Cozy Mysteries : A Parfait Murder - Out of the strong came forth sweetness: (Cozy Food Mysteries Women Sleuths Series, Bakery Mystery Books) (Murder and cake Book 4)

by Luna Snow

  “I’m afraid not Pat, but it looks like the contracts are being drafted by the council’s solicitors as we speak. The process should take around 4 weeks to complete.”

  “But what about the consultation, surely the council have to consult the village about the closure of its only school. I mean what about the parents and the Board of Governors?”

  Rita shook her head.

  “It looks as if they are pushing this through Pat; someone is in a hurry to get that building. Apparently they can use the consultation they conducted when the school was under threat of closure the last time.”

  Pat almost choked on her gin and tonic.

  “But that’s over 5 years ago?”

  “I know, but at the time the council put a clause in the recommendations, that if the number of pupils dropped below 30, then at that point the decision would be reviewed with a steer to recommend that the school be closed.”

  “But that’s only a recommendation?”

  Rita shrugged.

  “Someone with some sway, and some money behind them is after the school building and it’s going to be very difficult to change things.”

  “I wish he would just drop dead, and then our troubles would be over.”

  Rita laughed. ”It might be the only way Pat, but seriously, we are up against ruthless business men here.”

  “But it’s never over, until it’s over Rita. Remember the ‘fracking’ project? We can get up a petition, stage a demonstration at the school gates and get the media interested. I refuse to give up without a fight.”

  “You’re right of course Pat, but without the council behind us, it will be difficult.”

  Pat drained the last of her glass and got ready to leave.

  “But not impossible!”

  Chapter 6

  What to do?

  With yet another sleepless night in front of her, Pat paced around the house determined to think of a way forward. There just had to be a way. The only mistake the Pemberton’s had made so far, was that she had discovered that Trish Pemberton did not need a wheelchair, but why, and how she could use that information escaped her for the moment.

  To help her think, she poured a large glass of merlot from a new bottle and contemplated her next move by the light of the fire. After the second glass an idea struck her; she would confront the Pemberton’s over the wheelchair deception and try and bluff her way around things, not exactly blackmail, but it was all she had to go on. If they had something to hide, then maybe, just maybe it might be enough to stop the sale of the school.

  Once she had decided her plan of action, she immediately relaxed and the alcohol started to pump through her veins. Within minutes of settling her mind, she was snoring soundly in her chair by the fire. The next thing she knew it was morning.

  The rain was beating down heavily onto the window pane and woke her from a deep sleep. She had been dreaming that she was chained naked to the old school railings in protest against the school closure. Joe had been there too, also naked but carrying a home grown cucumber to cover his modesty. Pat had never thought of Joe naked and the memory of her dream caused her to blush.

  “Ouch”

  She shifted from her sleeping position and felt the ache in the back of her neck where her head had lolled to one side.

  “Serves me right for drinking last night, no good comes of drinking alone”, she muttered under her breath, and rising slowly, stretched her body and walked steadily to the kitchen to make some coffee. As the caffeine started to hit the spot, she remembered her plan of action. A night’s sleep had left her less certain than the night before, but still it was her only hope. She had nothing else to go on.

  Prevaricating, she told herself that she would wait for the rain to stop, or even subside a little before venturing out. By 11 o’clock, the rain was still steadily falling, now forming large, dark pools on the ground outside her window.

  There was nothing else for it, she would have to don her wellington boots and take the plunge. Putting on a light raincoat, and pulling up the hood around her face, she set off down the small lane that led passed the church and out of the village to where the new houses stood. All the way she wondered about what she would say, how she would confront Trish if she appeared once again in her wheelchair. She could always use what Rita had told her, about Pete Bateman and the Exec-U-Homes company. That was sure to ruffle a few feathers; the press would certainly be very interested in that story.

