The Witch Who Mysteries Box Set

by Katie Penryn

  At the end of the service Father Pedro invited the mayor to say a few words.

  Poor Bonhomie. With the heat and his bulk, he had difficulty getting out of his chair. On his feet at last he pulled out his large spotted handkerchief and mopped himself as he walked to the center of the aisle.

  “My fellow citizens,” he said. “We came together here this evening to celebrate the life of our dear Jerome Tidot and to rejoice in the power of good over evil.” He nodded my way and continued. “Life goes on, mes amis, and our little town will pick itself up and put this wickedness behind us. To help us all on this path I have arranged a méchoui down on the Esplanade. All are welcome.”

  Jimbo dug his elbow into my side and whispered, “What’s that?”

  “It’s like a giant barbecue — a lamb or a pig roasted on a spit.”

  Jimbo rolled his eyes at me and lolled back in his chair.

  The mayor was still talking. “The Bordeaux Simfonia will be playing for us — classical music only. It is a time for healing. So, mes amis, let’s meet at eight o’clock and celebrate the joy of living — but no dancing tonight, out of respect for our beloved Tidot.”

  *

  Having changed out of our formal clothes and fed the three dogs, we strolled up our cobbled street to where tables and chairs had been set out in a rectangle around the Esplanade. Three spits were turning in the late evening air sending out a delicious aroma of North African spices and roasted meat. Bowls of salad and towers of baguettes stood on each table with several bottles of the local Charentais red wine. The townsfolk and visitors thronged the open area in the middle of the tables.

  Monsieur Bonhomie chivvied the cooks and fussed about getting in the way, but he lived up to his name so well no one minded. All our French friends came up to us and congratulated us on tracking down Tidot’s murderer. I had a look around to see if Madame Fer-de-Lance was present but I couldn’t see her. Dubois asked if he could join us at our table. Felix pulled a face behind his back. To annoy Felix more than anything I told Dubois he was welcome and seated him next to Audrey. Maybe they would strike up a friendship and get him out of my hair.

  We collected our plates of lamb and pork and were sitting back down at our table when a strange woman walked up to me. With a scarf around her black gypsy hair I didn’t recognize her at first. Then Garth appeared at her side with plates for them both. Izzy — incognito — had braved the crowds to join us.

  “It’s good to see you,” I told her.

  “I was so lonely up in that vast château all on my own with only Garth for company. I thought if I disguised myself no one would know it was me. So far it’s worked. It’s so wonderful to be an ordinary person for once.”

  “We won’t give you away,” I said shifting along the bench to give her room to sit beside me.

  She smiled back and sat down on the end of the bench before swiveling her legs under the table in that graceful way of hers. “You’re so clever, Penzi. Fancy being able to work out who the guilty people were in such a complicated case. I may have the beauty, but you have the brains.”

  “Steady on, Isabella,” said Felix leaning across the table to tweak a piece of meat off my plate. “I think Penzi’s gorgeous. Just one thing…” He glanced round the table catching everyone’s eyes. “This is the last time Penzi does anything like that. She’s not to put herself in danger again.”

  I wasn’t having that. “You can talk, Felix. I rescued you. You were the one who put himself in danger.”

  Felix grinned. “True, this time. But what about last time?”

  Sam thumped the table. “Enough. Eat your food, you two. You’re even now.”

  I looked at Felix. He winked at me and whispered, “Thank you for saving my nine lives, boss.”

  I winked back. “Nothing to it. And don’t call me boss.”

  “So, can we have a promise?” Felix asked out loud for all the table to hear.

  “All right,” I said. “From now on, no more sleuthing however hard Monsieur Bonhomie begs me. I want to find out what treasures we have hidden away in the brocante.”

  END OF BOOK TWO

  BOOK THREE

  THE WITCH WHO GOT THE BLUES

  Chapter 1

  On the morning after the méchoui on the Esplanade I awoke to a splitting headache, partly the result of dehydration from an excess of the strong local red wine and partly from lack of sleep. Dense nightmares had crowded in one after the other, my subconscious serving up dystopian scenarios whose vivid detail confounded me upon waking.

