by Alana Ling
A Plummet in the Polls
Murder, She Tasted 2
Alana Ling
Edited by
Victoria Milne
Copyright © 2018 by Alana Ling
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Never miss an update
Acknowledgments
Also by Alana Ling
About Alana Ling
Joanna’s Recipes
Chamomile & honey cupcakes
Blurb
When everyone hates the new mayor, how do you find who killed him?
Joanna Christie can taste people and it isn't always as fun as it sounds.
She knew planning the mayor’s gala would be a challenge.
And although Arthur Foster, the new mayoral candidate, tastes of soothing chamomile, he makes her feel anything but.
What she didn't know, was that she'd end up with his dead body at her feet and her godfather as the prime suspect.
Now, Joanna promises to find the real murderer and clear her godfather’s name before it’s too late.
A PLUMMET IN THE POLLS is a first person cozy mystery with a female sleuth, a blooming romance, a not-so subtle admirer, quirky politicians and a great deal of English tea.
Written in British English.
Before you start, if you’d like to tell your friends on Social Media that you’re reading this book, use the official hashtags of the series #TastingMurder and #Official Havener.
One
‘How’s your mum?’ said the lemon and sugar pancake in front of me, making me lick my lips at the woman who tasted of one of my favourite delicacies.
No, I’m not crazy. Maybe a bit of a weirdo, although if you asked my mum, Effie, I was both and in copious amounts.
I’m neuro-divergent, as a matter of fact. I’ve got this weird condition called visual-gustatory synaesthesia, which means I can look at anything and get a taste in my mouth. Usually, it was all food related, but occasionally I’d taste something that should never be tasted and spend an entire day trying to convince my brain that it couldn’t really be tasting wood varnish—or acrylic paint, for that matter.
‘Mum is good. Her usual self. Only she now calls me twice as much to make sure I don’t get myself in trouble again.’ I answered the petite elderly woman with dyed auburn hair in a spiky haircut and a lavender-coloured suit. Her name was Althea Young and she was Haven-on-Sea’s First Lady. Her husband, Harold Young, had been the mayor of my hometown since I was a little chipmunk, and I’d known them both since I’d been a babe.
‘Oh yes, I heard what happened with the Guildfords. What a horrid affair. But don’t blame your mother. She’s right to be concerned. You could have got yourself killed. I know I would call my Ollie every other hour if he’d been involved in anything of the sort,’ she said and I pursed my lips, doing my best to not argue with her.
‘I did help solve the murder though, so you’d think she’d at least grant me that,’ I couldn’t resist but say.
Althea smiled and slapped her knee gently. ‘Oh, but of course she has. She’s told the whole town how her daughter, the party planner, solved the town’s first real crime in years. You should hear how she tells it as well. Such pride in her face and tone…’
I didn’t know why I was surprised to hear it, but I was. My mum did her best to tear me apart for every little divergence since my divorce, but she certainly loved her spot of gossip on the side of some coffee.
‘Well,’ I started, ‘good. I worked hard on that case.’ It had been a long couple of weeks until Sam, my assistant, and I had caught the culprit.
‘I’m telling you, converting Emerald Park into a state-of-the-art complex will bring all the money this town needs,’ someone behind us said.
‘Oh, do stop, Arthur. That’s a ludicrous idea to say the least.’ I turned to see Harold come out of his office with Arthur in tail.
‘Harold, please, you’re retiring and no offence, but it was about time. This town still has to live with the consequences of your actions.’
Arthur Foster was running for office in light of Harold’s retirement, and taking over leadership of the National Reformation Union Party they both affiliated with.
‘My actions have—,’ Harold started. A gentle, but firm, cough echoed across to them and they both turned around to look at Althea, and by consequence, me.
Harold’s face changed three different colours in the span of a second, going from beetroot red, to blue and back to its normal white, matched with a smile upon seeing me.
‘Joanna! My dear, how are you?’ he said and I stood to greet him. Light citrus notes touched my palate as his Earl Grey tea flavour greeted me.
He took my hand and kissed it.
‘Oh, Harold, always the gentleman,’ I said.
He chuckled. ‘Darling, if I lost my manners, what would I be left with?’ He turned to stare at Arthur. After a moment’s pause he added, ‘Of course you’ve met Arthur before, have you not?’
Arthur was a short man, in comparison to Harold who was standing at over six feet despite his old age. Arthur’s hair was slick blond, as if waxed back with superglue, and his eyes were saggy and bulging. I’d seen him a few times, but every time I thought of him succeeding Harold I couldn’t see the appeal.
‘Certainly,’ I responded and shook his hand, which he took with a firm fist, but made no attempt to imitate his predecessor. He was giving off a chamomile flavour although I couldn’t find anything soothing about his appearance. One of the many times I couldn’t understand how my nervous system picked someone’s taste in such juxtaposition to what they looked like and to who they were as people.
