Murder At The Bake Off (Celebrity Mysteries 3) by Zanna Mackenzie Read Free Book Online Page A

be your lucky day.”
    Jack thanks him for telling us and I swivel round to see if Adam has gone. Thankfully, he has. Either fate is in a mean mood and just wanted to freak me out by putting Adam in the same vicinity, or Adam is here for the same reason we are. He’s working this case about Cherry Bakewell, but from a journalistic perspective rather than a private investigator perspective. Fantastic. Just what I don’t need. Jack’s out of the car now and beckoning for me to follow. I open the door and with every step I take towards The Pear, I hope Adam is now sitting in a taxi and on his way far, far away from me.
    The interior of The Pear is just how I would have pictured it based on the outside. Limestone flooring. Leather chairs around metal coffee tables. A cool and trendy vibe permeating the air. The glass and chrome displays are precisely arranged with all manner of expensive chocolates in flavours I have never come across and cakes so fancy they’re more like works of art than something you’d actually stab with a fork and dare to eat. 
    “Can I help you, sir, madam?” a woman asks stepping from behind a counter. “Would you like a table, or are you shopping with us today?”
    “Neither,” Jack says. “We’re here to speak to one of your chefs, Terry Peters.”
    She stiffens visibly and nods. “Do you have an appointment?”
    “No, but he’s going to want to spare five minutes for a chat.”
    Jack hands the woman his card. I know he has several different types. I wonder which one this is - the real one with his private investigator and security specialist status on it or one of his many fakes? Jack’s business is called Mathis Investigations Safety & Security, nicknamed MISS, which explains a lot about Jack’s weird sense of humour. His other business cards include one which suggests he is still part of the CCIA, even though he quit being on their payroll ages ago. On Valentine’s Day, he even turned up at my door with a very professional looking card proclaiming he was an expert in romance. He very kindly went on to prove said expertise – not that I’d needed any proof on that front where Jack was concerned. In The Pear, the woman doesn’t even glance at the card in her hand. Wow, she’s got far more restraint than I have. I’d have had to have taken a nose at it straight away to see who I was talking to.
    “I’ll go and tell him he has a visitor,” she replies, her face a mask of professionalism.
    “We’ll take a seat over here,” Jack adds before she nods in acknowledgement and then disappears through a door marked “staff only.”
    I’m hungry, and the dessert and confectionary delights on display all around me are so tempting that ordinarily I would be ordering some bits to eat-in and to go, but I’m too nervous to eat. Not just because we’re working an investigation here, but also because ten minutes ago, Adam was standing in this very café and store. He could have forgotten something and come strolling back inside at any second. I eye the doors, twisting and turning my hands in my lap. Thankfully, the only door that does open is the one from the kitchen, revealing a handsome man I’d peg as being in this thirties. He’s well over six feet tall and has crew-cut blond hair. He heads straight in our direction, like a laser-guided missile, and he does not look happy.
    Jack gets to his feet and offers a hand to shake. “Mr. Peters? Jack Mathis. Thanks for sparing us five minutes. I’m sure you’re busy, but we won’t keep you long.” He gestures to one of the two empty seats at our table. “Please, sit down.”
    Terry Peters sits opposite me, fidgeting with the edge of his pristine white apron.
    “This is Lizzie, my associate,” Jack says, and the man nods in my direction in acknowledgment. “So, I’m sure you’ve heard by now about Cherry Bakewell’s death.”
    Terry pastes on a ridiculously obvious fake smile. “Yeah, horrible thing to happen. I’ve sent my