  As I opened my eyes, my stomach lurched. My lifeblood drained away leaving me in a state of dark confusion. A sense of hopelessness replaced the previous evening’s euphoria after the solution of the bakery case. I tried to sit up but my flaccid muscles wouldn’t co-operate, and I flopped back down on the pillows. What had happened to my usual energy and joie de vivre?

  I’d gone to bed with my mind filled with vibrant plans for the opening of the brocante, the antiques shop next to our house on the arm of the bay in the little French seaside town of Beaucoup-sur-mer. Now everything was the color of dishwater. Overnight my world had collapsed in on me, blotting out the sun.

  I rubbed my eyes and told myself to get a grip. I was Mpenzi Munro, guardian of my two younger brothers, nine-year-old Jimbo and eighteen-year-old Sam. They depended on me to head up the household, manage the trust fund left to us by our father and supervise their education and personal development. My job description precluded falling to pieces on a beautiful summer’s day.

  I counted my blessings: a roof over our heads, food in the kitchen, Zig and Zag our two majestic German shepherds, Piffle a cute dachshund who’d adopted us when his master went to jail, Gwinny our long lost and feckless mother who had turned up unexpectedly the day we arrived in Beaucoup-sur-mer, our house guest Audrey and her two kids, and the many French and English friends we had made since arriving in our new town three weeks before.

  And not forgetting Felix.

  My father, Sir Archibald Munro, world famous anthropologist who was presumed dead, possibly eaten by cannibals in the Middle Congo, had sent Felix to be my bodyguard. He’d arrived from Africa as a beautiful Savannah cat, half domestic half serval, but there was more to him than that. Much more. He was the first shape shifter I had ever met. He could morph smoothly from cat to man … or big cat. In his leopard form he’d protected me from the wicked witchdoctor of the Wazini, killed over a hundred rats in our back yard and raced to rescue me from my would-be murderer.

  Felix was most definitely a blessing.

  But a mixed blessing. Steadfast, loyal, protective he was the ideal bodyguard on the one hand. But on the other, he was oh so beautiful — if one can call a man beautiful. Well over six foot, tawny locks, eyes the color of peridots and with the musculature of a romance hunk refined by his natural feline grace. Oftentimes I caught myself on the verge of fancying him, this strange creature with his unknown history. But Felix was all business towards me. I was his boss as he never ceased to say.

  Yes, I could add Felix to my list of blessings. But even the thought of Felix didn’t cheer me up.

  So why was I so down? And what could I do to change my mood? Live in the moment. I closed my eyes and gave myself up to the fine Egyptian cotton sheets skimming over my arms and legs, the feather pillows beneath my head and the firm mattress, but sensuality stood off in the corner of my room and laughed at me. All these signs of the care Gwinny had taken in setting up the house for the children she had abandoned when I was eighteen and Jimbo was a toddler did nothing for me. For Jimbo the reappearance of our mother in his life was a blessing although Sam and I still struggled with this new version of her motherhood.

  My thoughts were becoming gloomy. I should change them. I looked around my bedroom. More evidence of our absent father’s care for us in providing us with this historically important old house and of our mother’s attention to detail — crisp white walls offset by rich velvet curtains, highly polished oak floo
r spread with antique oriental rugs, and an impressive armoire and dressing table dating from Napoleon’s time as Emperor of France.

  A motor boat sped past across the mouth of the bay, the ron-ron of its engine sliding into my room on the sunbeams glinting through the shutters.

  All these wonderful things in my life and yet I couldn’t raise the energy to sit up. Was I ill? I felt my forehead, but it was cool. I counted off my limbs. No pains, no cramp. No stomach ache. So it was nothing physical.

  A knock at my door.

  Oh no, I couldn’t cope. I turned over and hid my face in my pillows. Maybe whoever it was would go away and leave me in peace to wallow in my misery. I heard the door open. I burrowed deeper into the bedclothes. The floorboards creaked. My unwelcome visitor landed on my feet with a bounce and pulled the sheet away from my face.

