Neil Flambé and the Bard's Banquet (The Neil Flambe Capers)

Neil Flambé and the Bard's Banquet (The Neil Flambe Capers)

Neil, “the flamboyant, irrepressible chef” ( Kirkus Reviews ), travels across the pond for a real honey of a case in the fifth book in The Neil Flambé Capers, the culinary mystery series celebrity chef Gordon Ramsey calls “good fun.” Neil Flambé has had enough with solving crime. After his adventures in Japan, he is back in his beloved restaurant doing what he does best—cooking. And he has a very special guest. Lord Lane from England has requested he serve a meal centered around an ancient jar of honey discovered in London. But when Lane disappears afterward, Neil receives a request from the Queen herself to come across the pond and find out what happened to him. As soon as Neil arrives, he is swept up in a mystery involving the great works of Shakespeare and food. Neil may know quite a bit about the latter, but being chased by thugs through the streets of London and following centuries-old clues is not exactly his forte. Will Neil be able to put the pieces together in time or will he let everyone down, including the Queen? “The constant suspense, innocent romance, a lovely recipe for scones, and the flamboyant, irrepressible chef will captivate fans of the series and impel new readers to the nearest bookstore or library.” ― Kirkus Reviews Kevin Sylvester is an award-winning writer, illustrator, and broadcaster. His books include the MiNRS trilogy and the Neil Flambé series. He lives in Toronto, Ontario. Visit him at KevinSylvesterBooks.com or on Twitter @ KevinArts. Neil Flambé and the Bard’s Banquet CHAPTER ONE TWO BEES OR NOT TWO BEES Neil Flambé’s head hurt. Of course, he’d just been hitting it with a frying pan, so that made sense. What didn’t make sense—to Neil, anyway—was the antique jar of honey that sat on the kitchen counter, facing Neil with a suspicious attitude. Lord Lane of Liverpool had uncovered a case of the honey during a recent building demolition—or, more precisely, his workers had—and he was asking fifteen-year-old super-chef Neil Flambé to cook him a meal using the ingredient. The problem wasn’t the honey. Neil could have cooked an amazing meal with the jar itself, if that’s what Lane had wanted. The problem was the scroll of paper suspended inside the jar. When the case of honey had arrived, Neil’s cousin Larry had held one jar up to the light to get a closer look inside. The sunlight had revealed a note that said, or seemed to say, help. A cry for help, even from the distant past, was the last thing Neil wanted to hear after months of globe-trotting battles and mystery solving. “Are you done banging your head?” Larry asked, smiling and walking over to Neil. “A little dramatic, even for you.” Neil moaned. “I want to be a chef, not a private eye.” “Private nose.” “Whatever! The point is that I just want to run my restaurant.” “And do your homework on time.” “And do my—wait, no, just run the restaurant, in peace for a change. That would be nice!” Neil bellowed, lifting himself off his chair. The movement made his head throb again. He sat down and rubbed his temples and moaned some more. “I’m done with solving crimes. Tell Lord Lane he can have his honey back and can find someone else to cook him dinner.” “Chill, cuz! I only said that the note looks like it spells ‘help,’?” Larry said. “There’s a whole roll of paper in there. Maybe it says ‘help is on the way’ or ‘honey will help cure your gout’ or something like that.” “I don’t care,” Neil said. “Dinner is off.” “Have I mentioned that Lane is practically royalty?” Neil actually snorted. “Royalty? Look at what Japanese royalty almost did to us!” The Flambés had just returned from a scary few weeks in Tokyo that had almost killed them in a number of different ways. For a while, Neil had been sure Larry had been killed. “Did I mention that he’s rich? You could buy some nice new frying pans to hit your head with!” Neil hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “Nope, I still don’t care.” “And did I mention that I already accepted the down payment for the dinner?” “What?” Neil said, straightening up. “You didn’t ask me first?” Larry grinned sheepishly. “It was sort of a last-minute kind of thing. He’s already in town for some play or something. And I thought you’d be intrigued. He could have asked any chef, but he chose you. He clearly wanted the best. That’s you, isn’t it?” Neil had to admit this was true. His ego started to wake up, fighting with the pain and exhaustion and beating them both into submission. Neil stole a glance at the jars of honey. The honey glowed like gold in the sunlight. “All right, look,” Neil said finally, standing up and wagging his finger at Larry. “I’ll cook this meal, but we don’t use that jar of honey. It stays closed. Deal?” “Deal,” Larry said. “We just hand it to him after dinner and then forget it ever passed through our kitchen.” “Right,” Neil said. “And if Lord Lane wants to know why some long-dead Victorian guy needed help, then he c