Bedfordshire
Clanger Calamity
Albert Smith’s Culinary Capers
Recipe 4
Steve Higgs
Text Copyright © 2020 Steven J Higgs
Publisher: Steve Higgs
The right of Steve Higgs to be identified as author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved.
The book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
‘Bedfordshire Clanger Calamity’ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To the makers of traditional British dishes wherever they may be.
Table of Contents:
Hi, I’m the Bad Guy
The Clanger Café
Motive for Murder
In the Shadows
Mushy Peas
Dodgy Accounting
Disappointment
Bookkeeping
Revelations
A Cunning Plan
Cell Block
Eggs
Hell Hath No Fury
Accusation
Where There’s Smoke …
Kate’s Place
Dead in the Gutter
What a Mess
Too Much Coincidence
Rex and Hans
Meat and Two Veg
Reunited
Side-tracked
Fatal Error
Observation
Nonsensical
Clanger Lover
Bluff
Ambush
Cryptic Secrets
The Power of Dog
Evidence
April
Epilogue
Author Note
History of the Bedfordshire Clanger
Recipe
Books with Patricia Fisher
Cozy Mystery by Steve Higgs
More Books by Steve Higgs
Free Books and More
Hi, I’m the Bad Guy
Earl Hubert Bacon stared down at the man kneeling before him. ‘What do you mean, you can’t bake?’ he enquired, already bored that he had to speak with the man at all. He didn’t wish to converse with those he saved; they were here to perform tasks in exchange for surviving the coming apocalypse.
‘I’m just the owner,’ the kneeling man managed to stammer, somehow making the words sound like an apology.
The earl continued to stare down, anger making his nostrils flare. ‘You expect me to believe that you own the Biggleswade Clanger Café and you cannot make the dish for which your business is famous. Utter poppycock, man! I have no time for this nonsense. Go into the kitchen and make me a perfect clanger right now and I shall put this unnecessary distraction down to the stress of travel.’
‘Travel!’ the man almost choked. ‘You had me kidnapped!’
The earl raised one eyebrow. ‘I saved you from the coming apocalypse, dear fellow. You should be thanking me, not messing me around by pretending you cannot bake.’
‘He can’t bake, boss.’ The comment came from the man standing just behind and to the right of the man on his knees. He wore combat fatigues because he was ex-Army and thought it added a menacing look that his partner’s choice of shirt, tie, and jacket failed to evoke.
The earl shifted his gaze up to look at the man who spoke and eyed him sceptically. ‘Which one are you again?’
‘Francis,’ said Francis, sighing internally and questioning whether their boss refused to remember their names on purpose. ‘He can’t bake. We’ve been in the kitchen with him for the last hour. He didn’t even know there were different types of flour.’ The earl’s eyes flared in disbelief as he switched from looking at his henchman – he liked to think of them as henchmen – to the face looking up at him from the carpet. ‘Eugene can bake better than this guy,’ he referred to his well-dressed partner, secretly throwing some banter his way because Eugene’s kitchen skills stopped at making a sandwich.
‘Hey!’ complained Eugene, standing to the left of the man on his knees.
Earl Bacon raised a hand to silence them both. They were chattering fools, amusing themselves with banalities and worthless pursuits. However, he had no stomach for violence and refused to leave the bunker unless it was absolutely necessary. His proclivities made the henchmen indispensable. When they fell silent, he pursed his lips and once again stared down at the man kneeling by his feet.
‘You really cannot bake?’ he asked, his voice filled with disappointment.
Sensing his ordeal might be about to come to an end, the man snatched at what he thought was the lifeline he’d been thrown. ‘No. Not one bit. Can I go now?’
‘Go?’ Earl Bacon thought it an odd request. ‘Well, I suppose I have no further use for you. Tell me though, before my employees escort you out, who is it that I should have rescued in your stead? Who at the Biggleswade Clanger Café can bake me a perfect clanger?’
Wondering if he might be safe to get to his feet, Joel Clement, the owner of the Clanger Café, slid a foot around to get it under his body and watched to see if anyone would stop him. Wary enough to keep his hands open and out in a submissive surrender pose, he stood up. ‘There are four chefs that know the recipe. They have all worked for me for years now. Any one of them could show you how to do it. We run a class twice a week. I could arrange a special VIP event just for you and your … friends?’ he suggested hopefully. The moment he got away from these lunatics and found out where they’d taken him, he was going to call the police, but he was going to say anything he could think of to keep them calm until then.
The earl gasped at the ridiculous suggestion. ‘No, no, no, that won’t do at all. Everyone on the surface will
