Murder Mystery & Magic Read online

  Murder, Mystery & Magic

  Patricia Ann McBride

  MURDER, MYSTERY AND MAGIC

  Patricia McBride

  Copyright © Patricia McBride 2020

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-9161226-4-2

  Cornflower

  Created with Vellum

  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

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  One

  Alizon and Rowan watched as the second hand of the clock on the wall moved with a loud tick. Nine o’clock on a special day in the Aradia Bookshop. The day when their new tea shop attached to the bookshop opened. Buying the shop next door and converting it was a major investment for Alizon and she still trembled when she thought about it. A town like Evensbrooke had more than enough tea shops, some said.

  ‘Am I mad? Will we get any customers?’ Alizon asked her assistant Rowan who was also her niece.

  She unlocked the door, turned the sign to Open and walked back to the till, straightening menus and tablecloths that were already perfect.

  Rowan put her arm round her aunt’s shoulders. ‘You said yourself the income from the bookshop isn’t enough, so it’s worth a try. And Beatrix from the coven has made some magical cakes...’

  Alizon pulled away, ‘Magical? Do you mean she put a spell on them? That’s not ethical.’

  Rowan grinned, ‘No, not that type of magical. They just taste so good you’d think they were magic. Anyway, I’m sure I sense you’ve put a wellbeing spell on the cafe this morning. Am I right or what?’

  Alizon smiled, ‘I was tempted, but I didn’t! The smell of Tina’s cakes will be enough to put customers in a good mood.’

  The business had been closed for a few days while the builders put the finishing touches on the work. ‘I’ll tell you what is crazy,’ Alizon said, biting her lip, ‘opening a tea-shop now when I’ve got the talk to do for the Literary Festival in a couple of days. I don’t know if I’m coming or going!’

  Rowan gave her a hug, ‘You’ve never been afraid of hard work,’ she turned to look at the display of Alizon’s new book, ‘your book looks terrific. You’ll sell some here before you even do your talk.’

  Two customers walked in. Both regulars in the bookshop, they’d promised to come to the cafe opening.

  They looked around at the new layout as they took their coats off. ‘Gosh, it’s so big now,’ one of them said, ‘I love it.’

  ‘When’s the Mayor coming? Shouldn’t he be here now?’ the other asked, taking a seat by the window. Watching tourists gaze at the unusual shops was a favourite pastime of the locals. Rubber-necking, the locals called it.

  Alizon picked up the notepad to take the customers’ order, ‘The official opening is at ten o’clock. The Mayor couldn’t get away before then. Any earlier and we wouldn’t have so many people to attend, so it’s a good time.’

  The women studied the menu and ordered coffee and lemon drizzle cake, laughing as they said they shouldn’t eat cake so soon after breakfast. ‘Sometimes I eat cake for breakfast,’ Alizon thought, ‘you mean that’s not normal?’

  On the way back from the kitchen, Alizon noticed a gap in one of the book shelves. Resolving to speak to Rowan again about always leaving the books tidy when one was sold, she reached to close the space, surprised when her hand rested on a folded piece of paper. She withdrew it. It was roughly A4 size but ragged and the edges were darker than the middle, stained with the passing of years. It looked ancient; handmade; time-worn - as if it would disintegrate any moment. There was nothing on it. Frowning, she turned it over and blinked hard as scratchy, spidery letters appeared.

  FIND ME.

  Very briefly an image of a book appeared, only to vanish as quickly as it came. It seemed vaguely familiar to Alizon but she couldn’t remember why. It made no sense. A cold chill chased down Alizon’s spine and she looked over her shoulder; but there was no-one there. What could it mean? Who or what needed to be found?

  The door chimed before she had time to ponder more on the words, and she put the paper in the till carefully to ensure it wouldn’t get damaged. A group of four came in and sat in the cafe, then two more people came to brows the books. She and Rowan were soon so busy, they barely noticed time passing until they heard the loud, grating voice of the Mayor Boris Curtis. He stood in the doorway wearing his full Mayoral apparel - Ermine red cloak, white frills round the neck and a heavy gold chain. He held a gold and oak staff in his skinny right hand.

  He was followed by the photographer for the local newspaper. It was well known in Evensbrooke that the Mayor loved having his photo in the media. It was to Alizon’s advantage that her opening would get a lot of publicity. Pity she had to grate her teeth each time she saw him.

  ‘Hello, my people!’ He boomed, ‘lovely to see you frequenting the latest cafe in our wonderful town. You’ll never be short of reading material here!’ He laughed loudly at his own joke. He got a few half smiles in return.

  Alizon went over, ‘Thank you so much for coming, Mr Mayor. Do you have time for some coffee and cake? It tastes so good it could almost be enchanted.’

