Witch Cake Murders (Sweetland Witch Women Sleuths) (A Cozy Mystery Book) Page 5

  "We were just closing up, but I think we can make an exception for the man who keeps Sweetland safe. What can I get you?" Trixie asked.

  "An explanation," Sheriff Knoxx said. He pulled a plastic baggie from his overcoat and held it up for us to see.

  Eleanor stepped up next to me, holding a caramel cream luck-infused lava cake. "What's that?" she asked the sheriff.

  "A receipt," he said, running his hand through his thinning hair and smoothing it down.

  He was about forty-five and might have been good-looking once, but his features had frozen into a permanent look of irritation that no woman could find attractive. He used a pair of tweezers to remove the paper from the baggie.

  "A receipt for your store," he said more emphatically. It looked like he was waiting for an answer, but I hadn't heard him ask a question.

  "I don't get it," I finally said.

  Eleanor squeezed my hand, and I took the hint. Be quiet.

  "We found David Buyer's body about an hour ago," Sheriff Knoxx said.

  "His body?" Trixie and Eleanor gasped.

  "That's right. We couldn't understand it at first. No signs of physical trauma. No signs of anything, in fact. Then... we found this." He held the receipt out for us.

  "David was here this morning. So?" Trixie asked defensively. "He has a sweet tooth. You know that. What's your point?"

  "The point is, we finally came to a working theory." Sheriff Knoxx was clearly enjoying us hanging on his every word. "Cake poisoning."

  Eleanor dropped the cupcake she'd been holding. It splattered on the floor. The sheriff started for it, like he was going to clean it up, then stopped himself. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest.

  "Whatever he ate today killed him. And it looks like it came from your bakery. So tell me, ladies. What did David eat? And who made it?" He fingered a shiny pair of handcuffs that hung from his belt.

  Eleanor and Trixie turned to me.

  "Oh, my roses," I murmured, thinking the same thing Trixie and Eleanor were thinking. David had eaten two of my cupcakes this morning.

  I had just killed my first customer.

  * * *

  0 8

  * * *

  "I made them," I said. My breath caught in my throat. It felt like I was choking.

  Trixie grabbed my hand. "But I'm certain—"

  "We're both certain," Eleanor interjected.

  "—that there is no possibility Ava's cupcakes could have killed David."

  I tried to hide my disbelief. I had nearly killed Aunt Trixie. What made either of them think I hadn't succeeded in killing David?

  "How do you know that?" Sheriff Knoxx asked, mirroring my own question.

  "Because," Trixie said defiantly. I waited for her to finish, but apparently because was all she had.

  "It might not be as simple as a bad extract or two," Sheriff Knoxx said. "It could be misuse of a wand by an inexperienced witch. A miscast spell could mimic cake poisoning.

  He glowered at me. I considered telling him about my arrival on the island—seeing David in the boat arguing with someone. But that would mean admitting a human had seen me perform magic.

  "There's only one way to tell." The sheriff stretched his hand toward me. "May I see your wand, Ava?" he asked, his voice dripping with sickly sweetness.

  Eleanor came to my rescue. "Ava didn't even use her wand today. She didn't have to." She looked proudly at me before continuing.

  "David Buyers ate two cupcakes. He was here at nine this morning. When he left our store, he was perfectly fine. You say you found him an hour ago? You know perfectly well that cake poisoning acts much quicker than that. If Ava's cupcakes were going to... harm David, they would have done so almost immediately. Or certainly within the first few hours of his eating them."

  Sheriff Knoxx reluctantly nodded. "Did Mr. Buyers purchase anything else while he was here?"

  "Just some of our hazelnut-happiness chocolate-heaven cookies," Trixie said. "And I dare you to find anything wrong with those!" She folded her arms across her chest.

  "Are those the ones with the little bits of pixie chocolate in them?" he asked, licking his lips.

  "They are," Eleanor said.

  "Do you have any left?" Sheriff Knoxx's eyes looked past us to the counters. "Perhaps I should sample a few. To check them for... inconsistencies."

  "We sold out," Trixie said.

  "Too bad." His face fell. I had the feeling Sheriff Knoxx had a bit of a sweet tooth himself. "And the cupcakes Ava made?"

