Seashells, Spells & Caramels: A Cozy Witch Mystery

by Erin Johnson

  “Everyone is to stay on the grounds, tonight and for the duration of this investigation. Any departure, and you will be placed under arrest. Are we clear? We have a fairly good idea who the culprit is.” Bon cast his eyes around the group, looking here and there, lingering on my face.

  “So this is definitely a murder investigation?” Amelia cocked her head to the side.

  “We’re not releasing any information as of yet.” Bon pressed his lips together smugly.

  “Fine. Then what of the competition? If it’s not officially a murder investigation, we should be all right to continue tomorrow?” Amelia raised her brow, hands on hips.

  Bon spluttered. “Well— I— This is highly—” He stopped and swallowed. “I’ll allow it, provisionally. And we shall have officers on hand tomorrow to keep an eye on all of you.”

  Oh goody. I felt more depressed than I could say. A man had died, and thanks to Pritney’s accusations, I felt confident that I was now the lead suspect in a murder investigation.

  19

  Iggy

  I swayed on my feet. I hadn’t slept well for two nights in a row. The oven fires burned hot in the tent, making the air stuffy and thick.

  I looked at the spot on the ground where Glenn had died. It didn’t feel right to be baking today, as if nothing had happened. Then again, doing nothing would drive me crazy too.

  I let out a heavy sigh as Amelia took her place in the front with Rhonda and Francis, all wearing mourning black. Inspector Bon stood to the side of them, eight more of his officers stationed around the tent, one just to my left. I hissed and scratched at my ankle as a mosquito bit me.

  “Let’s all take a moment of silence for Glenn,” Amelia said, hands folded in front of her. It didn’t escape me, the irony of taking a moment of silence for a man who had never stopped talking. But I folded my hands, lowered my head, and thought of Glenn.

  I’m sorry, Glenn. You didn’t deserve to die.

  Amelia lifted her head. “Thank you. We will all miss Glenn. His… his larger than life personality, his….” She took a deep breath and opened and closed her mouth several times. She seemed at a loss. “Well, he’ll be missed.”

  “Well said,” Rhonda murmured.

  I bit my lip to keep from cracking a smile. Just like me, too, at the most inappropriate times.

  “But, the show must go on, as they say,” Amelia continued. “We must all find a way forward, despite the sad and tragic events of yesterday. Glenn loved baking, and what better way to remember and honor him, than by continuing to do what he loved. So today, bakers, shall be pie day. Please make any pie, sweet or savory, that you desire. It must be lovely and tasty. You have three hours. Go!”

  I took a deep breath, acutely aware of the man in uniform to my left. He stood stock still, which only grated on my nerves more.

  “How interesting that you’ve time to relax.”

  I jumped. Inspector Bon stood across the station from me. He looked right and left. “All your competitors are already scrambling. Is there a reason you feel that you’re safe? Perhaps you know you’ll just ‘take care of’ any competition that gets in your way?”

  I scowled, my hands balled into tight, clammy fists. “I just needed to collect myself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to bake.”

  “Oh, don’t let me interrupt. But my officers and I will be on hand, watching closely for clues, so don’t let us get in your way.”

  I plastered on a bright smile. “Oh, I won’t.”

  Bon moved on to speak with Sam, thankfully. Today was not the day to try anything fancy. I just didn’t have it in me. So I’d do a classic. Cherry pie.

  After a few trips to the pantry to gather supplies, and another to the garden to pick cherries, I mixed up my dough for the crust, divided it into two, and Maple cast a frigus spell for me to get the disks of dough cooling. Then I got working on the filling. I crouched down to speak with Iggy.

  “Iggy. Can you please heat the oven up for a cherry pie?”

  “Thanks for leaving me firewood this time.” Iggy glowed red. “I see you’re at least not trying to kill me.”

  “Is that in reference to Glenn?”

  “You’re not the brightest candle on the cake, are you?”

  My nostrils flared as I tried to bite down on my anger. “I didn’t kill him.”

