Sit for a Spell (The Kitchen Witch, Book 3): (Witch Cozy Mystery series)

by Morgana Best

  Sit for a Spell

  (The Kitchen Witch, Book 3)

  Copyright © 2016 by Morgana Best.

  All Rights Reserved.

  License Notes.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy from your favorite ebook retailer. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The personal names have been invented by the author, and any likeness to the name of any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book may contain references to specific commercial products, process or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and/or trade names of products, which are trademarks or registered trademarks and/or trade names, and these are property of their respective owners. Morgana Best or her associates, have no association with any specific commercial products, process, or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and / or trade names of products.

  By this act

  And words of rhyme

  Trouble not

  These books of mine

  With these words I now thee render

  Candle burn and bad return

  3 times stronger to its sender.

  (Ancient Celtic)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Connect with Morgana

  Next Book in this Series

  Other Books by Morgana Best

  About Morgana Best

  Chapter 1

  “Stop that!” I yelled at the house. “I’ll never learn to bake if I can’t practice.” I pulled the cupcakes out of the oven and admired them. They were my best effort yet, only blackened on the bottom and up the sides. The sunken bit in the middle wasn’t burned at all. I beamed.

  The house made a grumbling sound.

  “Turn the electricity back on now. Please,” I added. I emptied the cupcakes onto a cooling rack. The cooling rack instantly broke.

  The sprinkler system came on, drenching me and my cupcakes. “There was no fire this time!” I shouted. I didn’t even know that the house had a sprinkler system. The house had been annoying lately. It had stopped watching Mixed Martial Arts and now only wanted me to watch baking shows.

  No matter how much I tried, I was still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that I had inherited a house with its own personality, a house that could change its rooms, turn on the TV, and terrify criminals by showing them the illusion that the walls were closing in on them. Still, that was no stranger than having to come to terms with the fact that I was a witch, a real live witch. When I found I had inherited the house and the cupcake store from my estranged Aunt Angelica, I had never imagined the strange things that were in store for me.

  By the time I’d cleaned the kitchen, taken a shower, and was nicely dry, I had to tackle the problem of the cake. Camino, my elderly next-door neighbor and fellow witch, was having a Clue party that night and had asked everyone to bring a plate. The only trouble was that she expected something to be on the plate. And the way it was looking, my only hope was a No Bake Cake.

  To my delight, the first recipe I found in my googling was a No Bake Fridge Cake. It looked simple enough, having only three ingredients. I simply had to soak chocolate chip cookies in sherry, cover them with whipped cream, line them up side by side on a plate, cover the entire thing with cream, and refrigerate for a couple hours.

  What could go wrong?

  I whipped the cream, remembering that Thyme, my best friend and also my employee at the cake store I had inherited from my aunt, had warned me not to whip cream too hard or it would turn to butter. I kept whipping. It hadn’t turned yellow yet, so that was a good sign.

  I had abundant packets of chocolate chip cookies, so I opened one and put it on the countertop next to the bowl that was ready for me to pour in the sherry. I was a wine drinker, but I was pretty sure I had seen sherry in the pantry. I couldn’t find any, but there was a bottle of vodka left by Aunt Angelica. I’d never touched the stuff, but I figured it would make a good substitute. I read the label: ‘192-proof (96% alcohol).’ I shrugged. That didn’t mean anything to me. After all, I was a light wine drinker. It would have to do.

  I soaked the chocolate chip cookies one by one in the vodka until they were about to dissolve, and then carefully moved them to the long, narrow plate where I coated them with whipped cream. I stood back to admire my handiwork. It had gone so well that I figured I should make two more cakes just like the first. After all, Camino had told me that the other witches—Thyme, Ruprecht and his granddaughter Mint—were coming, and also two of Camino’s friends. I wanted to make a good impression.

  Chapter 2

  Ruprecht met me at Camino’s door and took the plates from me. “I have to go back for the third plate,” I informed him.

  He leaned forward. “I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”

  “But they’re No Bake Cakes,” I protested.

  Ruprecht shook his head. “No, I mean playing Clue,” he whispered. “After all, there’ve been two murders here lately. I’ve had my fill of solving murders.”

  I nodded. I had to admit that he had a point.

  By the time I got back to the house with the third cake, everyone else had arrived. Camino made the introductions. I had not met her friends, Sue or Madison, before. Both ladies were somewhat younger than Camino. Everyone else I knew: Ruprecht, Mint, and Thyme. They were all seated at Camino’s round cedar pedestal dining table.

  Camino was clearly keen to start. “Let’s start with cakes, and would anyone like a drink? Wine? Orange juice? Maybe a cup of tea?” She turned to me. “It looks like a nice cake that Amelia’s made.” Her voice held surprise and more than a hint of disbelief. “What sort of cake is it?”

  “It’s a No Bake Cake,” I said.

