by Jinty James
“Thanks a lot.” Maddie wrinkled her nose. “That is not exactly encouraging me to keep detecting.”
“It says …” Suzanne hesitated. “Maybe you should read it out. You’re the witch, after all.”
“How to escape from your enemy,” Maddie read the title of the spell. The handwriting was in black ink, faded now through the centuries. And the curly parts of the lettering was a little hard to read at times.
“Say these words three times when it is imperative you must flee from a dangerous person,” Maddie continued. She looked at Suzanne and Trixie. “Maybe I shouldn’t say the words now. You two aren’t dangerous or my enemy.”
“Good point,” Suzanne turned to Trixie. “What do you think, Trix?”
“Mrrow.” Trixie stared intently at the open page.
“Maybe I should memorize it or write it down,” Maddie said.
“What else does the spell say?” Suzanne asked. “Besides the actual incantation.”
“That’s it.” Maddie double-checked the writing on the page. “Yes.”
“Mrrow,” Trixie urged.
“Maybe I should write it down now.” Maddie rose, and headed toward the kitchen to grab a piece of paper.
She wrote down the incantation, noting that this spell seemed to work a little differently from the Coffee Vision one and the Tell the Truth enchantment. For the other two, she had to say the words silently and mutter Show Me at the end of the incantation. For this spell, the instructions were to say the words out loud.
“This is so exciting,” Suzanne still spoke in a hushed tone. She crossed to the window and looked out. “Yes, the full moon is still there.”
She sat back down on the sofa and looked at Maddie expectantly.
“What?” Maddie frowned, tucking the piece of paper into her pocket.
“Do you feel any different now?” she asked.
“No. Not since the last time you asked.” Maddie shook her head. “Apart from knowing I could suddenly cast this Escape from your Enemy spell, I feel exactly the same.”
“Maybe we should keep looking through the book and see if there are any other spells you think you can do now,” Suzanne said, her eyes alight with interest.
“Okay.” Maddie turned the pages of the book, until she reached the end, but nothing else jumped out at her the way the Escape your Enemy spell had.
“Nothing,” she said glumly when she closed the book.
“Huh.” Suzanne seemed lost in thought.
Maddie thought Trixie looked a little disappointed, too.
“Perhaps I can only cast one new spell per month with each full moon, now I’ve turned twenty-seven,” Maddie finally said. “Last month I was able to cast the Tell the Truth spell for the first time.”
“Then why have you been able to do the Coffee Vision spell since you were seven?” Suzanne frowned.
Maddie shrugged. “Maybe it’s the easiest spell in the book?”
“Or maybe you could do it because you became a barista!”
“Mrrow!” Trixie seemed to agree with Suzanne.
“But at this rate, it will probably take years before I attain my full powers – that is, if I’m ever supposed to have full powers.” Maddie gently tapped the cover of Wytchcraft for the Chosen. “There are over a hundred spells in here.”
“If there are twelve full moons per year – then it will take you eight years – before you come into your full powers.” Suzanne quickly did the math in her head.
“I’ll be thirty-five.” Maddie wrinkled her nose.
“Yikes!” Suzanne joked. “You’ll be an old lady with orthopedic shoes by then!”
“So will you.” Maddie mock-punched her friend’s arm.
They giggled, then sobered.
“What does the book say about you coming into your full powers?” Suzanne asked. “Maybe we missed something.”
Maddie opened the book and turned toward the back, gently touching a crumbling page.
“It says a true witch doesn’t come into her full powers until she turns seven-and-twenty.”
Suzanne peered over her shoulder to read the ancient handwriting. “You’re right. And you turned twenty-seven – or seven and twenty – last month.”
“But maybe it’s like you said then – maybe they counted time a little differently back then, and according to witchy time, maybe I’m still not twenty-seven.”
“Then when will you be?” Suzanne wore a puzzled frown.
“Beats me.”
“Mrrow!” Trixie joined in.
