Read Online Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) by Zanna Mackenzie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Zanna Mackenzie
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can.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I demand. I’m not usually an argumentative person, so I’m blaming my current rebellious streak more on the stress of finding myself a murder suspect and less on being in general bickering mode.
“Nothing,” he says, lifting a hand in a calming gesture. “Nothing at all.”
“So, are you going to let me come inside with you?” I ask, forcing bravado into my voice. I don’t actually want to go inside but, like I said, I have to do something.
“Would I be able to stop you?” he asks, with just the hint of a grin flickering at the corners of his lips.
“Probably not,” I concede. We both know that if he really wanted to, then yes, of course he could stop me. For starters, I’d say he must be getting on for being a good foot taller than me. Plus, he’s a trained spy. Or special agent. Or whatever. Right now, I’m just glad he’s prepared to help me clear my name. I really shouldn’t be picking fights with him. “So, amazingly, there don’t appear to be any police around, guarding the place. Do you think I’ll be able to get us inside by using my old staff key code?”
“I’d have thought they’d have changed it for security reasons. Members of staff might be bribed by the press or even by some weird crime sightseers to get inside and take photos.”
I grimace. “People actually want to visit crime scenes?”
“Afraid so,” he replies. “Come on then, let’s go check things out. I suggest you put the hood up on your jacket and keep it up at all times so you’re not easily identifiable by anyone. If they spot you here, they might think you’ve returned to the scene of your crime to attempt to remove some evidence.”
Sugar. They won’t think that, will they? I pull my hood up, tucking curls of blonde hair behind my ears, and keep my head down as we sprint across the car park in the rain. At the back door I huddle against the wall and am about to tap in the code when Jack grabs my hand and pulls it away.
“What?” I hiss, rooted to the spot, blinking rapidly. Panic building inside of me once more. Panic and I are becoming far too well acquainted lately. Have we been spotted? “What is it?”
“Tell me the code,” he replies. “I’ve got gloves on. No fingerprints.”
Ah. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Thank goodness he stopped me in time. I tell him the six digit code and he taps it into the keypad. Anxiously, I watch and wait for the little green light and the buzzing sound which tells us access has been granted. When I do see the light and hear the sound though, I’m amazed the code hasn’t been altered. We’re in!
“That’s odd,” Jack mutters as he opens the door. “Thought they would have changed it. If they haven’t, then there must be a reason why.”
I follow him inside, hood still up and head still down. “A reason like they’re expecting the killer to come back for some reason?” I speculate, wishing that right now I was back at Eskdale. Being alone on a storm-ridden farm in the middle of a power cut is preferable to being here. I should have stayed at home and kept my nose out of things. What if my being here does make matters even worse?
“Could well be,” Jack replies. Reaching into a pocket, he pulls out a torch and flips it on. “Come on then, Catwoman. You’re the one who knows her way around the place. Lead the way.”
He seriously wants me to go first? That’s not very heroic or spy-like, is it? I take a step forward, but he slips a hand to my waist and gently tugs me back. “I was joking,” he chuckles. “Just tell me which door is the one to the kitchen. That’s where he was murdered, right?”
I nod and realise he can’t see me because I’m standing - correction, hiding - right behind him. “Yes, that’s right, the kitchen. It’s the door down that corridor on the right.”
Jack heads for the door, and I follow so close behind him I almost trip over his feet. I tell myself not to be
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I demand. I’m not usually an argumentative person, so I’m blaming my current rebellious streak more on the stress of finding myself a murder suspect and less on being in general bickering mode.
“Nothing,” he says, lifting a hand in a calming gesture. “Nothing at all.”
“So, are you going to let me come inside with you?” I ask, forcing bravado into my voice. I don’t actually want to go inside but, like I said, I have to do something.
“Would I be able to stop you?” he asks, with just the hint of a grin flickering at the corners of his lips.
“Probably not,” I concede. We both know that if he really wanted to, then yes, of course he could stop me. For starters, I’d say he must be getting on for being a good foot taller than me. Plus, he’s a trained spy. Or special agent. Or whatever. Right now, I’m just glad he’s prepared to help me clear my name. I really shouldn’t be picking fights with him. “So, amazingly, there don’t appear to be any police around, guarding the place. Do you think I’ll be able to get us inside by using my old staff key code?”
“I’d have thought they’d have changed it for security reasons. Members of staff might be bribed by the press or even by some weird crime sightseers to get inside and take photos.”
I grimace. “People actually want to visit crime scenes?”
“Afraid so,” he replies. “Come on then, let’s go check things out. I suggest you put the hood up on your jacket and keep it up at all times so you’re not easily identifiable by anyone. If they spot you here, they might think you’ve returned to the scene of your crime to attempt to remove some evidence.”
Sugar. They won’t think that, will they? I pull my hood up, tucking curls of blonde hair behind my ears, and keep my head down as we sprint across the car park in the rain. At the back door I huddle against the wall and am about to tap in the code when Jack grabs my hand and pulls it away.
“What?” I hiss, rooted to the spot, blinking rapidly. Panic building inside of me once more. Panic and I are becoming far too well acquainted lately. Have we been spotted? “What is it?”
“Tell me the code,” he replies. “I’ve got gloves on. No fingerprints.”
Ah. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Thank goodness he stopped me in time. I tell him the six digit code and he taps it into the keypad. Anxiously, I watch and wait for the little green light and the buzzing sound which tells us access has been granted. When I do see the light and hear the sound though, I’m amazed the code hasn’t been altered. We’re in!
“That’s odd,” Jack mutters as he opens the door. “Thought they would have changed it. If they haven’t, then there must be a reason why.”
I follow him inside, hood still up and head still down. “A reason like they’re expecting the killer to come back for some reason?” I speculate, wishing that right now I was back at Eskdale. Being alone on a storm-ridden farm in the middle of a power cut is preferable to being here. I should have stayed at home and kept my nose out of things. What if my being here does make matters even worse?
“Could well be,” Jack replies. Reaching into a pocket, he pulls out a torch and flips it on. “Come on then, Catwoman. You’re the one who knows her way around the place. Lead the way.”
He seriously wants me to go first? That’s not very heroic or spy-like, is it? I take a step forward, but he slips a hand to my waist and gently tugs me back. “I was joking,” he chuckles. “Just tell me which door is the one to the kitchen. That’s where he was murdered, right?”
I nod and realise he can’t see me because I’m standing - correction, hiding - right behind him. “Yes, that’s right, the kitchen. It’s the door down that corridor on the right.”
Jack heads for the door, and I follow so close behind him I almost trip over his feet. I tell myself not to be
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