“Poppy, you must be careful,” Elspeth said. “It’s no good to be jumping to conclusions. I can see that your mind is working double-time, but you’re on dangerous ground here.”

  As Elspeth spoke, the anonymous note I’d received last week came rushing back to me. You are in terrible danger. You shouldn’t be here.

  Was I being a total fool right now? Danger was coming at me from all angles. But no way was I going to leave the show. I’d have to find a way to stay safe but also do the right thing. And I knew that meant getting to the bottom of Eileen’s last words.

  As if she could read my mind, Elspeth said, “I think the best idea is for you to say your protection spell, have a hot, soothing bath, and then get a good night’s sleep tonight. Remember, you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow. And no good decisions are made when we’re emotionally frazzled. Rest, and then revisit Eileen’s last words tomorrow, after the show and when you’re feeling fresh and centered.” She had a worried frown between her brows. “Tomorrow’s the showstopper, and I don’t have to tell you, dear, that you aren’t in the strongest position at the moment.”

  I gulped. She didn’t have to tell me. I’d come in fifth, twice. Out of eight remaining contestants. I was one disastrous showstopper away from baking-show annihilation.

  But to my surprise, Jonathon disagreed. “I don’t know, Elspeth. This is important stuff. Remember Eileen’s kindness? You’ve been on the show far longer than me. Don’t you want to make sure we do the right thing?”

  Elspeth shot him the same kind of stern look I’d seen her give him when he messed up his rehearsed lines on set. I realized then that Jonathon usually followed Elspeth’s lead on, well, everything.

  And then I heard a familiar voice. “I have to say, Pops, I agree with you and Jonathon on this one.”

  I guess I’d brought this one on myself, wishing for my sidekick earlier. Gerry was floating a few meters from our table with a cheeky expression plastered across his face. His red hair was sticking out in wild tufts. I bet he wouldn’t have chosen that bright red shirt with the cars and trucks all over it if he’d realized he’d be wearing it for eternity.

  Jonathon looked at his watch. “Look, it’s still early. The rest of the bakers went on a walk together to the next village. Euan had heard something about a fromagerie that still cuts cheese wheels with a wire like they used to, and everyone was very charmed. They’ll be at least another hour. Poppy, why don’t you and I go take a look at Eileen’s home later tonight, ahead of the nephew’s arrival tomorrow?”

  Gerry immediately flashed me two thumbs-up. “And that’s a ten out of ten plan from Jonathon,” he said, grinning. “I’d love to come, but I’m still stuck between here and the tent.”

  Thank goodness.

  I wanted to ask Gerry if he’d made any progress finding the author of my warning note yet, but since I was still in public, that particular chat would have to wait.

  “I don’t like it,” Elspeth said.

  “We’ll be careful,” I promised her. What was the worst that could happen?

  Chapter 13

  I hated to go against Elspeth’s wishes––she was my witchy godmother, after all––but I was determined to do the right thing by Eileen. And since Jonathon was on board for a little sleuth time, I felt safe about our plan to head to Eileen’s cottage once night fell.

  Jonathon and Elspeth returned to their rooms so that when the other contestants returned from their walk, it wouldn’t look like they were playing favorites. With all that was going on, I’d almost forgotten that they were the revered judges of The Great British Baking Contest. I was supposed to be quivering in my baking boots around them, not planning a nighttime detective mission. But I had to admit that getting to spend time with Jonathon and Elspeth was a privilege I was enjoying. Even if no one was around to witness it, I still felt a bit like the golden contestant.

  Gerry sat in Jonathon’s now empty seat and put his face over the empty coffee cup. “I miss coffee. And chocolate. I miss tasting good food. I miss making good food.”

  I felt for him, I really did, but I’d just seen someone die. Gerry looked at me. “She’s gone, isn’t she? The gift shop woman?”’

  Now I understood his whining. Eileen Poole had moved on and he was stuck here, between worlds. “Yes,” I confirmed.

