Death by Chocolate Cake
The Nord Isles Cozy Mystery Series
Elizabeth M. Newby
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 3
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Stories, Secrets and Missing at Sea Preview
A Letter From The Author
Also By Elizabeth M. Newby
Keep In Touch
The Nord Isles Cozy Mystery Series
The Nord Isles are a fictional group of islands set off the coast snuggled in between North Wales, Ireland and the North West of England. Our protagonist, Cara, has been living on one of the islands called Bwytheney for fifteen years. She is a writer with a successful blog Nord Isle Living. She becomes the Nord Isles’ amateur sleuth almost by accident. Follow her and her trusty sidekick, Shadow, the border collie as they solve mysteries on these islands.
Here’s where you can find the first three books in the series and more will follow very soon.
Click here to get Book 1: Murder On Bwytheney
Click here to get Book 2: Murder By The Beaches
Click here to get Book 3: Stories, Secrets and Missing at Sea
Keep In Touch
To discover the latest news and be the first to hear when Elizabeth M. Newby releases new titles, sign up to the Nord Isles Newsletter here.
Chapter 1
“Where is Caroline? It’s not like she’s got an excuse to be this late. All she needs to do is drop off the kids and make her way here,” grumbled Emma.
“Maybe she had an errand to run,” said Pam, shrugging her shoulders.
It was Monday morning, and as usual, I was meeting the other girls in Cupcake Café. Emma owned the restaurant and was generous with her coffee and cakes. She, Pam, Jo, and I had been sat around in our favourite seats in the corner of the café, talking and catching up for the last half an hour. I had to admit that it wasn’t like Caroline to be late, but I was sure there was a reason. Emma just tended to be blunt and impatient.
“She’s up to something, I’m telling you,” said Emma.
“Don’t be silly,” I said.
“To be fair to Emma, she hasn't been her normal self." Jo was always the voice of reason in our group, "She's not been around as much and keeps turning up late. And let’s not forget the lack of gossip. Caroline normally can’t wait to tell us what’s going on.”
“I guess,” I said. “Hey, Jo, are you coming to the summer fête this weekend or are you working?”
Jo was one of the vets that covered the five Nord Isles. She spent a lot of her time on call, dashing out to save animals at any time of the day or night. She had been known to take the boat out in stormy waters because there was a cow or dog in need on another island. She didn't get too much time to herself, and while we all expected Caz to make our Monday morning meet-ups, the same could not be said for Jo. In fact, it was a rare treat to have her sat there with us.
For the last week or so, the island had been preparing for the grand summer fête. It was all anyone was talking about. Every year, there would be a whole host of different stalls and a full program of events happening throughout the weekend. The evenings usually consisted of live music, and the daytime had a mix of sporty races for children, arts and craft activities and competitions such as the best floral arrangement. Jo had missed all the fun over the last couple of years, and I didn't expect this year to be any different, despite me asking her whether she would be going.
"Well, I'm pleased to say I will be there this year. I'll be doing all the checks on the animals taking part in the shows, but I won’t be on call.”
“Drinks together on Saturday night, then?” said Pam.
Just then, the bell above the door tinkled, and an out of breath Caroline came rushing over to our table. She was weighed down with various shopping bags, which caught on one of the other chairs as she tried to squeeze her way through to us.
Summer was on the cusp of bursting across the island of Bwytheney, and trade was picking up. The café was busy, and Emma had added a few extra chairs and tables, but Caz was doing her best to upturn them as she tried to reach us at the back.
“I’m sorry I’m so late. I’ve been so busy and—”
“You’ve been shopping? While we sat here waiting for you?”
"Emma…" Jo shot her a warning shot. "Here, Caz, take a seat. Tell us what all this shopping is about. One of the kid’s birthdays?”
“No, no. But I do have some exciting news!”
“Told you something was up,” said Emma.
“Are you pregnant again?” I asked.
“Cara!” said Pam. “Just let the woman speak.”
I apologised. I wasn’t normally one to burst out with something like that. It was more what you would expect from Caroline or Emma. But there was definitely something going on. While it had been somewhat comical watching a flustered and out-of-breath Caroline trying to negotiate the café with about eight shopping bags in her hands, she was now sat down looking incredibly pleased with herself. Her eyes were wide, and a huge grin was filling her face while her foot bounced up and down. The excitement was contagious.
“You’ll never guess!” said Caroline.
“Well, just tell us then,” said Emma. She was clearly losing patience.
Caroline placed her hands flat on the table with her fingers spread wide before taking a deep breath. “I am pleased to announce that at this year’s Bwytheney Summer Fête, there will be a rather marvellous Bake the Cake Competition, and I can't reveal details yet, but there will be a very exciting celebrity chef joining the judging panel.”
“Ooh, how exciting. I might just enter,” said Pam.
