Macarons and Mayhem Page 8

  “So, you’re writing nothing on a typewriter, and you have nothing typed up in your briefcase?” Julia replied with a smirk. “It doesn’t take a detective inspector to connect the dots, Detective Inspector.”

  Julia tossed the sushi into her mouth and chewed in silence, satisfied with her response. Barker tugged at his shirt collar, avoiding the typewriter in the corner of the room as though it was swelling and growing to fill the entire cottage.

  “I’ll tell you soon,” Barker said after sipping his raspberry lemonade and glancing uncomfortably. “Can we just enjoy the sushi for now?”

  “Okay, Barker. I won’t bring it up again,” Julia said as she dipped another roll into the soy sauce. “I promise.”

  “And you won’t go trying to break into my briefcase again?”

  “I promise.”

  “Are your fingers crossed under the table?” Barker asked, arching a brow.

  “No.” Julia quickly uncrossed her fingers resting in her lap. “You’re right. This is good sushi.”

  They ate the rest of the sushi in peace and chattered idly about their weeks at work, both of them avoiding the Green Fingers case. When they were finished, they cleared away the dishes and wandered back up to Julia’s cottage. Julia glanced through the sitting room window as she walked down the garden path. When she saw Jessie and Billy kissing on the couch, she put her hand up and stopped Barker. She watched with a grin for a second before turning Barker around to head back to the road.

  “Let them be teenagers,” Julia whispered as she carefully closed the garden gate. “She still thinks we don’t know they’re together.”

  “You know they’re not the only ones who can be teenagers,” Barker said before cupping Julia’s cheek and kissing her. “C’mon, let’s go for a drive. The afternoon is still young.”

  8

  Julia and Dot walked to the village hall for another Green Fingers meeting, each of them carrying half a dozen boxes of macarons.

  “I’m just not cut out for this club, Julia,” Dot whispered as they walked across the church grounds. “My hands are as dry as sandpaper, and I’ve spent so much time bent over in my garden I don’t think my spine will ever be the same.”

  “I thought you might hear something useful, but maybe it’s not worth it,” Julia said, her chin resting on the boxes. “Whatever is going on with this club, I doubt they’re going to discuss it with everyone.”

  “There’s not much discussion at the moment,” Dot said as she pulled on the village hall door. “I don’t know if this is how it always is, or if this is just how Emily runs things, but most meetings devolve into arguments. They’re not even arguing about flowers either. It’s usually Emily who starts them. I’m sure every time she senses her authority is being challenged, she snaps.”

  They walked into the village hall, and the complete silence stunned Julia. The excitement of her first experience of the group was gone. She looked into the sea of faces standing around the room, none of them talking. She looked past them to Emily and Amy, who were whispering with Mary and Brendan from the magazine, but the reporters looked like they were trying to get away.

  “I brought macarons,” Julia announced, hoping to relieve the tension. “I thought we could have a tasting before the party.”

  To Julia’s relief, a small murmur of excitement rippled through the group, but it did not last long. Emily marched through the crowd, pushing people out of the way, her pin shining proudly.

  “Julia!” Emily cried with a manic smile, her eyes bulging out of her head. “What are you doing here? You’re not a member.”

  “No, but I am,” Dot said as she dragged Julia over to the tables at the side of the room. “We’ve brought some macarons for your royal highness to approve.”

  “I would have preferred if you had called ahead,” Emily said, her tense smile widening so much it looked like it might crack her face in two. “We’re a little busy.”

  “Be quiet, Emily!” Evelyn cried as she pushed the president aside, her bright pink kaftan fluttering behind her. “You heard the woman. She’s brought us macarons to taste, so let’s taste them!”

  The group mumbled their agreement as they walked around Emily towards the table. Julia stood back to watch them open the boxes. She was pleased to hear them commenting on the pretty colours and fragrances.

  “Macaron?” Dot said as she walked across the room to present a macaron to Emily. “They are quite delightful.”

