“Cake and tea or death?”
“We'd been waltzing and eating tea cakes with a murderer.”
“Tea Cake, the son of the Evening Sun, had to die for loving her.”
“Cake or death?”
“Tea at the Ritz is the last delicious morsel of Edwardian London. The light is kind, the cakes are frivolous and the tempo is calm, confident and leisurely.”
“Death smells like birthday cake.”