite knowing each step was bringing her closer to the scene she dreaded. Keep going, Bea. As she entered the large barn hall, the room’s grandeur struck her. High ceilings loomed overhead, making her feel insignificant in the face of tragedy. Windows lined both sides of the room, allowing the bright sun to cast an eerie light across the twelve cooking stations arranged neatly in two rows of six with a wide gap between them. There was a considerable amount of space left at the front and back of the room, presumably where the filming crew and presenters were based.
Bea stopped partway down the aisle, unable to tear her gaze away from the lifeless body lying between the cooking stations. She could feel the horror clawing its way up her throat, threatening to choke her with its intensity. A large deep-red patch of blood had spread across the floor, pooling on either side of the aisle in front of the kitchen units. So much blood… There was no question. Vera Bolt was dead.
“I’ll check for a pulse, but…” Perry trailed off, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze as he walked past her. He knelt down beside the crumpled body sprawled on the floor and held his fingers to Vera’s pale neck. After a few seconds, he turned to Bea and shook his head.
“Indeed,” Bea whispered, then took a deep breath, forcing herself to ignore her churning stomach.
Perry stood and stepped away from Vera’s colourless form. He hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone.
He’s going to take photos of the crime scene, isn’t he? Perry always did this when given a chance. He said Simon would find them useful for future books. It never failed to shock her at how quickly he became detached. She felt a sudden urge to laugh. Simon must have a vast collection of real-life murder scenes to refer to now.
She looked away and examined the room. “Look,” she cried, pointing towards one of the work surfaces near Vera’s body. A wooden knife block rested on the back edge of the bench, with two black handles sticking out. There was a gap where a third knife should be. She quickly scanned the other workstations. They all had knife blocks on them. None of them had a knife missing. “Was that the murder weapon, do you think?”
“Seems likely,” Perry murmured, snapping a photo of the knife block. He paused, frowning. “The killer must have been very careful. There are no bloody footprints or handprints anywhere around here.”
Bea dropped her eyes to the floor. Her mind raced with possible scenarios. “They must have gone out the way we came in.”
“Or they could have gone around the workstations and out that way,” he said, pointing to an exit on the other side of Vera’s body.
The sharp sound of Daisy’s bark outside made Bea start.
“Perry!” she hissed, her heart racing. “Someone’s coming!”
Perry looked up from his phone, his eyes wide with understanding. He quickly slipped it back into his pocket, falling silent as they both turned towards the entrance behind them.
As Bea waited, the gravity of the situation hit her like a wave, filling her with dread. She needed to maintain her composure and cooperate with the authorities; now was not the time for amateur detective work. Anyway, she really didn’t have the stomach for it. She thought back to Alex Sterling, who had died at Francis Court just a year ago. Another tragedy. Another senseless loss. The weight of it settled heavily on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She didn’t want to go through that again.
“Adrian.” She stepped forward to greet the man in the black suit who had entered the room, followed by two uniformed men. Francis Court’s head of security looked down at the floor, then back to Bea, his face etched with concern. “Are you alright, my lady?”
She gave him a sad smile. “Yes, thank you. Mr Juke checked for a pulse, but…”
Adrian Breen nodded, then running his hands through his short grey hair, he turned to the two men. “Secure the room. CID will be here soon.” His eyes flicked between Bea and Perry as he gestured towards the door he had just come through. “I think it’s best you both leave while we take care of things in here.”
“Of course,” Bea agreed, stepping back to give the officers room to move past her. “Thanks, Adrian. We’ll wait outside.” She glanced at Perry, who returned a brief nod of reassurance, and they left the room.
9
JUST AFTER 11 AM, MONDAY 19 APRIL
Where are they? Bea stood outside the Old Barn, scanning the horizon for signs of the police arriving. She knew they would have to drive the back route to the staff cottages and then on past them to the Old Barn access road. Why couldn’t she see them through the trees? She tapped her foot.
To her left, Perry fidgeted nervously with the cuffs of his light-weight coat, his blond hair catching the sunlight in a fiery halo. Daisy sat by his side, her ears pricked and alert.
Ana leaned against the wall, her face flushed as she clutched a crumpled tissue in her trembling hand. “Who could do such a thing?” she choked out between sniffles, her gaze drifting towards the barn door where a uniformed security man stood guard, his stern expression never wavering.
“Try not to worry too much, Ana,” Perry said, moving over to her. He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “The police will get to the bottom of it. They should be here in a jiffy.”