  He patted her arm as if she was a dog, ‘I’m sure you’d have just the cook book for an enchanting cake too, but sadly I don’t have time. No, my dear. Busy, busy. What would you like me to do to officially open this place? Usual cutting the ribbon I suppose? Got it ready?’

  Alizon nodded behind him where a wide red ribbon hung across the doorway he had just entered. ‘There it is, waiting for you.’ She handed him the scissors.

  He looked at the ribbon, mystified. ‘Strange. I don’t remember seeing that when I came in. How did I walk through it?’

  Alizon and Rowan exchanged a little grin. ‘I expect you had too many important things to think about.’ Rowan said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  The Mayor banged his staff three times as if he didn’t already have everyone’s attention. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, as you know...’ he droned on for a couple of minutes about the need for another cafe in the town and how delighted he was that he would in future be able to inspect a book over a coffee before making a decision to buy. Alizon was wondering how to stop him when finally he picked up the scissors and walked towards the ribbon. He had the scissors open, about to cut it when it moved violently as if trying to avoid him.

  ‘Jonathan!’ Alizon hissed as quietly as she could, ‘stop messing about!’ She knew only she and Rowan could see her reside
nt ghost. Trouble was, others could often see the results of his love of mischief.

  Twice more the Mayor tried to cut the ribbon, and twice more it moved away from him. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head, then looked around as if the solution to the misbehaving ribbon might suddenly appear and stop his embarrassment. It was hard not to laugh at such a pompous little man in his full regalia trying to control a bit of ribbon.

  Suppressing a smile, Alizon stepped forward and held the ribbon tight so the Mayor could finish what he came to do.

  ‘I hereby declare this cafe open!’ he said with a look of relief on his face, ‘May all who enter here enjoy a hearty repast!’

  There was a short burst of applause. The photographer took several pictures and the Mayor turned this way and that to ensure his best side was showing. One or two local customers took photos with their phones in a half hearted way, used to the Mayor trying to get publicity. The tourists got quite excited though, and took many more photos. Alizon hoped they would soon be widely seen on social media.

  The Mayor turned to open the door muttering, ‘Damn strange, that ribbon. Always something odd about this place!’

  As soon as he closed the door, Jonathan piped up. ‘Stupid man, that Mayor. Now if he was a character in one of my books I’d…’

  Alizon and Rowan were heartily sick of Jonathan’s stories about his books. They’d researched him and couldn’t find any mention of him anywhere on the internet. Either everything he said about being an author was a fabrication or he was using a pen-name he wasn’t prepared to disclose. For a ghost with so much to say, he was very reluctant to give any details.

  When the Mayor left, it was as though the whole building relaxed; the air felt lighter, the sun shone through the window more brightly and several of the teashop customers also bought a book or two.

  The takings at the end of the day were encouraging. ‘Well done, Alizon,’ Rowan said, running her fingers through her long, thick brown hair, ‘it’s going to be a success just like I said.’

  Alizon bit her lip, ‘I wish it wasn’t taking business from other tea shops though. There’s only so many visitors to go round.’

  Rowan play punched her arm, ‘It’s up to them to try to do better than us then. All’s fair in love, war and business. Boy, I’m tired, we haven’t stopped all day.’

  Alizon opened the till drawer to put away some papers and spotted the old parchment she’d found earlier. ‘Rowan, I found this where a book should have been over there.’ She pointed to the bookshelf. ‘Did you sell the book?’

  ‘Over there? That’s where we keep the books that don’t sell much. I’m sure I haven’t sold a book from there for days. Why?’

  Alizon held out the paper. As the heat from her hand warmed it up the words appeared again

  FIND ME.

  ‘Whatever is that supposed to mean?’ Rowan asked with a frown.

  ‘I’ve no idea, but it was in the space where the book should have been. I think we have some sort of strange book thief.’

  ‘This reminds me of one of Agatha Christie’s books,’ Jonathan said, ‘Did I ever tell you I met her a few times? She took a great fancy to me I have to say. I almost had to fight her off more than once.’

  Evensbrooke’s literary festival was small compared to Hay-on-Wye, but it still drew good crowds. The pleasant surroundings of wide skies, clear fast-flowing river, generous accommodation and excellent food meant it attracted bigger and bigger numbers each year. Held in the early days of autumn, it lengthened the summer season that was so important for the businesses in the town.

  The festival had outgrown the school used in the past and two marquees were erected in the playground for the overspill. The expected late summer rain hadn’t materialised, and a warming sun shone on all the festival goers. The atmosphere was so relaxed and happy it was as if a spell had been cast over the event.

  This year was especially important to Alizon because she had written her first novel. Magical Love was a tale of romance between a witch and a were-wolf in a far off land.