  Jimbo.

  A loud skittering and clattering of claws and the three dogs swung into the room. Zig and Zag jumped up to join Jimbo. Poor little Piffle couldn’t make it. He sat on the rug wagging his tail and keening for attention. Even that didn’t raise a smile. I lolled back and put a pillow over my face.

  “Go away, Jimbo. Can’t you see I want to be alone?”

  “What’s wrong with you, Penzi? You said we could have a family day today. Drive up the coast and have a picnic. You promised.”

  He grabbed hold of the pillow and tried to yank it off while I held on with all my might. He won because I didn’t have the energy to fight back.

  I tried to smile at Jimbo but my muscles wouldn’t oblige.

  Jimbo threw my pillow on the floor. “Penzi, you look awfully gray and sort of stiff. Are you all right?”

  I didn’t want to alarm him. I was Jimbo’s mother figure. He needed to see me confident and happy but the gloom – it wouldn’t go away.

  I turned back on my side again. “Please go away, Jimbo.”

  “Well, if you feel like that…,” he replied in a tiny voice as he scrambled off my bed.

  “And take the circus with you,” I added.

  The mattress rebounded as the dogs jumped off my bed to follow Jimbo.

  “What’s all this about a circus?” called out a voice from the door, Felix’s deep baritone.

  Oh no. I didn’t want him to see me like this — so negative. He’d come to bring me my morning tea, one of the acts of caring he performed for me every day. Perhaps if I stayed hidden beneath the pillow, he would go away.

  The mug clunked down on the glass-topped bedside table. I held my breath.

  “Penzi?” he asked.

  When I didn’t answer he pulled the pillow away from me. I turned my head away and covered my face with my hands but in vain. He walked around to the other side of the bed.

  “What is wrong with you?” he asked sitting down beside me and drawing my hands away. “Are you feeling ill? You look terrible. As if you spent the night with a vampire.”

  That made me sit up. I wanted to laugh but I couldn’t.

  Felix looked deep into my eyes and I scooted back against the headboard to escape his scrutiny.

  “Did the witchdoctor come back? Is that it?”

  I shook my head unable to voice my feeling of desolation.

  Felix took my hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over my skin. “You feel cold and clammy, Penzi.”

  I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I sniffed as the tears began to fall. “Let go of me, I can’t wipe my nose,” I said pulling my hands away.

  He set them free, but he leaned in close and wiped my tears away with his finger, so gently he made me sob again. I snatched up the sheet to stem the flow, all the time observing myself from afar. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a crybaby. I was strong, determined, in control — always. So what was going on?

  “Oh, you poor baby,” I heard Felix say.

  Next moment he swept me up into his arms and hugged me tightly, my tears falling on his clean shirt.

  We stayed like that rocking slowly backwards and forwards while he comforted me as I would Jimbo when he hurt himself.

  Gwinny appeared in the doorway. I tried to straighten up. I didn’t want her to see me so weak. But Felix wouldn’t let go of me.

  Gwinny came into the room and tapped Felix on his shoulder. “What’s going on? Jimbo’s sitting in the kitchen looking miserable. He won’t go and fetch the croissants for breakfast. He says Penzi’s angry with him and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “Penzi?” Gwinny asked as she sat on the other side of my bed. “Are you poorly?”

  I shook my head again. If only everyone would just leave me alone. Couldn’t they see I wasn’t capable of answering their questions?

  With an unusual spurt of maternal feeling Gwinny took charge. “What you need is a long hot bath and then a good solid English breakfast.”

  Even through my misery I was touched. I couldn’t remember the last time Gwinny had taken care of me.

  She turned to Felix. “Why don’t you go to the baker’s with Jimbo? Along the way you can explain that Penzi isn’t angry with him. She’s feeling out of sorts, that’s all.”

  Felix patted my thigh and left to follow Gwinny’s suggestion.

  Gwinny picked up the mug of tea and placed it in my hands. “Drink this up while I run a bath for you.”