“Right now I don’t know if she’s agreeing with us or knows something we don’t.” Maddie turned to the cat. “Which is it, Trix?”
But Trixie just looked at Maddie, as if expecting the twenty-seven-year-old to know what her “Mrrow!” had just meant.
“I’m beat.” Suzanne stifled a yawn. “All this magic stuff is more tiring than I thought – and I’m not even the witch!”
“You’re right.” Maddie rose from the sofa. “I think we should go to bed.”
“I wonder when you’ll get a chance to use the escape from your enemy spell,” Suzanne remarked as they walked toward the back of the house, Trixie trotting next to them.
The cat had evidently given up on expecting Maddie to know what she meant by that last “Mrrow!”
“Hopefully never.” Maddie suppressed a shiver.
“But if you do get in a tight spot, at least you’ll be able to save yourself,” Suzanne said.
“True.” Maddie’s tone was thoughtful.
She’d made up the guest bed for Suzanne earlier that evening. Now, they stood in the doorway of the tiny guest room.
“You know where everything is,” Maddie told her friend as she bid her goodnight.
“Yep.” Suzanne smiled. “Thanks for tonight. It’s been fun. But I’m sorry the magic stuff didn’t quite meet our expectations.”
“At least I didn’t glow!” Maddie’s lips tilted upwards as she and Trixie headed to their own bedroom next door.
CHAPTER 12
The next day, after the morning rush at Brewed from the Bean, which was almost as busy as normal – yay! – Maddie and Suzanne discussed their plans for the afternoon. Trixie dozed on her stool.
“I think we should interview the judge and the newspaper reporter,” Suzanne said. “Don’t forget, I’m seeing Ramon tomorrow afternoon.”
“As if I could,” Maddie teased her friend. Ever since she’d made her booking with Ramon yesterday, Suzanne had worn a dreamy expression when she thought nobody was looking.
“We could go after the lunch rush,” Suzanne continued. “And when we get back, I’ll make some more health balls.”
“Are we out already?” Maddie frowned.
“Yep.” Suzanne looked pleased. “They’re really helping us maintain our income this week, due to the drop off in coffee customers.” She lowered her voice and looked out of the serving window, although there wasn’t anyone in the vicinity. “Although now word is out it wasn’t your coffee that killed Dave, that might explain why some of our regulars have come back this morning.”
“You’re right.” It had been good to steadily make coffee after coffee this morning, Suzanne giving her the orders and taking the payments. Just like old times – before the coffee festival.
“I’ll make a double batch – maple macadamia and the original ones I made – the datey cacao ones.”
“You really should give those a name,” Maddie said.
“I’ve been thinking about it, but it hasn’t been easy,” Suzanne replied. “I mean, datey cacao just doesn’t have the same ring as maple macadamia.”
“What about cacao coconut?” Maddie suggested.
“You’re a genius! That’s perfect!”
Maddie smiled, pleased at her friend’s enthusiasm.
“Hi.” An attractive male voice caught Maddie’s attention.
She turned, already blushing. She knew it was Suzanne’s brother Luke.
“Hi Luke,” she said
, ducking her head.
“What are you doing here?” Suzanne stuck her head out of the serving window.
“Thought I’d come by and ask Maddie to make me a latte.” He smiled.
“Sure, Luke.” Maddie busied herself at the machine, telling herself to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
“I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by before, Maddie.” The seriousness in his tone forced her to look up from the machine.
Concern and sincerity crossed his face as he continued speaking. “I know you didn’t kill that guy at the coffee festival.”
“Thanks,” she replied softly.
“We all know she didn’t kill him,” Suzanne told him. “I just can’t believe it’s taken you so long to tell her that.”
“Sorry.” He looked abashed for a second. “I’ve been swamped with work. And this is the first chance I’ve had to drop by since the festival.”
Since Luke hardly ever stopped by the coffee truck, Maddie was touched that he’d made a special effort to do so.
“All right,” Suzanne said finally, as if she accepted his apology, even though it had been for Maddie. “That will be three dollars ninety.”