  To take his mind off his unfortunate fate I asked if he’d found out anything more about the note I’d received. He said, “I looked in all the rooms. No one else had a note like yours.” He looked kind of sorry for me. “Which means you’re the only one someone’s trying to get rid of.”

  Great. I took my empty coffee cup to the bar and waited for Eve to finish serving so that I could switch it for something a little stronger. Though not too strong. I was going to need my wits about me later. I settled on a glass of crisp white wine and was about to tell Eve all about what happened with Eileen when a noisy group entered the pub.

  By now, I was familiar with the cadences of my fellow contestants. First, I heard Hamish’s booming Scottish voice, “You know I love cheese as much as I love cake.” He thought about it for a second. “Nah. More.”

  “Don’t let the judges hear you,” Florence said, her tinkling laugh carrying across the room.

  I swiveled on my stool and stood as the group came clattering into the bar. Everyone was carrying a paper bag stamped with a logo of a slice of oozing brie and the words La Fromagerie in black ink.

  “Ah, there she is. The great wanderer,” Florence said, coming to kiss my cheeks. “How was your walk? I cannot believe you missed the cheese shop. He took us to his dairy farm. We were looking for you to take you along with us, but you weren’t in your room. Again.”

  No. I’d been with a dying woman. They’d find out soon enough about Eileen. I did not want to talk about it. Instead, I widened my eyes as though cheese was the most important thing on my mind. “He did? That’s so cool. I would have loved to go there.”

  Priscilla caught Eve’s attention and ordered a bottle of white wine. Euan asked for a tea, and Maggie joined him. I found myself being herded by Florence (Sly had competition) to a table in the center of the room. My catch-up with Eve would have to wait.

  Priscilla joined us and poured the wine. Maggie and Euan sipped their tea and talked cheesecake. But Hamish was clearly still enthralled by their trip to the dairy farm. I took a drink of the crisp white wine as he related their visit to me. The guy who owned the fromagerie was a huge fan of the show. When they all turned up at his shop, he gave them a special tour, explaining all about the cheeses he sold and where they were produced. “Every culture around the world has its own cheese,” Hamish said. “And it’s all made using a similar process. He told us that there are thought to be around 3,500 varieties of cheese being produced worldwide.” After the shop tour, he took them to his small dairy farm, where he specialized in making cheddar.

  “You know cheddar originated from Somerset,” Florence chimed in.

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. Like I needed an Italian-born Londoner to tell me that. “I may have an American accent, but I was born in Somerset. I practically grew up on Ploughman’s sandwiches made from Somerset cheddar.” I’d loved it when my parents took me to the town of Cheddar. I remembered demanding to visit the towns of Cake, Candy and Gingerbeer.

  Florence laughed it off. “Well, I’m telling you, this chap’s cheddar was the finest I’ve ever tasted. It was succulent in texture, full-bodied with fruity undertones.”

  “Are you sure you’re talking about the cheddar, Florence?” Priscilla leaned in. “The dairy farmer did happen to be quite the dish himself.”

  Florence tossed her hair, and the two of them clinked wineglasses—co-conspirators in flirtation. Euan shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. Priscilla and Euan had struck up a sweet friendship from the first week, but could he have deeper feelings developing beneath the surface? I would have pondered more on this if Hamish hadn’t cut in.

  “Did you know that cheese has seasons? Just like fruit and veg? It all depends on the effects the weather has on the soil and pastures that the animals then graze on. So some cheeses are better at particular times of the year.”

  “I had no idea,” I said, impressed.

  “Now, in late spring, is a really good season for cheese, as the temperature means the cows and goats are grazing on pastures full of soft flowers and herbs.”

  I thought about how cool it would be to visit the dairy farm and see if I could sketch the flowers and herbs there. But that would have to wait. I listened to the others chatting about their trip to the village and wished that I had joined them. I was missing out on all the off-screen fun.

  But if I’d gone, Eileen could have died alone. I wouldn’t have wanted that. Tonight was about dedicating myself to helping Eileen after she had so selflessly helped me.