  Emily slapped the macaron out of Dot’s hand, sending it flying across the room. A gasp shuddered through the crowd as Dot clutched her hand to her chest. The president stared down at Dot, her figure growing with each frenzied pant. She glanced around the room, her eyelids flickering as she made eye contact with her members.

  “This is a closed meeting,” Emily cried, her bottom lip wobbling out of control as she looked back at Dot. “I – I need to go.”

  Emily turned on her squeaky heels and walked quickly to the door, each footstep echoing around the hall as though it was empty. When the village hall door slammed, the chatter erupted. Julia hurried over to her gran’s side.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, looking down at Dot’s hand.

  “The little witch!” Dot cried, turning to the door. “She’s lucky she caught me by surprise, or I might have hit her so hard that she and that precious pin ceased to exist!”

  Mary and Brendan stepped forward, the shock clear on their faces. They tiptoed around the group as though expecting one of the villagers to strike out and attack them too. Julia wanted to tell them it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but she could not find the words. The truth was, she had no way of explaining Emily’s behaviour.

  “This village is something,” Mary whispered to Brendan as she scribbled furiously on her clipboard. “I have no idea what the editor was thinking sending us here.”

  “Mental,” Brendan mumbled as he crouched down to take pictures of the spoiled macaron. “Absolutely mental.”

  Julia turned her attention back to the members. They chatted freely as they enjoyed the French treats, the sudden disappearance of their leader seeming to ease them. Julia took a step back, wondering if she should leave them to it. She stopped herself when she spotted one woman sitting on the edge of the room staring intensely at her. It was Malcolm’s daughter, Chloe, and she was the only one who had not dived in to grab a macaron. Julia turned back to the door, but she gulped down her pride, knowing she owed the woman an explanation.

  “Hi,” Julia said as she approached her carefully. “Not hungry?”

  “I don’t want anything from you, thank you,” Chloe said with a snide smile as she crossed one leg over the other, her sharp blonde bob dancing around her face. “Not after what you did to my father.”

  “I wanted to apologise about –”

  “What good are your apologies?” Chloe snapped, suddenly jumping up, so she was nose to nose with Julia. “He was up all night cleaning the cottage. He’s not well.”

  “I never knew.”

  “You wouldn’t! People don’t ask!” Chloe cried, tossing her arms out. “You all just assume he’s still that criminal he was when he was a kid. Decades have passed, but Peridale never forgets. The only person who cared was Yolanda, and she’s – she’s gone.”

  Chloe took a step back and looked down at the floor. Julia’s instinct told her to hug Chloe, but her brain vetoed the idea.

  “I really am sorry,” Julia whispered softly as she joined Chloe in looking down. “We just wanted to figure out what was happening, so it didn’t happen to anyone else. If there’s anything I can do, just –”

  “There is something you can do,” Chloe said, looking up into Julia’s eyes. “Leave him alone.”

  Chloe’s shoulder slammed into Julia’s as she pushed past her. Julia glanced to the empty macaron boxes, wondering why she thought it had been a good idea to come to the meeting. Leaving her gran behind, she headed for the door before she caused more trouble.

  She pulled on
the door, jumping back as Peter wheeled himself in, his face bright red, and his eyes piercing. He either did not recognise Julia as the woman who had helped him out of the florists, or he did not see her.

  “You!” he cried as he wheeled himself towards Mary and Brendan. “You sly little –”

  “Whoa, wheels!” Brendan cried out as he jumped in front of Mary with his arms spread out. “Calm down, yeah?”

  “Calm down?” Peter cried, his voice shrill. “How can I calm down when I’ve just heard that you’re not going to include any mention of my Yolanda in the magazine? I just ran into Emily. She was more than happy to fill me in!”

  Silence descended on the village hall again, all eyes turning to stare at the furious wheelchair bound widower. Mary and Brendan stared at each other, neither of them appearing to know how to respond.

