Murder & Spice (Nether Edge Witch Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Wendy Meadows

  This was hardly surprising news, though if they did get a disco, Cassy would raise an eyebrow. The Langdon building had been little more than a magnet for vandalism since the previous business shut down. It had been home to an ill-advised department store, something that a little place like Havenholm could not support. If someone wanted to come in and buy up the vacant properties around town, then Cassy had to assume it could only be a good thing. Too often little places like this die out. The young move away eventually, and there’s little to tempt new people in.

  “Well, it’s certainly a good idea to discuss it,” Cassy smiled at Mrs. Hamswell. “I’ll be at the town hall tonight.”

  With a sudden and unexpected familiarity, Mrs. Hamswell took Cassy’s hand and shook it. Defying the laws of physics, she held onto all her posters.

  “God bless you, Miss Dean. It’s the little businesses like this one that always suffer when they move in, you know. Thank you for your support.” She left just as she’d entered, in a whirl of paper and deep, labored breaths. She paused before exiting and turned back one last time. “Remember, coffee and cookies.”

  And then she was gone.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hamswell!” Patty hollered enthusiastically. It was impossible for Cassy to tell if Patty was being sarcastic or not; the girl was so full of joy and life, she had to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  The Nether Edge Spicery’s other employee, Dorothy McGuiness, appeared as if from nowhere, having successfully avoided not only the slowly dwindling line of customers but the encounter with Mrs. Hamswell.

  “What did she want?” Dot asked.

  “Another one of her crusades. Last year it was all about fishing licenses, and before that it was something about a bypass road that never came to be.”

  “Coffee and cookies?” mused Dot, looking over the poster. “We should go.”

  Cassy had been resigned to going to the impromptu town meeting, even though it was all probably for nothing. Did anything ever happen at these things?

  “Can I leave the shop in your capable hands?” Cassy inquired.

  “Lunch break?” Dot smiled.

  “I’m thinking of trying out that new place across the road.”

  “Get them to make you a pesto melt. I promise, you will not recover.”

  “That good, huh?”

  Chapter Three

  Leaving the shop when it was so busy felt like cheating, but she was the boss and had been working since early morning, way before the store opened for the day. Besides, her stomach was complaining. If she left it any longer, the rumbling might scare away the customers. Before the start of summer season, it was rare to get so many.

  “Coffee and More” read the no-nonsense sign above the café. It was run by a husband and wife who had opened the Paris-style establishment only the month before. Already it was looking a little empty, especially as the momentum of novelty hadn’t yet worn off. Cassy remembered the first week of opening the Spicery in the little corner of Havenholm they called Nether Edge. She’d been run off her feet to keep up with demand. She was positive people had only been coming into the store to investigate and possibly mock her when they found out what kind of store it was. She’d done brisk business and liked to think those first few weeks cemented her and the shop as an established part of the town. With its ornate wooden storefront, the Spicery had become a landmark that people used as a meeting point.

  She ordered a spiced pumpkin latte, which was impossible to resist, even though it was hardly the right season. Above the counter there were two of Mrs. Hamswell’s crude yet effective posters.

  “Are you going tonight?” asked the diminutive woman who worked the coffee machine when she saw Cassy looking at the poster.

  “Do you buy all this conspiracy stuff?” Cassy handed over the exact change. “I mean, people coming in and taking over the town?”

  The look the woman gave her, coupled with the fact that not one but two posters had been proudly displayed, should have tipped Cassy off which way she was leaning.

  “You know Bob’s Hypermarket closed down? No warning. Just last night. They say he sold out to whoever it is knocking down that Langdon place.”

  A one-time high school sweetheart of Cassy’s (for all of two weeks), Bob Mayweather had once gone to France on vacation and discovered they had something called Hyper-marchés. He’d imported the concept on returning to the States, seemingly oblivious that it just sounded dumb in English.

  The drug store within the market had also closed, which explained why the Spicery was so busy that morning. Much of what he sold could be found on their shelves, too, or at least some organic equivalent.

