Spells and Spiced Latte – a Coffee Witch Cozy Mystery

by Jinty James

  “Poor guy,” Suzanne said as they walked down the street. “He does seem broken up.”

  “Mmm,” Maddie agreed. “Did you hear him say that Linda has a key to the house? She didn’t tell us that earlier.”

  “You’re right.” Suzanne stopped and turned to face Maddie. “She didn’t.”

  “And she cancelled their regular jogging session,” Maddie continued.

  Just then, a sheriff’s vehicle pulled up at the curb. A portly man in his sixties clambered out of the car and walked over to them.

  “Excuse me,” he said politely, standing right in front of them. His gray hair was more salt than pepper, and his brown gaze fixed on them intently. He was dressed in plain clothes – a worn brown suit with a white shirt and navy tie slightly askew at the neck.

  “Don’t you run the coffee truck in the town square?” he asked Maddie.

  “Yes sir,” she replied.

  “Detective Edgewater. Don’t go too far. I’ll want to talk to you later.” He pulled out his wallet and flashed a badge at them. “Apparently, you served Joan Hodgeton coffee yesterday morning.”

  “That’s right,” Maddie replied, wondering why he wanted to talk to them.

  “How do you know that?” Suzanne blurted out.

  “People talk.” He tapped his old-fashioned notebook peeking out of his top pocket of his suit jacket. “What are you two doing here instead of working out of your truck?”

  “Paying our condolences,” Maddie replied.

  “As long as that’s all it is,” the detective said sternly. “I don’t want any amateurs poking their nose into this business. I know what people get up to, reading the latest mystery on the bestseller list and thinking they can do a better job than law enforcement. You leave this to the professionals.”

  “Yes, sir.” Maddie nodded. What else could she say?

  “I’ll see you girls later.” The man passed them and walked up to the Hodgeton’s house.

  “Wow,” Suzanne whispered once they were out of earshot. “What got up his butt?”

  “Suze!” Maddie kept her voice low, stifling a giggle. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

  “I won’t.” Suzanne cast a glance over her shoulder, as if she suddenly thought the detective had heard her after all, but the house was now in the distance.

  “Do you think he’s right?” Maddie asked soberly as they turned into the town square. “Should we keep investigating?”

  “Of course we should!” Suzanne said confidently. “Don’t let him scare you off, Mads.”

  “You’re right,” Maddie replied, giving herself a mental shake. She’d been determined earlier today to investigate Joan’s death, and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her – not her own doubts as to her sleuthing ability, or warnings from law enforcement. What harm could happen from asking people a few questions?

  They unlocked the truck and opened for business. People were already sitting on benches in the park, enjoying their lunch from home, or what they had bought from the sandwich shop nearby, or the burger place.

  After a few minutes, their first lunchtime customer stepped up to the window, and soon Maddie and Suzanne were busy serving coffee.

  Finally, people returned to work, and Maddie and Suzanne flopped down on their stools in the truck.

  “Phew!” Suzanne dramatically mopped her brow. “That was intense.”

  “Precisely why I don’t want us to close the truck for too long while we’re asking questions,” Maddie replied. “Otherwise we’ll lose too much business.”

  “I know, Mads.” Suzanne nodded in agreement. “We don’t want any of our customers needing caffeine so badly they go to the coffee shop.”

  Maddie made a face. “I seriously don’t know how Claudine is still operating. That coffee is truly awful.”

  “And so are her pastries,” Suzanne said. “That’s why I thought making our own cookies would be a good idea, but now I think making health balls will be even better. Less work and more profit. And it’s something that Claudine at the coffee shop doesn’t sell – at least not the last time I was in there.”

  “And when was that?” Maddie raised an eyebrow in jest. “I hope you’re not thinking of defecting to the competition.”

  “Just checking her out. I popped in last week during our lunch break. I was going to tell you, but then we got slammed in the afternoon and I completely forgot. You should have seen the expressions on some of her customer’s faces as they left. They obviously did not have a good experience.”