  "Gone as well," Eleanor told him. Though I noted she failed to mention I'd almost killed Trixie with them.

  "Well, then," he said, puffing out his chest. "We'll just have to wait until Dr. Dunne furnishes his toxicology report." I felt that strange, dark energy flow out of the sheriff again and wondered if my aunts felt it, too. "I'll be back when we know more. Until then," he said, looking directly at me, "don't go anywhere."

  The moment he was gone, we all exhaled.

  "Now, don't worry, Ava dear," Eleanor said, patting my shoulder. "Trixie and I know you did nothing wrong." But she was biting her lip as she said it.

  That night, I found myself missing my father for the first time since leaving New York. I hadn't talked to him since arriving on the island. I found a sheet of paper and wrote him a letter, letting him know I was safe. Tootsie strolled into my room just as I was finishing.

  "Are there any stamps?" I asked him.

  "Ava has letter?" Tootsie asked. "Tootsie will mail it." Before I could stop him, Tootsie jumped into my lap, grabbed my letter between his teeth, and trotted out of the room, carrying it in his mouth. I watched him go, wondering how he would ever reach the mailbox, let alone find me a stamp, then decided not to question it. Tootsie had his ways.

  The next day at the bakery, the energy had shifted. My first day there had been intense, but there'd also been a lightness to it. I'd had fun learning and Trixie and Eleanor had had fun teaching me.

  Today, David Buyer's death had left a heavy cloud hanging over our store. When nine-thirty arrived and we still hadn't had a customer, I began to worry.

  "This is all my fault," I muttered. "People are scared to come in here."

  "Nonsense," Eleanor said. "Business ebbs and flows. By noon, this place will be packed."

  An hour later, our first customer finally filed in.

  "Good morning, ladies," Eleanor said a little too cheerily. "Ava, this is Anastasia Peacock and her daughter, Polly. They run The Alchemic Stone. It's a magical rock and gem shop here in town."

  I smiled at a pretty girl about my age with long blond ringlets, a snow-white face, and the pinkest lips I'd ever seen. She wore no makeup, yet looked like she'd just stepped out of a salon.

  "Hi," I said.

  I'd never had many friends growing up. It would be nice to make a few here. But I could see from the suspicious way Polly was looking at me that the rumor mill had already been hard at work. It was probably even worse in a small town like Sweetland Cove. Aunt Eleanor had said there were only about five thousand of us on the whole island.

  "We also sell magical herbs and plants now, you know," Polly's mom said, looking down her nose at Eleanor. "We find they quite often go with gemstones, don't you agree?"

  "Oh. Yes," Eleanor said politely.

  Trixie leaned over and whispered. "They're part pixie."

  Pixie? Like fairies? Cool. I looked at the two women again with more curiosity.

  Anastasia was wearing a billowy dress that looked more like a robe. She had platinum hair that hung in loose curls around her head. Her skin was as white as her daughter's and her lips just as rosy. "Do you have any apricot dream enhancers today? My metaphysical impressions tell me you may be running low."

  Metaphysical impressions?

  "Certainly, Anastasia," Eleanor said, going to a shelf and pulling out a tray of gooey orange bars that were drizzled with caramel. Sweet syrup oozed out of them, sticking to the tray.

  Trixie sidled
up next to me and whispered, "Anastasia's psychic." The way Trixie said it, though, made me doubt whether she was really psychic or only thought she was.

  "How many would you like?"

  "That depends," Anastasia said, turning her eyes on me. "Who made them?"

  I could feel Eleanor tense up. "I did," she said. "But even if I hadn't—"

  "I'll take a dozen," Anastasia said, cutting her off.

  Eleanor bit her tongue and boxed up the apricot dream enhancers. On her way out, Anastasia paused at the door and turned back to me.

  "I see great danger in your future," she said dramatically. Polly blushed and tugged on her mom's sleeve.

  Danger? I glanced at Eleanor and Trixie to see how seriously I should take Anastasia's warning, but they were busying themselves with laying out some cupcakes.

  The customers began to flow more frequently after that. By noon, we were packed, just as Eleanor had predicted. Even rumors of tainted cupcakes couldn't keep people away when they had a lunchtime sugar craving.