“I can’t believe you’re charging me. I’m your brother.” But he said it good humoredly, digging out his wallet and handing her the money.
“A girl has to make a living.” Suzanne gestured to the truck. “And in this case, it’s two girls and a cat.”
“Hi, Trixie.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at the feline who’d just woken up. “Are you keeping these two out of trouble?”
“Mrrow,” Trixie said playfully, looking up at him with big turquoise eyes.
“We can get into as much trouble as we want,” Suzanne informed him, giving him his change.
“As long as I’m around to bail you out, right?” He grinned.
“Exactly.” Suzanne’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded.
“Thanks for the latte, Maddie.” He took a sip, pleasure creasing his face. “You make the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”
“You’re welcome,” she murmured, hoping her cheeks weren’t bursting into flames.
After he left the truck, Suzanne turned to Maddie. “I’m so getting you two together. You would make such a cute couple!”
“I don’t know, Suzanne,” Maddie replied. Although she was pleased her friend didn’t have any objection to the possibility of her best friend dating her brother, it didn’t seem obvious that Luke was attracted to her. “I don’t think he sees me that way.” Disappointment flickered through her.
“Maybe he doesn’t realize it yet,” Suzanne said. “I know he’s not seeing anyone at the moment.”
“He isn’t?”
“Nope,” Suzanne said with a satisfied smile. “Ooh, I know, you could ask him to help you practice for the competition in Seattle. Someone’s got to taste the coffee you make, right? So why not him? He’s already in love with your lattes – he just needs to realize it’s not just your coffee he likes.”
“It is an idea,” Maddie said slowly.
“Mrrow!” Trixie sat up straight on her chair.
“See? Trixie agrees with me.” Suzanne smiled.
“Okay,” Maddie capitulated. Perhaps Suzanne was right. And it would be good for her – because she would be nervous around Luke, and she’d be anxious at the competition next month. Making a good cup of coffee while feeling that way would be something she would need to master if she had any hope of doing well in the Seattle contest.
She’d felt edgy at the coffee festival last weekend, but she knew she’d feel a lot worse in Seattle, with tougher competition, more crowds, and more judges.
“Leave it to me. I’ll arrange everything.” Suzanne looked gleeful. “Right after we catch the murderer.”
“Which murderer?” Claudine’s shrill nasal tone made Maddie wince. “Maddie or someone else?” she chuckled at her joke – a harsh, grating sound.
“What are you doing here, Claudine?” Suzanne asked coolly.
Claudine smirked. “Just checking out the competition – and seeing if Maddie’s been hauled in for questioning yet.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Maddie drew herself up to her full height of five foot five. “My coffee did not kill Dave Dantzler.”
“What?” Disappointment flashed across Claudine’s face for an instant before she masked it.
“That’s right,” Suzanne chimed in. “Detective Edgewater visited us yesterday to tell us the good news – not that we didn’t know already. I told you, Maddie’s totally innocent.”
“Then what did kill him?” Claudine scowled.
“I don’t know if we should tell you,” Suzanne said coyly. “The detective didn’t say we could go around telling everyone what he said.”
Claudine sniffed. “So don’t tell me then. I’ll find out somehow.” She peered at the counter. “What, no health balls? I knew they wouldn’t sell.” She looked pleased at the thought.
Suzanne tsked. “You shouldn’t make assumptions, Claudine. The reason we don’t have any is that they sold out as soon as I made them.”
Maddie thought that might be a slight exaggeration, but she didn’t blame Suzanne. She was sure Claudine would try the patience of her fairy godmother – that is, if they actually existed. Did they? Maybe fairy godmothers were real, just like magic.
“Humph.” Claudine made a snorting noise. “Whatever.” She stalked off, back to her café on the other side of the town square.
“Wow.” Suzanne whistled. “Ramon’s massage certainly didn’t give her a personality transplant.”
“I know.” Maddie sank on the stool. “I wonder why she comes over here all the time. Is it just to stir up trouble? It’s definitely not to buy a latte.”
