Southern Spells (Sweet Tea Witch Mysteries Book 2)

by Amy Boyles

  I quirked a brow at her in confusion.

  “Kid, you do not want to see this body naked.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I get it. That’s enough of a punishment for them.”

  “Right,” Betty said.

  “Hey y’all,” came a voice.

  I glanced up and Mayor Potion, dressed I might add, was striding full speed-walk toward us. “I barely woke myself up this morning. I came out here searching for Betty to make sure she’s okay. What’s this?”

  Axel assisted a less-than-enthusiastic Betty all the way to her feet. “I’m fine,” she grumbled. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Let’s call it a Southern gentleman thing.”

  She zipped her mouth shut as Axel brought her to standing. She glared at Peter Potion. “You didn’t happen to see anyone else milling around town, did you? I think someone knocked me out.”

  Peter frowned. He glanced right and left before narrowing his eyes. “In fact, I did see one other person running around outside today.”

  Betty made a fist. “Who was it?”

  Peter glanced down, mumbling. “I can’t be sure she’s involved, of course. It doesn’t seem a thousand percent logical that she would be. Very strange, indeed.”

  “Can you tell us who it was, mayor?” Axel said.

  The mayor drummed his fingers over his lips. Finally, he said, “I saw Leona coming from this way.”

  Betty’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “So it’s her then. Leona better duck for cover, because when this witch gets mad, I explode.”

  I raised my eyebrows sharply. “Please don’t do that. It sounds messy.”

  Betty folded her hand. “Figure of speech, kid.”

  We returned to the house to decompress. Axel wanted to call the doctor, make sure Betty didn’t have anything else wrong with her, but she gave him a solid “no”.

  “I don’t need that man poking at me.”

  “Maybe your blood pressure fell,” Axel said.

  She glanced at her shotgun. “I dare you to say that again.”

  I jumped between them, flaring my arms. “Okay, there’s no need to get all defensive. Axel’s only trying to help. No one’s suggesting you’re getting older and having problems that only old people have—like low blood pressure, water in the legs, that sort of thing.”

  Betty frowned. “How do you know about those things?”

  “I once had grandparents, you know,” I said. “I remember a little bit of what they went through before they died. Anyway, the real question here is Leona and what we’re going to do about it. Today’s the last day of the festival. I’ve got a shop to run and if Leona is behind this whole thing, why did she knock you out? I don’t understand that.”

  Axel leaned one shoulder against the wall. “We first have to talk to her and see if she’s the one who ordered the chickens. I’ll take that part. See if I can get her to talk.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Will you call me at work? Let me know what you found out?”

  He nodded.

  Axel left without giving me a kiss on the cheek or the forehead or the lips for that matter. It wasn’t something I wanted to do in front of Betty anyway, since she liked to tease me about it.

  Betty snapped her fingers and a fire licked and spat beneath the cauldron. I glanced over and it looked like she was making grits for breakfast.

  “Why would Leona have hit you?”

  Betty shrugged. “Maybe I got in the way somehow.”

  “But how?”

  She tapped a spoon against the cauldron and hung it on a hook above the fireplace. “Say she did come here for Melbalean. Why is now so important? Why not have killed her years before?”

  I cracked my knuckles. “Maybe they were going to meet and Melbalean was going to give her something?”

  Betty plopped into her rocker. “Maybe. Hard to know since she’s dead.”

  I smirked. “It’s as good a theory as any, I suppose. But why attack you? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Betty rubbed her temples. “Maybe Leona wanted the golden eggs and she saw us with the bag.”

  I laughed. “Oh, wow. I’d forgotten we’d buried it before they arrested you. But don’t you think Leona could’ve just ordered her own golden-egg-laying hen? I mean she might’ve sent it to you anyway, according to Axel.”

  Betty leaned forward. “Really?”

  “Yep.” I explained what we knew about the hens and how they were shipped from an address in Hollyhock Hollow.

