Murder in the Cake: Cozy Murder Mystery (Harley Hill Mysteries Book 4) (13 page)

“Oh, how silly of me.” She chuckled. “Ophelia Cranwell.”
 

She offered her hand. I took it, noticing she had a surprisingly firm handshake for someone who must have been in her late eighties. “Maggie and I have known each other since the war.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you coming round for dinner at Aunt Maggie’s house,” Cordi said brightly. “Gosh, it must have been thirty years ago?” Cordi turned to me. “Aunty Maggie used to throw the most wonderful dinner parties.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Ah, speak of the devil,” said Ophelia before opening the door. It was Maggie.

“Good evening, Ophelia, girls.” Maggie gave her friend a hug. “Ah, tea and cake, how splendid.”
 

“I made your favourite. Clotted cream fancies with kirsch.”

“And fairy cakes.” Maggie smiled “Perfect, Ophy, just perfect.” She picked up a bone china plate and piled it with cakes. “Now I’m loaded, shall we get on?”

Ophelia took a sip of tea and gave Maggie a sly smile. “Always the slave driver, Mags. Come along, girls, follow me.”

With a cuppa in one hand and a plate of cakey goodness in the other, I followed Cordi, Maggie and ‘Ophy’ into the parlour. I didn’t know what to expect, but I figured I’d been dragged on a wild goose chase.
 

I mean, what could a sweet old lady like Ophelia be able to tell me about my folks? I thought that she might be some kind of spirit medium or a tarot reader or maybe she read tea leaves. I certainly didn’t expect to see what was in the parlour.

I’d expected to see a pair of comfy armchairs flanking an old-fashioned fireplace and perhaps a mahogany table with a vase of flowers on it.

Instead, there was a huge desk with quad computer monitors and a PC that looked like it belonged to NASA. On the wall were more screens and electronic charts beeping away merrily to themselves. A server hub took up most of the space on an old-fashioned walnut dresser. I have to say I was somewhat taken aback, as was Cordi.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said.

Maggie grinned. “Close your mouth, dear, you’re catching flies.”
 

Just then I noticed a stuffed parrot on a stand in the corner, at least I thought it was stuffed until its head swivelled in my direction and it cawed, “You’re nicked! You’re nicked!”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that!” I said.

“Don’t pay any attention to Mr. Tibbs. My dearly departed husband was a policeman for forty years. Mr. Tibbs has picked up some of the vernacular.”

The bird then said something in a foreign language. Ophelia went over and gave him a nut. “That’s enough now, Mr. Tibbs. You’ll get me shot one day, you naughty bird.” After giving the bird a quick stroke, she went and sat down at the computer before the array of screens that were all showing different programmes. I was no expert, but some of the text looked to be in Russian and Chinese.
 

We crowded round Ophelia, who began typing with surprising dexterity.

“Well, I didn’t expect this,” I said before taking a bite of cake.
 

“What, dear? Haven’t you ever used kirsch in cakes? Oh, you mean this.” She gestured to the computer array. “I’ve been working with computers since the war. I worked at Bletchley Park, you know. Well, no, you don’t, but I’m sure it will be declassified one day. Anyway, I’ve been hacking since, well, almost since dear Ada Lovelace started programming.”

Ophelia and Maggie laughed at their private joke.
 

I hated to break up the reunion, but I’d been dragged here for a reason. “So, just what have you found out about my parents?”

“Why don’t we start with what you know, shall we?” Ophelia said over her shoulder.

Resigned, I sat on a stool beside Ophelia. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I could trust her. I knew that I trusted Cordi, but it was still hard to talk about my parents with anyone. “Not much, really. I thought they were dead for years and then I found out from a… source that they were alive and that they’d been Russian spies.”

“Was that ‘source’ a Russian gangster by the name of Anton Ivanov?”

I looked at Maggie, who gave me a reassuring nod. I decided there was no point lying; if Maggie and Cordi trusted Ophelia, that was good enough for me. “Yeah, kinda. What are you doing, by the way?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just having a little snoop around the KGB computer system.”

“What!” I was shocked. I expected the door to be kicked in any minute. “You can’t do that… can you?”