  The path leading out of the village was very narrow and rarely used. Even in her wellington boots she tried to avoid the pot-holes that had by now turned into mini lakes. She had forgotten that the left hand boot let the water in slightly and she certainly didn’t want damp feet. On the road ahead, in a haze of drizzle, she could see the red roof of the new house amongst the trees. Her heart began to beat a little faster and she wished she had decided on exactly what she was going to say.

  Pat didn’t hear the car until it was right behind her. It was travelling fast, at least twice the speed limit, and swerved on the bend where she was walking, the tyres hitting a large pool of water that immediately soaked Pat from head to toe as it passed. She glanced for a second at the car, just in time to see Trish Pemberton’s smiling face, looking at her and laughing. The woman was actually laughing at her misfortune, caused by her husband’s reckless driving. She watched incredulously as the 4 x 4 swung into the ample drive way ahead.

  Squelching up to the house Pat could feel the anger rising inside of her. If these people thought that they could ride rough shod over her and the rest of the village, then they would have to think again.

  This time the electronic gates were open and she walked straight up to the house and pressed the bell. Harvey answered and did not look at all pleased to see her, but because of the rain felt obliged to ask her inside.

  “Who is it darling?”

  His wife’s voice filtered out of the kitchen before she appeared carrying a large glass of wine.

  “Oh it’s you. So you were the woman we soaked in the lane, I couldn’t see who it was with your hood up. Darling, I’m afraid we soaked Miss Green here.”

  The woman smirked at her husband across the room.

  Pat felt her blood pressure start to rise. There was no use in holding back.

  “You seem to be feeling a lot better today Mrs Pemberton, if you don’t mind me saying. No wheelchair today I see?”

  Mr Pemberton stepped forward.

  “My wife has her good days and her bad days Miss Green, and today is one of her good days. Now how can we help you, or is this purely another social visit?!”

  It was difficult to maintain dignity, standing dripping water onto the cool marble floor of the hallway, but Pat stood her ground.

  “I’m here to talk about the school.”

  “Well, we’re all ears Miss Green, what about the old school?”

  He raised his piggy eyes towards his wife.

  “I think you know very well what I mean Mr Pemberton. I’ll not mince my words. I know all about your crooked deal with the council, or should I say Pete Bateman. I know what’s going on around here, and if you don’t pull out of this deal, I will tell my story to the National Press.”

  There was a moment of silence as Harvey looked first at his wife and then Pat Green. The front door had remained open until this point, but now he very slowly closed it and walked swiftly towards her.

  “You want to be very careful what you say Miss Green; that could be classed as slander in a court of law.”

  “Well I’m willing to take that risk, Mr Pemberton. Let’s see what happens when it goes public in the press. Are you denying your business relationship with Pete Bateman?”

  “And I suppose you have hard evidence of all this Miss Green?”

  The man’s ample frame was close to her and she could almost feel his breath upon her cheek. He was perspiring slightly.

  “No, but once the story is leaked, I’m sure that the council will look in to this matter and who
knows what skeletons they might find in the closet. Are you willing to take that risk Mr Pemberton?”

  He laughed, rather uneasily and walked over to join his wife.

  “You seem a little overwrought Miss Green. Pat. Perhaps we can get you a drink, something a bit stronger than a coffee this time, a glass of wine perhaps, or a sherry?”

  She shook her head. “I only want one thing from you Mr Pemberton, and that’s to withdraw your offer from the school.”

  “I’m really not sure what you are talking about Pat, but let’s all go somewhere a bit more comfortable, where we can sit down and talk about this like adults?”

  Pat stood her ground. She started to feel nervous, almost vulnerable, outside her comfort zone. She did not trust the man and wanted to keep the front door in sight.

  “Well my dear, it seems that Mr Bateman was correct about our little friend here. He says she has caused trouble in the past.”

  “I have done nothing to be ashamed about. I can hold my head high and my conscience is quite clear. You admit to having dealings with Pete Bateman then?”

  “Miss Green, you think you have it all sussed out. You’re a proper Miss Marple, make no mistake. But I think you have got things slightly muddled in your head. Of course that is only natural for a woman of your age. I do not deny that I know Pete Bateman, I have been dealing with him about certain matters– I have nothing to hide.”

