Dying To Bake (A Right Royal Cozy Investigation Mystery): A female amateur sleuth whodunnit with a hint of humour, page 7
Bea returned her attention to Saunders. His small blue eyes, on a level with hers, seemed to scrutinise her face. Does he remember me?
Mike coughed beside her. She hurriedly extended her hand towards Saunders. “We’ve met before, I believe, DCI Saunders.” He raised an eyebrow. Did he think I wouldn’t remember? “The security system at The Dower House was playing up, and you came to talk to my husband about it.”
“Yes, we met briefly, Lady Rossex,” he replied, shaking her hand with a firm grip.
Beside her, Daisy grumbled.
“And since then, of course, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he continued, his thin lips spreading into a tight smile.
What exactly does that mean? An immediate dislike for the man bubbled inside her. Before Bea could respond, the door opened, and Rich strode in. Relief washed over her. Daisy darted towards him, swishing her tail enthusiastically. Rich bent down and gave the dog a good fuss, his face lighting up with genuine warmth.
“Fitz!” DS Tina Spicer beamed at Rich as she walked over to greet him.
“Fitzwilliam,” Saunders said, his tone guarded as he turned to address him. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on sick leave.”
Bea frowned. They clearly knew each other, but there was no handshake, no smiles. What’s going on?
“True,” Rich replied, his voice steady. “But I thought I might lend a hand by introducing you to the people here at Francis Court. It might help smooth your way, given my connections.”
Bea smiled. That’s very gracious of him. She looked at Saunders. His round face was pinched.
“Thanks,” Saunders replied curtly, “but I don’t need your help. I have the matter well in hand.”
Bea’s heart clenched at the brutal dismissal. So disrespectful. She glanced at Rich. His jaw tightened. He stared at Saunders for a second, then he nodded and stepped back. Bea’s cheeks burned, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Excuse me, chief inspector, but there’s no need to be so rude.”
Saunders fixed her with a steely gaze, silencing her with his icy blue eyes. “I don’t know how things worked in the past with other members of PaIRS” —he glanced pointedly at Rich, suggesting that he knew exactly how things had worked between them—“but I’m here to do a job, and I will not tolerate any interference from anyone. Are we clear?”
The room went deathly quiet as tension crackled in the air. Bea’s throat burned as she glanced at Rich. His face was now turning a deep shade of red, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
Who does this man think he is? Bea breathed in through her nose. Don’t let him see he’s got to you. “Crystal,” she replied through gritted teeth, her heart racing.
Next to her, Rich mumbled, “Mike, Spicer,” as he bobbed his head at them. Abruptly turning on his heels, he headed towards the door.
I need to talk to him. “I trust you’ll keep me informed as a courtesy,” she said, glaring at Saunders. If it wasn’t for me and my family, you wouldn’t have a job, she wanted to add.
“Of course, Lady Rossex,” Saunders replied, although his eyes held a steely edge that suggested he was not one for courtesies.
She turned to a stunned-looking Mike and a shocked Spicer. “Mike, Spicer. Thank you.” She gave them a brief smile, then calling, “Come on, Daisy,” she hurried out of the office, her little terrier trailing close behind.
“Rich, wait!” Bea called out as she caught up with him as he was just about to exit the Old Stable Block courtyard. He stopped and turned to face her, his shoulders tense and his jaw set firm.
“Are you alright?” she asked, looking up into his face as she and Daisy stopped in front of him.
“I just feel so useless right now,” he said with a huff, his brown eyes meeting her gaze. “I want to be back at work.” He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I just want things to go back to normal, Bea.”
She swallowed. She’d been so concerned about his physical recovery these past few months that she’d completely forgotten to pay any attention to his mental wellbeing. What can I say? “Saunders is an idiot!”
He barked a laugh.
“And he’s rude, disrespectful, and ridiculously muscular. He looks like Popeye!” she continued.
Fitzwilliam let out a full and long laugh as Daisy jumped around him.
