Free Murder on the Levels: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 2) by Frances Evesham

Smith.
    Arms folded across a round paunch, he eased himself on to a stool. “We’ve met before.”
    He’d been one of Joe Ramshore’s team when Susie Bennett died. Libby forced a smile. “We have.”
    “Made fools of us all, didn’t you?”
    She swallowed. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “I like to help the police whenever I can.”
    A brief smile flickered across the face of the younger officer, a slim blonde woman. “I’m Constable Sykes. Emily Sykes. We’ve just come from Sergeant Ramshore.”
    “Is he home, then?”
    No one answered her question. Constable Smith bit into a hob nob. “This is a very serious matter, you know.”
    “Of course. Two people have died. It’s a dreadful affair, but it’s nothing to do with me, or the bakery.”
    “Now, I never said it was, did I?”
    Libby looked from one officer to the other. Neither was smiling, now. “Am I some sort of suspect?”
    “We’re just making inquiries.” Constable Smith looked around the kitchen, shrewd eyes noting every item. “Make cakes and chocolates in here, Mrs Forest?”
    “Yes.”
    “Does your kitchen comply with health and safety regulations?”
    She gulped. “The things I make here aren’t for sale, yet. The inspector’s due to come soon.”
    He scribbled in his notebook. Constable Sykes nodded. “It’s a beautiful kitchen. Did you design it?”
    So, this was ‘good cop, bad cop.’ “Yes.”
    Constable Smith smiled, revealing a set of large, tombstone-shaped teeth with a gap between the front pair. “But there were chocolates at the bakery.” Libby’s heartbeat raced. “Were they yours?”
    “They weren’t for sale.”
    “The cycling club came in to the shop that morning, I believe.” Libby nodded. “Did they eat any of the chocolates?”
    “Well, yes. I mean, we were trying them out―Frank, Mandy and me―when people came in to the shop, and I think a couple of people had a taste…” Libby’s voice trailed off, her mouth suddenly dry.
    “I see.”
    Forgetting her intention to answer questions as briefly as possible, Libby added, “There wasn’t anything wrong with the chocolates. I’m sure of it. I made them myself. They were samples. I’m starting a business...” She heard herself babbling, and bit her lip.
    “Does Mandy live here?”
    “She’s my lodger.”
    “Does she come in the kitchen?”
    “Of course. We often eat in here, and I’ve been showing her...” Be quiet, can’t you?
    It was too late. “Go on. What have you been showing her?”
    “Just some recipes.” Libby felt sick. She’d dropped herself and Mandy in a hole, and she was still digging. They’d think Mandy might have poisoned the cyclists. “Do I need a solicitor?”
    “Now, then, we’re just trying to cover all the angles. Nothing to be worried about, but we might need to talk to you again.” Constable Smith’s suddenly avuncular tone did nothing to still Libby’s nerves.
    Her hands were shaking when the police left. Could the poisoning possibly have anything to do with her chocolates? She closed her eyes and tried to think back, to the moment when the cyclists arrived in the bakery.
    They’d been talking about Libby and Frank’s new partnership. Mandy had a champagne truffle in each hand. “Champagne to celebrate,” she’d said. Frank bit the top layer of chocolate neatly from a coffee cream. “You either love a coffee cream, or hate it,” he remarked. “Me now, I love ’em.” It was one of the longest speeches Libby had ever heard from the baker.
    Kevin had been first to poke a head round the door. His little round eyes lit up. “Chocolates?” Mandy told him at length about the plans for the shop. Kevin leaned on the counter, much too close to Libby. Uncomfortable, she offered him a free sample. Next thing she knew, the shop was full of cyclists.
    But, who had eaten the free samples? If only she could remember. Wait a minute . Mandy and Frank hadn’t been sick, had they? It couldn’t be the