  The ‘normals’ who lived in and around Evensbrooke had no idea that witches and were-wolves lived among them; never mind the fairies and other magical creatures. The ‘supers’ went to some lengths to hide their supernatural selves from the rest of the population.

  Those who knew about the book assumed the story was entirely fictitious, and to some extent it was. But Alizon’s story was based on a lifetime of seeing inter-species romances and the difficulties that surrounded them. She’d even been part of one or two herself. She still was. Her journalist boyfriend Grant had no idea she was a witch.

  As a local author, the festival organisers encouraged Alizon to talk about her book on the first afternoon. Flattered, she was nevertheless terrified at the idea of speaking to a crowd. Suppose she dried up and forgot what she wanted to say? Suppose no-one came to her talk? Suppose her book was a flop?

  ‘Put a courage spell around yourself.’ Rowan suggested, but Alizon was adamant that she would only use magic when it was essential. Well, mostly. She walked around the bookshop and cafe quietly rehearsing her words day after day until she started dreaming them.

  So it was strange that when she stood up to speak, she got no further than the first sentence when her head was as empty as a pumpkin at Halloween.

  Her heart thumped and she struggled to breathe. Her face paled and her hands, already trembling, became sweaty. Eyes wide with fear, she looked around as if someone had stolen her brain. The sun lit the marquee roof making it glow blood red, and the metal supports seemed to move menacingly to capture her in their iron grip. The gentle hum of traffic, barely noticeable before, became so loud she wanted to scream and cover her ears with her hands.

  The audience, about a hundred of them, looked at her expectantly, but not a word would come from her frozen mouth. To cover up, she held a copy of her book in front of herself and waved it from side to side as if to make sure everyone could see it.

  But Rowan saw what was happening to her aunt and realised some sorcery was afoot. She looked around the audience and noticed one person looking at Alizon with great concentration as if her life depended on it.

  It was Edel, a witch from another coven. A coven whose members had little regard for ethics.

  Edel, the owner of a rival tea-shop at the other end of the High Street from Aradia Bookshop and Cafe.

  She was bewitching Alizon. Stopping her from remembering what she wanted to say.

  Edel’s lips moved silently as she cast her spell, repeating the same words over and over. Her right hand, gnarled at each knuckle, made intricate patterns in the air, while her left threw some herbs ahead of her. She must have cast some sort of spell around herself too, because none of the normals noticed what she was doing.

  Rowan frantically tried to remember all the spells she’d learned, but couldn’t think of anything that would help in this situation. Dawntide to perfect beauty, Eventide to sleep well, Love Potion to attract love. Those and a dozen others flicked through her mental filing cabinet, all discarded as quickly as they appeared. If only she was further on with her apprenticeship. There surely had to be something to stop someone else’s spell while it was actually happening.

  She’d seen Alizon do the Courage Spell once and hastily tried to reproduce what she saw. She drew an elaborate pattern in the air with her right hand, earning a strange look from people around her. Quietly, she muttered the incantation as best she remembered it, but nothing worked. Worse than nothing, the woman next to her suddenly shouted ‘Geronimo!’ and did a native Indian war dance. All heads turned to her in amazement but she was totally oblivious of the impact she was having. Then Rowan shook the woman's shoulders and she came out of the trance and carried on as if nothing had happened.

  Trying to look innocent, Rowan decided not to try again. Maybe she’d turn someone into a frog if she got it wrong again.

  There was nothing else for it.

  She clutched her chest and
cried out, apparently having a heart attack, then she staggered across the room as though in pain. When she got to Edel she fell right into her, knocking her over. Edel cried out in disgust and pushed Rowan away like she had Smallpox. Rowan leapt up and helped her upright as if she were a fragile old lady. ‘I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay?’ she said, ‘I have these funny turns sometimes! I’m fine now.’

  She turned and saw that Alizon looked like her normal self again. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your talk, too.’ Rowan said, ‘A million apologies.’ With that, she linked her arm through Edel’s as if they were old friends, making sure the older witch couldn’t escape and wouldn’t have another chance to throw a Spell. Edel swore, using words Rowan had never heard before, nor wanted to hear again. Edel wriggled like a child who wants to go to the toilet, desperately trying to free herself, but Rowan held firm, her iron grip unnoticeable to the crowd whose attention was on what Alizon was saying now she was in control again.

  ‘I’ll get you for this!’ Edel spat out, her chin high and nostrils flaring, ‘just you wait!’

  Rowan’s heart skipped a beat and her legs felt weak. Edel was a powerful witch, and an unscrupulous one. If rumour were true, she wouldn’t hesitate to get revenge for what Rowan had done.

  Finally, Edel stamped hard on Rowan’s foot, broke free and was gone. ‘Good riddance.’ Rowan thought, rubbing her foot, and glad that Alizon had no idea what happened.