  “Yeah, but it’s not like they’re going to knock everything down and then not do anything with the land. It’ll bring money to the area, right?” Even Cassy had to accept the withering look she was now getting from the barista-owner of the bluntly named Coffee and More. As the day progressed, it increasingly appeared to Cassy that maybe something bad was happening to Havenholm. Instead of pushing the issue further, Cassy ordered a pesto melt and was delighted when the most appetizing thing she’d seen in a while was delivered to her. It smelled divine.

  While she looked around for the best place to sit, Cassy noticed Sheriff Noyce walk by. He came with a tall young man in a deputy’s uniform. As Dot had promised, he was an attractive albeit youngish man. Catching herself staring, intrigued, Cassy snapped herself back into the room when the two men entered.

  “Ah, Mrs. Dean!” The Sheriff smiled when spotting Cassy. “We’re just doing the rounds of all the local businesses. You were next on our list, but two stones and all that.”

  “Two birds.” She desperately wanted to correct Mrs. to Miss, especially as the new recruit had turned out to be a lot more attractive than she’d imagined. Instead she let it slide. “I heard on the grapevine that we had a new deputy.”

  Cassy approached and stretched out her hand to the deputy, who received it with a firm grip. Large hands, soft skin. His eyes were striking and displayed what Cassy knew as heterochromia. One was the most piercing blue, the other a deep, luscious, woodland brown. From her time studying occult texts she knew this to be a sign of either imbalance or harmony. (No one ever said ancient occult texts were any use.)

  “James,” he said, his voice soft yet heavily accented. She couldn’t place exactly where, but deep south for certain. When they’d looked outside Havenholm, they looked far. “James Jones.”

  The name went well with the drawl.

  “Pleased to meet you, James,” Cassy managed in little more than a squeak. She swallowed hard to clear her throat. “Can I get you a drink? I mean are you getting a drink?”

  “Just familiarizing myself with the community, ma’am.”

  Ma’am!

  “Having the grand tour as it were. Yours is the one with the big old fashioned sign out front, right? The Spicery?”

  “That’s the one. All mine. My business, which I own. Independent woman and all that.” She could feel herself blushing, a fixed grimace on her face trying to conceal her weak-at-her-knees schoolgirl ditzyness. “Not that independent, though. It’s not like I don’t need a man in my life.” Sometimes, Cassy wished there were a spell to shut her mouth up. It’s one that wouldn’t be out of use.

  “Don’t we all?” said Deputy James, and all the color drained from her face. Surely not? Not the square jawed, quirky-eyed Texan? “Well, I mean having a partner, that is.”

  With the color now flushing back into her cheeks, Cassy felt a little light-headed. For a minute, she thought that Dot might have misjudged the situation. Before she could embarrass herself further, Cassy turned the conversation to more serious matters. “Are you going to the town hall later?” she asked the sheriff.

  He took off his wide-brimmed hat and rubbed his slightly balding head. This hadn’t been the first time he’d done that very same thing that day, judging by the red mark his wedding band had made on his forehead. The look on his face said he’d
been having a hard time of it recently. Stress had gotten to him. At least now he had more help.

  “You know what? Yes, I am going. If just for security. Naming no names, but a few of our residents are taking a dim view of recent events. Things are getting a little heated, and of course I get sucked into the middle of it all.”

  “It’s not all bad, is it?” Cassy questioned, trying, if anything, to have her own concerns squashed.

  “You know how it is with small places like this. We’re stubborn. Stuck in our ways. I’d say it’s a good thing trying to preserve what we have, but we can’t stop progress, now can we? Say, did you know that when you opened up your store I had several complaints?”

  It was news to Cassy. “Surely not? My little shop? It’s just about the most small-town place I can imagine. We sell nothing more offensive than ginger!”

  “Well… naming no names,” the sheriff winked.

  And there it was. Mrs. Hamswell strikes again. Somehow this put Cassy at ease. If the town naysayer could get her underwear in a twist over something as innocent as the Spicery (if you discounted all the magic) then maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about when the big boys came in.

