Witches' Cat: Witch Cozy Mystery (Witches and Wine Book 7)

by Morgana Best

  I took his hand. “I know you have to go, but I’m going to miss you.”

  I wanted Lucas to take me into his arms and say, “Of course, I am not going anywhere. Where you are is the only place I want to be.” But he wouldn’t say that because Lucas had an important mission, a mission that I needed him to undertake. He had to escort my parents to safety. I had said my goodbyes to them only hours earlier.

  After lunch, we returned to his cottage at Mugwort Manor, where Lucas finished packing his suitcase. I wanted to pack for him, but that was something a wife did, and I was not his wife. So, I sprawled on the coach and stress-ate his Tim Tams as he searched for that shirt and those jeans and just where had all his socks gone? I did a good job of not helping him look. Helping men emasculates them, Aunt Dorothy liked to say. I didn’t know if I believed this. I did know, however, that sprawling on the couch eating chocolate Tim Tams was way more fun than rummaging through a cupboard for a missing sock.

  “I’ll just go sockless,” Lucas finally muttered.

  “How naughty,” I replied. “If you were an olden day genteel lady, they would burn you as a witch.”

  I escorted Lucas to the manor. Agnes and Dorothy were conspicuous by their absence, no doubt in order to give us some alone time. I had no idea where Maude and Pillsbury were. We slipped in the back door and headed for the secret room.

  Lucas turned to say goodbye. He kissed me once on the forehead, then once on the tip of my nose, and then once more on my lips. Then he was gone, vanishing off into the gloom of the tunnel.

  I waited for a while, and then turned away, sad. I would miss my parents and I would miss Lucas. I needed some cheering up, so went in search of my aunts and found them in the vegetable garden.

  Before I could speak, Aunt Maude groaned. “Don’t look now—it’s Euphemia Jones.”

  We all turned to look.

  “I said not to look!” Maude complained.

  The unpleasant woman stomped over to us, giving a good impression of a troll. She shook her meaty fist in my face. “You’ve given me food poisoning!” she exclaimed, clutching her stomach with her other hand. “I’m horribly ill and I have the most terrible stomach pains. I don’t know how I was able to walk here from my cottage!”

  I wiped my hand across my forehead. “Food poisoning? What do you mean?”

  “It must have been the cereal,” she began, but then she fell down dead.

  Chapter 2

  Aunt Agnes let out a bloodcurdling scream. “It’s Gorgona!”

  Aunt Agnes and Aunt Maude bent over the victim. Aunt Dorothy was staring fixedly at the body’s sturdy leather shoes as Cary chewed on a shoelace. “It looks like Euphemia Jones.”

  “I had no idea she was Gorgona, and she’s been here renting the cottage all this time,” Agnes said.

  I stared at the woman’s face. “But, but she’s changed her appearance!” I stammered. “I am going mad? I thought it was Euphemia Jones, but it’s an entirely different woman.”

  Aunt Agnes clutched my arm and looked around. “This is a terrible situation. What are we going to do?”

  “Can somebody tell me what’s going on? Was Euphemia Jones a shifter?” I cleared my throat and added, “Can people shift from one human form to another?”

  “Not as such, not the way you mean it. No, when she appeared as Euphemia, it was a glamour,” Aunt Agnes said.

  Dorothy made a snort of disapproval. “And falling on the tomatoes, of all things. Why, they’re completely squashed! It took weeks to grow the vines to that height.”

  I ignored her and asked, “What’s a glamour?”

  Aunt Agnes stomped her foot. “A glamour is a magical disguise that makes someone look like someone else. Gorgona has been here spying on us and pretending she was a woman by the name of Euphemia Jones.”

  I was thoroughly confused. “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance? What if she’s not dead?”

  Aunt Agnes folded her arms over her chest. “Of course, she’s dead. When somebody’s wearing a vampire glamour, it disappears when they die.”

