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

I know, but it’s still a detached house with loads of land which is all yours. Gosh, I’d be so excited if it was me that had inherited the place.”
    Stella’s obvious excitement is contagious and a very welcome distraction. “Would you? Really? Surely you wouldn’t give up your high-flying career to come and live in the middle of nowhere.”
    “Well, not just at the moment,” she edges. “But maybe, before too long. David and I might want to jack it all in and become self-sufficient or something.”
    Somehow I can’t picture Stella, all designer clothes and weekly visits to the salon, as being the self-sufficient farming type. “You do remember how far farms are from things like designer clothes shops, don’t you?”
    “Of course! David thinks that would be a good thing – stop me spending loads of money every month on designer bags and shoes!”
    “Well, he does have a point there…” I agree.
    “So? Is it all right if we come up and stay with you this weekend?”
    “Yes, absolutely,” I reply, pushing aside the fact I’m in the middle of a murder investigation. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
    “Oh good. I thought it should be OK. I mean, not much happens up there, does it? You’re probably suffering from perpetual boredom.”
    Ah. Right. Ask Stella when the new season must-have designer handbag is out and she’ll know to the hour. As far as general news goes, she doesn’t tend to follow world events. Or even UK events.
    I clear my throat. I really should tell her. “I take it you haven’t heard.”
    “Heard what, sweetie?”
    “About the murder.”
    There’s a beat of silence, and I wonder if we’ve lost the connection. “Stella?”
    “What murder?” she asks, her usually effervescent tone now sombre.
    “Well, you know I said I’d got some waitressing work at a local place run by a celebrity chef?”
    “Yes, the Vegetables.”
    “Close. It’s known locally at the Veggies. The chef patron is Armand Seville, the guy who won the big Culinary Cook Off competition on TV a year or so ago.” What am I saying? Stella rarely watches TV, she won’t know the show at all. “Anyway,” I push on, “Armand has been murdered. Stabbed in his own kitchen at the restaurant late one night.” I neglect to mention I was the last one to leave that night and that I’m on the police suspects list. I think I should probably break the news to her in stages.
    “Oh my goodness! Who found him?” she gasps.
    “One of the cleaners when she turned up the following morning. It’s all totally horrible. It’s probable that the killer was specifically targeting Armand for some reason, so it’s not like we’ve got a serial killer on the loose up here but even so, everyone is in shock and can’t believe something like this could have happened.”
    There’s more silence on the other end of the line and I wonder if Stella, in light of my revelation, is about to change her mind about visiting me this weekend. “Stella?”
    “I’m speechless,” she replies. “I mean, it’s all dreadful stuff and everything, of course it is, but… well, I’m just thinking, you left London to get away from trouble and were in search of a quiet life and then this goes and happens. Not just a murder, which is bad enough in itself, but the victim is your boss, you knew this man.”
    I swallow and nod, which is ridiculous because, of course, Stella can’t see me. “Yes,” I say, eventually finding my voice. “So, have I scared you off visiting or not?”
    “Of course not,” she replies, though I think I still detect an uncertain tone to her voice. “We’ll be there. You can tell me all about it over a bottle of wine.”
    “And what about David, you said he was coming up too, right?”
    “Oh, David can read or watch TV while we have our catch up. He’ll be fine. Look, I’m sorry but I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon and take care won’t you?”
    “You too. Bye, Stella.”
    David and Stella have