Questions swirled around in Bea’s mind. Who would want to hurt Vera Bolt? And why? She shivered. This was different from the previous murders they’d encountered. This hadn’t been made to look like an accident. It didn’t appear the killer had tried to cover it up. Bea shivered. Facing someone, looking them in the eye and sticking a knife into them seemed so personal. Was it a crime of passion? Had Vera been able to incite that much hatred in someone that they could do that? Or was it motivated by love?
“Bea, do you hear that?” Perry whispered, dragging her away from her thoughts. Her eyes narrowed as she looked towards the cottages. The distant hum of an approaching engine was followed by the appearance of a black Volvo and a marked police car, gravel crunching beneath their tyres. Fenshire CID was here.
A few minutes later, Detective Inspector Mike Ainsley appeared around the corner of the Old Barn flanked by three police officers, two of them in uniform. Daisy jumped up and hurtled towards them. He stopped briefly and patted Daisy on the head.
Bea smiled as he walked towards them and held out her hand. “Mike, it’s good to see you,” she greeted warmly.
The man with the dark-grey hair and sharp features reached out and took her hand. “Lady Beatrice. It’s always good to see you too,” he replied, his deep voice resonating as he gave her a firm handshake. “Although I wish the circumstances were different.” His eyes darted to the entrance of the Old Barn, then he turned to the shorter man next to him. “You know DS Hines, of course?” Bea nodded and smiled at the younger man.
His eyes crinkled in a genuine smile as he shook her hand. “Your ladyship.”
The inspector turned to him. “Right, Hines, can you check in with Adrian Breen, please?” The sergeant gestured to one of the two officers in uniform to follow him, and they headed for the door.
Mike peered around Bea. “Ah, Mr Juke. How are you?” He held out his hand.
Perry scuttled forward. “Inspector. We must stop meeting like this,” he said, returning the handshake with a wry smile.
Mike gave a dry laugh. “It’s becoming a bit of a habit.” His gaze flickered to Ana, who was now standing straight, her eyes wide as she stared at them.
“Oh, this is Ana Halsall, inspector. She found the body,” Perry said, beckoning Ana over.
Mike greeted the young woman who stepped forward tentatively. “I’m sure this has all been a massive shock for you, but I’m afraid I will need to ask you a few questions.” He gestured to the other police officer, and she joined them. “PC Fowler here will take you inside, where you can sit down and have a cup of tea. I’ll be in to see you soon. Is that okay?”
Ana allowed herself to be steered towards the open door of the Old Barn by the officer.
The inspector turned back to Bea and Perry. “Of course, I’ve had to inform PaIRS of the incident.” He smiled apologetically at her, knowing that the protocol of Protection and Investigation (Royal) Services taking the lead in any incident at Francis Court because of her families’ position within the royal family had bothered her in the past. She nodded, having accepted a while ago that PaIRS had jurisdiction wherever there was or could be perceived to be a threat to royalty. After all, it was how she’d met Rich in the first place. Will they assign him to the case even though he’s still off work? “They’ll be sending someone over later.”
“Do you know who?” Bea asked, glancing at Perry. “DCI Fitzwilliam is currently out of action.” Mike raised an eyebrow, and Bea briefly told him about Rich’s shooting.
“Oh,” Perry cried, his eyes glinting. “Perhaps they’ll send Em.”
Detective Chief Inspector Emma McKeer-Adler was a colleague of Rich’s, and they had worked with her on two investigations recently. It would be great to have someone we know.
“Whoever they send, I’m sure they’ll be more than capable,” Mike said reassuringly. “I’ll let you know when they arrive. In the meantime, I need to take Miss Halsall’s statement. I’ll catch you both later.”
They said goodbye, and the inspector disappeared into the Old Barn.
“So what do we do now?” Perry asked.
Bea hesitated. She really wanted a coffee, but part of her felt they should tell Rich first. Maybe he was well enough to lead the investigation. Better the devil you know…
She glanced at Perry. “Do you think we should tell Rich about this?” Perry tilted his head to one side, and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes mirroring her own.
“Well,” he said. “I suppose we could. He’s here, after all. And even if he’s not well enough to take the case on, he might have some say over who they assign it to.”
Good point. The last thing she wanted was a complete stranger at Francis Court asking questions and upsetting everyone. “Come on, Daisy. Let’s go and see your favourite person.”