  I checked my watch. I was due to meet Jonathon in two hours, which would give me plenty of time to enjoy my present company, eat an early supper, and figure out exactly how to break into Eileen’s cottage without ending up in Sgt. Lane’s handcuffs. Although that wasn’t such a bad thought either…

  As soon as it began to get dark, a strange sensation spread throughout my body. I tried to ignore it and took the final bite of my cheeseburger and polished off the remaining three sweet potato fries. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was calling me. All of a sudden, I felt like something was pulling me toward the door of the pub. I snapped my head up and looked at the entrance, and there was Jonathon’s shadowy silhouette waiting for me. Whoa. That was a neat bit of magic. We’d agreed earlier to meet on the other side of the car park so no one would see us leave together.

  I excused myself from the table, telling the gang that I had to go and feed Gateau before she left me for a more attentive cat mom, and said I’d come back down later for a nightcap.

  I quickly ran up to my room with treats from my dinner and put out fresh food and water. Gateau was asleep on my bed, and not even my clattering about woke her as I changed into dark denim jeans and a black wool jumper. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, then slipped my Converse sneakers back on. They were white, which wasn’t ideal for sneaking into someone’s house, but they were all that I had. Maybe Jonathon could cast some kind of blanketing spell on us.

  Outside, I found Jonathon waiting at the end of the narrow pebbled path that led away from the inn and the manor house to the car park. The puffy leaves of the whitebeam trees that flanked us swayed gently in the breeze, and I was glad of my sweater. Jonathon was still wearing a black jacket over jeans and a baseball cap was pulled down low over his eyes.

  “Take a car or walk?” he asked me when I reached him.

  “The car will be quicker, but what if someone saw us driving together?” That would not look good. If we walked, I thought we could be more inconspicuous.

  Jonathon agreed and asked me to lead the way. I prattled on about my cheeseburger as we walked. I was super nervous. I’d never really spent any time alone with Jonathon, and although he was also a witch, he didn’t have the same calming effect on me that Elspeth had. Instead, I was overly conscious that Jonathon was a judge on the show, the harsher of the two, and I still felt a need to impress him somehow. Like I should be walking along while flipping the perfect pancake or something.

  But Jonathon seemed to be at ease, maybe even excited at the prospect of doing some detective work. He told me that he wished his powers were advanced enough to cast a spell of invisibility, but instead he’d spent the last hour practicing one that would get us inside Eileen’s cottage without breaking anything. I listened as he talked, taking in how eerie it felt to retrace my steps to Eileen’s at night. The village was so quiet with the shops closed, and everyone seemed to be tucked into their homes. The only noise came from a small pub by the village green. I could smell the purple hyacinths that grew in neat rows by the green.

  Before long, we reached the residential street where Eileen’s cottage stood. I pointed it out to Jonathon.

  “What a charming place,” he said.

  “Tell me about it. I had major cottage envy when I first saw it. You should see it bathed in golden sunlight.”

  I took a good look up and down the street, but it was deserted. We walked toward the cottage, and a weird chill went down my spine. But I didn’t have time to linger on why that might be. We had to make sure there weren’t any passersby on the street or twitching curtains to be witness to our little exploit. Not that it was really necessary; Eileen’s cottage was so secluded. But still, better safe than sorry. I didn’t want any nosy neighbors messing with our plan. Although come to think of it, what exactly was the plan for getting inside?

  “About that spell,” I said to Jonathon. “Now would be a good time to use it?”

  “Right.” Jonathon strode down the path to the door. He cleared his throat. “So, it went something like this: I call on the powers who have the key / that there may be a way inside this place for me / by the shifts of the moon…”

  He stopped and turned to me. “Hold on, I’ll remember the next bit a second.”

  I sighed. Get it together, Jonathon. No wonder he had to memorize his cookbook lines.

  He began again, but then I saw something that made my heart soar. Next to the terracotta pots filled with primroses was a stone frog.

  “Jonathon,” I whispered. He carried on muttering something about needing a chicory plant. “Jonathon,” I repeated with more urgency. “Look.”

  He stopped and followed to where I was pointing.

  “Key… Frog,” he said, repeating some of Eileen’s last words. “I must have misheard her. I bet she was trying to say, “Key under the frog.”