That’s better!
“And if he doesn’t want your help, then good luck to him!” she said firmly.
Rich was smiling now. “And what about you? Are you going to investigate behind his back?”
Bea held a hand up to her chest in mock surprise. “As if I would!”
His eyes crinkled in amusement as he raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not getting involved. I promise,” she assured him.
“Alright,” he agreed. “We’ll both stay out of it then.”
“Deal! Now, I don’t know about you, but I need a coffee. Care to join me?”
He tipped his head in a nod and followed her as she turned towards the main house. As they followed the back of the Old Stable Block, Daisy trotting between them, Bea couldn’t help think that despite their promises, staying out of this case might be easier said than done.
13
8 PM, MONDAY 19 APRIL
The comforting aroma of simmering Tuscan stew wafted towards Bea, mingling with the tantalising scent of freshly baked tomato and olive focaccia as Simon put the finishing touches to dinner in the kitchen in Rose Cottage. Her stomach grumbled.
“Here, try this,” Perry said, pouring a generous amount of deep ruby-red wine into her waiting glass. “It’s one Ryan brought over last week, so it should be good.”
Bea swirled her glass. The rich bouquet hinted at notes of cherry and spice. She took a sip. “Um…that’s good.” She took another sip. “Where is Ryan?”
“He’s gone back to London for the night. He has a meeting with the investors at Nonnina first thing tomorrow,” Simon said as he handed her a deep bowl filled with homemade meatballs bobbing up and down in an orangey-red tomato sauce. Bea licked her lips.
“I’m surprised the police let him go,” Perry said, leaning into the middle of the well-worn oak dining table and grabbing a chunk of bread. “I thought when there’s been a murder, they keep everyone in the area.”
Bea nodded as she took a scoop of the stew. It was delicious.
“Yes, normally they do,” Simon said, helping himself to bread. “And he had to ask permission to go. But as the police have already interviewed him, and they have ruled him out as a suspect, they must have thought there was no risk in allowing him to go for just the one night.”
Bea frowned. They’ve ruled Ryan out as a suspect? How does Simon know that? After her brief interview with Saunders late this afternoon, he’d not told her they’d ruled her out as a suspect, even though she and Perry had been together the whole morning. But then, from the little she knew of Saunders so far, he’d probably done that deliberately. She glanced up from her food and caught Simon’s eye. He blushed. “Simon?” He looked down at his bowl. “How do you know they’ve ruled Ryan out as a suspect?”
“Er.” Simon bit his lip. “I may have had a chat with Steve just before you arrived,” he replied sheepishly. Steve Cox was an inspector who worked in Fenshire CID and a good friend of Simon’s ever since they’d worked together as young police officers. He’d been a source of inside information for them in previous local cases. Bea had met him in person for the first time at Simon and Perry’s wedding and had instantly liked the charming police officer with a wicked sense of humour and a cheeky smile.
“You’ve spoken to CID Steve about Vera Bolt’s murder? Why?”
Simon shrugged. “Just having a catch up, you know.”
Bea shook her head. Simon was a bad liar. Especially for an ex-CID detective. Her heartbeat slowed. “Are you investigating this case without me?” she asked the two men sitting opposite her.
“No. Of course not!” Perry cried, looking offended.
“Bea.” Simon reached over and placed his hand on her arm. “It’s nothing like that, I promise. Perry and I were just curious about where the police were with the case.” He smiled tentatively at her.
She took a deep breath. Why did it matter if they wanted to know what was going on? She was the one who’d said she didn’t want to investigate Vera Bolt’s death. If they were keen to keep up-to-date with the case, that was up to them, wasn’t it? She patted his hand and smiled as he withdrew it. “Sorry. I overreacted. It’s none of my business if you want to talk to your friends.”