  “So what about Exec-U-Homes then, explain that one away if you can, explain why your company has put in the offer for the school and how Mr Bateman is listed as one of the Directors?”

  For once the man was speechless. He opened his mouth to speak but no words were uttered. Instead he opened and closed his mouth like a fish, gasping for air.

  His wife stepped forward, her eyes narrowed.

  “You should be very careful Miss Green, very careful indeed. You almost had an accident out there on the road today. It could have been a lot worse than receiving a soaking. Out walking on country roads, you know what the drives are like round here, drive like maniacs, would probably run you over and leave you for dead. You really should take care.”

  Pat Green felt a cold shiver run through her.

  “Is that meant to be a threat, if so, I have a good mind going to the police right now and telling them my story? I’m sure that they would listen.”

  Trish smiled a lazy sort of smile.

  “I’m sure they would Patricia, but it would only be the ramblings of a crazy woman. Harvey plays golf with the Chief Inspector every Sunday. I’m sure he would love to hear your story. I think he would find it highly amusing. Now, will there be anything else? I think you should go home and get dry. You don’t want to be catching your death now do you?”

  The two started to laugh and Pats head began to spin. It was ridiculous, like something out of a novel, but this wasn’t make believe; it was true! These were two smart cookies and seemed to have every angle covered. She only had insubstantial evidence to go on, and what proof did she really have? That Mr and Mrs Pemberton had threatened her was true, but it would only be her word against theirs and it seemed that they had friends in very high places.

  Once again she found herself outside the front door, and it slammed shut behind the sneering face of Harvey Pemberton. It was still raining heavily, but Pat could hardly feel it as the anger inside her boiled over. She walked slowly home, a feeling of anxiety and desperation deep within her bosom.

  This time she didn’t even try to avoid the puddles and began to feel the damp seep into her thick socks. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

  ‘Beep’

  A car behind her sounded its horn and slowed to a halt beside her. At first she thought it might be the Pemberton’s, come back to make more mischief, or even to finish her off, but when she reluctantly turned around, she saw it was Joe.

  “Get in Pat, you must be soaked?”

  Reluctantly she got in the car. She was in no mood to talk, but it was hard to say no to Joe.

  “What on earth are you doing wandering about on a day like this Pat? Now let’s get you home and we will have a nice cup of tea.”

  Pat sat in silence as Joe fussed around her in his kitchen, finding a towel to rub her hair and putting the kettle on. She watched as he poured the tea into two mugs and placed a plate of biscuits onto the table and then sat down next to her.

  “What’s wrong Pat, you have hardly said a word since you got in the car?”

  Sipping on her tea she wondered what she could tell him. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Joe, he was one of the most reliable and honest men she had ever known; it was just that she didn’t want to burden him with her problems until she was sure of her facts, she was reluctant to talk about it.

  “I’m sorry Joe; I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment. I was just running a few errands and I’m trying to sort out the WI afternoon tea at the weekend. There’s lots of baking and so much preparation to do. I do want it to go well. I suppose I must be getting too old for all of this.”

  She tried to sound convincing.

  “You’re not old Pat, I keep telling you that. And you have nothing to worry about – you’re a terrific cook – the WI tea will be a triumph as always, I’m sure. You’ll let me know if you need a hand now won’t you? Not that I’m any good in the kitchen, but I can help you set up the chairs and tables if needs be. And I was going to ask if you needed a hand with spinning the honey this year? It’s a tough job and you can always pay me in kind with a few jars?”

  He smiled and his eyes twinkled.

  The hot tea and chocolate biscuits had started to do their work and she was already feeling happier, or perhaps it was simply Joe’s kindness warming her heart.

  “Well, we could always do with a hand on the day Joe; we always need a bit of muscle with the heavy work, but as far as the honey goes….”

