by Jinty James
Spells and Spiced Latte – A Coffee Witch Cozy Mystery – Maddie Goodwell 1
By
Jinty James
Copyright © 2016 by Jinty James
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
This is a cozy witch mystery of approximately 24,500 words.
Please note: This book was formerly called Lethal Latte
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
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CHAPTER 1
“I’LL HAVE MY USUAL, Maddie.” A woman in her early fifties with wavy light brown hair and a trim figure stepped up to the counter of the coffee truck.
“One spiced latte coming up, Joan.” Maddie Goodwell smiled at one of her regular customers, then began steaming milk.
Ever since she’d started her own coffee truck, Brewed from the Bean, parked at the square in Estherville, a small town one hundred miles from Seattle, business had been brisk.
Painted brown coffee beans danced on the outside of the truck, while inside, the décor was a calming cream, with a professional coffee machine grinding and hissing most of the day.
Large piles of to-go cups in small, regular, and large sizes were stacked on one side of the machine, ready for the next coffee she made.
Maddie had quit her job at the local café six months ago. She couldn’t bear to work for Claudine, the mean-spirited and curmudgeonly new owner.
At first, she’d been dubious about her friend Suzanne’s suggestion – best friends since middle school – that they start their own coffee truck business, but when Suzanne’s brother found them a cheap food truck that he helped them remodel inexpensively, she and Suzanne pooled their remaining savings to invest in the best coffee machine they could afford. After that, they were in business. And it had been good from the start.
“We should start making our own cookies,” Suzanne’s voice broke into her thoughts. “We could make a lot of extra money.”
“You’re right.” Maddie pulled the shot of coffee, adding the steaming milk until it looked as tempting as she could make it. “We’ll talk about it after the morning rush.”
“Great.” Suzanne grinned, her strawberry blonde hair swinging from side to side in a neat ponytail, her bangs framing her wholesome face. Her blue eyes and snub nose dusted with freckles gave her a look that was wholesome with a side of slightly sexy.
Maddie was just about to hand over the coffee when she hesitated. Her customer Joan was usually cheerful, but today she seemed a little down. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if she peeked into Joan’s future for the next twenty-four hours?
“Show me,” Maddie whispered, brushing back her brown hair as she stared at the top layer of foam on the latte. The foam swirled, then cleared. The woman standing in front of her, waiting expectantly for her coffee, lay dead on a kitchen floor.
Maddie froze. Whatever she had expected to see, it hadn’t been that.
“Maddie, are you okay?” Suzanne asked, touching her arm.
Maddie blinked, as if by doing so, she could make the last minute never happen.
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. Handing the spiced latte to Joan, she said, “You must be very careful over the next couple of days.”
Joan looked puzzled as she took the paper cup. “I usually am.” She forced a laugh. “In fact, my husband keeps telling me how boring I am.”
How could Maddie tell her customer what she just saw in the coffee foam? For the last twenty years, ever since she’d been seven years old, she’d been able to foretell someone’s future for the next twenty-four hours on the surface of a freshly made coffee. Only in coffee. It didn’t happen any other way. She had never seen someone’s murder before!
“I mean it,” Maddie insisted, not wanting to freak out the older woman, but wanting her to take the warning seriously. “Be very careful.”
“I will,” Joan replied, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. “Mmm, just as good as usual, Maddie. I love the cinnamon in it. You really have a knack.”
“Thanks.” Maddie’s smile was strained as she watched Joan turn and head toward across the town square. Another customer stepped up to the counter, demanding Maddie’s attention, as Joan walked out of sight.
AT SEVEN, MADDIE, WHO haunted the local used bookshop, stumbled across a thick, old book called Wytchcraft for the Chosen. She paid the one dollar the bookshop owner insisted was the price just for her, and sneaked it home, certain her conservative parents would not approve.
Her mother was a high school teacher and her dad was an accountant. Mom helped out with the PTA, and Dad helped her with her math homework. She thought they probably hadn’t even tried to do a real magic spell in their lives.
At night, she read the book by torchlight, thrilling at the yellow spotted pages and old-fashioned words, some she had to sound out in a whisper.
One spell in particular caught her attention – how to tell someone’s future for the next twenty-four hours with the aid of a cup of coffee.
She’d gotten up early the next morning, tiptoeing into the kitchen, and made a mug of instant coffee, hoping her parents didn’t hear her.
When brewing finished, she stared into the dark depths, silently saying the words of the spell – the book had made it plain that no one was to hear the actual words of the incantation, or it wouldn’t work – apart from the last two words – Show me.
“Show me,” seven-year-old Maddie had whispered.
The surface of the coffee swirled, then cleared, showing an image of herself playing on the swing set at school.
She’d been excited – and scared – that the spell had worked. And later that day, she’d been playing on the swing set at school, just like the vision had shown her!