  I bent down and lifted the stone frog. Sure enough, a single silver key in a clear plastic bag was on the ground.

  Bingo.

  Jonathon looked relieved. “No need for magic, after all. Eileen wanted you to go inside the cottage.”

  As soon as he said it, I felt it to be true. Eileen wanted me to find a letter. I hoped it would be self-explanatory which one she meant when I got inside. Something already addressed and stamped that said “Urgent” on it would be good. I slipped the key into the door, and it opened easily.

  Jonathon followed me, and in the darkness, I entered the hallway and headed straight for the kitchen. “The letter I saw yesterday was on the oak table,” I told him, pushing open the kitchen door. “And Eileen pushed it under a stack of cookbooks.”

  “Do you think that’s the letter she meant?”

  “I don’t know.” I wished Eileen had had more time to be explicit about what she wanted me to do.

  “That looks like a stack of books, there,” he said.

  “Dare we flip on a light?”

  “Let’s try and manage with moonlight and night vision.” Jonathon picked up the stack of books, but there was no letter.

  “She must have thrown it away,” he said. “Perhaps she meant another letter. Is there an office?”

  The moonlight was streaming in through the kitchen window. I cast my eyes around the room, frantically scanning the countertops to see if the letter had been moved. I checked on top of the microwave (where I stash my coupons and take-out menus and the odd bill I want to avoid) but still nothing.

  Meanwhile, Jonathon had left the kitchen and soon called me. I found him upstairs in a small room that contained a single bed with a handmade quilt on it in red, white and blue, a small dresser and an antique desk.

  This room overlooked nothing but the back garden and the fields behind it. I closed the old wooden shutters and turned on a bedside lamp. Surely no one would see the light. Jonathon pulled down the first drawer, and in unison, our jaws dropped to the ground.

  “Oh no, it looks like Eileen kept every letter she’s ever received,” I wailed. Neatly filed were stacks and stacks of letters.

  Jonathon opened the other drawers, each one filled with paper. I groaned, but he picked up a handful and passed it to me, then took another for himself. “Let’s get stuck in.”

  With no other candidate, I was becoming certain that she wanted me to find that letter I’d seen on her table yesterday. I told Jonathon to keep his eyes open for it. “The address was from Oliver Jones in Vancouver, Canada.”

  “Handwritten?”

  “Yup, and it was written in flowing blue ink, like from a fountain pen, in a sloping script. But couldn’t you cast a sorting spell? It would make life a lot easier.”

  Jonathon shook his head and frowned a little. “Elspeth is much better at that sort of thing than I am. I have trouble remembering spells.”

  What was the use of magic if you couldn’t remember spells?

  I took my stack of letters to the bed and went through them. She’d organized everything by date and very tidily too. I was holding all her correspondence for the past six months. I didn’t want to spend hours here just in case that nasty nephew of Eileen’s decided to show up, so I went through them quickly. She had more letters than most people, but she wasn’t completely old fashioned. There was an up-to-date computer on the desk as well. However, she hadn’t asked me to delete an email. She’d said letter. To me, that meant paper and envelope.

  Jonathon flipped through the letters from 2019, then opened the next drawer down, which contained all her bills, neatly collected by date. He let out a long whistle. “Impressive. I’m going to have to reorganize my own filing system when this is all over.”

  The letters went back to Eileen’s girlhood. I groaned. It looked like she’d kept every letter she’d ever received. I flipped through stacks of them but couldn’t find one with Oliver’s name on it. How strange.

  I looked at my watch. We’d been here for twenty minutes already, and my nerves were frazzled.

  “Do you think she might have thrown out the letter?” I asked Jonathon, trying not to despair. “I so don’t want to go through the trash.”

  He threw up his hands. “Okay, okay, I’ll take a glance in the bins. But you owe me.” I replaced the letters where I’d found them. If there was something Eileen had wanted me to find, I hadn’t come across it. The only thing that seemed significant was that she, who had kept every letter she ever received, hadn’t kept the one from an old friend.