Red Velvet and Revenge (Peridale Cafe Cozy Mystery Book 16) Page 3

  “Sort of.” Julia inhaled sharply. “Dad had to run off to Ibiza. Katie’s broken her leg on a banana boat.”

  “Banana boat?” Percy squinted through his glasses. “What’s that when it’s at home?”

  “Well, it’s a boat,” Barker explained.

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “And it’s shaped like a banana.”

  “How novel!” Percy clapped his hands together. “Did you hear that, Dorothy? A boat in the shape of a banana. What will they think of next?”

  “Yes, dear.” Dot dismissed him with her hand. “You said Katie broke her leg? If that woman had two brain cells, she’d be dangerous! As it stands, she has just the one.”

  “Gran!”

  “Well, you know what I mean.” Dot tutted and rolled her eyes. “All that peroxide for her hair seeped into her brain, you see.”

  “Katie isn’t so bad when you get to know her,” Julia said, giving her gran a stern look. “She’s actually really lovely.”

  “The dumb ones usually are, dear.” Dot went to push up her curls but stopped when she realised they were tucked into her giant fluffy hat. “They don’t know any different.”

  “Aside from prophesying the end of days, insulting your daughter-in-law, and looking for Tony Bridges, was there something else you wanted, Gran?”

  Dot’s eyes lit up in the way they did whenever she had a scrap of fresh gossip to spread. “Percy and I just saw something rather troubling on Mulberry Lane.”

  “Troubling indeed,” Percy echoed.

  “Was it another sale on faux fur?” Barker asked.

  Dot pursed her lips. “No, but I did see your Jessie heading up into the flat above the old flower shop with a man old enough to be her father!”

  “Jessie?” Julia asked, stifling a laugh. “That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure it was her?”

  “My eyesight is as sharp as it’s ever been!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for my own retinas,” Percy jumped in, fiddling his glasses, “but I saw her too. It was definitely Jessie. Dark hair with bright red streaks?”

  “That does sound like Jessie,” Barker said, his tone taking a serious edge as he stepped forward. “What did this man look like?”

  “He was about your age,” Dot started. “About your height, too. Less hair, and thicker around the middle. He was wearing a suit. He looked like the type of man who would get excited over iced buns and would break a sweat climbing a flight of stairs.”

  “Great observations, Dorothy.” Percy patted her on the shoulder. “You’re so perceptive.”

  “I know, dear.”

  Julia’s feet froze to the spot at the confirmation that she had been right to assume something was going on with their daughter.

  “I’m going over there,” Barker said, his jaw gritting. “Whoever he is, I’ll kill him.”

  “Barker, wait.” Julia pulled him back. “There’s probably an innocent explanation. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Julia.” Dot lowered her voice and leaned in. “You hear all sorts in the paper these days. Young girls vanishing, never to be seen again. Who’s to say she’s not already in the back of a van being shipped off to Eastern Europe as we speak! I think you should be worried.”

  “Thanks, Gran.”

  “It’s better to err on the side of caution.” Dot peeled back her thick gloves to check her watch on the inside of her wrist. “Where’s that boyfriend of hers? Billy?”

  “On holiday with his dad in Spain.”

  “And Alfie’s gone to Birmingham to work on that hotel building job,” Percy added. “Poor girl is probably shell-shocked from everyone leaving at once.”

  “C’mon, Percy.” Dot yanked him towards the exit. “Let’s be going. You still need to finish decorating your cake for the competition.”

  “Right you are, Dorothy!”

  “You’re entering the bake-off?” Julia asked.

  “No, but Percy is.” Dot puffed out her chest with a proud smile. “I didn’t think it would be fair if I entered. You’d naturally want to give me top marks, and I didn’t want to put you in that position. He’s quite the baker, you know. He might be as good, if not better than you, Julia. He’s a man of many talents.”

  “Well, if you’re as good a baker as you are a magician, I look forward to judging your creation, Percy.”

  “You’ll love it!” Percy clicked behind Julia’s ear and produced a shiny fifty pence piece. Before she could be impressed by the trick, he dropped the coin, and half a dozen more rattled from his heavy sleeve. “Crumbs! Tatty bye!”