  “I can’t believe I lasted so long there once Claudine took over,” Maddie said.

  “I’m glad you quit,” Suzanne said. “This is so much better than working there, isn’t it?”

  “You bet.” Maddie grinned at her best friend.

  “No customers?” A whining, nasal voice assaulted their ears. A stout forty-something woman with jet black hair cropped short stepped up to the counter and peered over it, as if cataloging everything she could see in the truck.

  Maddie and Suzanne sprang to their feet.

  “Can I help you with something, Claudine?” Maddie asked politely, hoping her former boss hadn’t overheard her conversation with Suzanne.

  “Just seeing how business is, girls.” Claudine smirked. “I got some new customers today. Imagine my surprise when they said the coffee truck was closed. Thought I’d come and check up on you two.”

  “Thanks for your concern,” Suzanne said coolly. “But as you can see—” she waved a hand around the truck, “—we’re fine.”

  “Uh-huh.” Maddie’s former boss did not sound convinced. “Well, once my new customers have experienced my coffee, they’ll definitely be coming back for more.” She tsked. “I didn’t think your coffee van idea would work at all, Maddie, but now more people have tasted my superior coffee, I doubt they’ll be visiting you again.”

  Claudine peered at the counter.

  “What, no cookies or pastries?”

  “When coffee is as good as Maddie’s, you don’t need gimmicks like that.” Suzanne’s eyes flashed at the older woman.

  “Ha! You’ll find out,” Claudine warned, wagging a finger at them.

  “Find out what?” Maddie asked politely, inwardly seething.

  “That you’ll need to sell more than coffee to make a living,” Claudine spelled out, as if Maddie were a five-year-old. “Plus, you’ll need the proper permits to make anything extra apart from coffee drinks,” she added. “Do you have such a permit?”

  “That’s our business,” Maddie said, standing her ground.

  Suzanne nodded, looking like she was trying to stop herself from blurting out something rude.

  “I’ve got my eye on you girls,” Claudine said, taking one step back.

  Suddenly, Claudine didn’t look or sound as confident as she had a second ago. Maddie didn’t know if it was because of the combined glare she and Suzanne were giving her former boss, or if perhaps a little of her coffee witch power had kicked in without her realizing it. Whatever it was, Claudine was now backing off.

  “I’ve got customers to attend to!” The important announcement sounded wavery. Claudine turned on her heel and trotted back toward her coffee shop.

  Suzanne blew out a deep breath. “What was that all about?”

  “I have no idea.” Maddie shrugged.

  “How can she think any new customers will come back for more of her awful coffee? And I’m sorry some of ours went to her shop today, but there’s no comparison between your coffee and hers.”

  “Thanks.” Maddie smiled at Suzanne. “But do you think she’s right about needing a permit to sell cookies or even the health balls you were talking about?”

  “No.” Suzanne shook her head. “I looked into it. We should be perfectly fine making the health balls with the permit we have now. We can go to the supermarket after work and buy the ingredients to make them, and tomorrow we can wow our customers with them.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” They high-fived
each other.

  Before they could make themselves an afternoon latte, the same detective lumbered up to the truck.

  “Detective.” Maddie nodded at him. “How can I help you?” It never hurt to be polite, especially to law enforcement.

  “I’ve been told that Joan Hodgeton ordered a coffee here yesterday.” He took out his notebook and pencil.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Maddie replied.

  After Maddie and Suzanne gave him their names and addresses, he continued: “What did you give her?”

  “Her usual spiced latte.”

  “What was in it?”

  “Coffee, milk, cinnamon, and nutmeg,” Maddie answered.

  “Did you serve her anything else?”

  “We don’t sell anything besides coffee, tea, or bottled water,” Suzanne said.

  “I see.” He eyed what he could see of the interior of the food truck. “No pastries?”

  “No,” Maddie replied.

  “Huh.” He looked perplexed for a minute. “And you make a living doing that?”

  “Yes,” Maddie replied. In fact, she made more with her truck, splitting everything fifty-fifty with Suzanne after expenses, than she had at the coffee shop, before and after Claudine took over.