  “But we’ll have to call the police,” I said.

  Maude agreed. “Yes, but we’ll have to make her look like Euphemia again first.”

  This was getting stranger by the minute. Just then, Breena appeared in human form, albeit with a field mouse dangling by its tail from her mouth.

  “Put down that mouse,” I said to her.

  She ignored me and walked past Euphemia, hissing at Cary as she did. When she saw Euphemia’s face, she screamed. The mouse fell from her mouth and ran away. Breena ran over to the nearest tree and shimmied up it.

  I was beginning to wonder if I was having a dream—a bad dream. A very bad dream. None of this was making any sense. I noticed Aunt Maude was suddenly missing. “Is she calling the police?” I asked Aunt Agnes.

  “She’s going to get a reversing potion to make Gorgona look like Euphemia Jones again. Then we’ll call the police, and while we’re waiting for them to arrive, I’ll explain everything.”

  “I hope you do explain everything,” I said. “I don’t like being kept in the dark about everything, like I usually am.”

  Aunt Agnes ignored my pointed remark and tried to coax Breena down from the tree, to no avail. It seemed like ages before Aunt Maude reappeared with the potion. “What took you so long?” Aunt Dorothy asked her.

  “It was in the altar room at the back of a cupboard,” she said. “We haven’t needed any for years, decades even. Maybe centuries.” Without further words, she poured the potion all over Euphemia’s face. Her face at once changed back to the original form. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the original form, but it was the form in which I had always seen her.

  Aunt Agnes pulled her phone out of her pocket and called the police. “This is Agnes Jasper from Mugwort Manor Bed and Breakfast. One of our clients complained of stomach pains and has fallen down dead.” Aunt Agnes nodded and then added, “She’s definitely dead.”

  “I wonder who poisoned her?” Aunt Dorothy asked, clutching Cary in her arms.

  I expected Aunt Agnes to rebuke Dorothy for being so silly and fanciful, so I was surprised when she agreed with her diagnosis. “It was obviously The Other.”

  “The Other?” I shrieked. “Why would they want to kill that dreadful woman? I don’t understand any of it. It doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  The Other was an evil, covert group formed centuries ago to stand in direct opposition to the Council, the governing body of vampires worldwide. The Other wanted to wipe shifters off the face of the earth. My parents were currently in hiding from The Other.

  “Euphemia Jones was here to spy on us,” Aunt Agnes told me. “She was actually our cousin.”

  My hand went to my throat. “Your cousin?” I exclaimed. “She was your cousin? Then why aren’t you upset?”

  Aunt Agnes was trembling. “Of course, we’re upset. It’s a terrible shock, but you have to understand, she was estranged from us for years.”

  “Decades,” Maude said.

  “Centuries even,” Dorothy said. “She was working for The Other.”

  “You had a cousin I didn’t even know about, and she was working for The Other?” I felt as though my life had been turned upside down. This was all a terrible shock. “But who was that man who was just murdered? Ethelbert? Wasn’t he supposed to be her husband?”

  Aunt Agnes waved one hand at me. “Oh yes, he would have been one of her husbands. She’s had several.”

  Maude patted my shoulder. “He was killed because he was blackmailing Mrs Mumbles. It had nothing whatsoever to do with The Other.”

  I rubbed my temples with both hands. “Okay, let me get this straight. Euphemia Jones was your cousin. You haven’t seen her in, um, a very long time. She was working for The Other. She used some sort of magic to disguise herself as someone else, someone she called Euphemia Jones.”

  Aunt Maude butted in. “Yes, that would be the glamour.”

  I nodded slowly. “Right. So, s
he came here to spy on you while pretending she was someone wanting to hire one of the cottages.” Something occurred to me. “But wait! That doesn’t make sense. Her husband came here first, and she only came here after he was murdered. She wouldn’t have known he was going to be murdered.”

