Tea with Milk and Murder (Oxford Tearoom Mysteries ~ Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the gallery just a few moments before the uniformed police constables arrived at the door.
    “Where’s the patient?” one of the paramedics demanded.
    People stepped back and indicated the still form lying on the floor. One look at the body and the paramedics slowed their steps. Even from where they stood, they could see that there was no need for urgency any more. People turned away discreetly as the paramedics went over to attend to the body, whilst the police came into the room and began taking charge of the situation.
    “Oh my God… I can’t… I can’t believe it…” said Cassie next to me.
    I looked at her in surprised concern. Cassie wasn’t the fainting type but at this moment, she looked more shocked and distressed than I had ever seen her. I guess coming face to face with death can take you that way. I think I was slightly numb to it because of my own recent experiences—only a few weeks ago, I had walked into my tearoom to find a dead body sitting at one of my tables. The nightmares from that still haunted me, but I suppose in a way, I had been “vaccinated” against the horror. Although Cassie had been involved in that murder investigation, she had never encountered death so directly as this before.
    “What… what do you think happened?” asked Cassie hoarsely. “Did she have a seizure or something?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, although a dark suspicion was forming in my mind. I gave my head a sharp shake. I was letting my imagination run away with me; just because I had come across one murder recently didn’t mean that every death was suspicious. In any case, it wasn’t my problem. The police were here now and they would be taking over things.
    And they seemed to be doing a fairly good job, herding all the guests into a corner of the gallery and securing the scene. The roar of engines outside told us that more reinforcements had arrived, and a moment later, a man in a beautifully tailored Saville Row suit strode into the room.
    Tall, dark, and handsome… Devlin O’Connor fit the cliché so perfectly, it was almost a joke. I saw several women in the room eye him appreciatively and even the men straightened unconsciously, no doubt responding to that air of cool authority that Devlin exuded so effortlessly. His steely blue eyes seemed to miss nothing as he scanned the gallery. I kept my expression noncommittal and tried to ignore the sudden flip-flop of my heart as his gaze lingered on me for a moment before passing on.
    He stepped into the centre of the room and spoke with quiet command. Instantly, the clamour of excited conversation died and everyone turned to listen to him. We were informed that we would all have to be detained until the police could ascertain the cause of death. There were a few grumbles from the crowd, but mostly people seemed delighted to have the opportunity to hang around and watch proceedings. I had had a taste of this sort of ghoulish curiosity with the murder in my tearoom, but it still surprised me. Maybe it was because nobody knew the girl that well, I told myself. So they had no personal emotions invested.
    Devlin scanned the crowd. “Who is the owner of the gallery?”
    “I am.” Jon Kelsey stepped forwards. I noticed that his urbane manner had slipped a bit and he was looking pale. “My name’s Kelsey. Jon Kelsey. I’m the host of the party.”
    “I’d like to ask you a few questions, sir, if I may,” said Devlin. His tone was perfectly courteous but I saw Jon swallow nervously.
    “Sure. We can go into my office, if you like,” he said, indicating the door at the back of the gallery.
    “Do you want me to come with—?” Cassie said, starting to follow Jon.
    “No, just Mr Kelsey, please,” said Devlin, his eyes drifting downwards and noting the way Cassie clung to Jon’s arm and the air of intimacy between them. He flicked his gaze to me and raised his eyebrows slightly, then he turned away and followed Jon to the inner office.
    With Devlin