But that had been the only spell she had ever been able to cast. She’d attempted lots of others from the book, and none of them had been successful.
Over and over, Maddie tried the coffee invocation, and each time it worked. But if she made the coffee for herself – not that she enjoyed the taste of it at age seven – she only saw a glimpse of her future for the next twenty-four hours. Nobody else’s.
When she’d started working at the coffee shop after college, not sure what she wanted to do career wise, whenever a whisper of intuition nudged her to do so, she peeked into her customer’s future. And in each case, it worked. Usually she saw pleasant images, like a woman being proposed to in a fancy restaurant, or a man getting the raise he desperately needed.
But she had never seen a crime before.
“PHEW!” SUZANNE FLOPPED onto a stool inside the coffee truck. “That morning rush was insane!”
“I know,” Maddie agreed, sitting on the stool opposite.
“Mrrow.” Trixie the cat eyed the two of them as if in agreement. A large white Persian, she had glowing turquoise eyes and a silver spine and tail. Everyone remarked on her unusual coloring, but Maddie always wondered if the reason was because Trixie wasn’t a normal cat.
Was she a witch’s familiar?
Her familiar?
Somehow, nobody had batted an eye at the Persian appearing in the coffee truck from time to time. Not even the health inspector, after Maddie had first opened for business. Was it possible that Trixie had something to do with that?
One year ago, when Maddie had turned twenty-six, Trixie had wandered into the coffee shop where Maddie had worked. She’d sat on the floor beneath the counter, looking up at Maddie.
“Mrrow,” the cat had greeted Maddie.
“Are you lost?” Maddie stepped from around the coffee machine and bent down.
“Mrrow.”
She could have sworn that sound had sounded like “No.”
Claudine, the new owner, came out from the back and had started shouting at the cat, telling it to get out or else!
Instinctively, Maddie scooped up the feline and hurried outside, turning back to scowl at her boss, before carrying the pretty cat home.
“You can stay with me until I find your owner,” Maddie had whispered to the Persian, the soft white fur tickling her fingers. The cat nestled in her arms, as if there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
As Maddie hurried back to work, she shook off the ridiculous thought that the Persian had been trying to tell her that she belonged to Maddie.
But still ...
Her mind flashed back to the ancient tome on witchcraft she’d bought when she was seven. Towards the back of the book, a crumbling page had stated that a true witch didn’t come into her full powers until she turned seven-and-twenty.
“I’m only twenty-six,” she reassured herself. Why would a witch’s familiar arrive now, when the only spell she could do was to foretell people’s future for the next twenty-four hours in a cup of coffee? It didn’t make sense.
But the thought stayed in her mind for the rest of the day and during her birthday dinner.
When she arrived home, the cat was still there, curled up asleep on the sofa, her head nestled against a cushion, as if she’d lived there all her life.
The next day Maddie had visited the local vet, and the sheriff’s department. But nobody had reported a missing white Persian cat. She’d scoured the local newspaper, but there weren’t any ads about lost pets.
She gave her details to the vet, just in case someone did report losing their cat, but she never heard back from them.
It looked like the feline had chosen to live with her.
A couple of days later, when she’d been looking through the book on witchcraft, the Persian had sat next to her, staring at each page, as if she could actually read the ancient words.
“What should I call you?” Maddie asked softly.
“Triii...”
The cat trilled, the first-time Maddie had heard her do so.
She furrowed her brow, glancing from the gorgeous cat to the old book and back again.
“Trixie,” she said slowly, somehow feeling that was the perfect name to call her.
“Mrrow.” The cat closed her eyes and rubbed her face against Maddie’s arm.
“Trixie the cat.” A smile tilted Maddie’s lips.
“HEY, ARE YOU OKAY?” Suzanne looked at Maddie in concern as they recovered from the morning rush. “You didn’t look very well after you made Joan her latte.”
Maddie hesitated. Her friend knew about her ability to cast the coffee vision spell, and had believed her when she haltingly confided in her a year ago that she thought Trixie might be her familiar, even though she had a year to go until she received her full witchy powers.
In fact, she’d told Suzanne about Wytchraft for the Chosen years ago.
But should she tell her friend what she’d just seen?
Trixie the cat nudged her arm, as if encouraging her to confide in Suzanne.
“I saw Joan lying dead in a kitchen,” Maddie blurted out.
“What?” Suzanne’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Maddie nodded.
“What are you going to do?” Suzanne asked.
“Do?”
“Did you warn Joan?”
“Yes,” Maddie replied. “But how could I tell her I saw a vision of her lying dead? And,” she hesitated, “it looked like her head was bloody.”
“You mean, murdered?” Suzanne’s hand flew to her mouth.
“I don’t know. Maybe she tripped and hit her head and that’s why it looked like blood.”
“Are you going to tell the sheriff’s department?” Suzanne asked.
