In Witch It All Began (Emberdale Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Kali Harper

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  In Witch It All Began

  An Emberdale Paranormal Cozy Mystery, Book 1

  By Kali Harper

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  In Witch It All Began is copyright 2017 by Kali Harper. No part of this book may be reproduced in any way, including information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the following trademarks:

  Tetris

  Jenga

  Domino

  Kodak

  Harry Potter

  Lord of the Rings

  Dedication:

  To my amazing husband for all of his goofy jokes, puns, and support.

  Chapter One

  “Astrid, could you finish the line for me? These need a few more minutes in the oven.” Maggie pushed a gray lock of hair from in front of her eyes, then took a tray of apple tarts from the display case and hurried into the kitchen. The tarts were perfectly fine when I took them out of the oven a few minutes ago, but Maggie always was a perfectionist.

  Needless to say, I didn’t think much of it until I faced the line we had going out the door, my eyes locking on Ida Kensington, her splash of red hair vibrant as ever against the cream and light pastels of Every Last Crumb.

  “Good heavens, does Maggie ever turn off the heat?” she asked, repositioning her overly-sized hat before pulling up her sleeves.

  “Lovely to see you as always, Ida,” I said, tucking a tendril of strawberry-pink hair behind my ear.

  “It’s not even fifty degrees out there yet,” she went on. “Open up a window and get some air.”

  “I will as soon as I finish this line. Was there something I could help you with?” If I was lucky, she’d end her rant, get her morning fix, then leave.

  “My usual, please.” She waited for me to take her muffin out of the front display case, then said, “Is it true? Is that tent coming off your house tomorrow?”

  “Yup. First thing in the morning.” Man, I couldn’t wait to sleep in my own bed again.

  “Can’t happen soon enough,” the older woman said, her lips twisted with disgust.

  “For once I agree with you. Just the muffin today?”

  “And a coffee,” she added, her brows pinching above her eyes. “You know, you wouldn’t have needed the exterminator if you didn’t have all those bugs lying around.”

  How dare she blame this on my bugs. I may have collected them on occasion, but they were preserved and, well, dead. As for the white tent currently covering my house, that was because of the critters hiding inside the walls of what was once the town Inn. I honestly should’ve had the place remodeled before I moved in. Too late now. In fact, I was rather fond of place with its creaking floorboards and cracked paint along the ceilings.

  “At least it’s an improvement over the real thing,” Ida continued when I didn’t say anything. “They should tear the whole place down. Burn it until there’s nothing left but ash. That collection of yours is disgusting, same as that filthy cat Maggie has sitting outside her bakery. It’s bad for business. He could have fleas!”

  Sammy? Fleas? I doubted it, but if there was one thing I knew about Ida, it was to let her finish her rant and move on. Nothing got her more worked up than when someone argued with her.

  “We all have our charms,” I said, handing her her food.

  “He’s got something all right, though I wouldn’t call it charm.” She grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser, then finally left the line, retreating to the far booth before opening one of the windows.

  I simply shook my head and let her go, making a mental note to close it once she left. “You can come out now,” I called back over my shoulder.

  “Is she gone?” Maggie stepped out of the kitchen with the tray of tarts she’d taken with her minutes earlier.

  “Sitting at her table, as usual.”

  “What did she have to say this time?”

  “Mostly complaints about my bugs, then Sammy.”

  “I can’t understand why she hates him. He’s the best one I’ve got.”

  “Yeah, you’d think if she hated him so much, she’d go to the Morgansons’ bakery instead,” I teased, scooting aside so she could place the tarts back in the display case where they belonged.

  “Don’t you get me started, young lady. You still have one more night at my house.”

  “Making threats?”

  “Small ones.”

  Maggie switched places with me, filling cup after cup of hot coffee as I did my best to keep up with the orders. “She needs a hobby.”

  “Or another one,” I added, not the least bit surprised when Ida glanced at us from behind her paper. “What happened to traveling the world? I bet she’d love it.”

  “Not with her son working here.”

  “Don’t get me started on that.” I reached into the display case and gathered a handful of tarts before passing them off to one of our regulars.

  “He is dreamy.”

  “Maggie!”

  “What? I know a good looking one when I see him. How could you say no to those full locks of hair?”

  “I guess I’m not a hair person,” I said, offering her a partial shrug.

  In fact, when it came to Detective Lance Barker, there wasn’t much for me to like. He was bullheaded, arrogant, a huge pain in the backside, and exactly like his mother. Then again, maybe he used Ida’s intel before running his own investigations. Our town wasn’t crawling with creeps, but whenever something did come up, the two of them drilled us until there was nothing left.

  “Pay her no mind, Maggie,” Ronan Clark said, passing over his travel mug. His denims were covered with fresh dirt, and when he went to dust them off, I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “There’s a hitchhiker in your hair,” I told him, smiling when Maggie glared in my direction.