  “Ha!” Iggy barked out a laugh. “I know that. He was poisoned with an illicit substance. You don’t have the brains or the talent to sneak something like that past a magical field.”

  Heat flushed up my throat and chest and a muscle in my jaw jumped. “A man died, Iggy. Show some respect.”

  “A ha!” He barked out another joyless laugh. “Oh that’s rich, coming from you.”

  I dropped to my knees. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh? Why are you so hard on me anyway? You do nothing but insult me, but what about you? If you’re so great, how come you can’t bake to save your life?”

  I shook my head, huffing. “You probably never baked a day in your life before you came into this tent. Someone thought it a great big joke to give Imogen the surly campground fire? Or maybe you’re a dung pile fire, eh? Is that it?” My chest heaved with the vehemence of my anger, and I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck.

  Iggy shook, his flame trembling and burning redder and redder. I thought he might explode, and I half welcomed it, when suddenly he dimmed and his mouth wavered.

  “I was the royal baker’s flame, you dolt.” His voice held none of his usual bite, only sadness. “And you’re not half the baker she is… was! None of you are.” Iggy took a shuddering breath, his flames shrinking and dimming.

  I swallowed, my throat impossibly tight, as a great round tear squeezed out his eye. Flames can cry. Then another tear squeezed out, and another.

  “She was plump and lovely and kind and she always fed me linden branches, my favorite logs, even though she had to wander into the forest on the royal grounds to find them, with her bad knee.” Iggy wept, his flames shaking with wracking sobs. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and all you lot care about is taking her job. But-but I miss her!” He dissolved into tears that fell upon the coals at his base, sizzling and steaming.

  Tears welled up in my eyes, and I reached out before I knew what I was doing. The hairs on my arms curled up and I pulled my hand back. Oh, how did you comfort a flame? I sniffled as more tears ran down my cheeks.

  “Oh, Iggy. Oh, don’t cry, Iggy. You’ll put yourself out.” I squirmed, wanting so badly to do something for him. The flame continued to sob and gulp, small and dim.

  “Iggy. Iggy, what was her name?”

  Iggy sniffed and mumbled. “Nan.”

  “Nan sounds wonderful.”

  “She was.”

  Maybe talking about her would make him feel better. Now that I thought about the competition from his point of view, everything made sense. I’d feel the same way if someone I loved had died and I was forced, while still grieving, to partner with someone new who wanted to take their place. How awful.

  “How long did you work with Nan?”

  “Twenty-five years.”

  My heart ached. “That’s such a long time. You two must have been very close.”

  “She said we were like an old married couple. Her husband died about ten years ago, but she always said at least she had me.”

  I stayed crouched in front of the oven, talking with Iggy for a long time. All about the baking disasters they’d had, the scramble right before a big banquet, the way Nan had claimed every day she wasn’t ever going back into those woods for those darned linden branches and how every morning she showed up with a bundle more.

  “She could’ve just used magic of course, or sent someone else for them, but she always went herself. Just for me,” Iggy finished quietly, sniffling, but no longer sobbing.

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

  “Until one day.” Iggy let out a heavy sigh. “One day, she just didn’t come into the kitchen. I waited and waited.
They didn’t tell me she was gone till the next day. Everybody forgets about the flames.”

  Sucker punch to the heart. I sniffled and wiped away a puddle of tears from my eyes. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been so thoughtless. And those things I said to you before….” I shook my head. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Iggy coughed out a laugh. “Well. I haven’t been a hearth fire to you, myself.”

  I wiped my hands on my apron, making a decision. “Iggy, I’ve been unfair to you. Giving you no choice but to bake, when you were heartbroken and not even bothering to get to know you. I’m quitting. I don’t want you to have to suffer anymore, and I don’t want to fight my friends for a job I’ve never deserved.” I knelt up, ready to stand and go tell Amelia.

  “Hold on.”

  I hesitated. Iggy slid over the logs, closer to me, his voice lower. “I, uh—I don’t want you to quit.” He didn’t meet my eyes.

