by Luna Snow
Death by Cake
The Orange Marmalade Cake Murders
Copyright
Published in the United States by Luna Snow
Published 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of this material in any way. You must not circulate this book in any format. Luna Snow does not control or direct users’ actions and is not responsible for the information or content shared, harm and/or actions of the book readers.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Traditional Orange Marmalade cake recipe
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Introduction
Abbey Fisher and her best friend Pam run the 'Little Nook' tea room and curiosity shop in the sleepy hamlet of Lower Threadbury in England. It's a quiet place but the daily coach loads of visitors to the beauty spot keep them busy. Abbey is known far and wide for her delicious orange marmalade cake, and as the little café thrives, the antiques shop struggles. When an American tourist is found dead amongst the antiques one morning- the finger points at Pam; but there are many players in this mystery. Who is the rugged farm hand who keeps Pam awake at night, and is there more to the handsome baker Jo Thompson than his fresh morning rolls?
Tempers can fly where tea is spilt and the motives for murder mount!
Find out more in our ‘tongue in cheek’ cozy mystery, a story where only cake can save the day!
Traditional Orange Marmalade cake recipe
8 servings
Ingredients
1 stick butter
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
4 tablespoons orange marmalade
3 cups of self-rising flour
¼ teaspoon salt
1 small cup of grated orange rind
½ cup freshly squeezed orange juice
Whipped double cream
Slices of orange to decorate
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cream the butter and sugar together while adding in one egg at a time to the mixture. Stir the orange marmalade into the mixture and fold in the flour and salt along with the orange juice and rind. Pour mixture into a baking tin and bake in the oven for 35-40 minutes. Cool before icing.
It's a good idea to bake two of these cakes and put a thin layer of marmalade and even cream between each. It's makes a simple yet gorgeous layer cake!
Chapter One
Abby Fisher stood back from the table and licked her fingers. It wasn’t very professional but she couldn’t resist the temptation. She had spent the last two hours working on her masterpiece, her piece de resistance, her famous orange marmalade cake.
Mmmmmm. The cake was delicious, even though she said so herself. Abby couldn’t contain her own delight, even though she was the only one around to hear her contented murmurs. Frisky, her ginger tomcat wasn’t allowed anywhere near the kitchen, and as she stood sucking the traces of orange icing from her little finger nail, she watched him through the window, slinking in the undergrowth in search of feathery prey.
Abby part owned a café cum curio shop with her best friend Pam Stevens in the small village of Lower Threadbury; a picturesque set of thatched cottages and an ancient church that stood on the banks of the old river Wye that had silently flowed through the hills and vales for thousands of years. The place was very much unchanged and apart from the flocks of tourists that came to eat cake, drink tea and take photographs of the ‘chocolate-box’ village, it was pretty much a sleepy place where the passage of time had failed to make much of an impact. It was even hard to get a mobile phone signal out here but Abbey didn’t mind. That was why she liked the place so much. The tourists caused her much amusement as she watched their frustration as they tried to get a signal inside the small tea room- even though she had placed a large sign on the wall that stated rather tongue in cheek
‘RELAX – You are in a mobile and wifi free zone. Switch off and smell the coffee beans.’
Most people got it and put their devices back in their bags and had an old fashioned face to face conversation. Others couldn’t cope, and some even stormed out of the shop and paced the cobbled streets in search of a ‘hot spot’ Holy Grail. They would always leave disappointed. Only the locals knew where the secret spot could be found, a steep climb up narrow steps - a short distance from the only pub in the village- ‘The Old George’ that supplied B&B accommodation for those who wanted to spend more than a few hours in the place.
It was the height of the summer and for once the English weather had been on its best behaviour. The early morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, and the gentle heat warmed her face. Abby loved this time of day. She was always up early to bake a fresh batch of goodies for the café and it was good to have a few hours peace before the coaches arrived bringing the hoards of daily visitors. She lived above the café but it was a small flat with only one bedroom, and when the girls had bought the place, Pam had decided to rent a small house just out of the village.
The little clock over the old fireplace chimed 8 o’clock. Everything was old fashioned here, even time itself seemed caught in the Past – no digital ticking away of the seconds, but good old fashioned cogs and wheels to slowly move the hands of Time.
Filling the coffee machine with water, she flicked on the switch ready for the arrival of Pam. The two girls started each day with a strong cup of black coffee and toast. They rarely had the chance during the summer season to sit down until the shop closed at 5 pm, and it was sometimes the only time during the day that they had time to talk about the business. Pam and Abby had been good friends ever since University days and had turned their backs on the bright lights of the city for a quieter life. They were so similar in personality that they could have been sisters, but unlike siblings, they very rarely argued. There was only one bone of contention between them; Abby’s side of the business was thriving whereas Pam’s curio shop had been losing money for the last two years. People seemed to want to buy tea and cake, but seemed reluctant to buy some of the strange curios and antiques in Pam’s part of the shop. And even if they did want to buy, Pam was reluctant to sell. She was a hoarder and loved to buy beautiful, yet useless items.