  Mr. Clark laughed, plucked a twig out of his graying hair, then stuck it in his pocket. “It’s part of the job to be one with the trees,” he teased, removing a small brown bag from his other pocket before handing it to Maggie. “These are for you. Fresh strawberries straight from my garden.”

  Maggie’s cheeks darkened as she set the fruit aside, topping off his morning coffee a moment later. “Why didn’t you drop them off with your delivery?”

  “Those are the first of what I hope will continue to grow until winter. It’s a small experiment I’m making,” he said, accepting his mug when she offered it to him. “I hope to have an entire box ready before next weekend.”

  “The Harvest Festival should be marvelous this year.”

  “So long as you promise to make those pumpkin chip cookies.”

  “I never go to the festival without th
em.”

  Meeting my gaze, he said, “Stop by The Market later this morning. I have something for you as well.”

  I pressed a hand to my chest. “You sure know how to woo a woman.”

  He laughed at that, his bushy brows rising above his blue eyes. “The only woman I’d ever woo is Maggie.”

  “Oh hush.” Leave it to him to make Maggie blush three different shades of red. Maggie simply batted a hand at him, then retreated into the kitchen.

  “One of these days you’re going to ask her out,” I said after she’d gone. “It’ll be good for her.”

  “I’m afraid that boat has already sailed, m’dear. Her Harold and I were good friends, and while I adore her to pieces, I could never step on his memory.”

  “I’m sure he’d want you both to be happy.”

  “In another time, perhaps.” He offered me a watery smile, then held his travel mug up in front of him. “To Harold.”

  By Ten o’clock, we’d made it through the morning rush and Ida had come and gone, leaving her paper behind. With the bakery cleared out, I took a moment to get my own cup of coffee and an apple tart, closing my eyes as the buttery crust flaked against my tongue.

  “I’ll never get tired of this,” I said, not opening my eyes.

  Beside me, Maggie stopped sweeping the floor. “What’s that, dear?”

  “This,” I sighed, taking another bite of the delicious tart. “The taste, the smell… especially when I first walk in.”

  “By the time you get here, the coffee and tarts are already made. Try coming in before anything’s turned on.”

  Now I did look at her, pointing my last bit of tart in her direction. “I’ve already told you I would, but you refuse to show me your recipes.”

  “That’s because they’ll all up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “Besides, they’re far too advanced.”

  “Your pumpkin chip cookies aren’t that hard to make. It’s a chocolate chip cookie with pumpkin in it.” Sounds simple enough to me.

  “It’s far more involved than that.”

  “Ten bucks says I can follow the recipe just fine.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She must’ve seen the huge grin on my face, because a moment later she took away my saucer and shoved a broom in my hand. “I didn’t say yes.”

  “It wasn’t a no, either.”

  “Shut up and sweep,” she said with a playful lilt in her voice. “Once you’ve finished there, you can take those muffins over to Kat. You know how she is if she doesn’t get her sugary fix.”

  “You mean like everyone else in Emberdale?” I smiled sweetly in her direction, not at all convinced when she glared back at me. “Do that too long and your face will stay that way.”

  “You, out.”

  “But I’m not done sweeping,” I said, batting my eyes.

  “Out. Take these with you.” She shoved a bag of muffins in my hand along with a cup holder and two coffees. “But remember to come back or I’ll have to send Sammy after you.”

  She wasn’t kidding. The last time I was late, the gray tabby met me outside Kathrine’s bookshop and was none too pleased. He refused to let me pet him for close to a week. Try being nice to a cat with a grudge. It isn’t as easy as you’d think.

  Outside, the breeze tussled my hair, one of the strands falling in front of my eyes. Stooping down to pet Sammy who was happily sprawled out on the sidewalk, I took a moment to pull my hair back, knowing it would be a mess as soon as I reached Kathrine’s store. The autumns here were always windy, but also warm. Ida wasn’t wrong to complain about the stifling heat inside the bakery, but the thermostat had nothing to do with it. Every Last Crumb was small, cramped, and had a kitchen that could only fit one person at a time. Turning around was difficult, not to mention dangerous if you happened to load the dishwasher. The door barely opened the entire way. That’s how close the counters were, and yet, Maggie had placed the winning bid all because of its perfect location.

  It didn’t matter how small it was because the customers kept coming. That said, I wouldn’t have minded an extra foot or two in the kitchen, not to mention a few more in the bathroom.

  “Soaking up some sun?” I asked, petting Sammy who cracked open one green eye. He purred loud as he could, the vibrations tickling my fingertips as I stroked the fur along his neck. “I’m off to Kat’s. Watch after Maggie for me, will you?”

  He didn’t answer, but I knew he’d be in the same spot once I got back. He rarely left Maggie’s side and when he did, it was usually to find me.

