Peridale Cafe Mystery 22 - Scones and Scandal

by Agatha Frost

  Another sigh.

  Until Penelope Newton had decided the alley between the café and post office would be the primary objective of her neighbourhood watch group, nobody had ever complained about Julia parking there.

  “I moved Jessie’s car to my cottage,” Julia said, resting her hand on the phone even though the horrid hold music still blared in her ear. “There’s more than enough room for people to get through now.”

  “That’s not the point,” Penelope drawled. “The alley is a public right of way, not your personal parking space. The people of Peridale deserve to be able to—”

  “Mrs Brown-South?” a human voice called into her palm.

  “It’s South-Brown,” she corrected, taking the opportunity to slip back into the café before Penelope launched into her usual diatribe. “Please tell me you’ve figured it out.”

  “I’ve spoken to my manager, and there’s nothing we can do.”

  “That can’t be right,” she insisted. “I’ve been using your company since I opened, and I’ve never had an issue like—”

  The beads parted, and Katie sheepishly walked in, clutching the laptop with its screen facing outwards. Julia squinted; getting her long-distance vision checked was still on her to-do list. She beckoned Katie closer until the invoice came into focus. Amongst the usual order, three items stood out:

  201 x 1 kg butter.

  132 x 1 kg flour.

  123 x 500 g strawberries.

  “Can I put you on hold?” Julia said, tapping the ‘hold’ button on the screen. “Katie, I thought you double-checked?”

  “I should have triple-checked.” She bit into her lip. “I’m so sorry, Julia. I left him with the laptop. It was only for a second, but he must have changed things.”

  “Who?”

  “Vinnie,” she said. “We’ve been teaching him numbers on the laptop. I didn’t think he was paying that much attention. He must have bashed some keys. I only nipped to the loo.”

  Julia hung up without explaining, payback for the thirty-six-minute phone call from customer service hell. Foot tapping, she stared blankly at the stacks of boxes and let the cogs turn.

  “At least it’s all things we can use,” she thought aloud, “but we likely won’t get through it all before it expires.”

  “We could freeze the strawberries,” Katie suggested. “Strawberry milkshakes and lemonade for summer?”

  “Good idea.” Julia dug out one of each over-ordered item. “Make up some labels with the cost price of each and put them on the counter. Let people buy as many as they want.”

  Katie jumped right into the task, though she couldn’t seem to look at Julia. Before Julia could dwell on the right thing to say to stop Katie from blaming herself, the back door opened, and Julia’s two favourite people walked in.

  “Oh, come to Mummy,” she cooed, immediately scooping Olivia out of Barker’s arms. “Have you been having fun in Daddy’s office? Have you? Have you?”

  Olivia thrashed her arms, blowing a raspberry, her new favourite trick.

  “She was so close to saying it,” said Barker after kissing Julia on the cheek. “Da-Da. Say it, Olivia. Da-Da.”

  “All the books say at least six months.” Julia tugged a fistful of her hair from Olivia’s tiny clenched fist; letting go wasn’t a skill she’d managed to learn yet. “And that’s just for sounds.”

  “But our baby is obviously a genius.”

  “I think everyone thinks that, Barker.”

  “But ours is.”

  They entered the café, which had acquired a few more people during Julia’s tedious phone call. Katie arranged the three items neatly atop the glass display cabinet, but Evelyn and Shilpa didn’t appear to notice. Their faces lit up the moment they saw Olivia.

  “Oh, look at her!” Shilpa clenched her hands. “She’s so sweet. It almost knocks you sick.”

  “I felt her energy moving closer,” Evelyn declared. “Such a pure aura.”

  Outside, Julia’s gran, Dot, danced around the abandoned boxes on the pavement. She went to push on the door, eyes homing in on the ‘NO DOGS’ sign. With a huff, she handed her lead to her husband, Percy.

  “Happy, now?” Dot called as she barged in, letting the door slam shut behind her. “My family out in the cold since they aren’t welcome in your café?”

  On the edge of the green, Percy settled onto a bench. Their white-haired Maltese, Lady, curled up on one side of his feet, and their French bulldog, Bruce, sprang into Percy’s lap.

