The Chocolate Magic Cozy Mystery Box Set Books 1 to 7

by Olivia Swift

  The café would be gearing up for lunchtime and she went back over to serve customers.

  “I’ll go and let Katie have lunch when this rush is over,” Rula said as Sam and Declan arrived for their usual sandwiches. Declan went back to see how Katie was doing and Magda told Sam about the invitation for the evening.

  “Shall I give Aunt Alison a call and see if she can babysit?” he suggested, and she agreed. He pulled out his cell phone just as Bart arrived and slid onto his corner stool with a slightly wicked smile on his face. Magda noted but waited to see what he would tell them when he was ready.

  Rula went off to relieve Katie and she came back with Declan.

  “Alright, Bart,” Magda said at last. “What are you looking so smug about?”

  Declan and Sam kept on eating. Katie found herself something but had one ear open for the reply.

  “The place closed for breeding and there was a mystery about why. It was a successful and profitable business, but something happened. They sold the stock and the land and shut it down.”

  1 The American Paint Horse is a breed of horse that combines both the conformational characteristics of a western stock horse with a pinto spotting pattern of white and dark coat colors. Developed from a base of spotted horses with Quarter Horse and Thoroughbred qualities.

  10

  “Wow,” Magda said. “Any clue as to what it was?” He shook his head and said he would go on searching. She told them about the visit to Madge’s in the evening.

  “The old man might be able to tell us more,” she said.

  “I don’t suppose the family knows because they never mentioned it,” Sam said.

  “Shelby is bringing the horse sketches. We can ask him,” Katie said.

  Sam finished his food and went to find his baby daughter. He sat in the little screened off baby room and called out to see if Magda had checked the cats. He pulled out his own cell and used the app to look into the living room. Crystal was looking directly at the camera as usual and beside her on the floor was a pile of cushions and covers that she had pulled off the chairs.

  “Magda,” Sam called. “Have a look at the cat camera.” Magda looked and passed the phone around.

  “Now what is the little minx up to?” she asked.

  “She did that with the horse blanket,” Sam said as he appeared with the baby in his arms.

  “Maybe it was because it was just a blanket and not a horse blanket. She could not have known it was for Jessie,” Magda added.

  “Nothing has happened to point us toward soft furnishings,” Katie laughed.

  She went back to the gallery and then called Magda to say could the others come and look at the sketches.

  “Mikey and I are already spreading them out in the upstairs room.”

  Rita told them she would manage for a while and the five of them walked through the cellar doors and into the bustle of a successful craft exhibition, up the stairs and into one of the rooms they used as storage.

  “No space downstairs and we wanted to make sure these were not damaged,” Mikey said and stood back from the table. Shelby said hello and stood beside Mikey as the others pored over the sketches. There was silence and the artist started to bite his lip. These were his personal drawings that up until now, he had kept for himself. The others looked up from the pictures and turned around.

  “I’ll pack them up,” Shelby said. “They’re just my own doodlings.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Katie told him and smiled at his concerned face.

  “Shelby, these almost make me cry with emotion,” Magda told him.

  “I love them,” Rula said. Sam and Bart agreed, and they all looked at Katie to see what she proposed doing about it.

  “Are you willing to have them framed and displayed, first of all?” she asked, and he nodded and looked from one to the other of them.

  “I don’t want to sell the originals, but I don’t mind selling prints.”

  “That was my next question,” Katie said.

  “Were these four the painted ponies that Chloe mentioned?” Magda asked and he nodded.

  “She loves them. When she’s older, I’ll give them to her anyway.”

  “Those ones,” Mikey said, “are the whole body of the ponies and the rest are mostly heads.”

  “Those and the grey stallion,” Shelby answered. “I saw them as whole horses and I think now, in the light of finding out about Cody Jones, that they mean something.”

  “You have a fantastic gift, Shelby,” Sam said. “I can sketch because I do architect drawings but how you find the feel of a horse with two or three strokes is unbelievable.”

  “And my sketches are outlines for finished paintings. They wouldn’t stand alone. These are almost like calligraphy,” Katie added.

  “Wow. Thanks, guys.” Shelby was a bit overwhelmed by the praise.

  “The frame should match the style,” Katie said. She looked at Declan. “Where did we see those white ones. That is what they need.”

  “That nice man who does upcycling has a stall downstairs. I bet if we gave him the frames, he could make them look like what you have in mind,” Magda suggested. Rula ran downstairs and came back with the man called Jay. She also brought a handful of plain frames of the right size. Jay was a bit taken aback at a roomful of people but when he saw the sketches and the frames, his eye took over.

  “I love them,” he said and held the frames. “The wider frame would have more impact. In fact, an even wider one would be better.” Rula went into the next storeroom and came back with three different ones.

  “He’s right,” Katie said and tried the different sizes over the sketch.

  “There are twenty all the same size,” Katie said to him. “How would you make them look white but also interesting?” Jay thought for a moment.

  “If they were mine, I would put on some texture, say something like pieces of bark and then use chalk paint to cover everything completely. Chalk paint doesn’t need an undercoat and has a lovely finish. If they became grubby, the owners could give them another coat.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Katie said.

