Read Online Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) by Zanna Mackenzie - Free Book Online
Authors: Zanna Mackenzie
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said he was, but he didn’t have, you know, an ID badge or anything.”
Frazer nods sagely. “That’s because they took it off him when he was suspended from active duty. My brother, unfortunately, has something of a knack for getting into trouble.”
“So, he wasn’t telling fibs then? He’s some kind of James Bond special agent?”
“Ah, he’d love to hear you calling him that!” Frazer says, chuckling softly. “Yes, he really does work for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency. He’s a bit of a maverick agent though, so despite how lenient the CCIA can sometimes be, even he pushed his luck too far and got himself suspended for a month.”
“What did he do to warrant that?” A variety of options whizz through my head, each more terrifying than the one before it.
Frazer shrugs and opens the door. “No idea. I didn’t ask. It’s…”
“Better than way,” we chorus together.
Peering outside he says, “Looks as though the storm might be abating. The power could even be back on before the night’s out, if we’re lucky. Just in case you do need anything, have you got phone numbers for us at the farm? Mobiles and the house phone?”
I shake my head.
He reaches into his pocket, finds a tiny notepad and pen and scribbles down several numbers as I shine the torch in his direction so he can see what he’s doing. “Here you go,” he says, handing me the paper. “Call anytime, we’re always happy to help each other out around these parts.”
I take the proffered piece of paper and smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it. The same goes for me too. If I can help out with babysitting or do anything for Emma, just let me know.”
“I might well hold you to that,” he says, stepping outside and pulling up the hood of his waterproof jacket.
Waving a goodbye I retreat back into the dark and cold of Eskdale. I stand, my back against the inside of the door, listening to the rumble of Frazer’s pickup truck fading into the distance. I walk back into the lounge, wrapping my arms around myself for comfort and warmth. I could start a fire - that would cosy the place up a bit. Then I remember I still haven’t fetched any logs inside. I could just go up to bed, try to block out the sounds of the storm with a pillow and try to sleep. Or, I could pull on a coat, brave the storm, and drive down to the Veggies and see if Jack really is there. I clench my fist nervously at the very thought and the rustle of paper reminds me of the note Frazer pressed into my hand. I flop down on the sofa and stare at the slip of paper. There are three numbers. A home phone number for the farmhouse. A mobile number with Frazer’s name next to it. Another mobile with Jack’s name next to it.
I have Jack’s mobile phone number. I chew on my fingernails. The question is, do I use it? Should I call him and find out where he is and what he’s up to? He could just be out on a date, not attempting to break and enter at the Veggies. A flicker of something I refuse to believe is jealousy rushes through me. Yes, Jack is good looking, I’ll admit that much. But being attracted to him? A maverick special agent with a nose for trouble? Definitely not. Plus, I’m sworn off men for a while, I remind myself. After everything that happened in London, I need some time to get myself sorted and my life back on track. That’s if I have a life to get back on track of course. The only direction my life might be going in at the moment is a prison cell.
Which is why I need to stop sitting here being a wimp. I retrieve my phone from the table and, holding my breath, tap in the number of Jack’s mobile phone. It rings out once, twice, three times. Then it goes to the message service. Of course it does.
I drum my fingers against the oak table top. What now? I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.
Less than a minute later I’m out of the door, fighting against the gusts of wind to yank on my waterproof jacket. The metal of Daisy’s keyring
Frazer nods sagely. “That’s because they took it off him when he was suspended from active duty. My brother, unfortunately, has something of a knack for getting into trouble.”
“So, he wasn’t telling fibs then? He’s some kind of James Bond special agent?”
“Ah, he’d love to hear you calling him that!” Frazer says, chuckling softly. “Yes, he really does work for the Celebrity Crimes Investigation Agency. He’s a bit of a maverick agent though, so despite how lenient the CCIA can sometimes be, even he pushed his luck too far and got himself suspended for a month.”
“What did he do to warrant that?” A variety of options whizz through my head, each more terrifying than the one before it.
Frazer shrugs and opens the door. “No idea. I didn’t ask. It’s…”
“Better than way,” we chorus together.
Peering outside he says, “Looks as though the storm might be abating. The power could even be back on before the night’s out, if we’re lucky. Just in case you do need anything, have you got phone numbers for us at the farm? Mobiles and the house phone?”
I shake my head.
He reaches into his pocket, finds a tiny notepad and pen and scribbles down several numbers as I shine the torch in his direction so he can see what he’s doing. “Here you go,” he says, handing me the paper. “Call anytime, we’re always happy to help each other out around these parts.”
I take the proffered piece of paper and smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it. The same goes for me too. If I can help out with babysitting or do anything for Emma, just let me know.”
“I might well hold you to that,” he says, stepping outside and pulling up the hood of his waterproof jacket.
Waving a goodbye I retreat back into the dark and cold of Eskdale. I stand, my back against the inside of the door, listening to the rumble of Frazer’s pickup truck fading into the distance. I walk back into the lounge, wrapping my arms around myself for comfort and warmth. I could start a fire - that would cosy the place up a bit. Then I remember I still haven’t fetched any logs inside. I could just go up to bed, try to block out the sounds of the storm with a pillow and try to sleep. Or, I could pull on a coat, brave the storm, and drive down to the Veggies and see if Jack really is there. I clench my fist nervously at the very thought and the rustle of paper reminds me of the note Frazer pressed into my hand. I flop down on the sofa and stare at the slip of paper. There are three numbers. A home phone number for the farmhouse. A mobile number with Frazer’s name next to it. Another mobile with Jack’s name next to it.
I have Jack’s mobile phone number. I chew on my fingernails. The question is, do I use it? Should I call him and find out where he is and what he’s up to? He could just be out on a date, not attempting to break and enter at the Veggies. A flicker of something I refuse to believe is jealousy rushes through me. Yes, Jack is good looking, I’ll admit that much. But being attracted to him? A maverick special agent with a nose for trouble? Definitely not. Plus, I’m sworn off men for a while, I remind myself. After everything that happened in London, I need some time to get myself sorted and my life back on track. That’s if I have a life to get back on track of course. The only direction my life might be going in at the moment is a prison cell.
Which is why I need to stop sitting here being a wimp. I retrieve my phone from the table and, holding my breath, tap in the number of Jack’s mobile phone. It rings out once, twice, three times. Then it goes to the message service. Of course it does.
I drum my fingers against the oak table top. What now? I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.
Less than a minute later I’m out of the door, fighting against the gusts of wind to yank on my waterproof jacket. The metal of Daisy’s keyring
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