  “It’s a lovely spring day,” Julia pointed out, settling Olivia against her shoulder. “Nice to see you, Gran.”

  “I can even take them on the bus.” Dot corrected the angle of her brooch. “Why do you hate them, Julia?”

  “How could I hate them? They’re adorable.” Julia lowered into a seat at the table closest to the counter as Barker took the other side. “People aren’t usually eating their lunches on the bus. Besides, you never know who has allergies.”

  “Are either of you allergic to dogs?” Dot asked.

  “Well, actually—”

  “Alright, Evelyn,” Dot cut her off with a wave of her hand. “I don’t have all day, and for once, I definitely cannot stop for tea. Not after what I’ve just heard.”

  Going by how Dot was biting her lip to conceal her evident excitement, the gossip had to be juicy. Her gran was probably itching to rush home and camp next to the phone to call every person lucky enough to be in her phonebook.

  “Go on,” Julia urged, nodding at a chair.

  “It’s about the neighbourhood watch,” she said, perching on the edge of the seat as though she didn’t even have time to sit. “I just overheard something from their meeting in the village hall.”

  “I’ve had it up to here with them,” Shilpa announced, hand at her forehead. “Have they been harassing you about the alley too, Julia?”

  “As recently as ten minutes ago,” Julia said, pinching her nose. “Penelope stopped by to tell me she was taking it to the council. She must have been on her way to the meeting.”

  “The council?” Shilpa shook her hands up at the ceiling. “That woman has her priorities all wrong. When I tried to tell her about all the shoplifting from in the post office recently, she ignored me. Obviously, she only cares about this silly parking dispute.”

  Dot cleared her throat.

  “As I was saying,” she continued, “Percy and I were taking an early afternoon stroll around the graveyard with Lady and Bruce as we usually do at this time. Lady picked up a scent, so I let her follow it. Some so-and-so had thrown chicken bones into the flowerbeds at the back of the village hall. They can kill animals, you know.” She pushed up her curls and glanced back at the dogs. “I was in the flowers prying the bone from Lady’s mouth when I heard Peridale’s Eyes in the biggest argument I’ve ever heard.”

  “What were they arguing about?” Evelyn asked, gasping.

  “Everyone was going at it at once, and their voices echoed all around the hall. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.” She paused, and her eyes lit up. “But it ended with Penelope Newton declaring, ‘Peridale’s Eyes are over, and everyone should get back to their own lives,’ before she stormed out!”

  “I felt the tension in the air.” Evelyn looked around. “It’s been far too quiet today.”

  “Hmmm.” Dot glanced at Evelyn; Julia’s gran had never been one for the B&B owner’s mystic ways. “Regardless, now is our chance.”

  “Our chance for what?” asked Julia.

  “To start our very own neighbourhood watch.” Dot beamed from ear to ear. “There’s never been a better time.”

  Katie placed a cup of peppermint and liquorice tea in front of Julia and a coffee in front of Barker. Sipping the sweet and minty tea, Julia searched through her memory for any time she’d ever expressed a desire to start a neighbourhood watch group.

  “Wait,” Evelyn said, “you started one a few years ago. I remember because you wouldn’t let me join.”

&nbs
p; “We were full,” Dot replied flatly. “And that was different. I made the mistake of bringing together too many people in my age group. I assumed everyone was like me – as sharp as a pencil – but I quickly learned that wasn’t the case.”

  “Well, I’d join,” said Shilpa after a sip of her latte. “Like I said, someone’s been shoplifting from the post office, and Penelope has no interest in helping.”

  “Our first case!” Dot’s smile grew. “Julia?”

  Julia glanced at Barker, who had his ‘I’m staying out of this’ smile firmly fixed in place. As Olivia’s lids fluttered shut, Julia lowered her into the pram beside the table for a nap.

  “I really don’t think I’ll have time,” Julia said, gently rocking the pram while Olivia settled. “I have my hands pretty full lately.”

  “I’m not asking you to join the Special Air Service, dear.” Dot’s lips thinned into a tight line. “And besides, it’s not like you’re a single parent. I thought Barker was taking some time off after helping that politician who got caught with his trousers around his ankles?”

