One deadly batch, p.1
One Deadly Batch, page 1
ONE DEADLY BATCH
A AGATHA ROYALE MYSTERY
BOOK 2
ELLA ANDREW
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Ella Andrew
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address:
www.ellaandrew.com
First paperback edition March 2024
Backspace Press
Houston, Texas
Cover design by MIBLART
ISBN 979-8-9859898-4-7 (paperback)
ISBN 979-8-9859898-3-0 (ebook)
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
1. A Normal Day
2. The Boulangerie
3. Mystery and Scones Tuesday
4. The Crime
5. Agatha Investigates
6. The Suspect
7. The Scones Box
8. The Petition
9. Simone
10. The Obsession
11. Susan’s Secret
12. Visiting Lorraine
13. Alfonso Lafleur
14. Desmond Wallace
15. The Threat
16. The Alley Suspect
17. The Signature
18. The Gift Label
19. The Department Store
20. Susan’s Secret
21. No Pastries for You
22. Juliette’s Fear
23. Amazonian Herbs
24. The Brothers
25. The Missing Profile Photo
26. The Breakfast
27. A Visit to the Brothers
28. Florence Astor
29. The Bookmark
30. The Secret
31. The Trash Can
32. Mystery Book Club
33. The Confrontation
34. The Discovery
35. The Lipstick
Epilogue
Eliza's Cranberry Orange Scones
Simone's Chocolate Éclairs
1
A NORMAL DAY
Agatha's steps quickened along the leaf-strewn sidewalk. Her miniature schnauzer, Mike, keeping pace with her. The sharp, fresh scent of the fall morning filled her lungs as she paused in front of the cozy building that housed One Deadly Chapter Books and Brew. It was here, in this once-shuttered gem she had inherited from her late stepmother Joanne, that Agatha had reignited the flame, turning it into a beloved mystery bookstore and a sanctuary for those who cherished a good whodunit.
Fishing her keys out of her purse, Agatha unlocked the front door and stepped inside, flipping on the lights. She smiled as she breathed in the comforting scent of paper, ink, and coffee. "This feeling never fades," she said, more to herself than to Mike, who cocked his head and fixed her with a curious gaze. "A year on and walking into this bookstore still feels just as magical."
Agatha soon found herself preparing the store for the day. While she busied herself turning on the coffee machine and cash register, Mike scouted the room for any dropped treats from the previous day's customers. Satisfied with a small bite of muffin under one of the armchairs, the schnauzer curled up on his plush dog bed behind the counter.
Just then, the bell above the front door chimed, signaling the entry of Agatha's young assistant, Celeste Parker. With her thick, long brown hair neatly braided and swaying gently with each step, she pushed up the large tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose and beamed a greeting. At twenty, Celeste was the embodiment of youthful intellect. She was currently immersed in general education classes online, which allowed her the flexibility to work part-time at the bookshop and café.
Her love for literature was evident in the careful way she handled each book, her knowledge expanding with each page she turned. "Good morning, Agatha, Mike!" Celeste exclaimed, her voice bubbling with the same enthusiasm she showed for her studies. She walked past the stacks of books with a respectful nod, her presence as much a part of the bookstore as the cherished volumes it housed.
"Good morning, Celeste. Did you have a nice evening?" Agatha asked warmly. She appreciated Celeste's passion for books. Agatha's gaze landed on a box cradled in Celeste's hands, her eyes alight with intrigue.
Celeste caught the curious tilt of Agatha's head as her gaze fixed on the box in her grasp, a spark of interest clear in her demeanor. "I just had to bring us some goodies from the new French boulangerie," Celeste beamed, lifting the lid off the box to reveal an assortment of pastries. "Thought you might enjoy sampling their fare."
Agatha's eyes darted to the box with a mix of delight and mischief. "Oh my, we'd better keep this from Eliza," she quipped, her voice lifting in a playful note.
Celeste's smile grew wistful. "I was utterly charmed by the way Juliette adorned her shop windows with those vibrant macarons and treats. It felt like a little slice of Paris right here in Bristol Lake, and I simply had to step inside." She let out a contented sigh. "And once I did, the aroma of chocolate and butter just swept me away. That Pain au chocolat paired with a steamy hot cocoa was divine," she confessed, patting her stomach with a satisfied grin. "And yes, I couldn't help myself—I also indulged in a French Scone."
Agatha's eyes widened in mock alarm. "That's quite the feast for breakfast," she said with a grin, shaking her head in amusement.
Celeste chuckled, a hint of defiance in her tone. "I know, I know, but no judging allowed. I'll make up for it with an extra-long walk tonight," she promised, moving to set the box on the counter. "Go on, have a pastry."
"Thanks," Agatha replied, her gaze drifting to their own pastry display. She glanced at her watch. "Hmm, it's after 9 already, and Eliza hasn't dropped off today's batch yet. That's not like her; she's always on the dot." Worry creased her forehead.
Celeste nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. "Indeed, it is odd," she said, tucking the box of forbidden treats under the counter.
Agatha paced towards the front door and looked across the street. She couldn’t help but notice the line of people in front of the Le Petite Boulangerie while Eliza’s bakery sat empty.