“Hey! Don’t you mean second favourite person?” Perry pouted, following them as they walked away from the Old Barn.
Bea smirked. “Yes, of course I do.”
Perry huffed as he pulled his phone from his coat pocket. “I’d better let Simon know what’s happening,” he said, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a text message.
“Ask him if he wants to meet up later. If he’s not too busy writing, that is,” Bea said as they crossed the Long Drive, the old carriageway that led to the front of Francis Court manor, and headed towards the cluster of stone cottages on the other side.
“He’s just in the outlining stage of his new series at the moment, so he’s fairly flexible.” Perry hit send.
They walked to the end of the terrace of quaint whitewashed cottages, and Perry opened the gate of the last one, Hope Cottage. Blooming flowers and lush greenery lined the path leading to the blue front door, but their beauty did little to ease the anxiety bubbling up inside Bea. Rich was supposed to be resting. Should I be bothering him with this murder?
As they neared the entrance, Daisy’s tail wagged excitedly, and she let out a low woof. Perry rang the bell.
What if he’s having a nap? Perhaps we shouldn’t have come….
“Bea, Perry!” Rich greeted them warmly as he opened the door. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Daisy nudged his legs, and his rugged features softened into a genuine smile as he leaned down and ruffled the fur on her head. He straightened and, pushing the door open, said, “Come on in.”
Daisy darted ahead, and they followed her through the hallway and into the cosy living area. The interior was simple yet elegant, with a plush velvet sofa, warm-toned fabrics, and an inviting fireplace along the wall opposite the large bay window. Daisy, having finished her sniffing expedition of the room, jumped up onto an armchair by the large bay window and curled up with a sigh.
“Coffee. Tea?”
I’m desperate for a coffee. “That—”
“No thanks, Fitzwilliam. We’re about to meet up with Simon,” Perry jumped in.
But…
“We don’t want to disturb you, but there’s something we think you should know.”
“Is everything alright?” Rich asked, a deep furrow creasing his brow as he looked from Perry to Bea.
“Er.” She swallowed. “Rich, Vera Bolt has just been found dead at the Old Barn.”
“Vera Bolt, as in the judge on the baking show they’re filming here?” Like Bea, Rich hadn’t really shown much interest in the TV show but had heard enough about it from Perry to recognise the name. His eyes widened. “How did it happen?”
“She was stabbed to death!” Perry told him triumphantly, then blushed and looked down at the floor.
“Murdered…” Rich muttered, sinking down to perch on the end of the armchair, his fingers absently stroking Daisy’s head. For a moment, there was silence.
“Any idea who PaIRS will send to investigate?” Bea finally asked. “With you out of commission, I mean.”
“Could it be Em?” Perry ventured, a hopeful tone in his voice.
Rich shook his head, his expression thoughtful. “No. She’s currently with the king and queen on their tour of Wales.” He paused, his gaze fixed on a small framed painting of a seaside village that adorned the wall above the fireplace. “Um, I wonder…” he muttered, rubbing his stubbly chin. He stood up. “I’ll make a call.”
Bea raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight filtering through the delicate curtains behind him.
“I’ll find out who they’ve assigned to the case,” he said, moving towards a small table where a mobile phone rested on top. “Even better, I might convince them to let me take over the investigation, seeing as I’m already here.” Determination was etched across his features.
Yes, but are you well enough? Torn between his wellbeing and her desire to have someone who they knew and trusted leading the investigation, she said, “You still have a couple of weeks before they said they would let you go back to work. Are you really well enough?”
Rich exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Bea,” he warned, his voice low. “I can make that decision for myself.”
I know! I’m not your mother!
A glint of light flickered in his brown eyes as they met hers. She slowly nodded. He turned away and reached for his phone.
“We’ll leave you to it then,” she said with a breeziness she didn’t feel. “Come on, Daisy.”
Perry followed her out of the room. “See you later,” he called over his shoulder.
As she gently closed the front door of Hope Cottage behind her, Bea let out a deep sigh.
“He’ll be fine, Bea. He’ll have help from Mike and his team, and they’ll send him a DS to do all the donkey work,” he whispered. “And it would be good if it was him. He already knows how to navigate an investigation at Francis Court.”
It would be the ideal situation. We won’t even need to get involved, she thought. I can concentrate on moving into The Dower House and let Rich get on with it.
10
A FEW MINUTES LATER, MONDAY 19 APRIL