  “I can do one tonight and see what you think tomorrow,” Jay told her.

  She glanced around.

  “Okay with that?”

  “You as well, Shelby. They’re your drawings,” Sam added.

  “I’m living in some sort of weird dream world here,” Shelby smiled.

  “Join the club,” Jay said.

  “If it works tonight, can you do twenty for the weekend?” Mikey asked. Jay named his price and Mikey held out a hand.

  “Deal.”

  “Ye gods, the café,” Magda cried and she and Rula ran back downstairs. Rita was zooming around but there were a few customers waiting.

  “Apologies everyone. Choose a free truffle with your drink.”

  “I do love this place,” one lady said and went like an arrow for an orange liqueur. After the customers were served, Magda went back to coating the centers she had made earlier. She assumed Sam, Declan and Bart had all gone to work because they never reappeared.

  Shelby came through and said that he had left the drawings with Katie and she said she would make the prints.

  “I don’t suppose there was ever any talk in the family about why they stopped breeding horses?” Magda asked him. He shook his head.

  “Do you want to make sure the frames are okay before we do twenty?” Rula asked but he told them to go ahead.

  “I’ll get back to work. This is all a bit unreal somehow. I actually have an exhibition of work next week.”

  “I think Bart has researched some things about Cody Jones and will send you the copy before he publishes. We get a lot more visitors when he runs a story,” Magda told him.

  He went off and the afternoon came to an end without any further excitement. The truffle stocks were up to date. The stallholders in the gallery seemed to be happy. Ava said that she was planning a stall at the rodeo and Jay had offered to set
up beside her to give her a hand.

  “They’re a friendly group of people,” Rula said. “I think they see each other at all sorts of markets and fairs.”

  “Well, let’s go and clean up whatever those cats have scattered across the floor, Samantha,” Magda told the baby. Her phone pinged and Alison said she would be over at six thirty to look after her great-niece.

  Magda put something in the oven for their dinner and gave the baby her bath. Then she settled her in her bouncy play seat and cleared up the collection from the floor. Every cushion in the place was lying in a heap. Two throws and a small furry rug from the bedroom were also included.

  “You dragged these all in here, you strange creature,” she told the cat. “Now leave them alone.” Crystal ignored her completely and went to sit on the stairs. Sam appeared and they sat down to eat the lasagna she had heated after she had placed a chilled salad and a pitcher of iced tea on the table.

  After Alison came and took over baby duties, the two of them set off to meet Madge’s dad.

  Madge welcomed them into a cozy house with a lovely old dog who followed them inside and settled beside her dad. Introductions were made and the man in the chair said that he would not get up.

  “No problem,” Sam said and went to shake his hand. “I’m Sam and this is my wife Magda.”

  “The genius with the truffles,” the old man’s eyes twinkled at her. “I’m Warren Jacks.”

  Madge offered coffee or a beer if they liked. Warren said he would have a beer and Sam said the same.

  “Coffee suits me fine, thanks,” Magda replied, and the woman went off to the kitchen.

  “You want to talk horses,” Warren said. “My favorite subject but no way I can think about ever riding one again. Old age is such a nuisance.”

  “But your mind is still sharp,” Madge said as she came back in with coffee and cookies. “Tell them what you remember hearing about Cody Jones and the family that he bred horses with.”

  Warren sat back and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked at the visitors.

  “You both ride?” he asked, and they nodded.

  “My cousin owns The Panhandle Dude Ranch and has just sold me a lovely mare called Jessie.” She took out her phone and showed him a picture.

  “Smart little girl,” he said and handed back the cell phone. “Enjoy it. It never comes back.”

  “Dad,” Madge said. “Stop complaining and talk about the past. Didn’t your dad actually know the Bentleys when he was young?”

  “Yes. My dad knew them when they had just sold all of the stock and moved into a little house in town. Mr. Bentley was never really happy again according to Dad. He lost what he loved - breeding horses.”

  “Why?” Sam asked.

  “He never could really figure it out because the Bentleys never talked about it, but Cody Jones was never around anymore.”

  “So, did they live at the ranch house until then?” Magda asked. “And what sort of horses did they breed?”

  Warren settled back and talked about the tales his father had told him about the quality of the stock that Cody Jones and Al Bentley had bred.

  “They were friends from childhood and mad about horses and riding. Bentley was apparently an excellent horseman, but Cody was the one with the crowd appeal and gained a reputation. According to Dad, he had overshadowed his friend but they both made money from the ranch and the horse breeding. People were on a waiting list to buy one of their working stock. By the time they were sold, the horses were trained impeccably and could be taken straight into a working situation.”

  “How did Jones come to be the founder of the orphanage?” Magda asked and Warren thought that someone working on the ranch died and that there were two orphans left behind.

  “He was popular and raised money to establish a place for homeless kids and then the county paid so much for each child to help the place keep going. It was successful in its day.”

  “At least he left a legacy because the foundation still helps the homeless,” Sam added.

  Magda thought about the drawings and suddenly asked if he had ever heard that they had painted ponies. Warren looked at her and asked why she thought of that. She scrolled through her photos and found the ones of the sketches of painted ponies. The old man looked at it and looked up.