  Betty rocked steadily back and forth. “So much to think about. Well, let’s hope that boyfriend of yours gets it all figured out.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  Betty rolled her eyes. “That why you stayed out with him all night last night?” She jabbed a finger at me. “Don’t think I don’t know that, because I do. Y’all are lucky you saved me from the rest of the town seeing my humiliation this morning. That’s why I’m not going to say anything.”

  I crossed over and wrapped my arms around her. “You’re the best grandmother ever.”

  She pulled away. “You better get ready for work. Those animals won’t wait for you.”

  I beamed at her as I moved to the stairs. “Actually, they will.”

  I showered and dressed for the day, putting on a pair of fitted blue jeans and a tunic shirt that I belted at the waist so I wouldn’t look shapeless.

  Mattie stirred from her post on the window seat. “How ‘bout I come with you today, sugar?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I could use some company.”

  As soon as I unlocked the doors to Familiar Place, I had a swath of people follow me in. They kept me busy while I helped a little boy find his familiar—which turned out to be a Dachshund puppy we’d just received the following week. Another older witch needed to find herself a replacement for a frog she’d just lost. I found a nice water turtle to become her new familiar.

  Really, it was a completely satisfying job and I loved it.

  Mattie the cat talked to the animals, whose chatter filled my mind while I helped customers, flipped through the bills and cleaned surfaces. The cats and dogs liked having another creature around—one from the outside who could tell them what was going on in the world.

  “And then the chicken killed her,” Mattie said.

  “No,” barked one of the pups.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” one of the kittens said.

  “Cross my heart, sugars,” Mattie said.

  “Okay, don’t give the animals bad ideas about chickens,” I said.

  Mattie jumped to the floor. “I’m just tellin’ them the truth.”

  “That murder hasn’t even been solved yet,” I said.

  The cat sniffed, stopping at the feed box I’d left in a corner. “What’s that?” Mattie said. “Some kind of new litter for me to use.”

  I laughed. “No. Not litter. It’s the chicken feed that came with Betty’s hen.”

  Mattie reared back. “Smells weird. Don’t smell like any food I’ve ever eaten.”

  “That’s because it’s a grain,” I said. “It’s not kibble.”

  Mattie turned her nose from it and flicked her tail. “I’m just sayin’.”

  My cell rang. I fished it from my purse. Axel’s name flashed on the screen. “Hello?” I said.

  “Hey, it’s Axel.”

  “Hey,” I said, pretending to sound surprised that it was him.

  “I spoke with Leona.”

  I pressed the phone to my ear to make sure I could hear everything he said loud and clear. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. She doesn’t seem to know anything.”

  I shook my head. “Impossible. There’s no way. She had to have been the person who ordered the hens.”

  “Well, she’s not talking if it was her. I found her in the kitchen of her food trailer and she was so insulted by my questioning she just about kicked me out.”

  “Hmm. In your experience what does that mean?”

  He sighed. “Either she’s gu
ilty or she’s not.”

  “Not helpful.”

  He chuckled. “I know. I’m going to call Garrick, see if he’s got anything new.”

  “Maybe he does since he didn’t question Betty again.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I hung up the phone. It was just past noon. Lunch time. Hanging on the door was a Be Right Back sign. I fiddled with the phone while I thought.

  “Mattie, want to take a walk?” I said.

  “You bet your lollipops I do.”

  “Speaking of lollipops,” I said, “I’m short on jelly beans. Want to stop by Carmen’s store first?”

  “I’m following you,” Mattie said.

  I flipped the sign, intending to return within half an hour or so. We walked the few steps to Carmen’s sweet shop, Marshmallow Magic, and entered.

  “Hey there,” Carmen said, waving from the counter. “How’re y’all today?”

  “Great,” I said. “I need to get some more jelly beans.”

  Carmen winked at me. Her long, caramel hair hung around her shoulders. “I’ve already put aside a bag for you. It’s got the new flavors and some of your favorites.”