  “Falsely accused,” Barker reminded them.

  “I saw the pictures.”

  “They were fakes.” Barker looked as though he might opt for a more extended argument but, in the end, settled for: “Never mind.”

  “I think Evelyn’s keen to join,” Julia said.

  Evelyn looked expectantly at Dot.

  “I would, as it happens.” She leaned in. “Someone’s been sleeping in my shed, and I’d quite like to figure out who.”

  “Can’t you ask the tea leaves?”

  Julia arched a brow at her gran. Dot stared at Evelyn as though trying to cook up a reason other than ‘we’re full’ to avoid spending more time than necessary with the mystic, but she eventually conceded with a smile and a nod. Evelyn seemed pleased.

  “You know what it’s like around here, Julia,” Dot said as she rose from her chair. “Today it’s Peridale’s Eyes with parking complaints, and tomorrow it’s a new group knocking down your café.”

  “I don’t think any neighbourhood watch group comes with that much power,” she replied, ending the rocking as Olivia’s soft snores silenced the café for a moment. “Or any power, for that matter. I thought it was just about keeping an eye out for trouble?”

  “It can be so much more than that!” Dot backed to the door with an irrepressible spring in her every step. “Think about it, Julia. I know you won’t be able to resist. First meeting at my cottage in two days. Must dash. I have many phone calls to make. We need the best minds in Peridale on this.”

  Dot hurried to the bench, disturbing Percy and the dogs from a collective midday snooze. Dot took Lady’s lead, and soon, they were scurrying across the green to their cottage.

  “What do you think?” Barker asked, blowing on his hot coffee.

  “I really don’t have time,” she said, eyes on Olivia. “She’ll be bored of the idea by next week, anyway.”

  The postman stopped by and handed a stack of mail to Shilpa as she left, who passed it to Evelyn, who turned it the correct way before giving it to Julia. The postcard depicted a field of tulips gorgeous enough to put the village green to shame. Julia already knew Jessie and Alfie were in Amsterdam, but postcards arrived at random intervals she couldn’t anticipate.

  Passing the rest of the café’s mail to Katie, Julia turned and read aloud to Barker:

  Hi Mum, Dad, Olivia, and Everyone Else.

  Amsterdam is great. Weather nice. Nicer than there, by the looks of it. Snow in May? No, thanks. We went to a flower show the other day, and we’ve seen a lot of windmills. They really are everywhere. It’s been fun. We’re moving on to Berlin next. Staying with one of Alfie’s friends there. Give Olivia a kiss from me.

  PS: Writing this on a boat going down a canal at night, and it’s bloody gorgeous. Jealous?

  PPS (or is it PSS?): Can you send me a scone or some fish and chips, or something? Food’s been decent, but missing British nosh :(

  PS3: Miss you all too, obviously.

  “She’s right,” Barker admitted. “I am jealous.”

  Smiling as she read over it again, Julia crossed to the string of postcards on the café wall under a handmade ‘Jessie’s Travels’ sign. An idea formed as she attached it to one of the empty pegs.

  “Katie?” she called, already heading for the beaded curtain. “I think I know how we can get rid of all of this extra food, and you can thank Jessie for it.”

  2

  T he orange sunset bled into the kitchen of Julia’s cottage, signalling the end of a day that had somehow turned into one she hadn’t wanted to see end. Baking hundreds of scones and making nearly as many jars of jam should have been an arduous task, but with good company, it had turned into the most fun Julia had experienced in a while.

  “Another perfect batch, Katie,” Julia said over Katie’s shoulder as another tray of chocolate orange scones emerged from the oven. “Good idea on the flavour combo. Smells delicious.”

  From there, Julia turned her attention to her father, Brian, at the camping stove on the breakfast bar. He sprinkled more sugar into the pot as he frantically stirred with the whisk.

  “Don’t let it boil,” she instructed. “Simmer and stir.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.” Brian saluted. “Your mother’s recipe?”

  Smiling, she nodded at the handwritten recipe book opened on the stand. “The scones too. Turns out Jessie’s not the only one helping without actually being here.”