  Dot and Percy ducked out of the tent arm-in-arm, leaving Julia and Barker in the silent aftermath of their bombshell. Barker’s eagerness to march to Mulberry Lane to beat down the door of the flat above the florist was palpable, and she didn’t blame him. A similar feeling rose in her chest, but one thought overrode everything else.

  “We need to trust her,” Julia said, clutching his hand. “She’s a bright girl. There’s probably an innocent explanation. You know what Dot and Percy are like. They’re probably hallucinating from the suffocating heat of their fur.”

  Barker nodded, but Julia knew neither of them believed that. She might have questioned Dot’s observation skills, but having Percy describe Jessie’s very particular hair confirmed their accuracy.

  “We need to trust her,” Julia repeated, more for her own benefit. “She’s never given us a reason not to.”

  Before either of them could dwell, the tent entrance ripped open again, and a tall man with silver hair and dark sunglasses marched in. A skinny and tall young man scurried behind, juggling an armful of bags, followed by a slender, glamorous, dark-haired woman in a thick fur coat, which certainly looked more genuine than Dot and Percy’s. Evidently not having noticed the weather when she dressed that morning, the newcomer wore a leg-exposing pencil skirt and snow-covered heels.

  “You must be Tony.” Julia held out her hand to the man, who suited the descriptor of being a silver fox better than anyone Julia had ever met. “I’m Julia, it’s so nice to meet—”

  “Of course, I’m Tony,” he snapped, ripping off his coat and tossing it over Julia’s outstretched arm. “Who else would I be?” He yanked off his glasses and threw them over his shoulder, and the scrawny young man somehow dived to catch them. “Wow. Is this it? Hardly The Great British Bake Off, is it?” Tony’s eyes snapped down on Julia, the icy blue of his irises more chilling than the snow. “You there, what did you say your name was? Julie?”

  “Juli-a.”

  “Whatever.” Tony sighed, as though bored with her voice already. “Get me a cinnamon latte would you, Julie? Almond milk, no sugar, and I want it exactly seventy-six degrees, no more and no less.”

  “I—”

  “Don’t talk to her like that!” Barker snapped, stepping in front of Julia. “Who do you think you are?”

  “Tony Bridges,” the man said with another sigh. “Award-winning radio disc jockey. And you are?”

  “Her husband.”

  “Oh, excellent.” Tony patted Barker on the shoulder. “Then you can help her with the latte. Seventy-six degrees.”

  Brendan hurried over and pried Barker and Tony apart with his clipboard.

  “Tony, I see you’ve met your fellow judge, Julia South-Brown, owner of the quaint Julia’s Café just across the green. You’ll be working together today.”

  “Charmed.” Tony shot Julia a split-second glance. “Listen, Branden, is it?”

  “Brendan.”

  “Branden, we need to discuss my fee.” Tony wrapped his arm around Brendan’s shoulder and marched him off. “Crikey, what is that smell? Smells like gone-off soup!”

  Tony dragged Brendan into the corner of the room, leaving Julia and Barker to linger awkwardly with the young man and the glamorous woman.

  “I apologise for my husband,” the woman said, a Spanish twang to her silky accent. “My precious Tony gets cranky when he skips lunch.”

  “Cranky?” Barker snapped, glaring in the direction of the DJ. “He’s lucky I didn’t knock his head off! Who does he think he is talking to people like that? He’s nothing like he is on the radio!”

  “My precious Tony works very hard,” the woman explained with an unfazed smile, as though his outbursts were to be expected. “Wakes up very early for the radio show. He doesn’t mean what he says. My name is Camila. It’s so nice to meet you, Julie.”

  “It’s Ju…” Camila walked off to join her husband before Julia could correct her.

  The young man, who Julia assumed was Tony’s unlucky assistant, dragged the bags over to the edge of the room. He popped out a foldable canvas chair and then a small table, on which he sat a glass with a bottle of sparkling water.

  “Light village fun you said?” Barker muttered to Julia.

  “There’s never a dull moment in Peridale.” Julia bundled Vinnie up. “I think I’ve detected the source of the ‘gone-off soup’ smell. C’mon, let’s take him to the café to change. I have a cinnamon latte to make.”