  “We’re planning on trying a new line of health balls tomorrow, detective,” Suzanne offered. “Full of goodness. Coconut, dates, cacao, that kind of thing.”

  “Huh.” The man looked more perplexed than ever, then dropped his gaze to his notebook. “Now, let’s see. Did Joan Hodgeton seem troubled at all? Did she say anything to you?”

  “No, she didn’t say anything to me,” Maddie said slowly, not wanting to lie. “Apart from placing her order.” How could she tell this detective about the vision she’d seen in the coffee cup? He’d probably either laugh at her, or try to have her locked up for wasting his time, or worse.

  “What was her mood like?” he persisted.

  “The same as usual, really,” Maddie replied. “Maybe a little down.”

  “Hmm.” He wrote something in his notebook. “And did she stay here long?”

  “No,” Maddie said. “She took her coffee and left.”

  “You didn’t see her talk to anyone when she left the truck?”

  “No.” Maddie shook her head.

  “No,” Suzanne said.

  “Thanks.” He sighed heavily. “That’s all for now. But in case I need to talk to you again, do you always park here?”

  “Yes,” Maddie replied. “This is our usual spot.”

  “Would you like to try our coffee, sir?” Suzanne asked. “It’s the best in town.”

  “You wouldn’t be trying to bribe me, would you?” he frowned.

  “No, detective. You’d have to pay full price just like everyone else,” Suzanne replied seriously.

  He barked with laughter. “Okay, show me what you’ve got.” He pulled out his wallet. “How much for a black coffee?”

  “You don’t want a cappuccino or a latte, or a mocha?” Maddie asked, disappointed with his no frills order. She loved trying to convert sceptics into satisfied customers with her specialties.

  “I’m not a fancy kind of guy.” He indicated his worn suit. “In case you haven’t noticed, I still use a notebook and pencil, not a tablet connected to Wi-Fi, to write down my notes.”

  “We did notice that,” Suzanne said politely.

  “Okay.” He paused. “Give me a fancy cappuccino.” He pulled some bills from his wallet. “That will probably cost double what a black coffee would, right?”

  “Almost,” Maddie replied. She indicated the bottles of flavored syrups near the machine. “Which flavor would you like? Caramel, hazelnut—”

  “Surprise me.”

  “Okay.” Maddie set to work, determined to make the detective the best cappuccino she could. Surveying the syrup bottles, she decided on vanilla. Detective Edgewater appeared to be a no-nonsense guy, and would probably deem vanilla as an acceptable flavor.

  Grinding and hissing ensued, before Maddie finished off his drink with her signature art – an image of Trixie. “Here you go. That’s $4.40 please.”

  A look of surprise crossed his face. “No wonder you girls are making a living at this.” He pushed the cash across the counter.

  Maddie handed him his change.

  “Well?” Suzanne looked at him expectantly. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

  “Give me a minute.” He looked down at his drink. “That’s clever how you’ve made a pattern of a cat with the foam on top.”

  “We think so.” Suzanne smiled at him.

  “Would you like me to put a lid on it?” Maddie asked.

  “No, no, this is fine.” He raised the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. His expression turned into one of pleasure. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

  “It’s better than not bad,” Suzanne muttered under her breath.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Maddie said, wondering if he would now become one of their regulars. “I added a vanilla syrup to the coffee base.”

  “Vanilla,” he repeated, taking another sip. “Yeah, I can taste that.” He nodded.

  After he drank a little more, he cleared his throat.

  “Remember what I said to you two before, back at Mr. Hodgeton’s house. I don’t want any members of the public interfering in the case. You let the professionals handle this. Are we clear?”

  “Yes,” Maddie said slowly. What else could she say?

  When Suzanne remained silent, they both looked at her.

  “But what if you can’t solve it?” she burst out.

  “We will,” the detective said, taking another sip of his cappuccino. “From what I’ve gathered, Joan was one of your customers, but you didn’t have a close, personal friendship with her, did you?” He eyed both of them in turn, as if daring them to lie to him.