  “Clearly, she intended to join him here anyway,” Aunt Agnes said. “Then she would have found some excuse to stay on. Gorgona always was a nasty piece of work, right from the time she was a child.”

  Aunt Dorothy nodded vigorously. “She used to bite herself hard on her arm, and she showed our parents the marks. She said we’d bitten her, and we always got into trouble for it.”

  The other two sisters murmured agreement. They went on with a catalogue of Euphemia-Gorgona’s childhood misdeeds while I zoned out, staring at the dead woman on the ground. It was all too much for me. “I need a strong goblet of witches’ brew,” I said.

  Aunt Agnes shook her head. “After the police go.”

  “And you’re saying she was poisoned? Couldn’t it have been natural causes?”

  Aunt Agnes made a snorting sound. “Of course it wasn’t natural causes, Valkyrie. Somebody murdered Gorgona, you mark my words.”

  “And what motive would The Other have for murdering her?” I asked. “You said she was working for them.”

  Aunt Maude shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe she asked for more money—who knows? One thing is for certain, she is dead.”

  Chapter 3

  Detective Oakes and Detective Mason were clearly not impressed that there was another dead body at Mugwort Manor. “You have more murders here than Rosemary and Thyme,” Detective Mason said, more than a hint of disapproval in his voice.

  “Rosemary and Thyme?” Aunt Dorothy echoed.

  “Yes, they’re two women who go around fixing garden problems in a famous TV show,” Mason said. “Every time they fix somebody’s garden, there is at least one murder. It’s just like here. It’s a famous TV show,” he said again.

  “Well, it can’t be too famous if I haven’t heard of it,” Aunt Dorothy said.

  “And it’s not like here,” Aunt Maude protested. “Sure, Euphemia died in the vegetable patch, but we weren’t fixing anybody’s garden.”

  Detective Oakes held up one hand for silence. “The paramedics are on their way. Now, this I take it this is the wife of the victim of the previous murder at your establishment?”

  Aunt Agnes looked angry, but simply said, “Yes, that’s right.”

  “It was probably natural causes then,” Oakes said. “She looks about your age, so she probably died of old age.”

  Aunt Agnes was struck speechless. Her face turned as red as one of the squashed tomatoes poking out from under Euphemia. I held my breath, but Maude tapped her arm and whispered something in her ear.

  Oakes appeared oblivious to the offence his words had caused. He looked up and gasped. “Why is your French niece sitting up a tree?” Breena was still sitting at the top of a tall white gum.

  “She’s scared of dogs,” I said, nodding to Cary. “Even small ones.”

  “Um, yes, and she’s practising for climbing the Eiffel Tower,” Aunt Dorothy said.

  “She likes abseiling too,” Maude hurried to add. “She enjoys climbing tall trees and abseiling down from them.”

  Oakes rolled his eyes. “Look, we really didn’t need to be called out for this. The woman obviously died from natural causes, given her age.”

  Detective Mason disagreed with him. “But her husband was murdered, so maybe she was murdered too. He was blackmailing people. Maybe, she was in on it.”

  Oakes drew him away, and the two spoke. The paramedics arrived moments later and wasted no time bundling the body into the waiting ambulance.

  Oakes pulled a notepad out of his pocket. “Now, go over the events of the morning in your own words. What was the first time you saw Euphemia Jones today?”

  “When she came over to us just before she died,” I said. “She said she had stomach pains, and then she just fell down dead, right into the tomatoes.”

  “And that was it?” Oakes shot me a suspicious look.

  I nodded.

  “Did she eat breakfast in your establishment or in her cottage?”

  “In her cottage,” I said. “We don’t serve breakfast.”

  Oakes looked puzzled. “But you’re a bed and breakfast establishment.”

  “That’s just a figure of speech,” Dorothy said. “We supply a variety of milks and also cereals to each guest.”

  “Then that’s breakfast!” Oakes was clearly exasperated.

  “But sometimes we provide it in the afternoon,” Dorothy protested.

