Witches' Brew: Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series (Vampires and Wine Book 1)

by Morgana Best

  “Have you served time in prison?” Linda asked, her lips tightly pursed.

  Marius turned to look at her, his face at once bright red. “No,” he said angrily. “It’s all in my past. I’ve reformed.” I noticed he was clenching and unclenching his fists.

  I sized him up. He had gone from calm and polite to angry in an instant. He was bulked up on steroids and was the most likely person to have the ability to carry a man onto the roof. Plus he had anger management issues. I made a mental note to go outside and look for a way onto the roof. I would do that, in daylight, the following morning.

  Aunt Dorothy stood up. “I’ll get the iced avocado soup.”

  I stood up, too. “I’ll help you.” I was in the process of pushing back my chair when Aunt Maude spoke up.

  “No, you stay here and chat with our guests. I’ll help her.”

  At that moment, I made the inopportune decision to glance at Lucas. After all, he was sitting directly in front of me. Unfortunately for me, he caught my eye. I looked away immediately, and then realised that had only made things worse. It would no doubt reinforce his opinion that I was interested in him.

  An uncomfortable silence once more descended over the table, broken only when the black cat from earlier that day walked into the room. Had it been earlier that day? It seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had happened in this one day. If only I could go back in time and start again. It would involve no murders, no supercilious men.

  “That cat shouldn’t be allowed in the dining room,” Paul shrieked loudly. “It’s unhygienic. I’ve a good mind to report this to the Health Inspector.”

  “I will remind you that this is a private dining room, and nothing to do with my aunts’ business itself,” I said in the most even tone I could muster. “My aunts invited you to dinner out of the goodness of their hearts, not as anything to do with the business.”

  Paul did not appear to know how to respond. He muttered to himself and waved his napkin around with a flourish.

  “I like cats,” Marius said. “What’s her name?”

  I spoke quickly, before Agnes had a chance. “We don’t know. She just visits here. She doesn’t live in the manor.” I was careful not to say my aunts didn’t own her, because that could set off Aunt Agnes into a flurry of eccentric speech.

  “She arrived here some time ago, quite malnourished,” Aunt Dorothy said. “We thought she was a stray. We feed her, but we don’t know where she lives, because she comes and goes.”

  “Did you take her to a vet to see if she’s microchipped?” I asked them.

  The aunts looked confused. “What’s that?” Aunt Dorothy asked me.

  “You know, a microchip.” I looked at their blank faces, so I continued. “By law, every cat in Australia must have a microchip, and the owner’s details are registered with the local council. If pets get lost, vets can scan them and reunite them with their owners.”

  “Oh, is that what it was?” Dorothy asked me. “We took her to the vet and she did wave a little machine over her. We left details with the local pound, too, but no one ever contacted us to say anyone had turned up for her.”

  “I’ll take the cat out of the room and turn on the TV for her,” Agnes announced. She left the room, cradling the cat in her arms. Paul glowered at me from under his eyebrows and Linda pouted. I noticed Marius was speaking, so I forced myself to pay attention to his words. “And so, does anyone know if the police have got any clues as to the murderer?” he said.

  “I told you we should go and book somewhere else,” Linda said in a stage whisper to her husband.

  “And I told you that we’ve already paid in advance,” he said tersely.

  “I’m sure they’ll give us a refund. After all, there’s been a murder.”

  “I’m the new business manager, and I’m sorry, but our policy is that we cannot give refunds under any circumstances. Of course, you’re welcome to go and stay elsewhere,” I said with rather more enjoyment than I should have, “but a refund is out of the question.”

  Linda pursed her lips and said nothing.

  “Do the police know why he was on the roof?” Marius asked.

  I shrugged. “If they do, they haven’t told us.”

  Marius leaned across the table and looked at Lucas, who had been sipping his wine. “They say your cousin was a wine scientist who worked for your uncle. Why would a wine scientist be on the roof of this building?”