  “I’m sure it’ll be just fine,” Cassy glanced at her watch, which revealed that she’d taken longer than she’d intended. With the hypermarket out of business, they could expect increased traffic throughout the day, and it was down to her to hold the fort. The pesto melt must be consumed on the go. She bid the sheriff and his new deputy a good day, turned to leave and paused.

  “Are you going, too, Deputy Jones? Tonight, I mean, to the town hall?”

  “Like the boss said, we’re there for security more than anything. Some lawyers for the firm doing the renovations are coming down, and well, we wanted to show some hospitality.”

  That changed everything. If whoever was buying up property in Havenholm would be represented at the meeting, then everything suddenly got a lot more serious. Cassy’s concerns had been stifled, but now they’d flared up again. Maybe there was a concerted effort to turn Havenholm into the next tourist town. It had the scenery and the history—now all it needed were the hotels and arcades and malls and… it didn’t bear thinking about.

  Half lost in thought, Cassy crossed the street back over to her store. She had almost reached the door when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Expecting it to be Deputy James, Cassy turned with her cutest smile ready. It was not the deputy, however, but Sheriff Noyce.

  “I called to you but you must not have heard me,” he said, puffing. The short run from the café had taken its toll on his old body.

  “I’m sorry. How can I help you?”

  “Cakes.”

  It was not what she’d expected to hear and she let out a little laugh. “Okay?”

  “Look, I need to make a cake for someone.” He looked around, almost ashamed someone might hear him admitting to such a thing. Sure, he wasn’t the cake-making type by the looks, but there was no reason to be concerned. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. I mean, I’ve got the recipes, and I can work an oven. I mean, I’m not dumb. It can’t be that hard, right?”

  “You have to bake a cake?”

  “Yeah, it’s for someone,” he said, sheepishly. “What do I put in it? Raisins? You sell cakey things, don’t you?”

  “I guess we do. Well, follow me. I have everything you need inside.”

  Things were still busy in the Spicery, but Patty had things under control, and Dot was restocking the shelves in a languid sort of way that emphasized just how infrequently they’d had to do it over the winter months.

  “What about ginger?” asked the sheriff, browsing through the open boxes of ingredients. He found a ginger root and smelled it. The tart sting made his eyes water. “That’s potent,” he coughed. “How do you girls do it? I mean you spend all day in here with all these smells—it’s overwhelming. I feel like I’m in a market in Morocco or somewhere, you know what I mean?”

  Cassy breathed in deeply, filling her nostrils with the strong aromas from the myriad herbs and spices that filled the shelves. There was lavender hanging from the ceiling and barrels of rosemary, dried licorice, vanilla pods, each giving a fragrant, sweet smell. Then there were the more bitter odors like nettle, clove, horseradish and even more exotic types such as orris and salep. It all mingled together in the air like ingredients in a big cauldron. It was exhilarating.

  “It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Cassie smiled proudly.

  “Sure is,” the sheriff agreed. “Why don’t you get a few things for me, and I’ll find the recipe that matches.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Cassy replied, then called to Dot, “Why don’t you rustle up some things for the sheriff? Aniseed, vanilla, nutmeg, maybe even some spearmint. That should keep you going.”

  “I reckon so,” the Sheriff nodded.

  “Say Phil,” Dot interrupted, with the habit of calling everyone by their first name, status be damned, “where’s that lovely young man gone? I thought you might introduce him to our Cassy.”

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” he said, turning to Cassy with a grin. “I thought I detected a little something back there. You have your eye on our new recruit, Mrs. Dean?”

  “It’s Miss,” corrected Dot, who arrived with a bag of choice ingredients. “Here’s a selection of things. I’ve labeled each one individually so you can distinguish your ginger from your aniseed.”

  “Oh of course. ‘Miss.’” Sherriff Noyce took the bag and held it to his face. He breathed deep and coughed. “My, my,” he spluttered, “how much do I owe you?”