  Shock held me still. “You… don’t?”

  Iggy shook his head, still looking down. A sly smile pulled his mouth to the side. “You might be clumsy, airheaded, and the least magically talented person I’ve ever met.”

  “Warming my heart here.” I huffed through my nose.

  “But you also remind me of Nan in some ways. You’re kind, and you care about people and… and you’d make a great royal baker.”

  He glanced up at me. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

  “Oh, don’t go getting all sappy.” He looked away.

  “I wish I could hug you.” I cocked my head to the side, wondering how I’d never noticed how cute he was.

  “Again with the empty head—only hug me if you want third-degree burns.”

  “All right, so… I guess that means we’re a team?”

  “Yeah. I guess so.” Iggy grinned, then suddenly grew serious. “On one condition.”

  I gulped. “Now I’m worried again.”

  Iggy pulled himself even closer, the heat of his flames making my cheeks sting. “I want you to help me catch Nan’s killer.”

  20

  A Partner

  “You want me to help you catch Nan’s killer.”

  “Stay with me,” Iggy deadpanned.

  “I thought… well, I knew there were rumors, but I thought she died of a heart attack?” I frowned.

  Iggy shook his head and lowered his voice. “Nan may have been old, but she was tough. You should have seen some of the crises she handled. Plus she hiked through the forest every day with a bundle of logs in her arms for me. She was healthy.”

  Iggy gave me a pleading look. “Believe me, she was murdered. I just know it, in my gut. She’d told me she’d had a funny feeling for weeks. She thought someone was following her, and then she wound up dead. And now Glenn’s death proves it.”

  I raised my brows. “You think the same person killed Nan and Glenn?”

  “It makes sense, doesn’t it? The only person who could’ve killed Glenn was in the tent yesterday for a baking competition to become the next royal baker, after the royal baker’s killed? Someone wants that job.”

  “Enough to kill for it?”

  “It’s not the job, Imogen.” Iggy huffed. “The royal baker makes food for the most powerful people in all the kingdoms. Someone from the Badlands Army, for instance, in that position could poison the king or put a mind control spell on the queen. They could do a lot of damage.”

  I pressed my hands to my mouth. “Iggy, this is serious stuff. We should tell the police.”

  Iggy rolled his eyes. “If the police aren’t idiots, they’ve already considered it. And if they think they’re just going to stand around until someone slips up and reveals themselves as the killer, they’re even dumber than they look.”

  “But I’m not an investigator,” I hissed.

  “No, but you know everyone and can talk to them. Snoop, without it seeming like you’re snooping. We might be able to learn something. I’m telling you, Imogen, it’s someone in this tent.”

  I sighed. “The police think so, too. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m their top suspect. I had the most access to Glenn’s dough to add the poison, and I was definitely about to be eliminated that day, giving me the most motive to kill to stay in.”

  Iggy nodded. “See? All the more reason to figure out who the real killer is, to clear your name.”

  I tilted my head side to side. He had a good point. “All right. What about the judges or Amelia?” I glanced around, hoping no one had overhead us. With all the clanging pots and trays and the birds chirping like crazy outside, I doubted it.

  Iggy shrugged. “Maybe. But it’d have to be in partnership with one of the contestants, otherwise what would they gain?”

  I sighed. “I hate to say it, but you might have a point. Glenn might have been an accident, except how did the snake venom get into the tent in the first place? And no one besides the people here could have done it. I hate to think that of anyone though.” No one seemed capable of something so awful. “Well, except Pritney.” I rolled my eyes, then jumped. “Oh my God, do you think it could have been Pritney?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Iggy hissed.

  Inspector Bon chose that moment to pop his head round the corner. “Everything all right down here? Planning more dastardly deeds?” He chuckled, though his dark eyes focused in on me like a hawk.

  Before I could answer, Amelia appeared behind him. “You have one hour left, Imogen. I’d get baking if I were you.”

  Shoot! One hour? I grimaced at Iggy as Amelia and Bon moved on.