One could blame her late Grandfather on her mother’s side, Major Leonard Risby, who had been stationed in India in the early 1900’s. On his return to Blighty he had bought crate upon crate of Indian curiosities, transported back home by Steam Packet, and these had been bequeathed to Pam upon his death. These made up the majority of her collection, most of which she was reluctant to part with, but displayed in her shop as a point of interest. Pam’s parents had died at an early age and there were the only things she had to cling on to, the only thing that she could call family; and there was Abby of course. Abby was the lucky one, wealthy parents and a privileged background, although she was a sensible and down to earth girl. It had been Abby’s parents that had given the girls the deposit for the old place and they scrimped and worked hard
to pay the mortgage each month.
The bell above the shop door tinkled as Pam Steven’s made her way through the shop cum cafe, and into the kitchen at the back. The smell of fresh coffee had just started to permeate through the air, and pausing at the kitchen doorway she took in a deep breath of air.
“That smells so good Abby, I’m ready for a strong cup of coffee to wake me up. It was so hot last night I could hardly sleep.”
The two girls smiled as Pam stifled a yawn. It had been hot. Abby had slept with the cool sheets flung off the bed and the window wide open, but there had been little hope of a cooling breeze. The air had been as still as glass.
Abby laughed at her friend.
“I was hot last night too, but perhaps your lack of sleep had more to do with being in the pub till the early hours than the heat?”
Pam pulled a face and blushed slightly. It was true that she had been in ‘The Old George’ until after midnight. She was in hot pursuit of a young guy who had recently come to work on one of the local farms for the summer season, and he seemed to be taking quite a shine to her too.
“So, tell all!” Abby handed her friend a steaming mug of coffee and looked her straight in the eye. She wanted to hear all of the gossip, all the detail, and she wasn’t going anywhere until Pam had spilled the beans.
Pushing passed her friend, Pam smiled as she sat at the table.
“I don’t know what you mean Abby?” and pulled a face to show that she knew exactly what she meant.
Taking the chair opposite, Abby sat down and laughed.
“I’m not moving an inch until you tell me all about Ben Slater.”
Pushing her fair hair over her head with her fingers, Pam sighed. There would be no getting away from Abby’s determined interrogation. She was relentless when roused.
“OK, I promise to tell you everything but only if I can have a piece of orange marmalade cake for breakfast!”
Abbey shook her head in disbelief.
“For breakfast – you have got to be joking?”
But of course she wasn’t, and picking up a sharp cake knife she headed over to the counter where her magnificent creation was standing on its flowery cake stand.
“It seems such a shame to cut into this, but if there is no other way…?”
Pam shook her head and laughed.
Between mouthfuls of deliciousness and trying not to scatter the table with crumbs, Pam started on her story. Ben Slater had arrived about a month ago, strong, tall and good looking and taking a summer break from his studies. His was a city boy and his studies were centred on finance, but he had spent many happy summers on his grandfather’s farm as a boy and he was looking to recreate the experience. He had told Pam that he needed to feel the sun on his skin and the fresh country air in his lungs after the dusty city. And after all of that sitting and studying, he wanted to feel the blood pumping through his veins; do something more physical.
“And I suppose there might be one or two things that you could help him with in that direction?”
Abby winked at her friend and Pam almost choked on her coffee.
“We are just good friends Abby – that is all!”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that before but I’m sure you want it to be more. What’s holding you back, it’s not like you to miss an opportunity like this?”
She remembered her friend from uni days, there had been a new bloke in tow nearly every month. Maybe she was needy because her parents had died at such a young age? Pam was a good looking girl and there were not many men who could resist her charms. Her flighty nature had kept her single and sometimes Abby wondered if she were really happy, living in the back of beyond with hardly any eligible young men. There were a few around but they were definitely not Pam’s type; not until Ben came along that is.
“It’s not for the lack of trying, but there is something about Ben, something that is holding him back. I keep thinking that he is going to ask me out, but then he clams up and goes all silent on me.”
“Perhaps you should ask him out?”
“Perhaps I will.”
Pam popped the last of the cake into her mouth and walked over to the sink to rinse her mug.