  “It’s a genius idea,” Brian said, stirring the red gloop. “Who doesn’t love jam, and who doesn’t love scones? It’s why they go so well together. It’s a shame Vinnie didn’t add on some vats of cream while he was hitting the keyboard because you’re going to sell all this and more.”

  Julia stared at the stacks of finished scone boxes in the hallway containing every flavour from the traditional plain to Katie’s chocolate orange to Julia’s personal favourite recipe, cherry and almond. The bigger the pile grew, the more it scared her, and they’d hardly made a dent in their overstock yet.

  “We’re going to need to really push them,” Julia said, transferring the last cooled batch to cardboard packages of two, four, and six. “And we’re going to have to keep making them every time we sell out until the levels are back down to—”

  The egg timer on the edge of the counter rattled, signalling the end of another fifteen minutes. Brian slid off his stool and twisted it back to the start.

  “My turn with the kids,” he said. “Barker’s probably been counting down the seconds in there.”

  When they were alone, Katie pulled one last ball from the large pile of dough, shaped it, and moved towards Julia with her doughy fingers extended in the other direction.

  “I really am sorry about all this,” she whispered. “I thought I was finally getting on top of things.”

  “You are on top of things,” Julia reminded her, continuing the boxes. “This is just one little mistake, Katie. I’ve had fun tonight, haven’t you?”

  “I have, actually.”

  “And even priced low to sell as many as possible, we’ll still make a great profit once that dent in the bank account is filled in.” She hoped. “This might turn into the best May we’ve ever had.”

  Katie thanked her with a smile and had a sip of her wine before continuing to shape. Being upset at Katie for something that could have happened to anyone wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe near one thousand scones would. Besides, Julia had missed the thrill of a task that didn’t revolve around feeding, nappies, and sleep schedules.

  “Easiest audience I’ve ever had,” said Barker as he sat at the jam station and grinned. “All I have to do is pull a funny face and Olivia’s in stitches.”

  “If Jessie were here, she’d make a joke about your normal face being funny-looking,” Julia said, diving in to stir the jam as a bubble popped the glossy red surface. “Simmer and stir.”

  Barker took the whisk and continued where B
rian had left off. Katie stopped shaping her dough and, this time, wiped her hands clean.

  “Now that you’re here,” Katie whispered, nodding at Barker before jerking her head towards the sitting room, “and he isn’t, I wanted to ask a huge favour of you.”

  “Anything.”

  “You might regret saying that.”

  Katie reached into the back pocket of her tight jeans and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She clutched it in both hands as she steadied herself.

  “We’ve had an offer on the manor.”

  A similar relieved breath escaped Julia and Barker’s lips at the same moment.

  “That’s amazing news,” Julia whispered. “It’s about time.”

  “Does all this whispering mean Brian doesn’t know?”

  “Oh, he knows,” she said, unfolding the paper with trembling fingers. “He wants to bite the guy’s hand off. You know what your father is like. Rush, rush, rush!”

  Just hearing Katie’s hesitation knotted Julia’s stomach. Wellington Manor, Katie’s ancestral home, had been on the market for over a year now, and they’d had no serious offers despite dropping the price several times. With every month, Katie seemed to grow more anxious about letting go of the debt-riddled money pit. Still, Julia had hoped an offer would chase away those reservations at once.

  “James Jacobson.” Katie slapped the paper, a printed screen capture of a social media profile, onto the counter. “Sounded like a made-up name to me, but he’s on Facebook, so he must be real.”

  “Don’t believe everything you see online.” Barker squinted at the picture of the man. “Profiles can be faked.”

  “See!” Katie tossed a hand in Brian’s direction. “Your father thinks I’m going around the bend. I don’t trust this guy. He gives me a bad feeling.”

  “Want me to look into him?” asked Barker.

  “Would you?” Katie deflated. “I can’t afford much—”

  “I’m not taking your money, Katie.” Barker folded the paper and slotted it into his pocket before quickly returning his lapsed attention to the jam. “You’re family, and it shouldn’t be too difficult to verify the identity of someone with that much money to spend. Unless he’s a mastermind, he would have left a paper trail somewhere. How’s his offer?”