  “It looks lovely,” Sue exclaimed. “I’d like some of that now, please.”

  I beamed. Camino set plates in front of everyone and I carefully distributed cake onto each plate. There were also cheese platters and a large plate of cookies, but everyone headed for my cake, much to my delight. No one had ever liked food I had made, and that is an understatement.

  Between mouthfuls, Camino managed to speak. “Now that there are six of us here, we can play Clue.”

  Ruprecht raised an eyebrow and motioned around the room. “But there are seven of us.”

  “Oh,” Camino said. “That’s fine; I won’t play. After all, I’m the host!”

 
Ruprecht shrugged in resignation and took a seat. The rest of us followed, Camino bringing the Clue board and game pieces.

  I played as Colonel Mustard (like I always did). Sue chose Miss Scarlett; Mint picked Mrs. White; Ruprecht was Mr. Green; Madison chose Professor Plum, and Thyme decided on Mrs. Peacock.

  The game started smoothly enough. I had figured out where the murder took place, and was well on my way to finding out what the murder weapon was.

  “Well, I think it was…” Mint paused. “Miss Scarlett in the dining room with the knife.”

  Ruprecht was the first to fold, explaining he couldn’t refute it. I was next, and discreetly showed Mint my knife card. She jotted down some notes and giggled happily to herself. I would’ve thought it strange, but I was more concerned about how blurry she looked.

  “What did you put in this cake?” Madison asked before taking another mouthful.

  For some reason, I found it hard to concentrate. “I soaked the cookies in a bit of alcohol.”

  “Alcohol?” Ruprecht said. “What sort of alcohol?”

  “I only left them soaking for a short time,” I protested weakly. “And anyway, cooking removes alcohol from cakes.”

  Ruprecht was apparently doing his best to maintain a level stare. “But aren’t these No Bake Cakes?”

  “So?” I’d assumed that alcohol wouldn’t have an alcoholic effect if it was soaked into food and eaten, which made sense to my drunken mind, but also must have somehow made sense to my earlier sober one.

  I was greeted by a combination of gasps and laughter, but nobody stopped eating, so I assumed they were happy with it.

  “That’s a lovely bracelet, Sue,” I said.

  She held up her wrist in front of me. “I only got it this morning. It’s from my sister, Barbara. Isn’t it gorgeous!”

  Everyone leaned over to admire it. “Are those real sapphires?” Madison asked.

  Sue shook her head. “I think the stones are turquoise. It’s antique, Victorian actually. Camino, may I have a glass of water, please? My throat’s so dry.”

  We continued the game in peace, and it was several minutes before I realized that I had my notes all wrong. At some point, I’d confused my clues and now had every single murder weapon crossed out, meaning that there couldn’t be one, which was obviously wrong.

  I sighed and placed my cards face down on the table. Everyone was laughing and having a huge amount of fun, far too much fun for a group of adults playing Clue. It was now becoming clear to me that I’d caused this by soaking those chocolate chip cookies in the vodka, as all of us were far more baked than any of my cakes.

  Mrs. White—that is, Mint—had found her way to the observatory, where she saw fit to accuse Miss Scarlett—Sue—of murder by stabbing. While this wasn’t necessarily a nice thing to do, I felt as though Sue was overreacting when she clutched at her throat and then collapsed, falling face-first onto our Clue board, scattering cards and pieces in every direction. She then slowly slid from her chair to land face down on the floor.

  In our drunken state, it was several long seconds before any of us had a reasonable reaction, with Camino being the first to run over and check on Sue. After several seconds of shaking her, we all realized that alcoholic cakes and our game of Clue were perhaps the least important matters to deal with.

  I felt something other than cake stir in the pit of my stomach. Ruprecht pushed Camino aside and held his fingers to Sue’s throat, checking her pulse. He paused, concentrating, before turning to us. His expression was grim. “She’s dead,” he announced.

  We all sat in stunned silence for what felt like hours, although had probably been just a minute or two. I stood up and stumbled unsteadily over to Sue, grabbing her by the shoulder. Ruprecht looked at me and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, which I dismissed with a wave. He stood back and I pushed, rolling Sue over onto her back.

  Her eyes were closed, which was a small mercy. Her mouth was open, and I leaned in to smell her breath—nothing but alcohol. For a moment, I was afraid that my cakes had killed her, but remembered she’d eaten less than any of us. It could have been an allergic reaction, but that seemed unlikely. After all, she’d slumped over suddenly. She hadn’t complained of pain or anything similar, apart from a dry throat, and there was no knife sticking out of her back. Perhaps…

  The sound of Mint screaming cut me off. It hadn’t occurred to me until now, but most of the people in this room weren’t used to seeing dead bodies. I, on the other hand, had seen two in as many months. Madison grabbed Mint by the shoulders and ushered her out of the room.

  Thyme was calling the police. “We should leave,” Madison said, poking her head back around the door.

