Magical Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 1)

by Kennedy Layne

  “Shame on you,” Pearl exclaimed in a huff, closing the flap on her purse with an additional self-satisfied pat. I couldn’t understand how I had read the situation wrong, but maybe Pearl wasn’t ready to accept the truth herself. If she was spending fifty dollars a week on herbs or tea leaves that were supposed to make her feel good in some way…well, she’d certainly been conned by the best of the best. “Your grandmother would never be involved with any such vice or chicanery, and certainly not that. She all but promised me that you would know what to do in case she passed on to the other side. Didn’t she leave you a note or some kind of instructions?”

  Could it be that I’d arrived into another dimension when I crossed the county line?

  First, the town itself was completely idyllic in every sense of the word. It was as if Paramour Bay was torn off a Saturday Evening Post cover. Second, the first murder to have been committed in fifty-three years involved my family. Third, Ted. I mean, just Ted. I don’t think I need to go into more detail there.

  “In my defense, Ms. Saffron, you’re acting like buying tea leaves is a criminal enterprise or some other dubious exchange with malintent.” I shouldn’t have had to point out the obvious, but we had clearly gotten our wires crossed. It was time to lay all of our cards on the table. “Ms. Saffron, I promise you that I will get this shop up and running to my Nan’s standards once I find out what the heck she was doing here. But please, you have to give me a little latitude for misunderstandings. Your order had been previously prepared by Nan. I honestly haven’t the foggiest idea what you wanted or what I’ve just given you. I truly desire to get your order right for next week if I can, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what type of tea you prefer.”

  I hadn’t meant to upset Pearl, but my assurances only seemed to make things worse for her. She was clutching her sapphires and staring at me as if I’d told her that she could never drink tea again.

  “Is your son outside?” I asked, remembering the man who’d been with her yesterday outside when a group of people had formed to stand back and watch me walk from my car to the shop. Maybe he could listen to reason and understand that this was all new to me. He might be able to help me convey to Pearl that I couldn’t just step into my Nan’s shoes as if she’d never died. “Is it possible that I could—”

  “Son?” Pearl asked, tilting her head to the side in confusion. Not one purple strand on top of her head moved with the motion. “Oh, darling, I don’t have a son.”

  Pearl snuck a peek toward the door, as if someone was about to barge in and arrest us once the key phrase was exchanged. My gaze reluctantly followed her path. After what she had to say, I’m not so sure that wasn’t about to happen.

  “This special concoction of herbs is to get Henry Wiegand to fall in love with me.” Pearl lifted her shoulders in a sheepish shrug and a satisfied smile. “And it’s working quite well! Which is why I needed this week’s supply to get him to pop the question.”

  Oh, this was bad.

  Horrible.

  Beyond comprehensible.

  My Nan had been a conwoman.

  I made no qualms that Nan should have been arrested for fraud. Taking money for such a false notion was downright criminal.

  What kind of gypsy hocus pocus was this?

  I was pretty sure in that exact moment the fifty-dollar bill in my hand began to burn a hole through my palm. Everything began to fall into place…even Fake Larry’s murder. He must have been one of her underworld contacts, or maybe even a henchman.

  I really should start referring to the man by his real name—Jacob Blackleach.

  Had Nan been deceiving Mr. Blackleach, just as she had with the other residents in Paramour Bay? Was it possible to construct a mass delusion so complex that the entire town bought into it? It would certainly explain his murder, especially if Nan had a partner in crime to make sure that certain situations appeared as if they were occurring through some sort of black magic.

  Ted immediately sprang to mind as another accomplice.

  Yet so did the man I’d mistaken for Pearl’s son. She claimed not to have any grown children, yet the bald man who’d been standing next to her…

  How did I not make the connection earlier?

  I needed to speak with Liam right away.