  As I sipped my tea, the sounds of the family setting about their daily life filtered up the stairs to me. The dogs barked at the front door anxious not to miss out on a walk to Monsieur Brioche’s bakery to fetch our breakfast, Sam whistled as he set the table and Audrey’s children scampered up and down the stairs. Audrey called out to them to be quiet because Penzi wasn’t well.

  All these people caring about me and still I couldn’t shake off my strange mood.

  The water stopped running in my bathroom and Gwinny came out. She stripped the covers off me and dragged me to my feet.

  “Come along, Penzi. Into the bath with you. I’ll find you some clothes.”

  As I stepped into the bath which she’d scented with my favorite fragrance, she put my clothes on the bathroom stool.

  “Only fifteen minutes, mind you. Any longer and you will get too maudlin.”

  And with that she left me to attempt to wash away my nightmares and prepare to face the new day.

  *

  By the time I was bathed and dressed, Felix and Jimbo had returned. Felix came leaping up the stairs to check on me.

  “You’re looking better, boss. Here, let me dry your hair for you,” he said, taking my towel out of my hands and indicating the chair in front of my dressing table.

  I didn’t have the strength of mind to resist and took my place.

  Felix wrapped the towel round my head and, moving his hands over my scalp, he scrunched and dried my hair giving me a gentle massage at the same time.

  When he removed the damp towel and threw it into the bathroom, he caught my eye in the mirror.

  “That’s better. At least you’re clean now. The world always looks better when one’s fresh.”

  I scowled at him. “Felix, I have to blow dry my hair and straighten it. It’ll turn frizzy if I don’t.”

  “Nonsense. Look,” he snatched up a hair band, swept my hair up and fastened it into a loose pony tail. “Today, feeling the way you do, it’s important to cut out anything unnecessary. You look great au naturel. Now, come downstairs and have the huge breakfast Audrey and Gwinny are cooking up for you.”

  I had to admit the smell of frying bacon had been tantalizing my taste buds for a while. My depression couldn’t be that deep if I hadn’t lost my sense of smell. That made me more hopeful as I followed Felix out of the room and down the stairs to our family kitchen. Maybe I could throw off my awful mood.

  Chapter 2

  My hopes plunged when I walked into the kitchen and the family conversation died down. Sam pulled out a chair for me, the dogs snuffled round me, Jimbo hung on my arm and reached up to plant a wet kiss on my cheek. Audrey darted snat
ched glances at me.

  Gwinny pushed them all away. “Give her some space. Let her breathe. She knows you love her.”

  I sat with my head bent for a few moments to gather the will and the strength to talk to them.

  When I looked up, they all stopped what they were doing and stared at me.

  I took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything is suddenly too much for me. I can’t do this any more.”

  I collapsed forward with my head in my hands.

  Gwinny rushed round the table to hug me. I couldn’t believe it. Two signs of maternal care in one day.

  Audrey pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. She rested her chin on her hands and said, “Pauvre petite. You poor thing.”

  Sam dished up a plate of bacon and eggs with fried tomatoes and mushrooms and placed it carefully before me. When I didn’t move, he put my knife and fork in my hand. “Dig in, Penzi. You need to eat.”

  My body had turned to stone. My mind could no longer make my muscles move.

  The front door opened with a bang. All in a flurry, Martine the postwoman bustled her apple shaped figure into the kitchen and threw our post on the table.

  “Salut, mes amis,” she shouted in that jovial way of hers.

  In my self-absorption I hadn’t heard her van drive up.

  She slapped me on the back. “What’s the matter? You all look as if you’re at a funeral. Are you all hung over after the party last night?”

  Felix eased her into a chair at the top of the table where she gazed round at us with a bemused look on her face. “Et alors?” she asked.

  Felix moved to stand behind me. He laid his hands on my shoulders.

  “It’s Penzi,” he said. “She’s not herself today.”

  Martine struggled out of her seat, its arms reluctant to let go of someone her size. She hustled round to me knocking Felix’s hands away and turned me to face her. She felt my forehead, stared into my eyes and gave me a little shake.