‘Miss Christie, how do you do? You’re here to discuss the gala, are you not? I say, shall we start right away. I’ve got various important affairs to attend to and only a short time.’ His voice was a weird mix of high pitch and a croak that made me think of frogs. Of frogs drinking chamomile.
Harold frowned for a millisecond before ushering us back into his office, and I thanked Althea for her cup of honey and lemon tea.
Sitting across from both politicians, I realised I was engulfed by very quintessentially British aromatic flavours. Surprisingly, both the men’s blends went with my cup like a charm.
‘So, Joanna, how are we doing with the RSVPs?’ Harold asked me.
I nodded. ‘Very well, indeed. Half the town is coming and of course the local press. Also, the Unified Green Party is attending, despite rumours to the opposite.’
Arthur squinted as if he’d bitten lemons while burping and I had to divert my eyes from him even as he spoke.
‘We don’t need those vile creatures to attend our peaceful and glamorous event.’
Harold threw him a side glance full of frustration. ‘But, of course, they’re welcome anyway. As long as they keep things civil. We don’t need any more protests.’ He chuckled.
Staring at Arthur I
tried to understand why Harold’s party had chosen him as his successor. He had none of Harold’s gentlemanly charm and he was certainly on the unattractive side.
But he spoke money, I reminded myself, and money was this town’s official language.
I wasn’t looking forward to his mayoral days, that much was certain.
Harold and Arthur had me famished and desperate for lunch as I left my meeting with them. Harold and Althea Young’s house left a herbal and citrus flavour in my mouth that I was excited to explore in my kitchen.
As soon as I walked into the house, Alfie, my pet Jack Russell, wagged his tail and barked with more enthusiasm to see me than anyone I’d ever lived with in my single and married life. He rubbed his head on my thigh when I bent down to stroke him, and he licked the fingers that were leaning on my knee, begging for all the attention.
Instead of responding to his neediness, I picked him up and took him to the back of my house, into the kitchen, where I proceeded to whip up the basics for a cake, you know, the usual suspects of butter, eggs, sugar, flour; and I scavenged my tea cupboard for some Darjeeling Earl Grey and my fridge for some lemon.
I married all the dry ingredients, soaked the Earl Grey in milk and then added it in, and mixed the eggs to make the batter and continued by distributing it into muffin liners. Once they were in the oven, I started on my icing. I decided to go for a very simple lemon icing that just required the bare minimum: sugar and lemon juice.
When the muffins were out of the oven and cooling, I picked up Alfie’s lead and attached it to his collar. A hyper dog and I walked out of the front door just as a pair of beautiful blue eyes stared back at me.
Raspberry cheesecake.
‘Kit!’ I said.
He was the pub manager of my local and favourite pub, the Oak Tavern, which was situated just opposite my house on the other side of the cobbled stone street.
‘Hey, Joanna,’ he said, the wrinkle of his smile reaching his eyes. ‘Is this a bad time?’ he asked, looking at Alfie, who greeted him with an energetic jump.
‘Ah, no, I was, uh, just taking Alfie out for a walk. Did you need anything?’ I smiled back.
He looked from Alfie to me and back to Alfie, whom he decided to address instead of me. ‘I-uh-was just wondering if you have some time to…I don’t know, hang out, I guess,’ he said and rubbed the crown of his head.
‘Wh-what? Now?’
‘Yeah, I’m starting work at four, so I thought I’d check if you’re free for lunch,’ he said.
My shoulders dropped and I let out a heavy breath. ‘I would love to, Kit, I really would, but I’ve got so much work with the gala. I just came home to walk Alfie and then I’m meeting Sam straight after,’ I explained. He nodded his head a tad faster than normal and pursed his lips.
I hated letting him down, but if I was being honest with myself, not only was my time limited, but I was starting to have second thoughts about going back to the dating game. Kit and I had spent a couple of days hanging out, talking big about nothing much and flirting like crazy, but the thought of going out for dinner, or spending more intimate time with him, or anyone else for that matter, was terrifying.
I prayed a silent prayer to Preston, my ex, for ruining me for life, and apologised to Kit as I dashed out of his view and away from my street as fast as I could. I turned from Culpepper Mews to Oakhill Circus and bumped, chest first, into Daniel. Speak of the devil’s brother came in peanut butter brownie flavour.
‘Joanna, are you all right?’ he asked, a grin drawn on his face and his long coat hugging his body despite the thirty degrees that had been hitting our little town of Haven-on-Sea for the past month. His dark hair had been trimmed since I’d last seen him, but his green eyes were just like I remembered them.
‘Hey, I’m good. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’ I said while Alfie made himself known to the town’s detective and older, more mature brother of my ex-husband.