  “Pearl, I’m so sorry that my Nan made you believe that whatever she put in that bag would help you find love. She must have had dementia or suffered from some delusion.” I quickly walked over to the counter where I’d left my purse. Don’t think I didn’t glance at those ivory-colored beads. After all, I most certainly had heard someone’s voice back there that hadn’t been my own. There must be a trap door in the floor or maybe a concealed exit in one of the walls. I could only deal with one crisis at a time, though. “Trust me, no tea leaves or herbs can get a man to fall in love with you. This is the twenty-first century, you know.”

  “But it is working, dear,” Pearl exclaimed, clutching her purse as if I was going to make an attempt to take it from her. “Rosemary was very special. And she assured me that she passed on her gift to you. I have no doubt.”

  Gift?

  “Well, Nan had a way of making people believe that she could cook, too,” I explained, recalling the time she’d ordered from one of the New York’s five star restaurants and tried to pass it off as her own creation. My mother had found the warming trays in the trashcan the next day. I couldn’t have been more than sixteen at the time, but I can still recall the fight that had ensued over something so meaningless. Nan had insisted that it would end up being a good story to entertain everyone years down the line. No harm was meant. Then again, they had always fought over the simplest of things. “I’m not going to take your money, Ms. Saffron. Go ahead and keep whatever is in the bag, but you’ll also take your fifty dollars.”

  I really didn’t give Pearl a chance to try and talk me out of giving her money back, nor did I give her a choice but to walk out the front door with me. There were things I needed to take care of, but first on the list was speaking with Liam about what I’d found out by talking with Pearl. It was essential he know what my grandmother had been involved in, and also that it might very well be in connection with Jacob Blackleach’s murder.

  “Please come back to the shop should you ever want some actual tea.” I certainly didn’t want to lose a customer. I managed to give Pearl her fifty dollars back and also lock the door before quickly walking down the sidewalk. I even tossed a wave over my shoulder, grateful that Pearl didn’t seem to hold my Nan’s deceit against me. “We’ll talk soon!”

  I looked both ways at the cobblestone crosswalk. Only one car was driving into town, but the man stopped and waited for me cross. I took advantage of his generosity, hastily strolling toward the other side of the road where the sheriff’s office was located. To say I was surprised that there was a sign in the door saying they’d gone to lunch was an understatement.

  What kind of police department took a lunch break?

  Oh, that’s right.

  The one that employed one sheriff and one dispatcher who forwarded the calls to her home at night.

  Well, there was only one place in town that served breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Trixie’s Diner was only two storefronts down, so I figured that was my best shot of tracking down Liam. I certainly didn’t expect every patron in the place to stop eating and talking the very moment the bell rang over my head, alerting them to my arrival.

  You do remember that I don’t like being the center of attention, right?

  I found it hard to breathe, although I wasn’t so certain it had to do with the heavy cloud of grease hanging in the air. It was so silent that I could literally hear the sizzle of the grill through the long rectangular window where the cook was pushing out the finished orders. It was too late to rethink my strategy now, but thankfully, Liam’s voice came from somewhere in the back and saved me from what promised to be a very awkward retreat.

  Liam was sitting in a booth with an older gentleman, both of th
em having already finished eating from the looks of their empty plates. I carefully made my way toward them, ever mindful that I didn’t brush someone’s elbow as they tracked my progress. The last thing I needed was to knock a drink out of someone’s hand and cause an even bigger scene.

  “Um, I’m so sorry to bother you,” I began to say, ignoring the fact that Liam had made room for me in the booth. It wasn’t as if I’d come to join them for lunch, and this wasn’t a conversation that I felt comfortable having in a room full of residents who had no doubt been conned by my Nan. “I need to speak with you about something important. Well, two things, actually.”

  “Please, join us.” Liam even moved the empty plates closer to the older gentleman, clearly making room for me as he scooted closer to the far window. It was then I remembered seeing this man wearing a policeman’s uniform in the framed photograph on the wall in Liam’s office. “This is Otis Finley. He was the previous sheriff of Paramour Bay. Otis, this is Raven Marigold.”