  “No, sir,” Maddie replied. “She was a regular customer, and I liked her, but I didn’t see her outside the truck.” She waved her hand as if to indicated that “outside” meant outside the confines of the town square and serving coffee.

  “No-o-o,” Suzanne finally answered.

  “Okay, now.” He took another swallow of coffee. “You girls keep making good coffee like this, and stay out of trouble. And maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and try one of these health balls you told me about. Full price, of course,” he added.

  “Yes, sir.” Suzanne saluted him.

  He shook his head in mock disbelief and walked back to his vehicle.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE HE called us “girls””, Suzanne murmured once he appeared out of earshot.

  “I know,” Maddie agreed. “But it’s not as if we’re middle-aged. Maybe we’re too young for ma’am, and miss would sound weird, right?”

  “Yeah,” Suzanne said with feeling. “But we don’t look like teenagers, do we?”

  “I hope not.” Maddie grabbed a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap. “But we don’t look old for twenty-seven, do we?”

  “No way!”

  They flopped onto their stools. Maddie checked her phone, looking at Trixie the cat on the screen.

  “What’s Trixie doing now?” Suzanne inquired, peering over Maddie’s shoulder.

  “Still sitting next to the spell book.” Maddie furrowed her brow. “I wonder if she’s been there since earlier this morning.”

  “Maybe she’s waiting for you to come home so you can try casting a new spell,” Suzanne suggested.

  Maddie yawned. “When I get home, all I’ll feel like doing is relaxing on the couch and watching TV.”

  Suzanne looked at her watch. “It’s 3.30. If we close up early, we could buy the ingredients for the health balls and start earlier tomorrow, so the balls will be ready by the time our first customer arrives.”

  Maddie looked out across the square. Only a couple of people sat on the park benches, either reading a newspaper or looking at their phone.

  “I guess. We don’t get many people bet
ween now and four, anyway.”

  “I’ve already made a list of the ingredients we need.” Suzanne jumped up from her stool.

  After they closed up the truck and deposited the day’s takings in the bank across the square, it was almost four.

  “We can keep the ingredients in the truck,” Suzanne said, as they walked to the small supermarket just off the square.

  “And when I get home, I’ll put my food processor into the truck, ready for tomorrow.”

  “Our goodies are going to blow Claudine’s paltry offerings out of the water,” Suzanne declared.

  Maddie had seen the type of health balls Suzanne was enthusiastic about in health food stores, but to her knowledge, no shops near the town square sold them. She hadn’t tried one, either.

  “These balls are going to taste good, aren’t they?” she asked as they entered the grocery store.

  “Everyone raves about them online,” Suzanne assured her, grabbing a cart and digging out her list.

  “Have you tried them?” Maddie asked.

  “Well, not exactly,” Suzanne murmured.

  “Suze!”

  “I was going to make a small batch for us, so we could snack on them during the day, but then I thought we might as well make a large batch and sell them to customers so we can recoup our costs right from the start.”

  “What if they don’t work out? Or don’t taste very nice?” Maddie asked.

  “They will, Mads.” Suzanne touched her arm. “You’ve got to have faith.”

  Maddie absorbed her friend’s words as they collected the ingredients they needed. Suzanne was right – sometimes Maddie doubted herself. Not in her ability to make coffee – she was confident she had the right skillset there – but in other areas of her life, such as her supposed witchy powers and non-existent love life.

  They paid for the healthy ingredients at the check-out: coconut, cacao, fresh dates, and almond meal.

  Maddie raised her eyebrows at the total – healthy food was expensive – but pulled out her wallet without a murmur.

  Suzanne had supported her idea of running a coffee truck; the least she could do was support her friend’s idea of adding a profitable sideline to their business.

  “The balls will take an hour to set,” Suzanne informed her as they walked back to the truck. “So if we park in the square an hour earlier than normal, they should be almost ready by 7.30, when the first lot of regulars arrive.”