  Ruprecht shook his head. “No, the police won’t be long. They’ll want to question all of us.”

  Madison’s jaw fell open. “Why? It was natural causes, surely?”

  Ruprecht replied to Madison, but I didn’t hear what he said as he stared back at the body.

  She was most certainly dead. I didn’t need all my powers of deduction to tell that. I thought back to what had happened. We were playing Clue, and suddenly Sue had simply fallen. It was likely that was the moment when she had died, as she had not moved at any point afterward.

  It seemed like an internal problem of some kind, possibly a heart attack or a stroke. The question was whether it had been induced or had occurred all on its own. Other than perhaps having had a bit too much cosmetic work done, her body seemed to be natural. I was fairly sure my cakes hadn’t killed her, as we had all eaten them. She hadn’t eaten anything else while she was here, so poison seemed unlikely. Maybe this really was just a natural, albeit sad, occurrence.

  At that point, the door swung open.

  Chapter 3

  Two tall, muscular police officers marched in, taking in their surroundings. “Who are you?” one of them asked accusingly, staring directly at me and resting his hand on his gun.

  “Oh,” I stammered. “I’m Amelia, Amelia Spelled. I’m one of the guests.” I recognized him as Constable Walker.

  “Why are you here, with the deceased?” His tone was unfriendly and harsh. Before I had a chance to speak, he continued. “Oh, I remember you. This seems to be a pretty dangerous area around here,” he said, concentrating his gaze on me, “what with two deaths in a short space of time on the very same street.”

  I was irritated. The man who had recently been murdered on my porch had nothing to do with me, as the officer well knew. His murderer was currently awaiting sentencing, and what’s more, she had made a full confession.

  Sergeant Tinsdell silenced him with a withering glare. “The ambulance is on the way,” he said to Camino.

  I was worried to see that the normally unflappable Camino was distraught. Her face was crumpled, and tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. Ruprecht had his arm around her, comforting her.

  We were all gathered in the kitchen, having left the deceased in Camino’s dining room. “I can’t believe she’s dead,” Camino said between sobs.

  “I need to start by asking her name,” Sergeant Tinsdell said.

  “Sue Beckett,” Madison offered, as Constable Walker pulled out his notebook.

  “Thank you. Now please tell me what happened, in your own words,” the sergeant said.

  “We were all playing Clue, and she just dropped dead.” Camino burst into a fresh round of tears. Madison placed a cup of tea in front of her, but Camino waved it away.

  “Clue?” Constable Walker said. “Is that like Cluedo?”

  “Same game, just different names in different countries,” Ruprecht said, “although there are variations between countries in some editions.”

  Walker nodded and continued taking notes. “Did Mrs. Beckett have a history of illness?’

  “No,” Madison said. “As far as I know, she was as strong as an ox.”

  Camino interrupted him. “It is, um, was, Miss Beckett. Sue never married.”

  “And was she playing the victim?” W
alker asked.

  Ruprecht shook his head. “No one plays the victim in a game of Clue,” he said. “And before you ask who the murderer was, I might remind you that it’s a game of chance. The suspect, the weapon, and the room card are all in envelopes and are selected at random.”

  I was disturbed at where the conversation was going. Constable Walker seemed to think it was murder. At least that’s the impression I was getting. To my relief, the sergeant did not appear to share his view. “There’s nothing to suggest it’s anything other than natural causes,” he said, shooting a sideways look at the constable. “Our questions are simply routine. Nevertheless, as this is a sudden death of causes unknown, we have to report it to the coroner. This also means that a doctor cannot sign a death certificate. It will all be in the coroner’s hands.”

  Camino looked up sharply.

  “To be on the safe side,” Sergeant Tinsdell continued, “we’ll take samples of everything she ate and drank.”

  Thyme and I exchanged glances. A chill ran over me. Sue had eaten my cake, and plenty of it, although not as much as the rest of us. What if my No Bake Cake had killed her? After all, I had put my ex-boyfriend, Brad, in the hospital with food poisoning. I took a deep breath and tried to reason with myself. Brad had eaten chicken that I apparently had not cooked properly. There was surely nothing in my cake that could harm anyone. Still, Sue had eaten less of my cake than anyone else had. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach at the thought.

  “What is this?”

  I swung around and, to my horror, saw that Sergeant Tinsdell had opened the cupboard containing bottles of dried herbs, presumably the ones Camino used for spells. He read the labels aloud. “Mugwort, anise, white sage, five finger grass?” He turned to look at Camino. “Solomon’s Seal? Do you cook exotic food?”

  Camino was clearly at a loss for words. “Oh no, I, err, umm…” Her voice trailed away.

  “Skin care,” Mint said. “Camino makes her own skin care products.”

  The sergeant looked doubtful, but placed the bottles back. “Mrs. Beckett didn’t eat any of these?”