Abby thought she looked sad. There had been one boy back in Uni called Steve that Pam had really been in love with, or at least thought she had been. She had blown it completely by messing him around and Abby guessed that her friend had never secretly got over him. That was over 5 years ago. As for Abby, she had never met Mr Right; he had never seemed to come along. She was still waiting, but she did worry that she would never find anyone out here in this place; even if she did love it so.
The small clock chimed the half hour. They would be opening at 9 and had to sort themselves out; Abby to the café and Pam to curio shop. The first coach bringing the tourists didn’t usually arrive until 10 – the first visitors looking for their morning coffee, but sometimes there were the odd visitors in pursuit of an early breakfast.
The little tea room was spotless and there wasn’t much to do apart from bring through the fresh cakes and scones that had been baked that morning. Tom, the lad from the local bakers in the next village would soon be arriving with the daily fresh teacakes and bread. Abby served sandwiches, homemade soup and salad at lunch time which was a big hit with both the visitors and locals alike, and the small place would soon be crowded. She smiled as she glanced around at the polished wooden chairs and tables, the gleaming cruet and the whiteness of the paper napkins. Although she had a first class degree in English literature, she had always dreamed of owning a place such as this. She had been lucky that her parents were wealthy and it was only through them that the two had been able to afford the place. Although she could go home at anytime and live an easy life, she wanted to pay her way, work hard to pay off the mortgage, so at last she could call this piece of heaven her own.
The doorbell tinkled as she stepped outside to pick a few roses from the cottage garden that surrounded the pretty dwelling both front and back. It was the little touches that made all the difference, and fresh flowers on the table looked so pretty. So much nicer than artificial bouquets, that graced the tables of the large restaurants in the cities.
Holding one of the small blooms to her nose, Abby breathed in the sweet scent of summers past.
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
Abby looked up from beneath the petals and into the smiling face of Jo Thompson. Jo owned the bakery in Upper Threadbury, the next village. She only knew him as a passing acquaintance, they had smiled and nodded to each other at the local Christmas get together in the ‘Old George’ and occasionally they had said ‘hello’ as they passed each other shopping in the nearest town. But they both worked hard and hardly ever left their places of work; bakers worked unsociable hours and the chances of seeing him at all were slim.
Something made the colour rise to her cheeks as he looked at her with his grey-blue eyes. She had always thought him attractive, but today it was if she had noticed him for the first time. Perhaps it was the sunshine and birdsong making her feel giddy, but she hid her face in the bloom of the rose, pretending to smell it once again whilst she composed herself.
He was wearing a slim white t-shirt and jeans and she couldn’t help to notice how fit he looked, as he lifted the basket of bread over the gate and stepped down the path to join her.
“I expected to see Tom this morning?”
He laughed, showing off his white teeth.
“You’re the third person to say that to me this morning, I’ll start getting a complex at this rate. Tom seems to be quite the housewife’s choice!”
Abby laughed. Tom Banks was a chubby 14 year old boy with freckles and red hair.
“He’s a nice lad, and besides, I’m not a housewife.”
“Indeed.” Jo frowned as if he was going to say more but stopped short, and suddenly Abby felt embarrassed.
What a bloody stupid thing to say. He will think I am desperate!
Fee
ling somewhat flustered, Abby took the basket of bread from his hands and started to head back into the house.
“Well, I suppose I better be getting on; the coach loads will be arriving soon.”
“Oh just one thing….”
His voice lingered tantalising in the air as she looked back at him.
“I don’t suppose you have a piece of that gorgeous orange marmalade cake have you? I’ll pay for it of course”
With a quick smile and nod of her head she quickly slipped inside the house, leaving him standing outside the front door, her heart pounding loudly within her chest as she rushed into the kitchen to cut another piece of cake.
“Get you – you’re a dark horse!”
Pam had been watching the pair of them through the window.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play the innocent Abby. It’s my turn to do the questioning now. Just look at you, all flustered and red faced. He’s a handsome boy that Jo Thompson - I wouldn’t mind a go myself if I wasn’t otherwise engaged.”
Abby felt confused. She didn’t even know what she felt; the feeling had been so sudden that it had taken her by surprise as much as Pam.
“What does it matter anyway, he’s already spoken for.”
Pam shook her head.
“But that’s it Abby. I forgot to tell you the gossip from last night. He’s split up with his girlfriend. He’s single again!”
Abby couldn’t help her mouth from curling up into a grin.
Rachael Andrews was a tall, slim and extremely attractive young woman. She and Jo had been the ‘beautiful people’, when they had been seen together. Jo’s occupation meant unsociable hours; perhaps that was why the two had split up.
Catching her reflection in the stainless steel of the kitchen back-splash, Abby smiled to herself. Who was she kidding; she was no Rachael Andrews, nowhere near! It was stupid to suppose she had any chance with Jo
