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The Lakeside Café was only half-full when Maggie arrived twenty minutes later. She walked up to the counter and spoke to the friendly-faced woman behind it. “Hello. Could I ask you about an event which was held here a few days ago, please?”
“You can, love. Was it a wedding? A birthday party? A work conference?”
“It was in honour of a man who had died recently,” Maggie replied with a suitably sad tone.
“A funeral party? I don’t think we do those. Are you sure it was here?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t a funeral. More of a celebration of the man’s life.” Maggie didn’t add the party could have organised by the person who had killed Harvey.
The woman reached under the counter and pulled out a book. “When was this?”
Maggie gave her the details.
The woman’s brow wrinkled as she studied the book in front of her. “That’s funny. There was a party here; you’re right about that. I’m not sure I can help you, though. There’s not a lot of detail here.”
“Do you know who booked the party?” Maggie asked hopefully.
The woman shook her head. “I don’t know that, love. It says anonymous here. And whoever did book it paid in cash, and upfront. They booked over the phone too, and I don’t know if they were male or female because I didn’t take the call. And there’s no note about it either. Or when the person turned up with the cash.”
Maggie peered over the counter at the book, but all she saw were lots of lines with squiggly writing on them. She couldn’t make any sense of them, probably because she wasn’t wearing her reading glasses.
Maggie asked, “When was the party booked? Do you know that?”
“I do, love. It was booked one month ago.”
“A month ago?”
“Yes, that’s what it says here.” The woman gave her a smile. “And now you know as much as I do about that event.”
Maggie did know a bit more, especially about the people at the event, but it wasn’t something she was going to share.
The woman continued, “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
Maggie looked at the cakes on display. “I’m not hungry, but I could take some cake home for later. Do you have any of that lemon drizzle cake?”
“Oh, we haven’t had lemon drizzle for a few weeks, love. The woman who makes it is off on holiday. She’s the lemon drizzle queen! She won’t let anyone else make that cake, even when she’s away. How about a bit of the raspberry mousse cake?”
“I had some of that lemon drizzle cake at the memorial event. If it wasn’t made here, then who made it?”
“Just a minute.” The woman flicked through to the back of the book, and ran her finger along the page. “Ah. I see. Yes.” She looked back at Maggie. “Whoever booked the party also organised the food from an outside caterer.”
Maggie’s hopes rose. “Do you know who the caterer was?”
“I do, love. I’ve got one of their business cards here.” She handed a card to Maggie. “They’re not far away, only in Chapel Allerton. Now then, shall I cut you a slice of that raspberry mousse?”
It seemed rude to refuse, so Maggie said, “Yes, thank you. And thanks for this business card.”
A short while later, Maggie drove away from the park. She hoped against hope that the catering company would be able to give her a name.