"What? Hang on…there's a cake baking competition on Saturday, and you're only just telling me now?" Emma was not a trained baker and instead had combined her love of baking with her talent for art. Each year, at the Dragon Festival, she would produce an elaborate display that beat the one before. But they also took her weeks and weeks of planning and work. The idea that she could create something worthy of judgement by a celebrity chef with a few days’ notice was almost enough to push her over the edge.
"Well, yes. The details have only just been confirmed, and it's a bit of fun, Emma, nothing serious. Honestly, lighten up." Caroline was looking a little affronted.
“Lighten up? Everyone will expect me to enter and to produce something amazing. I’m going to end up embarrassing myself, and then no one will visit the café, and I'll go out of business. Oh my gosh, what am I going to do?" Emma threw her hands up to her cheeks in horror.
“Alright, Emma. There’s no need to get carried away. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Jo was trying to calm the situation, but I could see it wasn’t working.
Caroline's eyes were beginning to water, and Emma was flapping about, unsure what to do with herself.
“You could at least be a little bit excited or supportive. I’ve been working so hard over the last few weeks to try and make this happen, to do something nice for this island. It's not been easy, you know," said Caroline. A tear rolled down her cheek and off her chin, landing on the floor.
Shadow, who until now had been curled up in a ball sleeping, sniffed the salty tear, licked it up and promptly sat on Caz’s feet with his chin resting on her lap, trying to comfort her.
“And you could have at least given me
a head’s up that this might be happening!” Emma’s voice was now becoming shrill, and customers were beginning to stare, wondering what the commotion was.
“Okay, you two,” I said. “Caz, it sounds like it’s going to be great fun. And Emma, you produce fabulous cakes that fuel us islanders every day of the week. Bake the Cake will be no different. Think of it as challenging you to see what you can do under pressure.”
“Well, I’m certainly going to enter, although it’s been quite a while since I did any baking,” laughed Pam. “I’ve been too busy enjoying your delicious cakes, Emma.” Pam offered her a reassuring smile.
Pam was not from Bwytheney and had only been a part of our friendship group for a short time. She came here to run the campsite after her friend who owned it was murdered. But she was quickly settling into island life. I, for one, was pleased to see her eager to join the competition.
"Sorry, Caroline. I shouldn't have shouted. It was just a bit of a shock, and you know what state I get myself into about these things…” Whenever there was a big event, Emma would get increasingly stressed and would barely sleep. It's fair to say that she wasn't the best company in the build-up!
"Well, at least now there are fewer days for you to work yourself up?" Caroline joked.
Emma smiled, “That’s very true. Okay, so how’s it going to work? Can we bake anything?”
“We’re still finalising the details, but there will be a proper announcement tomorrow evening in The Bell Inn. We’ll be giving out the entrance forms too and revealing the judge.”
Caroline was more animated than I had seen her before. For so long, she had been defined by her role as 'mum', and now the children were getting a little older. It was good to see her throwing herself into another project.
"Well, hopefully, that Celeste from the French patisserie on Port Ynys will be too busy to enter,” said Emma.
“Hey, it’s me that you need to worry about,” said Pam.
There were instant giggles in the group, which Pam joined in. None of us had ever tasted anything Pam had made, but we got the distinct feeling that she was entering for a laugh more than from a belief she could win.
“Actually, I was wondering if there was any chance we could move book club to Saturday night?” said Caroline. “That way, I’ll have more time to organise everything, and then we can have drinks and chat about how the competition is going after the first round? Pretty please?”
“Yes, I’ll need all the planning time I can get,” said Emma.
We left the café, all feeling excited about the upcoming competition and our Saturday evening together.
Maybe, just maybe, this competition would go ahead without a hitch. With all the hard work she had been putting into it, Caroline certainly deserved the success. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Bwytheney is that things often go wrong when you least expect them to do so.
Chapter 2
The following evening, we all gathered in The Bell Inn and waited for Caz to announce the details of the Bake the Cake competition. The place was packed, which was no surprise, really. Word was always quick to spread on these islands, and it seemed that Caroline was often at the heart of it. She was always the first in our group to hear the latest news or gossip. She was clearly putting this skill to fine use, as the pub was packed with people waiting to find out more about the competition. Bets were even being placed on who the celebrity might be. It wasn’t every day that one visited the small and remote island of Bwytheney.
With the weather warming up, the open fire was not lit. So, instead of curling up in his usual spot in front of it, Shadow was working his way around the pub, saying hello to everyone and hunting for bits of food. Pam, Emma, Jo, and I were all sat around one table. It felt slightly strange to not have Caz sat with us. I hadn’t seen her since the day before in the café.
We were sat chatting and sharing a bottle of wine when Gary called us to attention from behind the bar. “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for our very own Caz, who's here to tell you all about the brand-new Bake the Cake competition!”
There was whooping, applause and a few whistles as Caroline made her way out from the back and stood on the raised step facing the crowd. She gave us a little nervous wave before she breathed out, composed herself and began speaking.
