Murder At The Bake Off (Celebrity Mysteries 3) by Zanna Mackenzie

appears through the door from the store and glares pointedly at me, hands on hips.
    The nail-biting female, whose name I still don’t know, ushers me back towards the public area of The Pear, saying, “You shouldn’t be in here.”
    Just as she starts tapping in the code on the security keypad to push me through, I look out through the eye-level window in the door and I see him. Adam. He’s back in the café, chatting with a guy who does not look at all happy.
    Oh, hell.

CHAPTER FIVE
    I back away from the door, trying to think of a reason to stay here, a way to persuade Nail Biting Woman not to shove me back out there, where Adam will see me. Then I realise, hopefully, I won’t need to lie. I’ll just tell her my horrible ex is standing eight feet away from us, and the last thing I want to do is bump into him. She’s a woman. She’ll understand, right?
    “Please don’t make me go out this way,” I plead.
    She doesn’t seem convinced, so I point through the window. “You see that guy over there, the one at the counter? That’s my ex-boyfriend from hell.”
    She peers into the café, then nods. “That’s your ex? The tall guy with the floppy hair? He was in here earlier, asking loads of questions.” She wrinkles up her nose. “I didn’t like his attitude. He’s not working with you, though, at this CIA place, is he? He said he was a journalist.” Her eyes suddenly widen. “Oh, was he lying? Is he working undercover?”
    “No, he wasn’t lying about that. He really is a journalist.” Then, feeling mean, I add, “A gutter press type who ruins people’s lives—that’s exactly what he is.”
    There’s more nose wrinkling, then she says, “I knew he was trouble. He wanted to speak to Terry as well.”
    “And did Terry talk to him?”
    She nods. “Yeah, for ages.”
    Hmmm. So what was Terry prepared to chat about with Adam that he clearly wasn’t with us? Had Adam promised him money? A handsome pay out for information about what happened to Cherry, perhaps? That’s the way he usually works.
    “So what did he do? Your ex?” The woman tilts her head in Adam’s direction. “If you hate him so much and are skulking in the kitchen to avoid seeing him, things must have ended really badly.”
    “They did.” And that’s as much as I’m prepared to say on the matter.
    “Will you please get out of this kitchen!” Great, the stern woman is back again. “Pamela, escort this lady back to the public area immediately.”
    Pamela, aka Nail Biter, nods and goes back to keying in the door code, mumbling “sorry” as she does so.
    I plant my feet firmly on the floor. No. I am not going out there. I glance behind me. Can I make a run for it, out the back way and go in search of Jack?
    “Hide behind me,” Pamela says as she opens the door. She then grabs an empty tray off a nearby serving trolley.
    Pamela and the tray don’t provide much cover but what other choice do I have?  I duck down as much as I can and half-run, half-walk across the floor of the cafe. I feel like an idiot and I’m sure we’re probably attracting curious glances, but I don’t dare look. The door to the pavement outside is tantalisingly close. I can do this. I’m almost there.  A young couple, arm-in-arm, stop Pamela in the waiting area to ask if The Pear caters for birthday parties.
    Sugar. Now what am I supposed to do? Hang around in a semi-crouched position, trying to stay out of sight as she explains the various food party packages? I’ll look even more ridiculous than I do already. Think , Lizzie, think, I chant silently to myself. The man who is part of the arm-in-arm couple spots me and gives me a weird look. I wave a hand and smile, trying to not look manic. Now, he’s giving me an even stranger look. It’s no good. I’m going to have to make a run for it. Taking a deep breath, I slowly straighten up and then, as though everything is fine, try to walk nonchalantly towards the door—and freedom. My fingers have