Before long, Caroline was warning everyone of a five-minute countdown, and I could see Jules slipping back into the back of the tent. There were beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He spoke briefly to Margaret, no doubt updating her on whatever was happening on his phone call. He smiled at her, but as soon as she turned around, it fell from his face.
Suddenly, we were in the last seconds of the competition. The final pieces of decoration were put into place with a flourish, and the contest was over.
"Well done, everyone!" said Caroline. “Now, contestants, we’d like you to cut a slice of the cake ready for taste testing and bring it up to the front. Then we're going to take a quick recess, and we'll be back here in thirty minutes when THE Margaret Flowers will be judging all these delicious chocolate fudge cakes.”
We all filed out of the tent, and Jo appeared with a cold drink for each of us.
"Aww, thanks, Jo. I need that!" said Pam.
"So, how do you think it went, Pam?" asked Jo.
“Oh, okay, I think. I’m not too fussed about the outcome, and I've had a lot of fun."
“It looks like it!” I said, looking at the flour, chocolate and icing dotted about her face. We couldn’t help but laugh.
“And what about you, Emma?” said Pam. “I know this is important to you. How did you find today?”
“It's gone okay, I think. I mean, winning yesterday was a real boost, and I don't know if chocolate fudge cakes are really Celeste's kind of thing…talking of which…” Emma was looking around the surrounding crowds.
All the contestants were milling around except one. Celeste was nowhere to be seen.
“Maybe she’s gone to get a drink or to stretch her legs?” I suggested.
“Hmm…or she’s up to something,” said Emma.
Before long, Caz was calling us back in for the taste testing. As we walked into the tent, Celeste was already standing at her workstation with her apron back on.
“She sure made a quick appearance,” Jo whispered to me.
“Almost like she was already in the tent,” I replied.
The contestants took their seats behind their workbenches while Margaret Flowers made her way down the line of cake slices. When it came to Pam’s, she told her it was lovely and buttery and would have benefited with just another three or four minutes in the oven. And then came Celeste’s.
"Well, Celeste. This is a delight. Full of flavour, and it's certainly exceptionally light, but a chocolate fudge cake should really be a bit more on the gooey side. But delicious nevertheless.”
Still, there wasn't a flicker from Celeste. Was she a woman made of ice? She looked neither pleased nor disappointed.
And then it was Emma’s turn. Shadow let out a bark, clearly caught up in the excitement himself. Either that, or he fancied a slice of the cake. When I looked at Emma, I could see she was already holding her breath, eyes trained on the slither of cake making its way from the plate to Margaret’s mouth. The tent was silent, everyone aware that the comments that followed could make it clear who had one the first Bake the Cake Competition.
Margaret’s mouth moved. She swallowed. Her eyebrows furrowed as if there was some puzzle to work out. I realised I was holding my breath, desperate for this to go well for Emma.
“I…er…I’m not sure…” stuttered Margaret before she started coughing and gasping. A few seconds later, she keeled over and was lying flat on the floor, eyes staring up at the ceiling.
“Oh my…” I muttered.
Screams and shouts sounded out around the tent. Jules rushed over to Margaret and had his fingers against her neck, trying to detect a pulse. “Call an ambulance!” he shouted at Caroline. “For goodness sake, get help!”
What was happening? How could a chocolate cake competition lead to this? Was this really going to be death by chocolate cake?
Chapter 8
The next hour or so passed in a blur. Medics arrived and whisked Margaret away, but everyone could see the attempts to resuscitate her were failing. Everyone sat around, shocked at what had just happened. When the police arrived, they talked to Caroline and Jules first before police officers began interviewing everyone else who was present.
After speaking to one myself, I glanced over in the direction of Emma. The blood still hadn't returned to her face, and her cheeks were stained with running mascara. She was becoming more animated. Her eyebrows rose, and her mouth dropped open. Something wasn't right. Shadow was looking at her and whimpered. I made my way nearer to see if I could work out what was going on.
I could just about hear the policeman who had now been joined by one of the detectives, “…sorry, but it’s standard procedure.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong. You can’t honestly think—” said Emma.
“It doesn’t matter what we think. We just follow the evidence, and everyone has confirmed that Margaret collapsed after eating your cake.”
“And don’t you think that’s all a bit obvious? Convenient? I’m being framed.” Emma started looking around for help, and her eyes met mine, "Cara, tell them. Celeste. It was Celeste. She tried to tamper with my ingredients yesterday.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We just need to take Ms Mitchell down to the station for questioning. She can make a statement, and I'm sure we'll soon have everything sorted,” replied the detective. He was not one I recognised.
“Emma cooked that cake in full view of the entire audience, and during the break, she was with Jo, Pam, and me. You can’t seriously be suggesting…? There’s no evidence…”
“All will be sorted out in time. But the less fuss you make, the better,” said the detective, his eyes catching my attention and then Emma’s.
“Emma, it’ll be fine. I promise,” I said. “I’m on it. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
As I watched Emma walk silently away towards the car with the police officer on one side and the detective on the other, I already had my main suspect in mind. But I also knew it was always worth keeping an open mind.