  “These are just so real from just a few pencil strokes. They are painted ponies without a doubt and when he was younger, my dad had some that looked just like that. He swore they were direct descendants of the ones bred by Jones and Bentley. He said that they had bred all sorts of quality stock. The ranch was full to the brim with all sorts of horses. These painted ones were Bentley’s special interest and losing them was what broke his heart.

  “Who drew these?”

  “Bentley’s great-great-grandson,” Magda said.

  11

  There was a stunned silence and Magda slowly perused through the other sketches. Warren was shaken by the news. His daughter poured him a generous shot of whiskey and he quickly drank it.

  “Dad was always sad for Al Bentley. Living without what he loved doing was something that left him unhappy for the rest of his life.”

  “Where was Cody Jones? Had he died maybe?” Magda asked. Warren shook his head.

  “He disappeared. There was talk about a woman and about his friendship with Indians. He had bought the original painted pony stock from native tribe people and bred them on. Dad always thought that Bentley knew where Cody had gone but they had been friends since childhood and he never talked about it.”

  “But Al Bentley could have carried on without him and bred the horses himself,” Magda said.

  “They owed money, and everything had to be sold,” Warren told them. Then he asked about the Bentleys who were still around. They explained about Shelby coming in to see if they could use his paintings in the gallery and fate taking a hand.

  “My best friend and business associate, Rula. You know Rula,” she said to Madge. “She and Mikey bought a house with an old stable and it turns out to be the very place where the Bentley ranch used to be. His sister had some old photos and the barn that is still in existence is in Rula’s yard.”

  “Well I never,” Madge said.

  Magda went back to the photos and found the one with the barn. “That photo is of the time when the Bentleys were at the ranch and that barn is in Rula’s yard.”

  She found the one of the ranch which had Al Bentley and his wife on the porch steps.

  “That is Al Bentley that your dad knew,” Magda said and handed over the phone again.

  “Good Lord. Talk about a blast from the past,” Warren said. Then he added that, seeing Mrs. Bentley, he remembered that she had given his mother some blankets and cushions that were made by Native Indians. She liked them and bought some material to copy them. I remember them around the house when I was a kid. Mom liked sewing.”

  Magda laughed and looked at Sam.

  “I know this sounds really crazy, but we have a Birman cat who seems to have psychic powers. Today she pulled all of the cushions and throws she could find onto the floor.” She lifted her hands in despair. “How she does it we don’t know but the cat has some sort of sixth sense.”

  She opened up an album on her phone and found a photo of Crystal and showed it to them.

  “She’s very beautiful,” Madge said.

  “And far too smart for her own good,” Magda said.

  “Al Bentley’s great-great-granddaughter is one of the best riders I’ve ever seen,” Magda told them. “Chloe is twelve and rides like she has been doing it for forty years. She has an Arab pony called Merlin and he goes like the wind.”

  “She wants to breed horses when she’s grown up,” Sam added. “The family tradition obviously lives on.”

  “My dad would be pleased about that. Maybe she will breed wonderful quarter horses and train them like Al,” Warren said.

  “She’s entered in the rodeo. I think she has grown up seeing Cody Jones as a hero. Sh
e practices hours on end.”

  “Good luck to her. Maybe I will talk Madge into taking me to watch.”

  “You always say it makes you sad because you can’t ride anymore,” Madge replied.

  “Maybe I would like to see Al Bentley’s great-great-granddaughter and her Arab pony.”

  “We’ll have to meet up if you do decide to go. My cousin Branston is entered. He’s as horse-mad as Chloe is and he’s over thirty.”

  “Nothing better,” the old man said.

  They thanked him for his memories and said they would let him know if they found out anything else.

  “Well, cushions and blankets. That bloomin’ cat is ahead of us again,” Magda said when they were driving home. She called Merle and told her what the man had said and then she called Rula and Katie. She texted Bart and received a text back saying that there was information about Cody Jones. He would tell them what he had in the morning.

  Alison had the baby asleep in her crib and they tiptoed away to have a quiet drink.

  “That cat,” Magda said and pointed at Crystal, “pulled all of the cushions and throws onto the floor and tonight Warren told us about his mother being given cushions and blankets from Mrs. Bentley. She did it again.”

  Alison laughed and said that her little black cat was mercifully being normal.

  “I keep her away from Crystal. The two of them together are some force to be reckoned with.”

  “Thing is,” Sam said, “that they were Native American designs and you just bought that horse blanket from Ava in the same style.”

  “Lord,” Magda said. “I never made that connection.”

  “I’m off,” Alison said.

  “Thanks,” Magda said and gave her a hug.

  They went to check on the baby and sat together on the bed.

  “Very strange set of coincidences,” Sam said.

  “I wonder what Bart has found. It might all tie in.”

  Magda curled up against Sam on the bed. It always amazed her that she had such a wonderful relationship. The two of them had grown up arguing about everything. If Sam had said black, Magda would have said white. He had asked her out at fifteen and she had turned him down. He never ceased to remind her about how many years she had wasted without him. He held her close and talked quietly about how things turned out that you never expected.