Celeste joined her by the door, “that’s not good, is it?”
Shaking her head, Agatha let out a slow breath. "No, it's not... but let's hope it's just the novelty drawing the crowd. With time, it should settle." Her voice held a tinge of hope.
"I'm sure that's it," Celeste agreed, trying to sound convincing. "It's the new shiny thing on the block—those colorful macarons are quite the eye-catcher."
"Probably," Agatha echoed, her sigh returning as she gazed through the glass, her thoughts with the bustling crowd at the rival bakery.
Agatha and Celeste engaged in a lively exchange, setting the stage for the day ahead when the tinkle of the doorbell cut through the morning hum. Eliza entered, her energy subdued, carrying the day's pastry delivery. "Morning," she muttered, her movements lackluster as she set the pastries down on the counter.
"Good morning, Eliza!" Agatha greeted her with a warm, reassuring smile. "We were a tad concerned; it's unlike you to be behind schedule."
"Just got held up with a few things," Eliza mumbled.
Agatha's lips curved into a reassuring smile, the kind that always seemed to ease the worries of her friends and patrons alike.
Eliza fell into silence as her gaze drifted towards the display windows. A distant look filled her eyes, one of contemplation tinged with concern. She let out a heavy sigh, her finger faintly gesturing towards the bustling Le Petite Boulangerie across the street. "Do you see that?" she murmured, a shake of her head punctuating her worry. "If things keep on like this... I might have to close shop." Her voice echoed with a soft note of defeat.
Agatha took a moment, weighing her words with care. "I wouldn't fret just yet. It's the novelty of the new place that's drawing the crowd. Once the initial excitement fades, things will even out. You'll see." Her voice carried a confident, soothing rhythm, hoping to instill the same feeling in Eliza.
Mike stretched out from his cozy nook behind the counter, tail wagging a gentle rhythm. He ambled over to Eliza and gave a soft nudge against her leg, his big brown eyes gleaming with a silent plea for a pat.
Eliza's hand found its way to Mike’s head, offering a few comforting pats. “I hope so,” she said, her voice tinged with a wistful flatness. With a parting wave, she stepped out onto the street. Her gaze dropped to the ground, shoulders curving inward in a self-hug as she made her way back to her bakery, the picture of quiet dejection.
Peering through the display window, Celeste caught sight of Eliza navigating across the street. Her gaze shifted towards the boulangerie. “Isn't it odd for someone to come all the way from France to Bristol Lake just to open a boulangerie?” she mused aloud. “Especially in our little out-of-the-way town.”
"I suppose it's a bit curious," Agatha admitted, her brows knitting together in thought. "Then again, we’re just a stone's throw from Quebec, and French Canadians do pop by quite often." Her eyes lingered on the window, reflective. "This town's big enough for more than one bakery. And after all," she added, her gaze drifting back to the display, "their offerings are quite different from Eliza’s. It's nice to have a variety." With a purposeful turn, she strode to the counter and lifted the box of pastries Celeste had tucked beneath. Up
2
THE BOULANGERIE
The jingling bell above the door announced Agatha's arrival at Eliza's Cottage Bakery & Patisserie. She inhaled deeply, savoring the comforting scent of warm butter, cinnamon, and freshly baked bread that never failed to make her feel at home. "Good afternoon, Eliza!" she called out, her voice bright with anticipation. "I'm here to pick up the scones for the book club meeting."
Agatha's smile faltered as she approached the counter. Eliza, usually a flurry of activity and cheer, stood motionless, her shoulders hunched, and her face buried in her folded arms. The cash register sat untouched, and the pastries lay haphazardly arranged in their display case, as if forgotten. Agatha's brow furrowed with concern, sensing that something was amiss with her friend.
Agatha's smile faded as she took in Eliza's red-rimmed eyes and slightly sniffling nose. "Hey, what's going on? Are you okay?"
Eliza gestured around the empty bakery and walked over to the front window, pointing at the bustling Le Petite Boulangerie next door. "Just look at that line! Seems like Bristol Lake has a new favorite."
Following Eliza's gaze, Agatha saw the crowd milling in front of Juliette's bakery. She turned back to Eliza with a reassuring smile. "They may be busy, but come on, Eliza. You've been a staple in this community for years."
Eliza sighed, her shoulders sagging as she returned to her spot behind the counter. "I know, but today it doesn't feel like it. I've had maybe ten customers all morning." She rubbed her face, trying to compose herself.
Agatha walked over and gave Eliza's arm a gentle squeeze. "Don't let one slow day get you down. It’s probably just the new-place novelty. Give it some time; Your regulars love you, and they'll be back. Plus, you've got the book club meeting to look forward to."
Eliza managed a weak smile. "You're right. I'm probably just overreacting. It's just hard not to compare, you know?"
"I get it, but trust me, your baked goods are amazing. People will always come back for quality." Agatha grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Now, about those scones..."
Eliza chuckled, shaking her head. "Of course, the scones. Coming right up." She moved to prepare Agatha's order, her movements automatic, her gaze distant.
