Murder At The Bake Off (Celebrity Mysteries 3) Read Free

know you’ve both arrived so they can send the tea and cakes up to Ms. Bakewell’s room. She decided to meet with you there rather than in the bar or the lounge,” he explains. “It’s room number seven, on the first floor. Do you need somebody to show you the way?”
    “No, thanks, Andy, I know where room seven is,” Jack replies. “Oh, how much is a room for a night? Any chance of a discount seeing as I do so much work for you guys? Lizzie and I were thinking of staying over.”
    “Jack!” I hiss at him, flashing an apologetic smile at Andrew and ushering Jack away from reception. We don’t have the money to stay in a place like this. I doubt we ever will, unless there’s a lottery win in the offing.
    Andrew chuckles at us and then turns to greet a guest waiting to check out.
    At the top of the elegant staircase, we turn right and pad down the hallway, which is lined with carpet so deep I think I might sink into it, until we reach room number seven. The door is slightly ajar suggesting Cherry has left it open for us, but I don’t want to just barge in, so I knock lightly and wait to be welcomed inside.
    There’s no reply. I look over my shoulder at Jack and he shrugs. I try again. Knocking more loudly this time.
    Still no reply.
    “Ms. Bakewell?” I say, aiming for a volume somewhere between a normal voice level and a shout. It would never do to be found yelling in a place like this. “Ms. Bakewell? It’s Lizzie and Jack, you’re expecting us…”
    No response. I’m just about to tentatively push the door open and step inside when Jack slides in front of me. I notice he’s switched to private investigator mode. His dark eyes are alert, his handsome face caught up in concentration and his demeanour tense, as though he’s listening, waiting, assessing. Slowly, he eases the door open and edges into the room. I follow him and then smack into the back of him when he abruptly stops.
    “Jack, what’s…?” The rest of the sentence hangs unfinished in the air as Jack rushes to the side of Cherry Bakewell. She’s lying on the carpet next to a table and four chairs which are arranged in the bay window of her bedroom suite. There’s a half-eaten cupcake on the floor next to her hand. Jack crouches down by her side and checks for a pulse.
    My hand flies to my mouth and my heart starts pounding. “Is she…?”
    Jack nods. “She’s gone.”

CHAPTER TWO
    There’s a loud clattering sound out in the hallway, followed by a squeal. Half hidden behind the door, I can’t see out into the corridor so I don’t know who or what caused the noise. Jack seems to, though. He glances up and then bows his head, swearing under his breath.
    Outside the room, scattered all across the corridor, is what looks like it should have been Cherry’s afternoon tea delivered by room service. There are smushed cupcakes, a pot of tea seeping its contents into the plush carpet, and a bowl of jam splattered up the wall. There’s no sign of the person who attempted to deliver the food and drink to the room. Whoever it was must have seen Jack on the floor next to Cherry, dropped the tray in shock, screamed and run off.
    “Should I go after them?” I ask, already halfway out of the door.
    “No!” Jack hisses. “It’s bad enough they’ve seen me here, next to the body, especially if there turns out to be any foul play. I don’t think they could have seen you, so I suggest you get out of here, walk calmly downstairs and wait for me in the lounge,” he instructs.
    “But…” I start to protest. I’m not keen on running away from the scene and leaving Jack to sort everything out.
    “Now is not the time for an argument,” he says firmly, reaching for his phone. “Please, I don’t want you dragged into this. Just go.”
    Reluctantly, I nod, and as he starts to call in the incident to the local police, I back slowly out of the room.
     
     
    I’m sitting in the lounge at the Roseby. My whole body is shaking. Cherry Bakewell is