  “Why would a wine scientist be on the roof of any building?” I said with a shrug.

  “I had never met my cousin,” Lucas said patiently. “There’s obviously a logical explanation. I’ve only just taken over my uncle’s business and I don’t know any of the staff. I don’t know why he was on the roof.”

  As the others chatted, I thought it through. It wasn’t as if the victim was a naturalist studying starlings or possums or any other species that hung about in a roof. No, there was no logical explanation. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed clear to me that the wine scientist was murdered in that manner either to provide Lucas O’Callaghan with an alibi or to threaten him. If it were the latter, then I figured that the man had been murdered, carried to the roof of the house, and thrown through the skylight right in front of Lucas O’Callaghan solely as a warning. It was strange that two relatives had died in a short space of time, at least one of them murdered, and his body thrown at the feet of his cousin.

  Was someone upset that Lucas had inherited the winery? Was this tied up with Henry Ichor’s death? I had no idea, but I had confidence that the detectives would sort it out. One thing was clear: this murder had everything to do with Lucas O’Callaghan.

  That night, I lay in my bed. I had pulled the heavy dresser across the door after I locked it, and I had made sure the window was firmly bolted. I had checked under the bed and in the wardrobe. I had taken the longest knife I could find from the kitchen and put it under my pillow, and I was clutching my phone. Still, I had only taken a quick glance at the victim’s injuries, and it didn’t look as though he had any warning or any success in fighting off his attacker.

  I hoped that when I woke up the following morning, there would be no more incidents. Even if there were, I figured that my aunts and I should be safe. It all seemed to focus on Lucas. A warm glow bubbled away in the pit of my stomach when I thought of him, much to my annoyance. The man was irritating, but still, I felt an almost chemical attraction towards him. There was just something about him. I tossed and turned all night, and only part of that could be attributed to my wonder as to what could be lurking outside.

  Chapter 8

  I hadn’t been able to sleep well at all. Somehow, in the middle of the night, I had opened the curtains so I would see anyone trying to climb in. It was a brightly waxing moon, so I figured I would see an intruder before they would see me. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  This time, I was jolted awake, struggling for breath. I’d had a nightmare, but I couldn’t quite remember what it was about. The fear from my nightmare clung to me, but the light flooding through the windows gave me some respite.

  I was still hanging onto my phone, so I looked at the screen. It was only six. I debated going back to sleep for an hour, but as I was unusually alert for this time of day, I decided I might as well get up and have some coffee. I pushed the large chest out of the way of my bedroom door, and peeped into the corridor. There was not a soul in sight. I hurried into the bathroom, and locked the door behind me. I had a quick shower, brushed my hair, and slapped on some moisturizer. It was then I remembered that I had left my fresh clothes in my bedroom. I wasn’t used to living in such a large house. In my tiny apartment, the bathroom was accessed through my bedroom. I unlocked the bathroom door, crossed the hallway, unlocked my bedroom door and let myself in. This was no way to live—I hoped the police would catch the murderer soon.

  I tiptoed downstairs, careful not to wake up my aunts. In the kitchen, I was surprised to see they had an espresso machine. I was delighted,
and even more delighted when I found the coffee capsules. I turned on the machine to warm, and then decided to go outside and see how anyone could get up on the roof. I had been burning with curiosity about that matter all night. I walked out the kitchen door which was at the back of the house and walked sufficiently far into the garden so I could see the whole back wall at once.

  I shook my head. Only Spiderman would be able to get up that. My gaze fell on the large, spreading Alder tree at the side of the house. I walked over to it. I had climbed this tree as a child. I hadn’t climbed too far, but it was the sort of tree that children like to climb. Still, there was no way anyone could climb it all the way to the roof of the building. Then I had a thought. If someone had a long ladder, perhaps they would be able to climb it, with the man’s body over their back, and hold onto the branches of the tree for support. It seemed a fanciful idea, but someone had managed to get that man onto the roof somehow.