She peered at me over her spectacles, her face bathed in the reflective glow of the four computer screens. “Of course I can, Harley. I told you, I’ve been hacking computers for, gosh, it feels like centuries; besides, there are so many back doors to their systems, it’s hardly proper to call it ‘hacking’. It’s more like logging on to Facebook. Which reminds me, I must update my status, the girls in the knitting group want to organize a get-together. Now, the North Koreans, they have some serious black ice.”

“Er, yeah, so I’ve heard—about the Koreans that is, not your knitting group, although, I’ve never known anyone who actually tried to hack North Korea’s security services.”

“What? Not even your friend who hacked the PSIA, what’s his name… Henzo, isn’t it?”

“You know a lot about me.” I was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Henzo was a good friend who had taught me to hack when I was in Japan. He was a legend for being able to crack the PSIA, or
Koanchosa-cho,
which was the Japanese Public Security Intelligence Agency.

Ophelia smiled, her gaze fixed on the computer screen. “I know a lot about everyone, not just you, young lady. It was my job for a very long time, and old habits die hard, isn’t that right, Mags?”

“It is indeed, Ophy. Now, dear, could you tell Harley what you told me while I go put the kettle on again?”

“Certainly, dear. Two sugars, please, I’m nowhere near sweet enough these days.”

Maggie grinned. “You were always a little on the sour side, Ophy.”

“Good point, well made, Mags.”

The two old ladies giggled like schoolgirls. I was still feeling a little uncomfortable and, frankly, pretty weirded out. I’d never met an octogenarian computer hacker. “So what else do you know about me? I take it Maggie put you up to this?”

“You don’t sound very happy, dear.”

“Well, that’s because I’m not.” I put my cup and plate down and got up to leave. “Look, I think I’d better go.”

“Oh, Harley, don’t leave,” Cordi pleaded. “They just want to help.”

I just wanted to run, but hadn’t I been doing that all my life? I sighed. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Your parents were indeed Russian spies, nothing serious, they were sleepers who barely woke up, if you know what I mean, but it’s still a dangerous trade.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t weep for the people who deserted me when I was a baby.”

“Come on, Harley,” Cordi said. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

I felt instantly bad for being snippy. “Sorry. Do go on, Ophelia.”

“I don’t expect you to feel sorry for them, they’re the enemy, although I have to say I’ve met a few decent Ivans over the years. Do you read Cyrillic?”

“No, sorry.”

“Hmm. That’s a pity. I might have to teach you, dashed useful language to know.”

“
Dash it! Dash it all!
” Mr. Tibbs squawked gleefully and fixed me with a beady stare.
 

Ophelia turned to the bird. “That’s enough, Mr. Tibbs. You must mind your language with ladies present. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, that’s it.” She turned to me and gestured for me to sit down beside her. “You were told that they were ex-spies, am I correct?”

I could tell that she was hedging around something. My heart began to pound. “Yeah, my brother, Michael, thinks so too. Why?”

“Although I’m not one hundred percent sure, it would appear that, far from being retired, your parents are still active.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. Nothing made sense. “Why would they lie?”

Ophelia took my hand. “They’re spies, dear. It’s what they do. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but perhaps they’re just waiting for the opportunity to enlighten you themselves.”

“Yeah,” I said. My mind was racing. “Maybe. Will you do me a favour?”

“Well, I’ll try, Harley.”

“My folks are coming over to see me. Will you promise not to tell anyone what you’ve found out until I’ve had a chance to speak to them?”

She sighed heavily.

“Please, Ophelia,” Cordi said.

Just then, the door opened and Maggie came in with a tray of tea. “Oh, don’t worry, girls. Ophy won’t blab. She’s signed the official Cake Maker’s Code of Secrecy. Now, who’s for an iced finger?”

***

When we left Ophelia’s, it was dark. Cordelia’s beat-up old Mercedes was where we’d left it, but I couldn’t see Maggie’s Citroen 2CV. “Where’s your car, Maggie?” I asked, fearing the worst. Car crime was pretty bad in London.

“I parked round the corner. You can walk me to it, seeing as it’s dark.” With that, Maggie set off walking at a brisk pace.

“Why didn’t you park outside of Ophelia’s cottage?” Cordi asked as we followed her down the quiet street.
 

