Earthly Delights by Kerry Greenwood

reminding me irresistibly of the Blues Brothers except not funny at all, was beating him up this morning in the lane. I just happened to come round the corner and the guy went away.’
    ‘A blue suit?’ asked Daniel.
    ‘Certainly. Day had dawned, I could see colours.’
    ‘That’s not so good. The only Blues Brothers suit I know of is inhabited by not a very nice man at all. I wonder what Jase has done to him? I wouldn’t have thought Jase was important enough to attract that sort of attention.’
    ‘You aren’t actually going to decode your previous speech, are you?’ I asked.
    ‘No,’ he said equably. ‘What do you usually do now?’
    ‘I have a bath and change my clothes, then a little lunch and a gin and tonic. Want to join me? You could watch if you like.’ I asked, trying to keep hope out of my voice. The bath was big enough for two.
    ‘I’ll stay here and amuse Horatio,’ he told me.
    Rats. I took a quick bath and came back to find that Daniel and Horatio were both staring out the parlour window, contemplating the pigeons on the sill. Those pigeons had a death wish, or else they knew all about the fact that cats cannot reach through glass and were teasing him. Never a good idea with Horatio, who, if he caught them, would tear them wing from wing in revenge for past taunts.
    I left them to it, slashing some baguettes to pieces and laying out butter, pickles, a packet of ham, some red English cheese and a bunch of Meroe’s organic salad, the most delicious leaves in the world. She says that they aren’t actually picked by the pixies and wafted to her shop on a pinch of fairy dust, they just taste like that. That was all I had in the fridge, apart from a couple of emergency frozen chicken breasts and a lot of cat food. I usually do the shopping on Saturday. Daniel didn’t seem to mind. He accepted a glass of chateau collapseau (rouge) and ate bread and cheese with what looked like relish.
    Of course, I should have thought, anyone with a grandpa who talked about mitzvahs was probably not going to eat ham for lunch.
    ‘I shouldn’t have offered you ham,’ I said. He raised his eyebrows. They were straight.
    ‘You can offer whatever you wish,’ he said. ‘That just shows your generous heart. It is up to me whether I accept or refuse. In the case of ham, I refuse. In the case of …’
    He leaned forward and took my hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed my work-worn knuckle very gently. I dragged in a deep breath.
    Then my bell began to ring frantically, Horatio jumped onto Daniel’s shoulder, Daniel let go of my hand and I swore.
    ‘Shit! Now what?’ I went into the parlour and pressed the intercom button.
    ‘’S’me, Goss, you locked me out and you got my mobile, I need it,’ said a fast, angry voice.
    ‘Can’t you do without it?’ I demanded
    ‘Spend a weekend without a mobile? Duh,’ she sneered.
    It was true. Goss was as wedded to her mobile phone—her whole social life revolved around it—as Tom was to Jerry, Marge to Homer, or Princess Leia to Han Solo.
    ‘Go to the bakery door,’ I sighed. ‘I’ll come and let you in.’
    ‘Whatever,’ she snarled, which meant ‘yes, and this is all your fault for making me put the phone under the counter while the shop is open. If you let me carry it in my hand this would never have happened’, which is quite a lot for one trisyllable to carry. It managed. I turned to look at Daniel and Horatio, who had come to the parlour door.
    To my surprise, Daniel was laughing. He had a pleasant, infectious chuckle and I found myself laughing too, despite wondering how long it would take to wring Goss’s neck and where I could conceal the body. Horatio, who would never allow himself to smile, seemed gently amused. Well, I hoped it kept fine for them.
    I clattered down the stairs to the bakery, clean and sweet smelling, into the shop, unlocking as I went. I found the wretched phone and opened the bakery door to discover Goss jumping up and down