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

a nervous glance towards The Pear. I can’t see Adam inside now. He could be anywhere. He could have rushed off to another appointment, or he could be sitting in a car watching this place and just waiting. I wouldn’t put it past him.
    Jack starts the car up, shooting me another curious look. “Got a particular picturesque spot in mind?”
    “No, just away from here. There’s something about this street that’s creepy.”
    We drive around for ten minutes, and I eventually suggest we park in a wide tree-lined road populated by elegant four-storey townhouses. Before I take a bite of my panini, I say, “You never told me what happened when you went to look for Terry.”
    Jack’s just taken a generous bite of his beef and horseradish crusty roll, so it’s a few moments before he replies, “Which reminds me, I thought you were supposed to stay in The Pear, not go leaping into taxis.”
    Oh no, not this again! “I was looking for you,” I repeat my excuse from earlier. “And where were you? What happened with Terry?”
    “I followed him down the alley, keeping out of sight. A flash motorbike pulled up with a woman driving it. She had long red hair flying out from beneath her helmet. He hopped on the bike, and they raced off. I managed to get close enough to get the registration. I’ll run a check on it; see who owns the bike.”
    “That phone call he took when we were first chatting to him in the store… Do you think he tipped somebody off? Asked for them to come and get him so he could escape from us?”
    Jack nods. “Looks that way, though they must have been pretty close by to get there so fast.”
    We’re just finishing up our food when his phone rings. Perfect. That will buy me some more time as well. Hopefully it will be an update relating to the case and we’ll soon be whizzing straight off to our next assignment.
    With no opportunity to talk about strange taxi rides.
    “News?” I check as I screw up the panini wrapper and pop it into the door pocket of the car.
    “Yeah, I rang Cherry’s publisher earlier to arrange for a meeting with her editor. The woman’s assistant just told me that the editor is over at Cherry’s London apartment right now, along with Cherry’s personal assistant. If we head over there, we can kill three birds with one stone. Check out Cherry’s London place for any clues, speak to her PA, and question her editor.” Jack checks for a gap in the stream of vehicles and then swings the four wheel drive out into heavy London traffic. “How’s that for time efficiency? Should help us get home to Cumbria tonight like you wanted. You do still want to head back today, I take it? I can’t tempt you with a night of romance in a fancy city hotel?”
    I reach across and squeeze his knee. “It’s a lovely idea, but I need to get back to Eskdale and, to be honest, I’ve already had enough of London and just want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
    I also don’t want to run the risk of bumping into Adam again.
     
    Turns out Cherry’s London home isn’t far away. We pull up outside just ten minutes later. Her apartment is inside a beautiful old building. A fancy stuccoed entrance sits at the top of the stone steps, and the whole area reeks of class—and expense.
    “This is her place in the city for work purposes, but she has a bolthole in the country too, right?” I check as I push the buzzer for apartment seven.
    “Yeah, a fancy country house overlooking a lake in an eye-wateringly expensive Cotswold village. I was hoping to detour and swing by there as we head back north later on.”
    Just as I’m getting out of the car, Jack’s hand closes around my arm, easing me back inside.
    “One question before we go up to Cherry’s flat,” he says. “Why did you get into that taxi before? I’m not buying this looking for me stuff. Call me paranoid, but it seemed to me as though you were running away from something—or someone.”
    I stare at the dashboard of the car,