“I think she’s jealous of you, Mads. You – we – have it all. Well, apart from me not being a witch or a genius barista. But we’re younger, nicer, prettier – yeah, I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true – and we’re running our own business at the age of twenty-seven and doing well overall. We certainly have more customers than she has.”
“True,” Maddie said thoughtfully. “It’s a shame, though, that it looks like Ramon’s massage hasn’t made her any happier.”
“Yeah.” Suzanne took a sip from her water bottle. “But maybe Ramon’s dodged a bullet there – if it means she doesn’t go back to him for more.”
“You just want him all for yourself,” Maddie teased.
“Yep.” Suzanne grinned. “I sure do.”
***
That afternoon, after the lunch rush, they locked up the truck and headed to the newspaper office, a block away from the town square. Maddie had left Trixie at home, as she didn’t know how the employees would react to a cat visiting them.
“We’ve got a good excuse to visit Walt, the newspaper reporter,” Suzanne said as they neared the one-story tan brick building. “We can ask him when your interview will appear in the paper.”
“And why he mentioned in his article last Sunday that Dave was holding one of our coffee cups when he died,” Maddie said grimly, still smarting at being implicated like that.
“Yeah.” Suzanne snapped her fingers. “That’s an even better reason to stop by his office.”
They pushed open the glass door to the office and walked inside. A receptionist with big dangly earrings and a pink streak in her brown hair greeted them.
“How can I help you?” The girl smiled at them.
From the waiting area, furnished with a couple of chairs, they could see into an open plan office.
The clacking of an unseen keyboard reached their ears, and Maddie caught a glimpse of an older man in a long-sleeved shirt and pants, a pencil behind his ear, rifling through a filing cabinet on the far side of the office.
“We were hoping to talk to Walt,” Suzanne said.
“Yeah, he’s in.” The receptionist pressed a button the phone. “Walt, there are two people here to see you.” She put down the receiver. “Take a seat.
He won’t be long.”
“Thanks.” Maddie tried to catch another glimpse of the office beyond the receptionist desk but didn’t want to appear nosy. Suzanne, however, didn’t have a problem with that – she craned her neck and stood on tiptoes, her gaze scanning the open office.
“I can’t see him,” Suzanne whispered to Maddie as she sat next to her in the waiting area.
“He must be here somewhere.” As soon as Maddie uttered those words, a man stood in front of them, his horn-rimmed spectacles looking a little smudged.
“Hi.” He smiled, looking at them curiously. “Maddie and Suzanne, right?”
“Right,” Maddie said.
“We were wondering when the interview you did with Maddie would be in the newspaper,” Suzanne blurted out.
“Come with me.” He beckoned to them, and they stood, following him.
Walt stopped by a wooden desk covered with papers and a large monitor.
“Here.” He dragged a couple of chairs from nearby empty desks, and offered them to Maddie and Suzanne.
“How’s business?” Suzanne asked as she looked at the office, half the desks vacant.
“Not as good as it used to be.” He looked rueful. “But the paper’s still chugging along.”
“That’s good,” Maddie replied, noticing a photo on his desk. Against an ocean background edged with palm trees, Walt stood next to an older lady who looked to be in her seventies, his arm around her shoulders. They both wore floral Hawaiian shirts and smiled into the camera, the woman’s silver bracelet glinting in the sunlight.
“My mother.” He noticed Maddie’s glance and gestured at the photo. “She’s a widow. I help her as much as I can.”
“Oh,” Maddie’s voice was soft. She didn’t know what else to say.
“So what can I do for you two?” Walt cleared his throat.
“We wanted to know when Maddie’s interview will be in the paper,” Suzanne began, “and also why you mentioned in your article in the Sunday newspaper that Dave Dantzler held one of our coffee cups in his hand.”
“That’s because he did.” Walt frowned. “I have a responsibility to report the news. This paper tries to cover everything that happens in the area, and Dave being found dead at the coffee festival was front-page news. My editor approved it.”