  Stopping by Mr. Clark’s fruit stand, the strawberries he’d engineered seemed especially good considering how he’d bragged about them earlier this morning. I guess one little taste couldn’t hurt. After getting a gentle nod from him through The Market’s window, I popped one of the irresistible berries into my mouth.

  “Oh. My. Gosh!” I covered my mouth with a hand, reaching for a napkin when some of the juice dripped down my chin.

  “How do they taste?” Mr. Clark asked, stepping out of his shop. “Good, right?”

  “Amazing! No wonder you had to hand deliver a bag to Maggie. I bet if she really wanted, she could make up a new recipe for these by this afternoon.”

  “You know, I’ve never seen her work with strawberries before.”

  “Which is funny considering how popular they are.”

  “Not as popular as those pumpkins are going to be.”

  I shook my head and plopped another one of the ripe fruits into my mouth. “You really are looking forward to next weekend, aren’t you?”

  “Sure am.”

  “You could always ask her to make them for you whenever you want.”

  “Make what?”

  “Ask her about the pumpkin chip cookies. The festival can’t be the only time she makes them. She’s taken requests from me in the past.”

  “When you were sick,” he reminded me, passing over another handful of strawberries. “For the road.”

  “You’re a lifesaver!”

  Popping another one into my mouth, I turned on my heels and continued down the sidewalk, delighting in the sweet juices as they slipped over my tongue. I’d considered saving a few for Kat, but once I reached her shop, the strawberries were gone.

  As The Page Turns was as quirky and small as Maggie’s bakery, but then most of the buildings in town were. Those on Main Street were especially old and in desperate need of an upgrade, but for whatever reason, they hadn’t changed since my move to Emberdale five years ago.

  A faded white and green sign hung above Kat’s shop, the wood worn from years of wear and tear. That’s not to say it was as bad as my house with its broken banister on the porch or the climbing ivy along the side, but it definitely needed work. All of the businesses on Main Street did, from Maggie’s cramped kitchen to the old theater on the other side of town.

  “It’s part of the flavor,” Kat had said not too long ago when I pointed at her sign. “It has the quaint look an old shop should have.”

  Inspecting the sign and the piles of books stacked in the front window, I had to agree. It did have a certain flavor about it and I knew as soon as I walked through those doors, I’d be greeted by the smell of old books, ink, and faded parchment.

  “Hello?” I called, walking over to the front desk so I could put down the food and coffee. “Kat, you in?”

  “Down here,” she replied, her voice muffled.

  “Where?” She did this to me every time, playing a game of hot and cold until I found her sitting on the floor with books all around.

  “All the way in the back near the office.”

  Thank you. “There’s coffee and muffins up front. There would’ve been strawberries as well, but I’m afraid someone ate them before I got here.”

  She giggled, smiling at me as I rounded the corner. “I thought strawberry season was over.”

  “It is, but Mr. Clark’s trying something new so he can keep them going until the frost sets in.”

  “I�
��ll have to get some later, then.”

  “If there’s any left,” I said.

  As promised, I found her on the floor between two stacks of books, the small towers to the point of falling over. They never did, though. As many times as I’d seen Kat pile the books high, they never fell. It was like a mad game of Jenga. Fortunately, she never asked me to play as I’d probably lose.

  “Nice to see things haven’t changed,” I said, settling down beside her as I took one of the books off the top.

  “They would if you weren’t in here every single day,” she pointed out, flipping one of the tomes over in her hands. “That one’s a classic.”

  “Aren’t they all classics?” Far as I could tell, new publications didn’t exist. The classic she spoke of was none other than Romeo and Juliet.

  She shrugged and set it aside. A strand of dark brown, almost black hair slipped free from her ponytail and she immediately shoved it out of the way, sighing when it got in the way again. A lot of folks in town insisted we were related, but I wasn’t so sure, especially not since I colored my hair. Ida had thrown a fit when she first saw it, but like most things, her distaste for the color passed once she found something else to complain about. As for Kat and I being sisters, the only things we shared were our taste in clothes, music, and coffee. Kat was a total bookworm and played a mean game of Chess. She’d also been in the top three of all of Emberdale in our last triathlon whereas I’d ducked out after the second event. She had so much energy, I’d considered bottling it up somehow but could never find a way to do so. In that sense, she was the same as Maggie.

  The two of them could work the night away and still have energy left in the morning. Not me, not this girl. I enjoyed my sleep, thank you very much.

  “Oh, you’ll never believe what happened this morning,” Kat said, pulling me from my thoughts as she got to her feet.

  “Does it include waking up with a mouthful of cat hair? If so, I can relate.” In fact, I was still pulling pieces of the stuff off my tongue.

  “Everything tastes better with cat hair.”

  “I’ll be sure to sprinkle some on your muffin tomorrow morning.”