  I climbed up the tree as best I could, but didn’t get too far, as I expected. I sat in a fork of the branches for a while, wondering what to do next, when I remembered the old garden shed. It was just to my left, made of corrugated iron on a brick base. And was that an old ladder I could see next to it?

  I gingerly let myself down from the tree, landed a little too heavily, and then walked briskly over to the garden shed. The old ladder was on the ground, running the length of the small shed. I picked it up, and half carried, half dragged it to the wall of the house.

  I intended to climb up, not all the way to the top, but a short distance to see if the branches would lend support to someone carrying a body.

  The ladder was wooden, and heavy, and it was all I could do to prop it up against the wall of the building. It seemed unlikely to me that the murderer had used this ladder, but it would do for the purposes of my experiment. Spiky green moss oozed from its pores that reached deep below its surface. I wondered if it would even hold my weight.

  After a struggle, I leaned the ladder against the wall of the building, directly under the spreading Alder tree. I tested one rung, the lowest. It held my weight. I gripped the edges of the ladder and bounced up and down a little. Success. It didn’t so much as creak. I tried the next rung, and then the next. I had positioned the ladder evenly on the damp ground, and it didn’t quiver in the slightest.

  I was past the fork in the tree now, and I carefully looked above me. I could see another fork a little further up the tree. I wondered if the murderer had climbed up the ladder and then crossed to the tree and continued his climb from there. Thick leaves hung directly above me, so I thought I should try just one more rung. That was my undoing.

  It only held my weight for a moment and then gave way.

  I screamed as I fell backwards. My descent seemed to happen in slow motion, giving me time to wonder how many bones I would break when I hit the ground.

  Instead of the ground, I fell backwards into someone’s arms. The momentum flipped me over; I landed directly on top of him. To my abject horror, I found myself lying directly on top of Lucas O’Callaghan, my legs straddling his.

  We were so close that I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. He smelled divine, of clove, cinnamon, and rosemary. My hands were resting on his chest, and his arms were around me.

  When I had fallen from this very tree as a child, I had stayed still on the ground, checking movement in each limb, one by one, to make sure I wasn’t hurt. This time, I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could.

  Lucas likewise stood up. I was relieved he seemed unharmed, but I knew what he would think, that I had thrown myself at him—literally. He opened his mouth to speak, but I forestalled him. “I didn’t know you were there!” It came out as an accusation.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

  “I’m sorry I fell on you, really I am, but don’t you dare suggest I did it deliberately!” My voice was shrill, but I didn’t care. “Look up there,” I continued, pointing to the ladder. “See that broken rung? It gave way and I fell. I wasn’t trying to land on you.”

  “I take it you’re not hurt, then?” he said dryly.

  “No.” I patted my hands over my body. “No, I don’t think so. Thanks for catching me.” I narrowed my eyes as I said it.

  “What were you doing on the ladder? You weren’t trying to climb onto the roof, were you?”

  “Of course not,” I said, irritated. “The ladder isn’t that long, obviously. I was wondering how the murderer got Talos Sparkes onto the roof, so I came here to check out the tree, to see how a man could’ve climbed onto the roof while carrying a body. There’s a lower fork in the tree, and then one much higher, so I wondered if someone climbed the ladder to the second fork and then climbed across onto the tree.”

  I thought Lucas would dismiss my words, but he walked over to the tree, and swung himself onto the lower fork with the grace of a ballet dancer or an acrobat. I was impressed, in spite of myself. He then disappeared from sight, hidden by the leaves, so I walked over to the tree to peer up into the branches.

  Soon his voice called down from the tree, “Move aside, in case I fall.”

  I did as I was asked. Within moments, Lucas dropped beside me. He moved so fast that I didn’t see him coming.

