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

dead. I saw her with my own eyes. I squish my eyes closed and think of something else, trying to erase the image. It doesn’t work. Instead, it makes things worse. It must have been natural causes, surely? Maybe she choked on that cupcake she’d been eating?
    My fingers clench and my stomach turns. There were already cupcakes and a pot of tea on the table in Cherry’s room. The cupcakes she ate and then died. Did she choke on a too-big bite, or could they have been poisoned? I try to swallow but there’s a big lump in my throat. What if Jack or I had eaten one of those cakes instead of Cherry? Would we be the ones lying on the floor facing death? I gulp. My eyes travel towards the bar and I’m tempted to ask for a large brandy to calm me down. What is taking so long? Jack and the police and medical people have been up in Cherry’s suite for ages. The barman closed the door to the lounge earlier so that the hotel guests couldn’t see everyone trooping past. They’re trying to keep this quiet.
    My mind, buzzing with uncomfortable thoughts, turns to Cherry’s family. Hadn’t I read that she’s got grown-up daughters and a grandson? The police will have to go and tell them what’s happened.
    “Lizzie?”
    I look up to see Jack standing a few feet away. There are two policemen with him, one standing either side. It almost looks as though they’re hovering, waiting to whisk him off to a police cell or something… No, they can’t be.
    “Take my car keys,” he says, stepping forward and pressing the keys into my hands. “And go home.”
    My eyes flash questioningly from Jack to first one of the policemen and then the other. “But…?”
    Almost imperceptibly, Jack shakes his head and shoots me a pleading look. “Just go home, Lizzie. I’ll call you later.”
    I get the message. Jack wants me to keep quiet, but why? What’s happening? Are they arresting him? “What about you?” I ask. “How are you getting home?”
    “Mr. Mathis will be accompanying us to the police station for questioning,” one of the men replies before Jack can get a word in.
    “You’re arresting him? For what?” I ask nervously. Jack is still flashing me shut-up looks, but I ignore him.
    “Mr. Mathis is just helping us with our enquiries,” the man explains, then adds, “Are you a relation?”
    “Fiancée,” I reply.
    “Well, I’m sure he’ll call you when he’s released from questioning,” the policeman says, starting to lead Jack away.
    I slump back into my chair, my mind whirling at a mile a minute. So, because the person delivering the hotel’s room service saw Jack crouched next to the body, they think he was involved in Cherry’s death? Which at least suggests the police think Cherry’s passing was in suspicious circumstances. And Jack’s keeping me out of it, wanting me to stay quiet about being in the room too, to protect me from being dragged in for questioning along with him. A part of me melts at Jack being in protective mode and the other part of me is fuming at him for being all macho and deliberately keeping me out of it. It’s not like this would be the first time I’d been hauled into the local police station for questioning on suspicion of being a murderer.
    Unfortunately.
    I climb into Jack’s four wheel drive and head back over the treacherous mountain pass road towards home. This road demands complete concentration to avoid becoming a victim of the sheer drops and the sweeping, scarily steep inclines. Daisy and I hate this road because we nearly ended up as one of its casualties a while back. Daisy is my yellow VW Beetle car. I love her to bits. She’s part of my old city girl life in London but I refuse to part with her and replace her with something far more suited to farm life.
    Usually, I heave a sigh of relief once I get safely over the mountain road and begin heading along the narrow but flat lanes close to Eskdale Top. But not today. I’m too worried about Jack and about what happened to