  Nothing. It’s on the house, Cassy was going to say until Dot interrupted.

  “All it’ll take is a good word from you to the young deputy,” Dot said. Cassy rolled her eyes but didn’t protest.

  “I’ll see what I can do, ladies. Goodbye,” he said, then called across the room, “Goodbye to you too, Patty.”

  Patty waved back, just happy to be included in the conversation at last.

  Chapter Four

  The town hall was a grand old thing, and by night the string of lights that followed its contours made it appear imposing. It was an old building, made back in the days when things were constructed to last. It dwarfed most of the other buildings that surrounded it, with only the silos on the outskirts of town besting it.

  It had more than enough capacity to accommodate the two hundred or so people who had shown up that night. They crowded the steps leading to the main entrance and spilled back out onto the main street, preventing cars from passing by. Havenholm was a small town, barely large enough to be called a town, though it encompassed a few remoter areas that made up the numbers. New England was dotted with similar places, relics from colonial days that had barely changed since Europeans set foot on the shores of the New World. Not that Havenholm was a backwards place, far from it, but its citizens enjoyed the benefits of a traditional way of life. The only real downside of living in such an idyllic place was the slow broadband, something that Patty was always complaining about.

  As they approached the crowd, Cassy was glad she’d asked Patty and Dot to come along. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to cope with such an unexpectedly large group of people. It wasn’t social anxiety so much as claustrophobia that beset Cassy in situations like this. She’d never been one for large crowds and always felt trapped, say, when she was shopping in an out-of-town mall. With the Spicery trio together, though, Cassy was a lot more confident.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen so many people out like this before!” Patty exclaimed. “Where did they all come from?”

  “If people think that the place they call home is in trouble, you can guarantee they’ll want to be heard,” Dot responded. It wasn’t cold, but Dorothy had come out wearing a huge, puffy coat that looked odd on her tall, slight frame. Cassy couldn’t get the image of a hotdog out of her mind, but she kept it to herself.

  “It’s mob mentality,” Cassy observed. “Until this meeting, I
guarantee half of these people didn’t care either way if there were plans to develop in Havenholm.”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge, Cassandra,” Dot retorted. “There’s a lot of pride in this town.”

  “Well, as far as I can tell it’s a good thing what they’re doing,” Patty added, then lowered her voice when she realized that she was probably in the minority. “We could do with a little injection of the modern world around here. There’s only so many times a girl can go bowling, you know.”

  Soon the crowd had just about squeezed into the main hall. Although there were fold-out chairs provided, many were left to sit in the aisles or stand at the edges. The two exits had been left open and were packed with latecomers unable to get into the room. Mrs. Hamswell was one, which, considering she was the main instigator for tonight’s meeting, seemed like an oversight. She forced her way through, and despite being on the smaller side, got into the main hall without too much trouble. Cassy had to stifle a laugh when she saw the woman heaving and panting, her cheeks going bright red in the effort to make it through. She was no doubt putting up posters until the last minute and may well have missed the event itself had she not run out of them.

  “So, we have her to thank for all this, do we?” said Dot, indicating Mrs. Hamswell.

  “When she gets a notion in her head there’s nothing that’s going to stop her, that’s for sure,” Cassy replied as she looked for somewhere to sit. “I think she did a good thing. We need to talk about what’s happening in our town.”

  Dot mumbled something under her breath and then spoke up. “We’ll not hear the end of it now, though. This is enough to fuel her for the rest of the year. I swear, sometimes the only reason she’s got to poke her nose into other people’s affairs is because her life is so dreadfully dull. She has nothing to gain or to lose if Havenholm gets redeveloped. The only thing she needs is a cause to fill her life.” Cassy made sure Dot saw her raise a displeased eyebrow, but she continued anyway. “I don’t care if you think I’m talking behind her back. The truth is that she’s a bore. You know she spoke to me for two hours straight about the junior high school play? The blasted thing only lasted forty minutes, and she doesn’t even have a kid.”