Death By Sugar. Helen Goltz

      BLURB

      Private investigator Jesse Clarke thought sugar was such an innocent substance until it turned up in two of her cases for totally the wrong reasons.

      Traces of sugar were found in a bomb that blew up her client's Mercedes. Was the bomb meant to kill or was it just a warning?

      And then, could sugar have duped the immune system of a client's mother over thirty ago, resulting in death?

      Juggling the two cases - one in the present and one in the past - Jesse finds herself talking to the living and the dead to get results.

      CHAPTER ONE

      I was savouring my skinny cappuccino and admiring the black Mercedes parked across the road when it blew up.

      That was unusual. Most cars I admire remain in one piece.

      The explosion shook the windows of the café and I hit the floor, along with everyone else. Luckily the glass stayed intact. After a few minutes, we all cautiously looked around. There were no more explosions. I pulled myself up from the ground and dusted off. Others did the same. Many people surreptitiously left.

      I needed a stronger coffee.

      Panic was still unfolding outside the café. Acrid smoke was billowing from the charred wreckage. In my opinion, the car owner - who hadn't been in the car when it blew up - was having a lucky day. He didn't seem to think so. He was a good looking man; tall, dark, with the in-vogue stubble covering his chin. His blue jeans, leather jacket, black t-shirt and the scarf around his neck gave him a bohemian look. I watched as he paced around the burning Merc. I made a note of the car's make, model and registration. My detective skills were definitely improving, even though I'd only had two clients so far.

      The sound of the emergency service sirens seemed to calm him down. An ambulance arrived first. The paramedics went straight to a woman on the sidewalk. She wasn't injured but kept repeating that she could have been blown up. I thought it was unlikely, unless she was going to self-combust.

      I spotted Dominic through the crowd gathering outside. He looked especially tall, buffed and radiant after a full morning's workout. When he's not running fitness classes, Dominic breakfasts with me. If I'm really disciplined, I'll join him at the gym, but that requires getting up at 6.30 am and sweating with other people. But as it was a Sunday, Atlas the Boxer and I slept in until around 9 am - weekends are known in our household as No Alarm Clock Days. We'd already been for our jog.

      I watched Dom cross the road and push open the glass door. He dropped into the seat next to me and kissed me without taking his eyes off the car.

      'Mercedes SLK55 AMG roadster convertible!'

      'Very well, thanks!' I answered.

      He looked at me and grinned.

      'Is this your fault?'

      'Hmm. Probably.'

      'What happened?'

      I shrugged.

      'It just blew up.' I clicked my fingers. 'Like that!'

      'Wow, really?' He grabbed the menu and scanned it though I don't know why - Dominic had the same breakfast every time. The waiter arrived and he ordered the full breakfast with a flat white and scrambled eggs on toast (no butter!) and a skinny cappuccino for me.

      'I'm starving. After we eat, want to go home and you know what?' he looked at me.

      'What?' I asked without thinking.

      'Do it!' he whispered. 'We could go back to my place after we eat and…'

      'I love your directness,' I cut him off. 'I'm surprised you have enough energy after two gym classes.'

      Dominic shrugged.

      'It gets my adrenalin racing.'

      'Come to think of it, we had our first date after one of your gym classes,' I recalled.

      'I know. I was thinking about doing it then too,' Dominic poured a glass of water.

      'In that order - eat then sex?'

      'God no.'

      'Familiarity breeds contempt. Now that we've become regular, you want to eat first. This is why I don't think we should move in together. Soon you'll just want to eat and nothing else,' I teased him.

      'Trust me,' he moved closer, putting his hand on my leg, 'I'd scrap breakfast in a flash to go home and … change the subject or I'll need a cold shower.'

      He pulled off his navy sweater and ran a hand through his hair. Frowning, he looked out the window again. I followed his gaze and we watched as the police moved people away from the cordoned off car. A young officer flipped pages in his notebook while taking a statement from the driver.

      'What happened?' Dominic asked again.

      'Well, I got here at about 10.15 and at about 10.25 that car pulled up. The driver got out, came in here, ordered a long black and sat down in that window seat. Ten minutes later, his phone rang. He went outside but before he crossed the road, the car blew up. He dropped the phone and tried to run towards the car but there was a lot of heat so he ran back again. The staff called the police and fire brigade. I don't know who called the ambulance. He's been pacing around ever since. No one went near his car the whole time he was in here.'

      I turned back to find Dominic grinning at me.

      'You're getting good at this Ms Clarke!'

      'That's Detective Clarke to you, mate.'

      'How many cases do you have to get before you can afford to give up your publicity business?'

      I shrugged.

      'I don't know that I want to give it up. I could just pick and choose clients and juggle them with the PI stuff. Quality of life, you know.'

      'I wish. Ed can handle the publicity business, can't he?' he referred to my business partner.

      'Ed just wants a few clients at a time. Then he can head off early each day for his pilates class!'

      Dominic laughed.

      'Can't picture big Ed doing pilates.'

      'Simon is into it. The things we do for love.'

      'Can't

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