Perry and Simon looked relieved as she took some bread from the bowl in the middle of the table. I wonder who else they have ruled out as a suspect? Bea took a bite of the savoury herb-flecked focaccia. Stop it, Bea! You promised Rich you wouldn’t get involved. She took a sip of wine. But it’s not getting involved; it’s just asking a few questions… “So, er. Have they ruled Perry and me out as suspects too?” she asked casually.
Simon appeared to suppress a smile. “Yes. Nicky in the Breakfast Room confirmed you were both there until just after eleven.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
“Isn’t it? Because from the way Saunders was talking to me earlier, I was worried! It was so uncomfortable.” Perry sighed, swirling the red wine in his glass. “He questioned me as if I were the murderer,” he said with a dry laugh.
Bea glanced over at Simon. He gave her a quick smile. Oh! That’s why he’d contacted CID Steve — so he could put his husband’s mind to rest that he wasn’t a suspect. Aw, that was sweet of him…
“Well, it’s not just you, Perry,” she told him. Although she’d assumed the chief inspector’s attitude towards her had resulted from their not so pleasant encounter earlier. “He definitely has quite the talent for making you feel like a criminal even when you’ve done nothing wrong. And he wasn’t interested when I tried to tell him it seemed like the killer had just grabbed the nearest thing to hand, like the missing knife, as if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Or your theory about how the killer could have got out of the room without getting bloody footprints on the floor. He dismissed me.” She shivered slightly, recalling the cold, calculated way he’d scrutinised her, as if searching for any hint of guilt.
“Well, I didn’t like him at all,” Perry said firmly. “Speaking of which…” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I got the impression Fitzwilliam doesn’t like him either. Did you notice how cagey he was about their relationship?”
Bea hadn’t told Simon or Perry about what had gone on between Rich and Saunders at their first meeting in any detail, just that Rich had offered to help and Saunders had declined. But when she and Rich had arrived at the Breakfast Room straight afterwards and joined the others, it had been obvious he wasn’t happy.
“Well, I’ve remembered something from way back,” Simon said. “I recall hearing from Emma Adler at the time that Saunders should have been part of the PaIRS team investigating your husband’s death, Bea. He missed out because he was on leave abroad. Fitzwilliam was the one who replaced him.”
“Really?” Bea said, her curiosity piqued. I wonder if that’s got something to do with Saunders’ hostility towards Rich?
“So what else did CID Steve have to say? Have they narrowed down the time of death yet?”
“Yes, to between ten forty-five and five-past-eleven that morning,” Simon replied.
“So a twenty-minute period then?”
Simon nodded.
“Okay. So who else has been—” There was a sharp knock on the door. Bea glanced at her mobile phone. It was late for someone to be visiting.
Perry shot up. “I’ll get it if you’ll get coffee,” he said to Simon with a cheeky grin. Simon smiled slowly as he, too, rose from the table. He headed to the kitchen area, and a few seconds later, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room.
Perry returned with a tall distinguished-looking man. Fred! His brown eyes were shadowed with worry, and his usually upright posture seemed slightly hunched under the weight of whatever was on his mind. “Fred,” Bea said, rising from her seat to greet him. “What brings you here?”
“Hello, Bea, Simon,” he replied, forcing a smile as he walked across the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”
“It’s no problem,” Simon assured him, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table. “We’re just having coffee. Would you like one?”
“Thank you,” he said, nodding. Simon brought over the coffeepot and four large cups as he sat down.
Fred’s gaze flickered between his sister, Simon, and Perry before he took a deep breath. “I’ve just walked Summer back to her cottage in the village. I’m rather worried about her,” he said, accepting a cup of steaming coffee from Simon.
“Summer? Why?” Bea asked.
Fred hesitated for a moment, swirling the coffee in his cup, then he said, “That new DCI from PaIRS, Saunders, interviewed her. Apparently, she has no alibi for the time someone killed Vera, and someone overheard her arguing with Vera around ten forty-five this morning in The Tent. She admits it was her. But she left just before ten-fifty, and Vera was still alive then.”