  “It won’t fit with our readers,” Mary said with an excusing laugh. “We’re not a tabloid rag! We’re a serious magazine. We can’t just start writing about drunk women crashing their cars!”

  There was a split second of calm before Peter launched his chair forward with one swift push of his arms. Dot dove forward and grabbed the handles to pull him back, but not before his fingers closed around Brendan’s shirt.

  “Some drunk women?” Peter screamed. “How dare you! That was my wife! This was her group! You’re only here because of her! She spent years trying to convince your stupid magazine to come here!”

  “I beg your pardon!” Mary cried. “How dare you, you pathetic little –”

  Brendan glanced over his shoulder at Mary and gave her a look that instantly shut her up. Peter tried to wheel forward again, but Dot pulled on his chair with all of her strength.

  “Alright!” Peter cried, pushing Dot’s hands off his chair. “I’m going. You’re all cowards. Yolanda is turning in her grave right now at what has become of her group.”

  All eyes suddenly darted to the floor as Peter wheeled himself to the door. Julia walked forward to hold it open for him, but he burst through and disappeared.

  “I’ve had quite enough of this village!” Mary called. “C’mon, Brendan. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  Mary stormed out of the room, followed by Brendan, who snapped more than one shot of the shocked members’ faces as he left.

  “See what I mean?” Dot cried to Julia as she shuffled past her. “Are there any macarons left because I’m – oh, you greedy bunch! There’s not even a single crumb.”

  Julia pinched between her eyes. She was so exhausted with the Peridale Green Fingers; she almost did not want to bake for the prize reveal, whether she was being paid or not.

  “Julia?” a soft voice called after her as she walked through the church grounds.

  Julia turned to see Amy slipping out of the village hall. Her roller-set hair looked out of place, and she looked like she had not been sleeping recently. Instead of her usual hues of pale pink and blue, she was wearing a grey cardigan and a black skirt. She did not look anything like the woman Julia knew.

  “Please don’t judge Emily too hard,” she whispered as she glanced back at the village hall. “She’s a little stressed at the moment. Mary just broke the news that Emily wouldn’t be eligible to win the prize because she was the president of the club. They told Yolanda, but she never passed on that message. That was Yolanda though. She didn’t need somebody to tell her she had the best garden because she knew she did, and that was without being arrogant about it.”

  “Isn’t that ironic?” Julia replied softly. “Emily wanted to be president so badly, but it’s ended up being a double-edged sword.”

  “She’s worked hard on her garden,” Amy said, the defence loud in her voice. “She deserved it.”

  “Haven’t you all worked hard on your gardens?”

  “Well, yes, but Emily cares more,” Amy whispered. “It’s not like I’m eligible to win now anyway. Somebody destroyed my garden before it was officially judged.”

  “Somebody must have really wanted to win to do that,” Julia said firmly as she looked Amy straight in the eyes.

  “You don’t think –”

  “That Emily destroyed your garden to better her own chances?” Julia replied with a sigh. “I don’t know my neighbour like I thought I did. I wouldn’t have said she would have slapped a macaron out of my gran’s hands, but we all saw what she did.”

  Amy thought about what Julia had said for a moment before letting her fingers drift up to her lips. She shook her head for a brief second before narrowing her eyes and staring hard at Julia.

  “I don’t like to think she would,” Amy said, the wobble in her voice betraying her. “But she has been acting differently as of late.”

  “In my experience, you never really know a person until they show you what they’re capable of,” Julia said as she rested a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “I need to get back to my café, but you’re welcome to come with me for a cup of tea and a slice of cake on the house. I didn’t see you get a macaron.”

  Amy did not object. She let Julia lead her around the village green and into her café. After she put the tea and cake in front of her, Amy seemed to relax, but every time the café door opened, they both jumped as though expecting Emily.

  Emily did not show her face for the rest of the afternoon, but she did not leave Julia’s mind. Had Johnny been right about her own connection to Emily blinding her judgement? Like Amy, she did not want to think her neighbour could be capable of such horrid things, but the more she thought about it, the more Julia disliked the conclusions she was coming to.

