The Case of Granny Toast's Missing Plum Jam Recipe

Can you solve this month's case? The closest solution to the correct answer will win a Marmalade and Toast Mug! We are also awarding a mug for the most creative wrong answer!! You have until 30th September to get your answers in!

Perkins' Tea Rooms had become the talk of Chandlers Ford. The hot cakes were, quite literally, selling like hot cakes. Poor Mrs Perkins could barely keep up with demand as, outside the front door, a chalkboard proudly announced: GRANNY TOAST'S FAMOUS PLUM PRESERVE AVAILABLE HERE!

Jam enthusiasts from as far afield as Fair Oak and as far wide as Winchester had descended upon Chandlers Ford to sample the rich, sticky spread atop crumpets, scones and toasted teacakes. Mrs Perkins guarded the precious recipe carefully, keeping the folded sheet hidden inside an old biscuit tin behind the counter. Then disaster struck.

Last Saturday, Mrs Perkins found herself distracted by a disagreement over the final blueberry scone, a teapot that had mysteriously acquired a spoon inside its spout, and Lady Pumblechook insisting that her missing tortoise, Horace, qualified for a senior citizens' discount. By the time order had been restored, the biscuit tin was empty. Granny Toast's recipe had vanished.

At the time, there had been five customers in the tearoom. At Table One, Vicar James was enjoying tea and crumpets with Joyce Chuff, formidable chairwoman of the Chandlers Ford Women's Institute. At Table Two, PC Pontin was taking a well-earned break from his beat and attempting to consume a remarkable quantity of doughnuts. At Table Three sat Jean Claude, proprietor of Le Renard d'Argent, quietly sipping coffee, nibbling a croissant engrossed in a book by Gaston Lenôtre.

Toast and Marmalade hurried to the scene.

"I like my mysteries like I like my birthday cake," declared Marmalade. "Delicious, flaming and preferably involving jam!"

Toast nodded gravely. "Your birthday cake, your mysteries… and your partner in crime!"

The investigation began at once.

Vicar James freely admitted that he had long wanted the recipe. The Church Harvest Festival was only days away, and last year's prize-winning preserve had been described by one judge as "surprisingly reminiscent of wallpaper paste."

Lady Pumblechook had an equally convincing motive. Horace the tortoise had disappeared twice that summer, and she remained convinced that Granny Toast's plum preserve was the only substance on earth capable of luring him safely home.

Joyce Chuff confessed that the Women's Institute Autumn Bake Sale was rapidly approaching. She had spent months attempting to dethrone her greatest rival, Doris Butterworth, whose chutneys had secured first prize three years running.

PC Pontin required little encouragement. "I consume four plum doughnuts every Monday," he announced proudly. "Five on bank holidays. Possessing the recipe would greatly improve policing morale."

Jean Claude merely shrugged. As a Frenchman, he felt himself the only customer truly qualified to appreciate the subtleties of the miraculous conserve.

“It is wasted on these Englishmen, with their primitive pallets!”

Every suspect had a motive. And clues appeared to be everywhere. A pocket calendar with 18th September circled in red was found on the floor. A parish newsletter lay abandoned beneath a chair. A small card bearing the words "Joyeux Anniversaire" had somehow found its way behind a menu. The sheet music for Jerusalem rested on a windowsill. A half-finished Chandlers Ford Gazette crossword sat beside an empty doughnut plate. A faint smear of icing sugar marked the edge of the counter.

Near the biscuit tin, investigators discovered a muddy trail of footprints. This exciting lead quickly collapsed when the footprints were traced to Horace the tortoise, who had wandered into the tearoom during the commotion and attempted to consume a decorative napkin.

There was also a receipt for six pounds of plums protruding from Vicar James's pocket, a notebook full of preserve-related calculations inside Joyce Chuff's handbag, a dusting of icing sugar on Jean Claude’s immaculate sleeve and a teaspoon found lodged inside PC Pontin's helmet.

The deeper Toast and Marmalade dug, the stranger the puzzle became.

Can You Solve the Mystery? You must determine:

Who stole Granny Toast's recipe and what was their motive?

The kettle is whistling, the crumbs are scattered... and the mystery is brewing!