  It was more than apparent that Otis had already been apprised of my identity, for he displayed no surprise at the introduction. My stomach clenched a little at the knowledge that he’d been the previous sheriff. Had he been involved in the case that had determined my Nan was a suspect in a murder? Was that how she’d gotten involved with conning and a flim-flam game of crime to begin with?

  Once it was out that Nan had been committing fraud on the good people of Paramour Bay, it wouldn’t be such a stretch to believe that she’d go to other extreme measures such as murder and vice.

  This so wasn’t going to be good for business.

  “It’s nice to meet you, young lady. I was sorry to hear about the passing of your grandmother. She was a paragon of our community.” Otis stood, holding out his weathered hand. It appeared that he still liked to fish from the amount of sun that had touched his skin over the years. It didn’t hurt that I saw his fishing hat decorated with various tied flies hooked onto the hatband. It was sitting on the booth beside him, which he was already reaching for in his bid to say goodbye. “I can see that you need to speak to Liam in private, so I’ll give you two the table.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “It’s no trouble,” Otis assured me with a pat on my shoulder. He even gave me a wink that I found hard to decipher. “I’ll be by the shop sometime in the next day or two to pick up my wife’s order.”

  I could only hope that he was talking in the literal sense and not some magic potion. I’m not going to lie. I basically collapsed into the booth wondering if the former sheriff might have been conned by my now dead grandmother.

  “Raven, what’s wrong?” Liam asked in a low tone after Otis made his way to the cash register. “Did something else happen? Please tell me you didn’t find another dead body in the back of your tea shop.”

  “No, there’s not another body. Nothing quite that sinister. That is, other than finding out my grandmother was a con artist.” My tone became lower the longer I talked, but it still felt as if every eye in this place had settled onto my back. I slipped my purse strap off my shoulder and shoved my bag into the corner before leaning over the table. At least Liam displayed a sense of humor. That could go a long way in what I was about to divulge about Nan. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s better than believing that my grandmother was selling drugs to the locals. I think. Either way, I came to tell you that I believe I know who killed Fake Larry. I mean, Jacob Blackleach or whatever his name was.”

  Was it possible that I had been spending too much time with Heidi?

  I needed to get these names straight.

  “Who?” Liam seemed skeptical, which wasn’t a surprise. He was the sheriff, and I was nothing more than a tea shop owner. It wasn’t as if I had police training or had any idea how to crack a murder case. “And we’ll get back to your grandmother being a con artist in a second.”

  “Larry Butterball.” It was best I blurt out who I believed to be the guilty party. It would cause this conversation to go a bit faster and maybe diverted to the police station where eavesdropping was limited to Eileen, who wasn’t amongst the diners whom I could see when I entered. Maybe she’d gone home for lunch. “Look, the population in Paramour Bay isn’t that large. How many bald men could there be around these parts?”

  “Technically, four. But that’s beside the point.” Liam drew his coffee mug across the table as he sat back against the padded seat. It irked me that he didn’t seem to take my accusation seriously. “Raven, Larry has been in Florida. He goes to the same resort every year. It’s not like that’s a well-kept secret. He’s not due back until this evening. And I’m not seeing why you would accuse a man who wasn’t even in town at the time of the murder.”

  “But that’s exactly what Larry would want you to think, now isn’t it?” I wasn’t going to sit here and debate something that could be proven in a matter of minutes. “Show me a photograph. I’ll be able to tell you if it was him that I saw standing across the street.”

  “Him, who? You still haven’t explained why you believe it was Larry who committed the murder.”

  “I saw someone outside the shop yesterday before Heidi and I found Jacob Blackleach in the back room. The man in question was standing behind Pearl Saffron. I assumed he was her son, but she told me a little bit ago that she doesn’t have any children.” This was where I had to explain why I didn’t make the connection until now. “The man wasn’t quite six feet tall, but he was bald. You mentioned that the real Larry Butterball was bald. What if he found out that Jacob Blackleach was impersonating him? What if he killed Jacob in some crazy criminal enterprise with my grandmother? What if Larry was Rosemary Marigold’s partner in crime?”

