Free Murder On The Menu: A Romantic Comedy Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Celebrity Mystery) by Zanna Mackenzie

so stupid. Armand isn’t still here, lying on the floor in a pool of blood with a knife sticking out of his back. At least, I sincerely hope he isn’t. It’s just that being here, knowing what has happened, is so, well, creepy. We don’t know who killed Armand or why. Was it personal or is there a serial killer on the loose in rural Cumbria?
    We reach the door to the kitchen and the air is filled with a disinfectant antiseptic type of smell. They’ll probably have to have a health inspector go over the place with a fine-toothed comb before they can start cooking food in this kitchen again. The thought of eating meals prepared here turns my stomach, as I’m sure it will many others. When the Veggies eventually reopens, will the place be flooded with ghoulish people wanting to see the place where the celebrity chef Armand Seville was murdered? Or will the dining tables and bar be empty and the place avoided for months to come until memories fade and people forget what happened here?
    Jack turns the handle of the kitchen door. “It’s locked.”
    Of course. That makes sense. They don’t want people wandering around all over the kitchen and the storerooms and walk-in fridges. They didn’t change the outside access key code but they did lock the internal door to the crime scene.
    “I don’t have a key.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” Jack replies, pulling a little cloth-wrapped kit from the inside pocket of his coat. “I can pick the lock.”
    Wow. He can? It’s probably wrong for me to thing that’s kind of cool - but I do.
    I watch and wait, and within what seems like just a matter of seconds Jack has the lock picked and is opening the door. Now we have to see if there are any clues inside this room which might point to who stabbed Armand and why.
    Without a moment’s hesitation Jack is inside the kitchen, looking around, taking everything in with an obvious eye for detail. “Don’t touch anything,” he says, throwing a warning look in my direction.
    I, however, do hesitate, standing in the doorway, waiting for something… though I’m not sure what.
    “Don’t be nervous,” Jack says, correctly interpreting my hovering as anxiety. “Come on in and see if you can spot anything amiss.”
    “What, other than the fact a man was stabbed to death in here only hours ago?”
    Jack stops his visual search and comes over to stand next to me. “There won’t be anything to see. The crime scene has been assessed and the place has been cleared and cleaned.” He reaches for my hand. “Come on, it’s fine, I promise you.” He gently tugs me into the room and he’s right. It looks exactly like it normally does. It just feels…different.
    “I need your help anyway, so you’ve got to get over this creeped-out stuff. You know this kitchen; I don’t. I want you to look around, and I mean properly, thoroughly look around. See if things are missing, if anything is in the wrong place. We’re on the back foot here because the police and crime scene guys will already have gone through everything and might well have removed some things as part of the investigation, but we do have an advantage in that you’re familiar with this space and might spot something you know is unusual that they wouldn’t.” He shoots me an encouraging smile.
    “Why are you doing this?” I ask, meeting his gaze, seized with concern. “You could get into all kinds of trouble.”
    He shrugs and winks. “Guess I like trouble. Now, come on, let’s get looking.”
    As I walk around, to my amazement, my anxiety about being in the middle of a crime scene is slowly fading. Jack is right – the place looks, well, normal. All of the stainless steel surfaces are pristine. Everything is in its rightful place.
    “He was stabbed, right?” Jack asks from the other side of the room where he’s opening cupboards and checking the contents. “We don’t know if it was a knife from this kitchen or not. Where are knives usually kept?”
    “Chefs can be