Maggie snorted. “Really, Cordelia, you didn’t think I was going to park near that heap of junk you call a car, did you? I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Aunt Maggie, really!” Cordi exclaimed.

I got the feeling she was about to give her aunt a piece of her mind, and as much as I wasn’t really feeling up to getting involved in another Silvers family argument, I couldn’t stand by and watch Cordi get into a fight with Maggie, who, it had to be said, could be pretty mean.

“Hey, Cordi. Do you fancy heading over to the Horse and Coach after we wave Maggie off?”

“Yes, actually, I think I do,” she said, while scowling at her aunt.

“Going to the pub? You really should be going to bed, Cordelia. You could do with the beauty sleep. Now, Harley.” She turned her sharp gaze on me, leaving Cordi bursting with indignation.
 

“Yes, Maggie?” I folded my arms. I was not in a good mood.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t have any better news for you, I know you don’t need the extra pressure when you’re working on a case, but it’s always better to know all the facts, especially for an investigator. That your parents are still active could mean many things, but it’s better to know before you meet them.”

“I understand, Maggie, thanks for your help.” I wasn’t sure that I meant it, but I knew I should. We made sure she reached her car before heading back to Cordi’s Merc.

“You know, it does look like it’s missing a ‘police aware’ sign,” I said to Cordi to try to lighten the mood.

She sighed. “I suppose I could perhaps get some of the dents fixed, maybe have the scratches removed… the bumper put back on… the radiator fixed and—”

“Maybe get a new car?”

“Harley!” She turned to me, a hurt expression on her face. “How can you say such a thing? I love my car, it’s got character.”

“It’s certainly got something.” We laughed. It felt good to release a bit of tension. “I don’t know about you, but I am looking forward to a vodka and Coke.”
 

Cordi got out her car keys and her phone. “G&T for me. How about I ring Michael and get him to meet us there?”

“That sounds like a plan. Tell him to get a cab so he can drive us home.”

“Oh, good idea, and I promise, no canoodling!”

I smiled and walked with Cordi, all the while wondering why my parents had lied about their spy status, and what that meant with them coming over to see me. As ever, my guts churned with the anxiety of it all.
 

I began to wonder whether I shouldn’t have just let sleeping dogs lie and never searched for my family. Just what was I getting involved with?

Chapter Fifteen

After a really fun night at the Coach and Horse, I dragged myself out of bed the next morning, made a batch of blueberry pancake mix, and took Max for a walk before the rest of the house had even woken up.

It was bright and crisp out, with just a hint of frost in the air. I decided to take Max to Hyde Park, the scene of his earlier crime against wizarding kind. I even let him take the ‘magic ball’ he’d stolen from Greg and his sulky friend.
 

I wasn’t a big fan of the cold, so I borrowed an old-style, sheepskin flying jacket from Cordi’s amazing costume collection and teamed it with a heavy metal T-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans, and my faithful biker boots.

The park was pretty quiet, so I let Max off the leash for a good old mooch in the bushes. On the way in, I grabbed a coffee to help ease away last night’s activities. It was good to get out in the fresh air; it gave me time to think.

The Renholm case was developing into quite the mystery.
 

The more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed he would commit suicide using such a weird poison method. As for my parents, I decided I would reserve judgement about what I thought about them until I met them face to face. It only seemed right to give them the benefit of the doubt.

I sat down on a bench and Max came over and dropped his slobbery ball at my feet. Luckily for me I was wearing gloves. I picked it up and threw it for him. He followed with a yip and a bark as his loping gait hurried after it.

My thoughts turned to Cole. If he was going to dump me, then he was going to dump me. There was nothing I could do about it; I’ve learned that the tighter you try to hold onto a handful of sand, the more it slips through your fingers. I’d let him go if that was what he wanted, but it wouldn’t be easy getting over him.

Deep into my thoughts, I didn’t notice the shadow creep up on me until it blotted out the light. At first I thought it was Max, but when I looked up, I saw Alex Cobb standing in front of me.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself. Are you following me, officer?”

“Not today, Miss Hill.” He smiled his slow, sexy smile. “I run here most mornings.”

I could believe that, he was wearing a pair of board shorts and an old rugby shirt. Sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead and sheened his face. He looked damn good sweaty.