  9

  The café was quiet the next day, so Julia poured her heart and soul into baking the most important cake she had made in a long time. She measured every ingredient impeccably, watched it bake so she knew when it was finished, and spent hours decorating its exterior, not stopping until it was nothing less than perfect.

  After sending Jessie up to the cottage after closing the café, Julia fastened the cake into the passenger seat of her aqua blue Ford Anglia. She kept one eye on the cake at all times as she drove through the village, especially when she rattled down the bumpy dirt track to Malcolm’s cottage.

  Julia pulled up behind two cars, one of which she recognised as Chloe’s. She sat for a moment and stared at the beautiful garden. Was she making the right decision? Even though Chloe had told her to stay away, she could not ignore how she had left things with Malcolm. She unbuckled the cake, hoping the faith she had in her baking to heal wounds was not unfounded.

  With the cake box in hand, she crept towards the cottage. She had already decided that if she were not invited inside, she would leave the cake on the doorstep in hopes they found it before the rats.

  Gulping down her fear, Julia walked up to the door. Voices drifted from the sitting room, but she could not see through the shadowy curtains. Knowing it was now or never, she pressed the doorbell, stepped back, and waited.

  Julia did not know if she was relieved or scared when it was Chloe who answered the door. She did not immediately slam the door in Julia’s face like she had feared, but she did not look pleased to see her.

  “You have some nerve,” Chloe said as she folded her arms, her sharp blonde bob wiggling as she moved her head. “I thought I told you to stay away.”

  “I know,” Julia said quickly, her voice shaking. “I just wanted to give your father this. I baked it especially.”

  Julia opened the cake box to show Chloe her creation. Chloe peered into the box, her brows twitching sceptically. Behind the anger, Julia could tell she was impressed.

  “You made this?”

  “It’s sort of what I do,” Julia said with a small shrug. “You can give it to him. Just tell him that I’m sorry. I really am sorry, Chloe.”

  Chloe looked down at the cake again before stepping to the side. Julia almost could not believe her luck, but she was not about to turn down the invitation.

  “Can you take your shoes off?” Chloe asked as she closed the door behind her. “It usua
lly doesn’t bother him, but he’s in a bad way.”

  Julia complied and carefully kicked off her shoes, placing them next to the door. She let out a small gasp when she stepped onto the wet floorboards. The scent of bleach was almost overpowering.

  Chloe led Julia into the sitting room, and she was surprised to see that Malcolm was not alone. Peter sat in his wheelchair in between the couch and the sofa. They both turned to look at the new arrival, both of them giving her similar confused looks.

  “You’ve got another visitor, Dad,” Chloe announced loudly. “This is your lucky day.”

  Malcolm bolted up in his chair before quickly running his fingers through his slicked back thin hair. He glared at Julia like she was a bomb that was about to explode. She pushed forward her friendliest smile, but it did not seem to make a difference.

  “I know you,” Peter said, pointing a finger at Julia. “You’re the woman who helped me out of the florist last week.”

  “She runs that café in the village,” Chloe explained as she hovered behind the couch. “She doesn’t work at the newspaper.”

  Julia wanted to explain that it had been Johnny who had said she worked at the newspaper, but she knew it was probably a good idea not to mention him.

  “I brought you something.” Julia took a step forward, her toes squelching on the soaking carpet. “I hope you like angel food cake.”

  “It’s his favourite,” Chloe said, arching a brow suspiciously. “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” Julia did not want to admit she had asked every person who came into her café until somebody answered. “Can I show you?”

  Malcolm looked at Chloe, who gave him an encouraging nod, which relaxed him a little. Malcolm stood up and picked up the lone newspaper that was still perfectly aligned on the coffee table. He pulled off the outside sheet and set it on the couch before motioning for Julia to sit. She did not question him. Peter smiled apologetically at her as though to let her know this was typical behaviour.