Agatha peered into the box as Eliza closed the lid. "Ah, these scones look as good as they smell. Honestly, I don't know how anyone could resist these for long."
As Eliza finished taping up the last scone box, Agatha's eyes slid across the cobblestone street to her own storefront. Celeste was there, leaning casually in the doorway, sharing a genuine laugh with a customer. The customer finally sauntered off, toting a bag that looked ready to burst with books.
A surge of warmth and pride washed over Agatha. Her little bookstore was flourishing, and this close-knit community had truly become her home. But the feeling was fleeting; she nudged it aside almost as soon as it appeared. With Eliza clearly going through a rough patch, it didn't feel right to revel in her own good fortune. Shifting her attention back to her friend, Agatha stowed away her personal joy, ready to lend a listening ear or a comforting word. "So, are you planning on coming to mystery book club tonight?" Agatha shifted the conversation.
Eliza grimaced. "Not if Juliette's going to be there. I'd rather avoid her, to be honest."
"Come on, Eliza. Didn't you read this week's book? Your insights always liven up the discussion. Plus, we have a surprise guest tonight. You won't want to miss it." Agatha's voice took on an encouraging tone, hopeful that mystery book club meeting might offer Eliza a brief respite from her woes, and perhaps even mend fences with Juliette.
"I read the book, but..." Eliza's eyes flitted around her bakery, as if contemplating a quick exit. "Facing Juliette at the book club is going to test my patience. She opened her bakery just to compete with mine."
Agatha gave Eliza a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't let Juliette or anyone else ruin book club for you. It's your time to relax and enjoy yourself with friends who appreciate you."
Eliza sighed, her tension easing a little. "You're right. I shouldn't let that... 'French Poodle,' as I privately call her, ruin my one true weekly escape."
Agatha chuckled. "You know I love all dogs, but I get your sentiment. If the book club is your happy place, then guard it fiercely, metaphorical poodles or not."
Eliza took a deep breath, straightening her posture as if bracing for battle. "I'll go. But if Juliette so much as glances my way, she'll wish she hadn’t."
As the clock neared the start time for "Mystery and Scones Tuesday"—the name recently voted in by book club members—Agatha felt a thrill of anticipation. Alongside her was Mike, whose wagging tail seemed to echo her own excitement. Today promised to be special: they were discussing a book by Susan Spellman, a bestselling mystery author from Oxford Hills, who had also agreed to grace the meeting with her presence for a book signing.
As book club members arrived, lively conversation filled the room. Some showed eager excitement for the discussion, while others had complaints.
“I hope today we actually talk about the book, not just chit-chat like last week,” Gladys remarked pointedly as she settled into her seat. Her kind face was framed by silver hair neatly tied into a bun, a timeless style that spoke of a life gracefully lived. The small, comfortable wrinkles around her eyes crinkled as she spoke, and she gave a slight nod to emphasize her point, her silver bun not budging an inch.
The room was bathed in the mellow light of evening as Emma shared a knowing glance with Gladys. "Don't worry," she said with her characteristic warmth, "we have a special guest today to keep us on topic." A few strands of her red hair escaped her ponytail, softly framing her face sprinkled with freckles. Her green eyes, magnified slightly by the tortoiseshell glasses, sparkled with anticipation as she spoke.
Gladys glanced at the empty reserved seat labeled 'Susan Spellman' and snorted. "Some surprise. We all know the famous author is coming."
Emma exchanged an amused look with Agatha, who just smiled and shook her head slightly.
“Alright, don't spoil it for everyone else,” Emma replied lightly.
Gladys shrugged, content that at least one famous author would be there to lead a proper discussion.
The ladies continued mingling, eager to delve into debating and dissecting the week's murder mystery tale.
“Bonjour!” Lorraine burst through the door with enthusiasm, waving her copy of this week's book. “Is Susan Spellman here yet? I'd love to get her autograph!” She glanced around hopefully, noticing Susan's empty reserved seat.
“Not just yet, but she'll be joining us soon,” Agatha replied with an amused smile realizing her surprise guest wasn’t a surprise after all.
“Oh, rats,” Lorraine said good-naturedly. She plopped down into a chair, shoulders slumping in mock disappointment.
Virginia Collins looked up from chatting with some other club members. “Now Lorraine, you'll just have to wait your turn like the rest of us when Susan arrives,” she gently admonished.
“Of course, I know you seniors need to get to the front of the line,” Lorraine teased, eyebrows raised. Virginia smiled and shook her head - at 56, she was only a year older than rambunctious Lorraine.
The ladies shared a laugh as Lorraine settled in, passing the time until the guest author's arrival by munching cookies and debating plot points of the week's mystery novel with her fellow book club enthusiasts.
Eliza bustled in, arms heavy with boxes, each one brimming with scones that exuded a warm, inviting aroma—vanilla mixed with a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon. She carefully set them down on the counter. “These Mystery scones are fresh out of the oven,” she announced, her eyes lighting up as she delicately arranged each pastry—a blend of flaky crust and soft, tender middle, with a golden-brown finish that looked like the sun had kissed it.
