Death at the Cafe Read Online Free Page B

then lowered her brow in an expression of both shock and befuddlement.
    Annabelle leaned forwards, waiting for her to speak. “Well?”
    Mary adjusted herself, before speaking in a slow, serious tone. “’Today will be a day of dramatic events. Stay alert, because somebody you know will be full of surprises.’”
    The two women looked at each other for a few seconds, sharing their feelings of confusion. Annabelle broke the silence with a snort of derision. “Nonsense. That’s so general, it could apply to almost anyone, or anything, on any day. Here’s our stop. Let’s go.”
    Though they were both already moving quickly through the busy London streets, the shock of the newspaper’s words seemed to spur just a little more speed out of the two women. They exited the Baker Street station like a pair of scampering dogs, and after stopping briefly to ask for directions to Glentworth Street, maintained a quick pace all the way to the entrance of the large property whose address they had been given over the phone.
    Annabelle pressed the bell eagerly, looking at Mary. When the door buzzed without a word from the intercom, she grabbed the handle and pushed quickly. Somehow, Mary managed to keep up with Annabelle’s long strides up the stairs leading to the doorway of the apartment. By this time, they were out of breath from both the climb and the excitement but intent on their purpose of finally meeting the mysterious Teresa.
    Mary raised her hand, fist ready to knock, but the door opened slowly before she could even begin, revealing a short lady who was no doubt the Teresa they had come to see. She was well-dressed in khaki slacks and an intricately-knitted cardigan in duck egg blue. The wrinkles on her face seemed well earned, and the deep brown of her eyes hinted at having seen many adventures. Her white hair was still thick enough to frame her face elegantly, and when she spoke, her voice had the strong, aged woodiness of a classical instrument.
    “Hello. I’ve been waiting for you. Do come in,” she said slowly.
    “Thank you,” Mary said, stepping into the house. Annabelle followed, politely nodding her appreciation at the invitation.
    The apartment was lavish, and though it was open and large, everywhere the two visitors looked seemed to be filled with ornately-carved sculptures, powerfully evocative artwork, and ornaments of unimaginable shininess. Mixed among the relics and artifacts were crucifixes, elaborate carvings of the Virgin Mary, and diamond-encrusted plates that depicted scenes involving the saints.
    They stepped carefully forward, as if in fear of spoiling what seemed like one of the most incredibly intimate and packed museum exhibitions they had ever seen. Teresa walked past them slowly, with a slight limp in her gait and led them toward a living room packed with just as many objects of delicate craftsmanship as the entrance.
    “Please, take a seat. I’ve laid out some tea.”
    Though her instincts still told her that something was incredibly strange about both this elderly woman and the situation itself, Annabelle caught sight of the table and found a note of familiarity in which to ground herself. Laid there was elegantly sculpted china with detailed patterns painted tastefully upon each piece. Annabelle’s eyes immediately focused upon a plate which held small, bite-sized pieces of cake that her connoisseur’s eye could tell would be delicious. Whatever was causing the peculiar suspicions stirring in Annabelle’s chest could wait.
    “Oh, this looks delightful,” Annabelle smiled.
    Teresa held Annabelle’s eyes as if judging her, a pleasant, if slightly reticent smile upon her face.
    Once Annabelle and Mary had seated themselves, Teresa leaned over the table and began pouring tea. Though both the visitors would have liked to offer help, they were well aware of the customs such elderly ladies liked to uphold and chose to sit back.
    “Please do try the cake,” Teresa said, with a curiously