  I flashed her a brilliant smile. “You are sent by God. You know, I’m embarrassed to ask. I know we’re cousins, but I don’t know how.”

  Carmen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Betty’s sister’s granddaughter. We’re not exactly the closest of cousins, but we’re not that far off, either.”

  “How are you a Craple if you’re from Betty’s side of the family?”

  Carmen’s eyes sparkled. “The women keep their last names here. All the women were born Craples and they stay Craples until they die.”

  “Unless you’re me,” I said. “Seeing how my mom took on her married name and became a Dunn.”

  “Unless you’re you,” she agreed.

  “Thank you. I’d been wondering about that.”

  She laughed. “What else is new?”

  “Well, Betty thinks someone knocked her out this morning,” I said.

  Carmen scoffed. “Is that all? She gets low blood pressure sometimes and faints. It doesn’t happen very often, but sometimes. She refuses to see a doctor, but maybe you can talk her into it.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Thanks for the beans.”

  Carmen waved again as I left. “Anytime.”

  “Hmm,” I said, after we’d left.

  “What is it?” Mattie said.

  “Carmen says Betty’s got low blood pressure, even though she swore she was knocked out.”

  “That’s called vanity, child,” Mattie said. “You think Betty’s going to admit to being weak in any way?”

  I ripped open the cellophane bag and popped a deep orange colored bean into my mouth. Ripe peaches flooded my tongue and I moaned. “Seriously, Carmen knows how to make some delicious jelly beans.”

  “Hmm hmm,” Mattie said.

  My brain regained its focus. “But then the mayor said he saw Leona darting around town this morning, looking very suspicious.”

  “And your point is?”

  I sucked my tongue. “I don’t know that I have one. It’s kind of confusing.”

  “What are we doing out here, anyway?” Mattie said.

  “Oh, we’re going to check out Leona.”

  “Sounds like you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, sugarbear. I ain’t gonna lie.”

  I smiled. “Good. I like your honesty.”

  We marched across the lawn to the last day of the Cotton and Cobwebs festival. I didn’t see Mint or Licky around and I figured they’d probably been fired as organizers of the event. To be honest, part of me wanted to fire them as my aunts thanks to the chaos they dished out like nice folks dish out compliments.

  But anyway.

  I reached Leona’s and saw a slow line trickling toward the cash register—mostly out-of-towners.

  “I’m surprised so many people are still in town,” I said to Mattie.

  “Oh, this is a big deal. Lots of people come for the custom clothes you can have made, custom weaponry—all sorts of things.”

  I glanced around. “I guess I’ve been busy doing other things and haven’t noticed.”

  I didn’t want Leona to see me, and to be honest, I didn’t exactly know what I was doing. I guided Mattie around the rear, where extension cords ran from the trailer and several trash cans were filled with black bags. Several steps led up to the trailer, and the back door was opened. I had a great view of Leona and her workers. I could see the kitchen, where several people were cooking and Leona stood taking orders.

  “Hey, Leona,” one of the cooks called, “is this the cornmeal you want us to use?”

  The sour expression on Leona’s face nearly made me cower behind Mattie. After all, she’d already kicked me from her line once. If she saw me out back, I hated to think what she’d do. I tucked myself behind a light pole as Leona came around.

  “What cornmeal?” she said.

  The cook pointed to a box sitting on the floor. “That.”

  “What in tarnation’s got a hold of you? No. That’s not cornmeal. That’s the stuff I made a pan of bread from and ate right before I went after that man for looking at me cross-eyed. Throw that stuff out. I thought I already told y’all to do that.”

  “Well where’d it come from then?” the cook asked.

  Leona threw up her hands. “How the heck should I know? Stuff just showed up.”

  She went around the front and the cook loaded the box into her arms. She carried it to the trash bin and dropped it in, box and all. As soon as she returned to the trailer, I eased out from behind the pole, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear—as if that would make me look less weird if someone saw me hiding.