‘Yes, I’m all good. Don’t worry,’ he replied and responded to Alfie’s excitement with some affection behind his ear. ‘Hi, little mate. How are you today?’
Alfie let out a bark as a response and Daniel and I both chuckled.
‘He’s grown a little since I last saw him.’
I dismissed the mere idea. ‘His fur’s just got longer. Trust me. He’s the same little menace. How are things on the crime front?’
I slapped myself. Maybe not in real life, but in my head, I did. How are things on the crime front? Really?
Daniel laughed and let Alfie go. ‘Good. Good. Nothing major since Poppy. I trust you’re keeping your hands out of detecting?’ He raised an eyebrow as if to remind me of the numerous conversations we had had after my last client was found murdered.
‘I’ve got my hands quite full with a political event, so, yes,’ I said. ‘Which reminds me, I do need to dash. Sam is waiting for me, and this little fella is waiting to go.’
‘Of course,’ he said and lowered his head. ‘See you later. Keep yourself out of trouble.’
I laughed. ’I can’t make any promises, Detective Anderson.’
Alfie pulled me away from Daniel and took me to the next street where Alfie went potty and I managed to release some of the tension. Was it from overworking or from an overwhelming, and calorific, taste of the men in my life?
I left Alfie home and before I went out again, I drizzled my lemon sugar on my Earl Grey muffins and took a box to Bean Therapy for Devika, Sam and myself to indulge in.
There was no time to think about men.
Two
‘Mmm, I smell something tasty,’ Devika said as soon as I entered her café, Bean Therapy. Her chai latte aromas sharpened my tongue. She wiped her hands on a tea towel sitting on the counter and came out from behind it.
‘What is it? What is it?’ Sam asked, lifting her eyes from the laptop screen, both girls joining forces to dig in to my cakes.
I put the box on the table Sam was sitting at and let go of my purse to stretch my arm. Carrying over ten pounds of paperwork and muffins across town was no fun task.
Sitting down opposite Sam, I released the goods from their cardboard cage and my hound friends dove straight in.
‘Oh, this absolutely delicious. I might be tempted to keep them all to myself,’ Devi said.
I chuckled. ‘I thought you were on diet.’
Devi sighed and grimaced. ‘Ah, yes. Well, then, I guess I better sell them. Fast.’ She sneakily bit into another one.
I turned to Sam and back to work. ‘Has the catering company confirmed the numbers they’re sending?’
‘Yep, I just got off the phone with them. They’ve got an armada of waiters and bartenders coming just like you requested.’
I smiled. Everything was falling into place. It was all smooth-sailing from here on out. With only three days left to the gala that was a song to my ears.
‘Excellent,’ I said, taking a sip of the freshly brewed Bali coffee that had been served in front of me. ‘I forgot to say. Kit wanted to spend time with me this afternoon.’
Sam raised her eyebrow. ‘And what did you tell him?’
‘I told him I’ve got to work,’ I replied and when Sam’s brows seemed about to fly off her forehead, I added, ‘and I do!’
‘We just said we’re on track. You can skip an afternoon of work to spend some time with him,’ Sam said. Devi stood by the empty chair opposite me, hands on her waist and a disapproving look on her face.
‘I know, I know. The thing is, I don’t know if I want to,’ I said, and before Sam cut in I explained why.
‘Oh, screw Preston. He’s a grade-A idiot who didn’t deserve an inch of you. Not all men are like him. Don’t let his stupid arse put a bad name on fine men like Kit. God knows they’re far and few between as it is,’ Devi said, pursing her lips at the end to make her point.
I let a long breath out and put my cup down. ‘But what if it becomes something different? I’ve already been down that path.’
‘And what if that
something different means he’s the one?’ Sam interjected.
‘Don’t get me started on that.’
I rolled my eyes at the mere notion and it gave me a head rush. I realised I was being a miserable git, second-guessing myself and others. A month ago, I would have scoffed at myself. What had happened to me now?
Well, for starters, my ex had come back into town and secondly…
There was no secondly. That alone was enough to turn me into someone else. The fact that he’d also hired someone to get me to do his bidding was the last straw. And while I had laughed it off and let go at the time, I realised now that it had shaken me.
The man that I fell in love with in my youth, and who I’d followed all over the world, had not only abandoned me one too many times to chase new business leads (which I’d had to salvage months later when they’d gone down the drain, only to be told I was a simple secretary), but he had also tried to hurt me to get what he needed. More money.
When had my university sweetheart turned into a walking nightmare?
Was it me? If I had turned a loving man into a monster, what did that say about me?
I knew both Sam and Devi were right and that I was being silly for thinking that way, but I hoped another cup of my favourite coffee was going to help get me on the right path.
Before I managed to do so, my phone broke out in song and I swiped to answer the call.