  Unfortunately, with the people came their stares. Their obvious suspicion. Everyone wanted to know which products I'd made so they could stay clear of them. When the rush was over, my head was aching and my blood was boiling.

  "These people don't even know me and already they're judging me," I complained to my aunts.

  "It's not uncommon to be suspicious of strangers, especially in the witching world," Eleanor told me. "Your Aunt Trixie and I... well..." She smiled slyly.

  Trixie began to bounce like an overactive toddler.

  "We're going to have a party! In your honor!"

  "A party?" I asked. "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

  "Sure it is. What better way for the townspeople to get to know you?" Eleanor asked.

  "I suppose..."

  "What you need now is some air," Trixie said.

  "Trixie's right. Get out of here for a bit. Go see the island."

  "Ooh! Stop at Coffee Cove on your way back and get me a vanilla latte, would you?" Trixie asked. "Just tell them it's for me. They know how I like it."

  I thought some air sounded good, but there was something more important on my mind. My wand was still missing. I'd been able to dodge Eleanor and Trixie's questions about it, but that wouldn't last much longer. Especially with David Buyer's death hanging over my head. If I wanted to clear my name, I had to find that wand.

  The sandy beach was just as golden as I'd remembered it from my arrival. I wiggled my toes in the sand as I searched the shore for any sign of my wand. After an hour of looking, I’d found nothing except some rocks. A small dinghy was tied up at the dock. I headed over to it, hoping that somehow my wand would be sitting inside, waiting for me. I was just giving up my investigation when a deep voice growled from behind me.

  "Get away from my boat."

  I turned to see a late twenty-something man with long dark hair and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. If not for the scowl on his face, he would have been attractive.

  A man a few years younger, also with dark hair and a smooth complexion, was chasing after him. "Damon!" he called.

  Damon cocked his head but didn't take his eyes off me. "I said, get away from my boat." Danger dripped from his every word, but somehow, he didn't scare me. Not in the way he meant to, anyway.

  I scooted away from the dingy. "I-I'm sorry," I stammered. My hands were shaking. My heart was beating a million miles a minute. I hadn't felt like this since I was sixteen and had kissed Tommy Kendall behind the bleachers in the school gym.

  "You should be," Damon growled. He walked past me, checking his boat as if he'd caught me drilling holes in it.

  "Sorry about my friend's manners," said the man who'd been following Damon. He'd finally caught up. He had an easy smile and sparkling blue eyes, though not quite as blue as Damon's. "I'm Slater Winston. That grunting maniac over there is my cousin, Damon Tellinger."

  Damon glanced at us then walked off in a huff. Cousins? I could see the resemblance. With their blue eyes and dark hair, they looked more like brothers than cousins.

  "I'm sorry," I told Slater. "I didn't mean to—"

  Slater waved me off. "Damon's just a little touchy today." He lowered his voice. "A friend of ours died last night."

  "Oh," I said, my face going red. "You mean... David Buyers?"

  "Did you know him?" Slater asked, looking at me with fresh curiosity.

  "Not really. I just arrived on the island a few days ago. I don't really know anyone yet. I'm Ava, by the way."

  I considered asking Slater if he'd seen a wand lying around anywhere. But if he and Damon had been friends with David, chances were pretty good he was human.

  "Well, Ava, consider Damon and me at your disposal."

  Damon grunted loudly from his boat. If looks could have killed, I would have been six feet under.

  "Well, consider me at your disposal," Slater said uncertainly.

  Despite Damon's brusque manners, I couldn't stop looking at him. "Is he always like this?"

  "Actually," Slater said, looking back at his cousin. "He's usually pretty personable. I guess he just doesn't like you."

  My face fell.

  "Kidding!" he said. "I'm kidding!"

  But the way Damon was shooting daggers at me, I didn't think there was much to joke about. For reasons I didn't fully understand, Damon Tellinger hated me. Too bad, because in the few minutes I'd known him, I'd developed the biggest crush of my life. Sometimes, fate was a prankster.

  * * *

  0 9

  * * *

  "Welcome to Coffee Cove. What can I get you today?" the girl behind the counter asked pleasantly. She had black hair that had been pulled back in a ponytail. Her ruby lips looked too dark to be natural, though I couldn't detect the unnatural shine of lipstick on them.