“And say, ‘Hi guys, I’m a witch, and by the way, I cast a spell on Joan’s coffee this morning and saw her lying dead on the floor.’” Maddie shook her head. “Do you think they – or anyone else – would believe me?”
“I believe you,” Suzanne said loyally.
“I know.” Maddie allowed herself to smile. “And you have no idea how grateful I’ve been that you believed me when I told you about what I could do.”
“They’d probably laugh me out of the station,” Maddie added, frowning.
“Then they’re idiots,” Suzanne said fiercely. “These days, with all the TV shows about witches and mediums, as well as some police departments using clairvoyants to help solve cases, you’d think they’d have an open mind.”
“I know.” Maddie sighed. “But you’re the only one I’ve told about the witchcraft book—” she glanced at her cat, “—apart from Trixie. Whenever I look through the book, she’s right by my side, practically turning the pages with me.”
“Perhaps she’s encouraging you to try some different spells.”
“None of the others have worked.” Maddie shrugged. “Even though I’ve just turned twenty-seven – or seven-and-twenty as written in the book – nothing happens. The only spell I can do is the coffee vision spell.”
“Maybe you need to wait for the next full moon.” Suzanne snapped her fingers. “Maybe they counted time a little differently back then – you said yourself the book looks like it’s a few hundred years old.”
Maddie nodded.
“So maybe according to the book, you’re not twenty-seven yet. Maybe next month any spell you try will work.”
“Or maybe none of them will,” Maddie countered, stroking Trixie. The cat purred, closing her eyes to little turquoise slits.
“I bet I’m right,” Suzanne insisted. “Anyone looking at you and Trixie can tell you’re meant to be together.”
“Do you think so?” Pleasure flickered through Maddie. “I can’t believe I’ve only had her a year – or maybe she’s had me.” She smiled. “It’s hard to remember what my life was like without her.”
Suzanne nodded. “All the more reason that my theory is correct. You are a real witch, and Trixie is your familiar.”
“Mrrow,” Trixie said, as if in agreement.
CHAPTER 2
“BUT WHAT ARE WE GOING to do about Joan?” Suzanne asked, drinking from the bottled water she carried around with her everywhere.
“I don’t know,” Maddie admitted. “I don’t know anything about her, apart from the fact she comes here for coffee a few times per week.”
“I think her husband is the head librarian,” Suzanne said thoughtfully, tapping the plastic water bottle against her lips. “I was at the library one day browsing through the new books, and I saw her talking to him, as if they knew each other.”
“I haven’t been to the library for a while,” Maddie said ruefully. “I’ve been too busy.” She glanced around at the interior of the food truck.
“I know what you mean,” Suzanne replied. “I’ve only managed to read one of those new books I borrowed, and then I forgot to take them all back and had to pay overdue fines.”
Both of them giggled, then quickly sobered.
“Do you think I should warn Joan again?” Maddie asked.
“We could go after work,” Suzanne agreed, before moving to the counter to greet a customer.
MADDIE, TRIXIE, AND Suzanne closed down the food truck at four o’clock. They’d experim
ented closing at different hours in the past and tallying the daily sales, finally agreeing that shutting down at 4 p.m. seemed to be the sweet spot. It was late enough that they didn’t miss many customers, but early enough to still get some personal things done if they needed to, or have time to just hang out together without the pressure of making what seemed like hundreds of coffees each day.
“Come on,” Maddie said, starting up the food truck and heading toward her house. Part of the town’s rules was that she could park her truck in the town square since she was offering a service to the residents, as long as she was quiet and respectful, but she couldn’t leave the truck there overnight. So even though she only lived a two-minute walk away from the square, she had to drive the truck home every afternoon.
“We can take my car to Joan’s house and warn her,” Maddie continued as she parked outside her cottage.
“Mrrow?” Trixie inquired.
“Maybe you should stay at home, Trix,” Maddie told her.
“Broomf!” Trixie’s face scrunched up.
“Did Trixie just blow a raspberry at you?” Suzanne struggled to contain a grin.
“It’s not the first time.” Maddie rolled her eyes. “But she’s been in the food truck all day – I thought she’d like to have some time to herself or go play in the garden.”
Trixie’s tail swished and her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t think that’s what she wants to do,” Suzanne pointed out.
“Fine.” Maddie sighed. “You can come with us, Trixie.” To Suzanne she added, “You have no idea how she bosses me around at times.”
“I can imagine,” Suzanne said drily.
Maddie got out of the truck and picked up the Persian. “We’re going in my car, Trix.”
A loud raspy purr escaped from the feline’s throat and she snuggled her face against Maddie’s chest, as if in approval.
Suzanne’s faint laughter followed them as they got into Maddie’s white compact car.
“Do you know where Joan lives?” Maddie asked as she turned on the ignition. Suzanne sat in the front, holding Trixie.