  3

  With the assistance of an internet tutorial on Barker’s phone, they successfully changed Vinnie’s nappy on the counter in the kitchen of Julia’s café. Much to Barker’s vocal dislike, Julia made Tony’s latte to his exact specifications, justifying it by making lattes for everyone else in the tent too. She knew it would be a long shot, but she hoped the drink would act as a peace offering to make their afternoon smoother than their introduction.

  “You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression,” Barker reminded her as they walked back to the tent with the lattes and Vinnie. “The man is a first class—”

  “Radio DJ,” Julia cut Barker off and nodded down at Vinnie. “Tiny ears have a hab
it of picking up naughty words. The last thing we want is for my father and Katie to return to a corrupted child.”

  The crew and Brendan were grateful for their lattes. Tony snatched up his cup without so much as a thank you, leaving two cups behind. Camila took one and smiled her thanks, leaving behind the last cup. Tony’s young assistant eyed it up, but hung back, his hands clenched together. Sensing that he was scared to overstep an invisible boundary that Tony had put in place, Julia picked up the cup and walked over to him.

  “I made them for everyone,” Julia said with a soft smile. “Do you like lattes?”

  The young man nodded, his eyes flitting to Tony, who was busy talking to his wife in hushed tones. Julia pushed the cup towards him, and after a moment of hesitation, he accepted it with a shaky smile.

  “I’m Julia, by the way.”

  “Oliver,” he replied, his voice delicate. “I’m Mr Bridges’ assistant.”

  “You’re not allowed to call him Tony?”

  Oliver shook his head before taking a sip of the hot drink.

  “Is he always like this, or have I caught him on a bad day?”

  Oliver parted his lips to reply, but he stopped himself. His eyes flitted to Tony. Julia followed his gaze to see that the DJ was glaring at them.

  “Boy!” he called, clicking his fingers. “I don’t pay you to stand around chatting. Do your job and put those signs up.”

  Oliver thrust the latte back at Julia with an apologetic smile. He dropped down to one of the bags and produced a thick pile of paper along with a roll of tape. Julia watched as he flitted around the tent sticking bold ‘NO PEANUTS ZONE’ signs under the pink and blue bunting, ruining the quaint atmosphere Brendan and his team had spent all morning creating.

  “It’s like he takes pleasure in treating people like rubbish,” Barker said to Julia, loud enough for Tony to hear if he was paying them any attention, which he wasn’t. “If only people knew what he was really like. His radio ratings would plummet overnight.”

  “I’m here for the cakes, and that’s it. I’m not going to let—”

  The tent entrance ripped open, cutting off Julia mid-sentence. A redheaded woman dressed in an outfit more suited to horse-riding than baking stormed in. She scanned the tent, her eyes narrowing to slits when she landed on Tony, whose back was turned to them as he spoke with his wife. The redhead stormed past Julia, snatching the latte from her hand as she went. A waft of horse manure followed in her wake.

  “Oi, Tony Bridges!” the woman roared, causing the DJ to spin around. “This is for Rocky!”

  The feisty redhead tore the plastic lid off the paper cup before tossing its contents in Tony’s face. Hot cinnamon latte splashed against his skin, soaking his hair and shirt. Steam rose from the liquid as he stumbled back with a throaty roar.

  “Watch your back. Karma is coming for you.” The woman spat on the ground, tossed the cup at him, and marched out of the tent, pushing past Julia and Barker on the way.

  “Tony!” Camila cried, hurrying to her husband as he clawed at his face. “Oh, my precious Tony!”

  “It’s burning!”

  “Seventy-six degrees to be precise,” Barker muttered, holding back a laugh. “It’s hardly volcanic, mate. Calm down.”

  “Dammit, Oliver!” Tony squinted through his pain at his assistant. “You should have stopped her! What’s the point in you being here?”

  Oliver, who was on the other side of the tent, turned bright red as he lingered with the leftover signs in his hand, clearly unsure if he should get closer.

  “Tony, I’m so sorry!” Brendan rushed to the DJ’s aid. “I have no idea what to say! Who was that woman?”

  “How should I know?” Tony cried. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer first thing in the morning! Where’s the bathroom?”

  “W-we don’t h-have one,” Brendan stuttered.