I glanced over at Celeste, who was shaking hands with one of the police officers, a single tear rolling down her cheek. However, there was something icy about her look. She had the motive – jealousy – and she quite possibly had the opportunity. Celeste was nowhere to be seen during our short break until she suddenly appeared back in the tent. Maybe she had been in there all along, taking the opportunity to tamper with Emma’s chocolate fudge cake. I could only guess that some kind of fast-acting poison had been added. And, of course, there was the incident from the previous day when Emma was sure she was up to something. Then, there was the mysterious business of Celeste making an offer on Emma’s Cupcake Café. Yes, she was definitely a suspect. But would she really kill Margaret Flowers just to wreak revenge on Emma because she had excellent baking skills?
That, I wasn't so sure about, and that meant I needed to keep digging. Either there was more to Celeste, or there was another suspect. What if someone had wanted to harm Margaret? The Bake the Cake competition gave them the perfect opportunity to take their revenge and frame someone else. Did that perhaps make more sense? I just couldn’t imagine anyone hating someone like Margaret Flowers. Having said that, there was definitely something going on. Jules certainly seemed stressed on the phone yesterday. Maybe there was some kind of business trouble? While I didn’t relish the idea of talking to Jules again, chatting to Margaret wasn’t an option. He was the only person who could shed any light on whether someone wanted to harm Margaret or their business.
But first, it was time to get in touch with Detective Inspector Carroway and see what he had to say about all of this. Following my last few investigations, a friendship and mutual respect had developed. In fact, we had even been on a date or two, although we both preferred to take things slowly. I’m sure he would want to hear what I had observed, and he might have important information for me.
A few hours later, Alex Carroway and I were sat in The Ship Inn catching up. Shadow
was curled up at the side of him, already comfortable in his company. There was, of course, only one topic of conversation in the pub, and it had taken quite some time for us to be left alone to our own conversation. It seemed nearly every local present wanted to ask DI Carroway about Margaret Flowers and the investigation or add their own theory.
“Goodness. Does this happen with every case you work on?” I asked.
“Nah, just the big ones. It seems you’re not the only amateur detective on Bwytheney, you know.” He gave me a wink, and a grin spread across his face. “Go on then, what’s your theory.”
“I’m assuming it was a poisoning?”
“You would be correct.”
“And how is Margaret? I’ve heard the press release from the hospital, but that doesn’t really tell us anything. Is it likely that we are looking at murder charges?”
“It’s fair to say that if she survives, it would be an attempted murder charge. Why? Does that make a difference to your theory?
“Hmm. Possibly. One thing’s for sure, even accounting for my bias towards Emma as a dear friend of mine, I don’t understand why she’s being held for questioning.”
“Well, there’s the small matter of a vial filled with the poison that was found in her bag. And then there’s an anonymous witness who reported overhearing Emma issuing a threat to Margaret.”
“Poison? Threat? What? But the baking competition was public. There was a whole crowd watching Emma as she prepared the cake. And then she was with me during the break. And, I mean, seriously? No one is going to poison someone in public with their own cake. It makes no sense.” I took in a deep breath, relieved to finally have someone sensible listening to me.
“As it happens, I agree. Not that it wasn’t possible, of course. Emma could have laced an ingredient before she bought it into the tent. But it's improbable. The witness’s account doesn’t quite add up, there are no fingerprints on the vial, and you’re right. It smacks much more of a framing. But if someone's framed Emma, then she too is possibly in danger. The police station is a safe place for her to be, at least. My understanding is they’re just running through events, timings, that sort of thing. And asking about who might have a grudge against her.”
“You think Emma’s in danger? That they might strike again? Her café, we have to warn the other staff to be vigilant—”
“Calm down, Cara. It’s all in hand. But I am interested in your theory.”
“Well, Celeste has a lot of explaining to do. I’m not sure she would harm Margaret Flowers to get at Emma, but you never can tell.”
“You’re right there.”
I told Alex about the recent strange events with Celeste, as well as my concerns. The whole time he paid full attention while slowly sipping on his pint of beer and nodding his head in agreement.
“And is anyone else of interest to Detective Cara?” he asked.
"Possibly. A person who is, as yet, unknown. I overheard Margaret's business partner having a heated conversation on the phone that day. But I don't know who he was speaking to or what it was about. But I think perhaps someone may have wanted to harm their business, and what better way than to take out the face of their brand?"
“It’s a good theory. I’m sure they’ll do some phone work on both Margaret and Jules. It might flag something up.”
“Did Jules not raise any concerns when they spoke to him?”
“Apparently not. He said he couldn’t think of anyone who would want to hurt a single hair on her head.”
“Hmm. So, what’s next?”
“We’re processing evidence, double-checking everything, and hopefully, something will show up. What about you?"
“I think I need to have a couple of conversations and do a little digging of my own. And I’ll be starting with Celeste. She has some explaining to do.”