  “Go, go,” he urged. “We can only solve the murders if you’re still in the competition and have access to the other contestants.”

  “Right.” I jumped up. This would be tight. The pie needed at least forty minutes to bake, and I still had to roll out my crusts and fill them.

  I rolled and poured and pinched and shaped as quickly as possible, then slid the pie in, turning over my hourglass and ordering, “Forty minutes.”

  Were magical hourglasses sentient like magical flames?

  “Please,” I added, just in case.

  I glanced up at the big hourglass that marked how much time we had left. Urg, this would be so close. And now, on top of my whole personal future riding on this pie, the capture of a killer apparently rested on it, too. A lot of pressure for a pie. I hoped the little guy could handle it.

  I sat in front of the oven, pretending to check the color of my crust when the Inspector or one of the judges passed by. But in reality, Iggy and I talked suspects.

  “So, yeah, Pritney definitely seems the most evil of us, doesn’t she?”

  Glowing away, Iggy nodded. “I suspected her, too, especially with Nan. I never understood why she hired her, wasn’t very good at baking and such a wench. But somehow she won Nan’s favor and got promoted to Nan’s assistant. She was next in line for the job, and with the personality of a male elephant seal”—I raised a brow—“the ones that crush their own babies, she naturally aroused my suspicions.” Iggy shook his head. “But she went home to visit family when Nan died. She was gone the whole week, not even in France.”

  “Hmm.” I couldn’t quite give up on the idea of it being Pritney. “Maybe she was slowly poisoning her and left after administering the last dose, giving herself an alibi.”

  Iggy shook his head. “No. Nan was perfectly healthy, up until the end. That’s what made it such a shock.”

  I pulled my lips to the side. Pritney might be a wench, but not necessarily a killer wench.

  “Though, I was in the kitchen when Amelia delivered the news that they were holding this competition.” Iggy scoffed. “She threw a fit, tossing pans at the wall and screeching like a banshee when she found out she wasn’t being automatically promoted.”

  I lifted my head and peered over the countertops to the back row. I didn’t see Pritney at her station. I looked the other way and of course, found her holding out a slender hand while Nate wrapped gauze around a fingertip. She made a show of
wincing and pouting.

  I rolled my eyes and sank back down. “That could’ve just been her wanting the promotion though. And if she was out of town, I don’t see how she could have killed her.” I frowned. “You’re sure she actually left town?”

  Iggy nodded. “Randomly, her purse got stolen while in transit, so she filed a police report in Germany, nearly the same hour Nan died. There’s no way she could have been here.”

  “Even with magic? There’s not some way to instantly transport yourself?”

  Iggy shook his head. “We have ways, but they’re highly regulated and you can only travel from a Magic Port. And even if she flew, she couldn’t have made it in time.”

  “Flew?” I did a double take to the pouting blond in the back. “Pritney can fly?”

  Iggy grinned. “All witches can. You can too. By broomstick of course.”

  “Oh, of course.” I scoffed. “Wait, that’s real?”

  “Let’s get back to the murders?” Iggy opened his round eyes bigger.

  I needed to learn magic pronto if it meant I could fly. “By the way, how’s the pie looking?”

  “Leave the baking to me, all right?” Iggy looked quite pleased with himself. “I’ve got this part.”

  A tightness released in my chest. It felt quite nice to have a partner in baking. “So, who else could it have been?”

  “Well, there’s Wool.”

  I frowned. “But Wool didn’t know Nan, did he?”

  Iggy shook his head. “No, but maybe you could try to find out if he’d been to Bijou Mer before? If he was here when she died and could have had the opportunity?”

  “All right, I’ll try.” I shifted and sat more on my left side. One cheek had gone numb sitting on the grassy ground in front of the oven. “I did see him lose his temper with Glenn. He’s been acting regretful.”

  I peeked over the countertops again. Wool rubbed his arm over and over again, his brows drawn together in a slight frown. His normally beautiful dark golden skin looked pale and gray. “Hmm. Something’s definitely up with him.”