  It was a relief to notice the slight change in Liam’s facial expression. He was beginning to take me seriously. Though now that I’d spelled everything out for him, something didn’t make sense.

  Why would Jacob Blackleach impersonate Larry Butterball? Could Jacob have been an undercover police officer? Or a private detective on some case? The latter made more sense, especially if a relative believed that their mother or grandmother was being conned out of their money by a tea shop owner who claimed she could make love potions out of mixing herbs.

  “Give me one moment.”

  Liam set his mug down on the table with a purpose. He excused himself, walking over to the far wall that contained a ton of framed pictures. It was natural for me to follow his progression, so there was certainly no reason for me to experience shame when the waitress stepped up to the table and cut off my view of that swagger Heidi had mentioned yesterday.

  “You must be Raven Marigold.” The waitress’ nametag read Flo. I had to stare at the plastic rectangle pinned to her uniform to make sure I was seeing those letters correctly. Was everything in this town right out of a dime novel or a television sitcom? To top it off, she literally had red hair, though not worn in a beehive. Her smile instilled fear in me that she’d bought into my grandmother’s herbs nonsense, too. Were these good people going to persecute me for my Nan’s sham? “You’re the spitting image of your grandmother. Welcome to Paramour Bay.”

  “Thank you.” I quickly shot a glance around her white apron to see if Liam was heading back this way. He wasn’t, so that gave me time to do a little bit of fishing myself. “It’s a beautiful town. Did you know my grandmother very well?”

  “That woman was a creature of habit,” Flo shared with a chuckle. “Rosemary would come in here every day and order the potato soup with a half ham sandwich. She certainly had a…unique…way about her. May she rest in peace.”

  A cough or two came from the other diners, but Flo waved her hand in their direction.

  “Don’t you mind them none. They didn’t appreciate Rosemary’s distinctive personality nor her talents. She was one amazing woman.” Flo pointed out the window and toward Tea, Leaves, & Eves. “Can I bring you a cup of tea? English, like your grandmother used to love? That reminds me, Trixie made up her monthly order. I believe we’re short
on the green tea, but I’ll bring that list back with your check.”

  I wasn’t thirsty or hungry, but I didn’t want to appear rude.

  “Yes, a cup of tea would be great,” I replied with a forced smile, not wanting anyone to realize that I’d caught onto my Nan’s little scheme. “English style, with cream and sugar, please.”

  If I was going to drink tea, I was going to have to sweeten it so that it at least tasted somewhat like the lattes I preferred back in the city. I eyed Liam’s coffee, but decided I best ignore the beautiful, rich java. I had to appear to be a tea drinker if I wanted to sell any, so I might as well start now.

  As it stood, I had a lot of ground to make up for.

  “I’ll make the introductions, seeing as you’ll run into quite a lot of these folks.” Flo pointed to the counter. “Those two fellas are Albert and Eugene. You’ll see them playing chess out front of Monty’s Hardware Store most afternoons.”

  I lifted my hand and gave them a slight wave, wondering if anyone else found this situation as uncomfortable as I did. Here I was, confessing the crimes of my grandmother to the sheriff of Paramour Bay, and the majority of these good people had most likely been her victims.

  “Elsie and Wilma are in the first booth. They come here for lunch every Monday, after their hair appointments. Aren’t their hairstyles the prettiest things? It’s amazing what Candy can do with a blow-dryer and a brush.” Flo continued to name the rest of the patrons, even including the couple sitting at the table closest to me. “Desmond and Cora Barnes own the malt shop next door to Tea, Leaves, & Eves.”

  I couldn’t help but notice the grimace that crossed Cora’s lips at the mention of my newly acquired shop. I realize that she probably had every right to feel disdain for my grandmother, but I didn’t like the snooty manner in which she showed her contempt.