  “What?” Tony’s eyes fully opened as his wife dabbed at his face with a tissue. “What do you expect—”

  “You can use my café,” Julia interjected, saving Brendan from Tony’s wrath. “It’s across the green. I’ll take you now.”

  Tony batted Camila’s hand away and stomped across the tent. Leaving Vinnie with Barker, Julia hurried behind, overtaking and leading the way to her café. After unlocking the door, Tony walked straight to the bathroom, knocking into chairs as he went. The door slammed and locked, leaving Julia to linger and listen to loudly muttered expletives and running water.

  “Do you need anything?” Julia called through the wood after knocking. “I have ice or—”

  “Shut up, woman!”

  Julia surprised herself by making an unpleasant hand gesture at the door. Even though he couldn’t see her, it made her feel better. She dropped her hand when the little bell signalled the café door opening. Oliver crept in with a fresh shirt on a hanger.

  “It was supposed to be for later,” Oliver whispered when he realised his boss wasn’t there. “Is he—”

  “I’ll deal with this,” Julia whispered back. “Go, before he takes it out on you again. I’ve dealt with men like Tony Bridges before. He doesn’t scare me.”

  Oliver’s eyes met Julia’s, and he smiled. He couldn’t have been much older than Jessie. Julia wondered how a young man with a disposition such as Oliver’s could get himself employed by someone like Tony. Oliver draped the shirt over the back of a chair and hurried out when the bathroom lock rattled.

  “A fresh shirt,” Julia announced when Tony marched out of the bathroom. “It’s a little creased, but it will do the job.”

  Tony’s face was bright red, but she suspected that was more from embarrassment than actual burns. He snatched the shirt from her, and, instead of going back into the bathroom, began unbuttoning in front of her. His body was decent for a man in his early fifties. He had some muscle definition and a slightly protruding stomach that gave Julia the impression he ate out at fine restaurants every night but also attended the gym semi-regularly. His skin was thoroughly tanned, but it was the kind of artificial deep tan that only came from hours of lying on sunbeds in tanning salons. From the way he casually undressed in front of her to the way he treated people, Julia concluded he suffered from a toxic mixture of vanity and arrogance that resulted in a more inflated ego than she had ever encountered.

  “Did you know that woman?” Julia asked as Tony shrugged on the fresh shirt.

  “Why would I have known her?”

  “She seemed to know you.”

  “Well, I didn’t know her!” Tony’s fingers fiddled with the buttons. “She’s probably a crazy fan who didn’t win one of my phone-in competitions. The world is full of nasty people.”

  Ignoring the irony of his statement, Julia turned to the tent while Tony tucked his shirt into his jeans. Wrapped-up villagers walked to the tent from every direction, all carrying cake boxes. Julia glanced at the clock on the wall; the bake-off started in ten minutes.

  “I assume I’m going to be judging this alone?” Julia said without turning to him. “It’s probably for the best.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The bake-off.” Julia nodded in the direction of the tent. “It starts soon.”

  “And?”

  “I just thought you wouldn’t want to do it after threatening to sue Brendan.”

  “Oh, that wasn’t a threat.” Tony walked across the café and ripped open the door. “But that’s for my lawyer to deal with tomorrow. Today, I have a job to do, and I’m nothing if not professional.”

  Without waiting for Julia, Tony made his way across the snowy green, fastening his cuffs. Julia locked her café and followed behind, smiling and nodding to the villagers who were turning up for their bakes to be judged. For their sake, she hoped Tony would honour his promise of being professional, but that hope immediately shattered when she heard more shouting coming from the tent.

  “I’m not doing this with her here!” Tony cried, pointing at one of the women behind the gingham table. “I refuse! She’s stalking me!”

  Julia looked at the woman Tony was pointing at. She was standing behind a cake box, unwinding a multi-coloured scarf from around her neck. She appeared to be of a similar age to Tony, and was plump and short, with a sharp greying bob that looked like it might once have been blonde. Her eyes were beady and sunken behind her round, red cheeks, and her short nose pointed up at the tip. Julia’s immediate judgment was that the woman bore an unfortunate resemblance to a pig, but she shook that thought away, feeling bad that her mind had gone there.