  Don't witches ever wear makeup?

  "Vanilla latte," I said, digging into my purse. "Oh, and it's for Trixie Rose."

  The girl's eyes flicked up from her register. "Trixie, huh? You must be Ava. I'm Lucy Lockwood. About time you showed up here."

  Before I could respond, Lucy spun her head around so fast her ponytail flew out behind her and whipped my face. In a loud, bellowing voice that sounded like she was calling a dozen ranch hands in for supper, she yelled, "Braaaaasss Monkeeeeeey!"

  A young girl, perhaps eighteen to Lucy's early twenties, stood near the espresso machine. Her features were so similar to Lucy's, from her milky, blemish-free skin to her crimson lips, I knew at once they were sisters. Her hair, a dark brown instead of true black, was pulled high on her head. She was ignoring Lucy.

  "Megan!" Lucy called. The younger girl looked at her now. "Shake your tail feather."

  Megan had been engrossed in deep conversation with the boy next to her. With his bronze hair and golden skin, he looked like a stereotypical surfer. She moved away from him and began adding syrups and powders into a large mixing cup.

  The boy's eyes followed Megan from machine to machine. She'd have to be blind to miss those googly eyes. He was clearly smitten. I could just make out his name tag: Brendan. When she didn't even cast him a sideways glance, I realized the conversation they'd been sharing had more to do with Megan's boredom than infatuation. At least on her part.

  Lucy turned back to me. "That'll be four even." She made no mention of her call for a Brass Monkey, as if screaming such a thing was part and parcel of working in a coffee shop.

  "Um, thanks," I said, handing her a five.

  Her hand hovered in the air with my change. I reached for the dollar and her long red fingernail tapped the tip jar. She was scowling at me. "Forget something?" she asked and tapped the jar again.

  "Oh, uh, keep the change," I told her.

  Lucy's face broke into a wide smile and a peal of laughter erupted from her. "Just kidding," she said, handing me my dollar. Her laughter was so natural that for a moment I forgot all about the morning I'd had and laughed with her.

  "Your order will be up in a minute," Lucy told me.
"I'll bring it to your table."

  "Thanks," I said and went to find a seat.

  I'd spent the last two hours since my disastrous encounter with Damon walking the island, looking for my wand. So far, the only thing I'd managed to do was make myself tired. I plopped into a seat and looked around the Coffee Cove. The place was packed, yet somehow it seemed as though everyone had their own little space.

  "Coffee's up," Lucy said a moment later. She plopped a large cup down in front of me. It was the size of a two-liter of soda and frozen solid.

  "What's this?" I asked.

  "Your Brass Monkey," Lucy said, cocking her head to one side. I hoped for Trixie's sake that Brass Monkey somehow translated to vanilla latte.

  "You don't look so well," Lucy said. "The witching world disagreeing with you?" She smacked her lips together and a giant blue bubble grew out of her mouth. It almost touched my nose before it popped and Lucy sucked it all back in.

  "Something like that," I mumbled.

  Before I could stop her, Lucy had taken the seat across from me.

  "So?" she asked.

  "So?" I repeated.

  "Lay it on me. What's got you looking like something the familiar dragged in?"

  "Nothing," I said.

  "Nashbugs!" Lucy slapped her hand hard on the table.

  "Er, don't you have to go back to work?" I asked her.

  "It's my break time," she said.

  I turned my head slightly and saw Megan leaning against the counter. Brendan was touching her arm and she kept swatting his hand away like it was a fly.

  "Um, are you... I mean, you're a..."

  "Witch?" Lucy asked. I nodded. "Yep. So spill. What's up with you?"

  I looked into Lucy's dark eyes and felt myself relax just the tiniest bit. She was close to my age and though her behavior was bordering on bizarre, it was also quite friendly.

  "I... lost something," I told her.

  "Oh yeah?" she asked. "Like what? Car keys? I'm a champ at finding car keys."

  I shook my head. "Not exactly."

  "What then?"

  I didn't want to tell her. I didn't want to tell anyone. But the image of Sheriff Knoxx hung over me like a black cloud. He'd said David's death was either cake poisoning or misuse of a wand.