  Mattie followed me to the trashcan, where I glanced inside and got a good long look at what the cook dumped.

  “That looks exactly like the chicken feed at the shop,” I said.

  Mattie jumped up on top of a nearby crate and stuck her nose in. “Smells like it, too.”

  I nibbled my lip while I put the pieces together. Betty’s hen had attacked her right after eating. I saw the same food with Melbalean’s hen. The birds at my shop tried to scratch out Rufus’s eyes after I fed them some and Leona just said that she’d eaten a pan of it right before attacking that man.

  “Oh my gosh,” I said.

  “What?” Mattie said.

  “It was the hen that killed Melbalean. It ate the chicken feed and went crazy and killed her.”

  Mattie glanced at me. “So where’d the feed come from?”

  I furrowed my brow hard. “There’s only one person I know who could’ve gotten feed.”

  “Who’s that?” she said.

  My voice came out rough. “A chicken farmer who claims innocence.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “I already told you I don’t know anything about it,” Lane said.

  I’d called Axel and he met me at the hotel where Lane was staying. We found him packing up his truck. “I might be a chicken farmer, but I didn’t put a spell on feed and distribute it around town, and I sure as heck didn’t dose Melbalean’s chicken so that it would kill her. Like I said, I came to talk to her. I didn’t come to kill her.”

  “You might not have, but the chicken did,” I said.

  Lane shook his head. “It wasn’t me. Like I said.”

  Axel folded his arms. “Any idea who might’ve done it?”

  Lane laughed. “Could’ve been anybody. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way out of town.”

  I almost said—got a dragon to catch? But I bit my tongue super hard so I wouldn’t.

  Lane lifted one last box into his truck bed. What looked like a large paint bucket dumped. The lid fell off and chicken feed spilled over the bed.

  I glanced at Axel. “Looks like the same type that Betty’s hen had.”

  Lane threw up his hands. “All right. So I’ve got some chicken
feed. I was supposed to meet someone who wanted to buy a certain kind. So I brought it into town. Thing is, the guy didn’t show. No one did, but the next day I noticed half the feed was gone. I didn’t report it stolen because it’s chicken feed. I didn’t think it was a big deal—until now.”

  Axel’s jaw clenched. “I need to call this into Garrick. He’ll want to talk to you.”

  Lane slumped onto the bumper. “Who knew this town could be so much trouble?”

  I’m guessing that meant things were over for him and Amelia. It was a relationship based on lies, thanks in part to Betty, who’d glammed up my cousin’s photo to begin with.

  Axel called Garrick, who arrived on the scene to interview Lane. I drifted off to the side. Axel strode up.

  “Seems weird that someone would’ve stolen the seed,” I said.

  Axel raked strong fingers through his thick hair. “Maybe it’s coincidence. Maybe he’s just saying that. Garrick’ll talk to him, figure it out. But as of now, it looks like he’s the closest we’ve gotten to solving this thing.”

  I smirked at him. “We?”

  His lips coiled into a smile. “That’s right. We. Now, what’re you going to do with the rest of your day?”

  I exhaled a deep shot of air, letting a wad of tension roll away. “I don’t know about my day, but I haven’t enjoyed one night of this festival and I plan on making that priority number one.”

  Axel smiled. “I’ll see you there.”

  “Betty, I suggest you stay away from fixing Amelia up with anyone else ever again,” I said as I poured myself a glass of sweet tea.

  She pinched her lips into a pout. “Why?”

  “Because Lane might’ve been involved in Melbalean’s murder. There are no guarantees, but it’s a possibility.”

  “Not only that,” Amelia added, “but trying to keep up with all that hair and makeup wasn’t me. I wish it were, but I’m a pixie cut kinda gal. I’ll put a dandelion behind my ear, polish my cowboy boots and consider that dressing up. But all the hairspray and contouring? That’s not for me.”