  “You’re right,” he said, “for the most part, anyway. I think someone would be able to climb the tree all the way to the roof. There are some broken branches up there, too. I don’t think the culprit needed a ladder, after all.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “I wouldn’t have thought the murderer would have had time to get back down the ladder and hide it away somewhere before the police went outside looking for him. So you’re quite sure someone could’ve climbed the tree all the way to the top? I used to be good at climbing trees when I was a kid, and I didn’t think I would be able to do it.”

  Lucas was standing close to me now, so close I could smell his cinnamon soap, and I instinctively took a step backward. I saw his face register my movement and it was apparent to me that he was considering what that meant. Perhaps he realised I was not going to make advances to him, after all.

  “I’m fairly athletic. I’d be able to climb the tree all the way to the roof, but I doubt I’d be able to do it carrying a body.”

  “Someone managed to do it,” I pointed out.

  Lucas nodded. “True. It would have to be a very strong man.”

  “Stronger than you? You look very strong,” I said, and then instantly regretted my words. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I added hastily. “That was a simple statement of fact, not a compliment.”

  His lips quirked slightly upward. “I see. Yes, I consider myself strong, but the murderer must’ve been someone stronger.”

  I bit my lip. “It just seems impossible that someone would be able to do it.” I looked up at the ladder again. “Well, I’d better put this ladder away before anyone else wants to climb up it.”

  I stepped across to the wall and seized the ladder, but Lucas appeared beside me. Once again, I didn’t see or hear him move. “Allow me,” he said.

  I nodded. He lightly brushed against me as he picked up the ladder, sending an electric jolt through my body. He shot a look at me, and I wondered if he’d felt it, too. I shook my head to clear it. I wasn’t a morning person, and I needed coffee. That would put everything into perspective.

  Still, I could not help but admire the way his muscles rippled under his thin shirt when he easily picked up the ladder as if it were made of foam. I could barely tear my eyes away. I remembered the feel of his hard chest muscles under my hands.

  “I got it from there, next to the shed. You can see the marks in the grass.”

  He placed the ladder where I indicated.

  “Thanks for that, and for catching me,” I said. “Goodbye.” I walked swiftly to the back door of the manor, fully conscious of his eyes on my back. I could feel them burning into me.

  Chapter 9

  I opened the door and walked straight into the kitchen. The
aunts were making breakfast and bickering.

  “I saw you talking to that man,” Agnes said. “What were you doing with the ladder?”

  I explained as quickly as I could, but they didn’t seem surprised. I bet they had somehow been listening, but I didn’t see how that was possible. The coffee machine was well and truly warmed up by now, so I slipped in a high intensity strength capsule and smiled with delight when the coffee poured into my cup, making a delicious golden crema on top of the dark inviting liquid.

  There was no point being attracted to Lucas O’Callaghan. For all I knew, he could be an accomplice to the murder, and if he wasn’t, he was arrogant and conceited. No, I just had to resist the electric tingles that consumed my body every time he was within my proximity.

  “What are you having for breakfast, Valkyrie?” Aunt Maude asked me.

  “I don’t usually have breakfast,” I said. “I usually just have coffee. I’m not a breakfast person. I generally have a snack later in the day when I get hungry.”

  All three aunts looked shocked. “But you need to eat a big breakfast,” Aunt Agnes said. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

  “Okay then, I suppose I could try some toast.” I popped some bread in the toaster.

  Soon the four of us were sitting around the large, round wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. It was a large room, even by the manor’s standards. A floating island stood separated from a wall covered with cupboards, drawers, and cooking essentials, such as an oven and sink. The table was quite close to the island bench, but not so close as to constrain movement from those of us sitting.

  The floor was covered in wide tallow wood floorboards, set off nicely by thick wooden beams on the ceiling. I thought that it was one of the nicest rooms in the house, and would only be nicer with a little more natural light.

  I spread some vegemite on my toast and then took a large mouthful. It did taste good. Perhaps I could get used to eating breakfast, after all. It was so kind of my aunts to take me in, so lovely to have a sense of family after the past five years that my parents had been missing.