Tapas, Carrot Cake and a Corpse (A Charlotte Denver Cozy Mystery Book 1) by Sherri Bryan Page B

for sure, but now she was more confused than ever as to who the killer could be.  In any case, even if it was Samantha, Nathan still didn’t have enough evidence to charge her.
    As she tossed and turned, she thought back to the day she’d found Blake’s body, and suddenly, something that Nathan had said came into her mind, as clear as day - “ Often, it’s the smallest details that leave the biggest clues”. 
    With a gasp, she sat bolt upright.  “I’m brilliant!” she said out loud, before jumping out of bed.  She ran to the bathroom before pulling on her clothes from the night before.  Then she ran downstairs and rummaged through the cupboard under the kitchen sink, vowing for the umpteenth time to clear it out when she had time. 
    Five minutes later, she was cycling carefully off into the pitch-black night, thankful to have found the torch she’d been looking for. 
    At a little after 1.00 am, she arrived at Tom’s cottage.  Leaning her bike up against the wall, she crept into the front garden as quietly as she could, praying that Pippin wouldn’t start barking.  Looking around, she spied a large terracotta plant pot and with huge effort, carried it over to stand, upturned, under Tom’s largest hanging basket. 
    I’m sorry Tom, but duty calls , she thought, as she carefully put her hand into the basket, its wonderfully-fat, ready-to-burst-open buds on the verge of revealing their glorious flora.  She felt around in the soil, but found nothing except a couple of wood lice who were probably most aggrieved at being disturbed at that hour of the morning.
    Undeterred, she moved the flowerpot to stand under the next basket.  “Good grief, this thing weighs a ton!” she puffed under her breath. 
    Standing carefully on the upturned pot, she dipped her hand into the basket and began to feel around in the cool earth.  She was just about to move on to the next basket, when her fingers touched a hard object.  Pulling gently until it was out of the soil, she looked at it in the dim glow of the flashlight and saw that it was a plastic food bag. 
    Bingo!  She could barely contain her excitement when she saw the contents.  She carried the plant pot back to where she’d found it and, putting the bag carefully into the basket on her bike, cycled off as fast as her legs would pedal.
    As soon as she got home, she called Nathan.  For a split-second, she wondered whether to wait until the morning, but then decided that this was far too important to leave until then.  He answered the phone after two rings.
    “Yes, Charlotte?” 
    Although his voice was stern, she could tell that he was smiling as he spoke.  He was obviously becoming accustomed to her late night calls.  “Hi, did I wake you?” she asked.
    “No, you didn’t – I was going over some paperwork.  What’s up?”
    “Um, look … I know you told me to mind my own business, but you’re going to be really pleased with me this time.  I’ve just found some evidence that I’m pretty sure will prove who the killer is - can I come over?”
    “Charlotte, please tell me that you haven’t been out in the middle of the night looking for clues?”  She could tell from Nathan’s voice that he definitely was not smiling now.
    “Oh, Nathan - don’t be cross with me – I didn’t have time to think, I just went.  Anyway, I’m back now, and I’m safe, so there’s nothing to worry about.  Anyway, can I come over?” she persisted.
    She heard Nathan sigh heavily.  “No, you can’t.  I’ll come over to you – I don’t want you cycling anywhere at this time of night again.  Give me five minutes.  Bye.” 
    She put down the phone and waited impatiently.  She couldn’t wait to show Nathan what she’d found. 
    True to his word, Nathan was on her doorstep five minutes later.  “So, what’s so urgent that you’re riding round the neighbourhood in the dead of night?”
    “Come in, come into the kitchen,” Charlotte grabbed his