So Summer could have been the last person to see Vera before she was killed…
“Saunders is treating her as if she’s the killer,” Fred continued, his voice strained. “She’s been extremely upset since the interview.”
“Where did Summer go after leaving The Tent?” Simon asked, concern etched on his features.
“She says she went for a walk around the grounds to calm down,” Fred replied, rubbing a hand over his face. “But it seems Saunders isn’t satisfied with that explanation.”
Bea shared a worried glance with Simon. She didn’t even need to ask him if CID Steve had told him that Summer was a suspect. It was written all over his face. She swallowed.
“Fred,” Bea said softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her brother’s arm. “I’m sure someone saw Summer and will come forward and confirm where she was.”
“But what if they don’t?” her brother asked, his voice thick with emotion. “The only person other than Summer who knows for sure that she didn’t do it is the actual murderer.”
Bea’s mouth went dry. She took a sip of coffee. As the warm liquid slid down her throat, she gnawed at her bottom lip. No wonder Fred was concerned.
Fred took a deep breath. “So how are you getting on with your investigation?”
Bea choked on her coffee. “Investigation?” she sputtered, exchanging shocked glances with Perry and Simon. “Fred, we’re not investigating anything.”
“Bea’s right,” Perry chimed in, shifting uneasily in his seat. “We’re all quite busy, and as sad as Vera’s death is, we didn’t really know her.”
Fred’s brow furrowed. “I just assumed that was what you were doing here.” His voice grew urgent. “But you must get involved. Saunders is trying to pin the murder on Summer, and I know she couldn’t kill anyone.” He leaned forward, worry etched on his face. “Please can you help her by finding out who the killer is?”
Bea’s head was pounding. She wanted to help her brother and Summer, but she’d promised Rich that she wouldn’t investigate the case. And then there was Saunders. There was no way he would tolerate any interference from them. But poor Summer… She glanced at Perry, who raised an eyebrow. I know what you’re thinking…
Just then, Fred’s phone rang. He sprang from his seat and answered it. He pointed to the room next door as he moved away.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Perry spoke up. “I say we do it. We can’t just sit back while that…that….idiot accuses Summer of murder.”
Simon frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate to be the one to say it,” he whispered. “But we don’t know for sure she didn’t do it.”
Bea put down her coffee, her mind racing. She stifled a groan. Of course, Simon was right. But she also trusted her brother’s judgement. If he’s saying Summer isn’t a killer, then I believe him. The sound of Fred’s hushed voice drifted from the sitting room, spurring Bea to decide. “Alright,” she said, determination steeling her resolve. “Then we’ll have to prove that she didn’t!”
Perry’s face lit up. “Yes!” He clapped his hands together.
They both looked at Simon. He hesitated, then gave a deep sigh. “Okay, we’ll help. But we have to be careful not to draw attention to ourselves.” Bea and Perry nodded eagerly in agreement.
Fred re-entered the room, his face etched with concern. “That was Summer,” he said, running a hand through his short brown hair. “The police want to speak with her again first thing in the morning.” He picked up his coffee and drained it in one go. “Right. I need to organise a lawyer for her.”
He looked imploringly at the others. “Is there anything you can do? I’m afraid they’ll arrest her.”
“Alright, Fred,” Bea said, her voice laced with determination. “We’ll help.”
“And remember,” Simon added. “She might not have an alibi, but they need to have some proof that links her to the crime before they can charge her. So get her an excellent lawyer and try not to worry.
Fred smiled, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later.” He hurried across the kitchen and out of the door.
“Okay, so what’s the plan?" Perry asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as they heard the outside door slam closed.
“Well, I’ll talk to Adrian Breen in the morning and see if I can find out who was on-site at the time of Vera’s murder.”
“And as a double check, I’ll talk to Steve and get a definitive list of suspects,” Simon said. “I’ll also ask Roisin if there’s anything interesting coming out of Forensics.”
Bea smiled. They were lucky that Simon’s best friend worked at Fenshire Police in the forensics department.