"Welcome everyone, and thank you for coming! I am aware it is late notice to add a new competition, but I think it’ll add to the excitement. Plus, you’ll all be in the same boat! Anyway, Bake the Cake will kick off on Saturday, and there will be two rounds. In the first one, you’ll be able to bake your own signature cake. It must have two tiers but other than that, you can let your creativity go wild. You’ll have four hours to prepare your cake creation before the judging begins. Then, on Sunday, you’ll return to the marquee to bake a chocolate fudge cake. Again, the exact recipe and decoration is your choice, but you’ll have just two and a half hours to prepare.”
Excited murmurings could be heard from every corner of the pub, and Pam rubbed her hands together. Emma, however, was looking a little green and overwhelmed. She could whip up a chocolate fudge cake in her sleep, but she was used to having weeks to prepare for her creative bakes.
Caroline waited for the hubbub to die down before continuing. “While all the participants will be baking at the same time, we have decided to introduce two categories – one for the professionals and another for the novice bakers. So, we’ll have TWO Bake the Cake winners!”
Caroline gave a nervous look towards Emma, whose cheeks were now flushed red. Emma was always a little sensitive about the fact she wasn't professionally trained. It was the cause of the tension between her and Celeste. While Emma had built her business from something that was essentially a hobby, Celeste was French and had trained under one of the top patisserie chefs in Paris. And she never missed an opportunity to remind Emma of these facts.
“Now, I know you’re all dying to know who the celebrity chef judge will be, and I do have an exciting surprise for you…”
The excitement and anticipation were palpable in the air. Pam was rubbing her hands together, and Jo seemed to be holding her breath. Emma, on the other hand, was furrowing her brow. I could just make Celeste out on the other side of the pub. She appeared to be tapping her fingers lightly on her lips, betraying the fact she might be feeling some nerves about this competition too.
“…And all will be revealed in about 15 minutes,” said Caroline.
Groans rolled around the room as the tension released.
"Sorry! Enjoy another drink, and the secret will be unveiled shortly. We’ve just had a small hold up.”
As the usual chatter broke out between the tables, Caroline scuttled over to us, looking excited. I poured her a glass of wine, and she immediately took a big gulp to try and settle her nerves.
“How am I doing?” she whispered.
“You’re doing great,” I said, “but are you sure you couldn’t drop us even a tiny hint of who it is?”
“My lips are sealed,” she replied.
“I’ll be in the novice category, right?” asked Emma.
“Erm...no,” said Caroline. “You make your living from baking. You literally do it every day.”
“Scared of a little competition, eh Emma?” The sweet simpering voice coming from behind us could only be one person. Celeste had wandered over, no doubt intent on upsetting Emma. “To be fair, Caroline, she really is an amateur.”
“I’m going to regret coming up with this competition, aren’t I?” muttered Caroline under her breath.
“Well, Celeste, we can’t all be trained in Paris. But that won’t mean a thing when I win,” said Emma.
I gawped at her. Rather than crumbling, as usual, Emma was instead coming up fighting. You know that saying ‘if looks could kill’? That was the look she was directing at Celeste.
"Oh, you wish, darling. Keep dreaming with that home bake cooking rubbish you do. You could never have the finesse required to be a pati
sserie chef.”
Caroline suddenly stood up, breaking the tense atmosphere. Gary had given her the nod. Celeste sauntered away, and Caroline stood back up on the raised step, waiting for the room to quieten again.
“And finally, I am pleased to not only announce our celebrity chef but also to introduce them. They were so excited about visiting Bwytheney that they decided to come today and stay with us for a few days rather than arriving Friday. We just had a little hold up with the ferry. But they're here now. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Margaret Flowers, who is here with her manager Jules Baron.”
Cheers and excitement bounced around the room as we watched the esteemed Margaret emerge from the pub's back room to stand next to Caroline.
“How on earth did she pull that one off?” said a stunned Jo, with mouth hanging open.
“Oh no, no no, what am I going to do? What if she slates me? I’ll be finished…” Emma’s confidence had taken another nosedive.
Pam was stood up, clapping and half jumping. I knew she was a big fan of Margaret Flowers bakery show on a Tuesday night. In fact, most people were. She had been gracing our screens with her perfect, fluffy sponges and moist puddings for the last thirty years. Margaret was the grandmother everyone wanted in their family.
“When have you ever heard Margaret Flowers be mean, Emma?” I said.
The mere suggestion that this wonderful woman could be disparaging was shocking. It wasn’t that she pretended to like everything she ate. But whenever Margaret judged, she was fair and kind, letting people down softly and always leaving them with a positive remark.
“You’re right, of course, you’re right,” replied Emma. “It’s just a little overwhelming. Let’s hope Bwytheney and the rest of the Nord Isles can be on their best behaviour for Margaret, eh? The last thing we need is any more deaths or disappearances.”
Chapter 3
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