  She stopped mid-sentence, her words hanging in the air as if she had just been taken by surprise. A thought had just crossed her mind and she sat up quickly, suddenly energised.

  “What is it Pat, are you OK?”

  “I’m fine Joe, just fine. In fact I couldn’t feel better. You’ve just given me a fantastic idea. Thank you”

  Grabbing him by the arm she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing through the door.

  Joe stood perplexed, scratching his head. He never did really understand women.

  “What did I say?”

  As soon as she was back in the house, she phoned Rita immediately.

  “Rita, I’m just phoning about the afternoon tea on Saturday. I think we should invite Harvey and Trish Pemberton as guests of honour, make them feel welcome to the village.”

  There was a stunned silence on the end of the phone; Rita was almost lost for words.

  “I don’t understand Pat; I thought they were public enemy Number One. What on earth are you thinking of, what’s made you change your mind?”

  Pat smiled down the phone. “Well Rita, I just have the feeling that we won’t get anywhere being on the wrong side of them. You know the old saying, if you can’t beat them, join them. If I try to be friends with them instead of their enemies, then perhaps I can persuade them to see sense?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this Pat?” Rita sounded worried.

  “Oh I’m sure Rita, I’m sure.”

  Chapter 7

  The day of the WI afternoon tea and jumble sale arrived. The bad weather had broken the day before, and now the sun was shining brightly; a beautiful, golden September day.

  Pat had been busy all week, baking scones and jam tarts and a traditional Victoria sandwich, filled with homemade raspberry jam and cream. She had also cooked up a few extra surprises.

  Joe was as good as his word and helped to set up the tables. Very soon the place was looking pretty, with gay bunting hung around the room and jars of bright garden flowers adorning the plain wooden tables.

  Joe helped carry through the baked goods to place on a large trestle table at one end o
f the room.

  “Not that one Joe, that one’s not for sale, it’s for the raffle. Can you put it in the fridge until after please?”

  Joe looked down at the fancy glass bowl in his hands.

  “It looks delicious Pat, what on earth is it?”

  “That Joe is Raspberry Parfait”

  “Oh, and what’s a Raspberry Parfait when it’s at home?”

  “Well, it’s a mixture of milk, cream, eggs and sugar and with my secret ingredient of course”

  “And what’s that then.”

  “Why honey of course Joe, fresh from the hives. You gave me the idea the other day when you picked me up in the rain.”

  “But I thought you weren’t going to get any honey from the hives this year?”

  Pat wrinkled her brow. “What on earth gave you that idea Joe?”

  At 2 o’clock the villagers started to arrive and the sales of homemade pickles and jams commenced. Eric the vicar was in his element, playing the stereotypical country vicar, complete with a tweed sports jacket and straw hat. Pat watched him as he mingled with his parishioners, unaware of how his actions had led to this moment, taking the money to silence the church bells. It had been just a small act, a small erosion of country life. The fool, little had he known it would be the tip of the iceberg, the start of the decline of the village.

  But all that would change after today, today she would extend the hand of friendship to Mr and Mrs Pemberton, but where were they?

  The very day after her experience contretemps with the Pemberton’s, Pat had swallowed her pride and once again called on the couple. They had been rather surprised to see her again so soon after their previous dialogue, and even more surprised when Pat had offered an apology; they were ready for war, not peace. She had even taken them a small gift to show that there was no hard feeling.

  Pat had explained that she had been a little overwrought by the idea of the old school being closed, it was after all a lifeline in her retirement, helping the children, and the news had come as a blow to her. She even apologised about calling Trish a fraudster for not being in her wheelchair. Of course she realised now that people had good and bad days, and when she had seen Trish in town- well it had obviously been one of her better days. It was then that she invited them to be guests of honour at the WI afternoon tea. At first they weren’t sure about the idea, but Pat explained that it would be a great way to meet the locals and integrate them into village life. She also appealed to their gluttony, describing the afternoon tea and all the home baked goodies that the WI had become famous for. By the time she had finished they could hardly refuse.