Chapter 9
The attempted murder of Margaret Flowers was all anyone was talking about on Bwytheney. So, it wasn't hard for me to speak to different people on my walks with Shadow and discover that no one else seemed to be with Celeste during the interval. But equally, no one had seen anyone sneaking back into the tent. It seemed everyone had been engrossed in their discussions of who would be the winner. What no one predicted was that there would never be one announced.
Emma’s Cupcake Café was in the capable hands of Marie, and so I headed there for my usual meet up with the other girls. Caz was already there with a pot of tea sat on the table in front of her. Her cheeks looked pinched, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Shadow gave a small whimper and wrapped himself around her legs. Caz bent down, giving him an extra tight squeeze before raising her eyes to look at me.
"It's all my fault. Margaret's going to die, and the world will hate me. I’ll hate me.” Caroline burst into tears, and I leaned over the table to grasp her hand.
“We don’t know that Margaret’s going to die. There’s still hope. And no one is going to blame you. Someone did this, and we're going to find out who. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Look around you, Cara. Where are the usual tourists? This is huge news. The whole of the country is talking about it and The Nord Isles. I bought Margaret here, and now everyone is suffering. Businesses are going to close and—"
"Enough. Businesses will be fine, and the tourists will be back. You can’t do this to yourself. Someone poisoned Emma's cake, and we have to work out who, that's all. Then everything will be back to normal.”
Just then, there was the tinkle of the bell above the door. A hushed silence fell across the other tables occupied by the locals of the island. Caroline dried her tears and stared in silence. I twisted in my seat, the door being behind me. Standing there, hair unbrushed and eyes that looked even more tired than Caroline's was Emma. Positioned just outside the door was a uniformed officer. Keeping her head held high, Emma slowly placed one foot in front of another and made her way to our table. As soon as she sat down, her shoulders hunched forward, and tears started rolling silently down her cheeks.
I gulped, feeling a lump gathering in my throat. We were usually such a happy bunch, and yet here I was, sat at our usual table with two distraught friends. I had to solve this case. I had to do it for them as much as Margaret.
The door opened again, this time with more noise as Pam and Jo entered, rushing over to our table, dishing out firm hugs to everyone.
“Anything we can do to help you?” said Jo as she took a seat opposite me. I had now gained quite a reputation on the islands for solving cases, but this was the first time I felt so much weight of expectation bearing down on me.
“I’ll be heading off in a bit to have a chat with a certain contestant, and I’ll get Dan to do a little digging too.”
“What about Detective Carroway? I’m sure he would be happy to help you out…” teased Pam.
There was sniggering from the other girls, and although I could feel myself blushing, I was so pleased that Emma and Caz were cheering up.
"We've already spoken, as a matter of fact."
“Only spoken?” asked Caz.
The dark atmosphere finally lifted as we all burst out laughing. As we gained control again, I took a deep breath. I needed to ask questions, but I also didn't want to bring the mood down again. The only thing that was going to really free us from this dark cloud, though, was finding the truth.
“Emma, I do need to ask you something. Your handbag…”
“What about her handbag?” asked Caz.
“A vial of the poison was found in it,” said Emma. “I changed over bags that morning. You know how I like to match them to my outfit. There’s a space, behind the scenes as it were, where contestants could keep their coats and belongings. We weren’t allowed them with us while baking, you see. I arrived early, about 7.30am—”
“We wouldn’t expect anything else,” said Jo with a smile.
“Alright! I like to be organised. I can’t help it. Anyway, I put my coat and bag away when I arrived and didn’t see them again until
…until I was being questioned.”
“Which means—” I replied.
“The other contestants would have had easy access to your bag.” It was Jo that finished off my sentence, but everyone was thinking the same thing. Celeste was looking increasingly guilty.
“Did anyone else see her during the interval?” asked Emma.
“Not as far as I know,” I replied. “Have you heard anything about where she was, Caz?”
Caz was the oracle of all gossip and events on the island. I had spoken to numerous people, but I still suspected that Caz had probably heard from more.
“Not a thing. I was with Jules and Margaret, of course. I bought them a drink each and then popped to the ladies. I mean, we were probably only out of the tent for twenty minutes. We were last out and first back in. It makes no sense. No one seems to have seen a thing.”
“Leave it with me, girls," I said. "Come on, Shadow, we have work to do."
Chapter 10
Celeste lived in a three-storey seafront home on the largest of the Nord Isles, Port Ynys. The Juliette balcony from the second floor gave it a Parisian feeling, and I could imagine Celeste sat there, sipping her coffee and eating croissants with the doors thrown open.
Today, however, there was a wind whipping in off the sea, and clouds were gathering further out. All the windows and doors were firmly shut. I rapped my knuckles on the front door and waited. It only now occurred to me that perhaps Celeste was not here. I had already tried her patisserie, but it was apparently closed on Tuesdays.
I could just make out a shuffling noise on the other side of the door before it opened. Celeste stood there wearing a long, satin dressing gown, tied at the waist, and her hair was pinned into curls. A cigarette hung from her fingers.
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