  “Did you happen to provide it this morning?” Oakes asked, his expression grim and his pen hovering over his notepad.

  I nodded. “Yes, but Euphemia always requested that they be left outside her door. I didn’t see her.”

  “Then show me over to her cottage, if you will.”

  I took Detective Oakes to the Game of Thrones cottage. “This is very unusual,” Oakes said, staring at the images on the walls of people’s heads being removed. One wall depicted a whole city on fire, and above it, on the ceiling, was a dragon.

  “The aunts have themed cottages,” I reminded him.

  Oakes raised one eyebrow. “And the victim actually chose this Game of Thrones cottage?”

  I shook my head. “No, we usually allocate the cottages. Her husband was staying in the Retro cottage, and the other cottages weren’t ready. We’re repainting some of them.”

  “No doubt they need it,” he muttered, looking around. “You stay at the door and don’t touch anything.” He shot me his best glare before stepping into the cottage.

  I did my best to see what I could from where I was standing. The kitchen was partially obscured from view. There was a laptop on the table and various orchids were scattered around. There were also various bottles of herbs. It only occurred to me at that point that the herbs were for witchcraft. I had just thought Euphemia was a keen cook.

  “Like I said, it was probably natural causes, but I’m going to ask you not to come back into this cottage until we know for certain,” he said.

  “Do you know when that would be?” I asked him.

  He tapped his chin. “We could probably tell you this afternoon, with any luck.”

  “Do we notify the next of kin, or do you?” I said.

  “Yes, you can notify them, and tell them if they have any questions to give me a call.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I can see you’re unsettled, Ms Jasper. I wouldn’t worry. It was probably a heart attack. After all, she didn’t appear to be a healthy specimen, and her husband had just passed away. His murder must have been a terrible shock for her. Maybe, her heart just gave out.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I said, offering him a weak smile.

  As soon as the detectives left, Aunt Agnes ushered me inside the manor while muttering rude remarks about Detective Oakes. She promptly left the kitchen. I drank a goblet of witches’ brew quickly and then poured myself another. “Do you really think it could have been natural causes?” I asked Maude and Dorothy.

  They all shook their heads. “She was a vampire,” Aunt Maude said, as if that explained everything.

  Aunt Agnes returned and slapped a piece of paper down on the table. “This is her next of kin, along with a contact number.”

  Aunt Maude snatched up the piece of paper from her and stared at it. “It says ‘Ms J. Jones.’”

  The aunts exchanged glances. “Jezabeth!” they said in unison.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Who is Jezabeth?”

  “Gorgona’s daughter.”

  I nodded slowly. “Oh, so your second cousin.”

  “She is even meaner than Gorgona was,” Maude said, clutching Cary to her chest.

  “We haven’t seen her in many years,” Aunt Agnes pointed out. “She could be even more evil by now.”

  “Do you think she could have kill
ed her mother?” I said.

  The aunts shook their heads. “She’s not that type of evil,” Aunt Agnes said.

  I was going to point out that they hadn’t seen her in decades, but I thought the better of it. Aunt Agnes was still speaking. “She has issues. I don’t know what they are, but I assume she must have them because she is very greedy and narcissistic, highly competitive with everybody, and cold and hard.”

  Dorothy agreed. “Jezabeth is self-important, and she’s also certain she’s doing the right thing when she isn’t. I’m glad I’m not the one who has to call her.”

  “Go and do it now, Agnes,” Maude said. “It will be like ripping off a Band-Aid. The sooner you do it, the sooner you’ll feel better.”

  Aunt Agnes put her head in her hands. “But what if Jezabeth comes here?”

  “Well, we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it,” Maude said. “Agnes, it has to be done.” She refilled Aunt Agnes’s goblet and pushed it across the table to her. “Here, take this and call her now.”

  Aunt Agnes sighed but took the goblet and left the room.

  “I don’t envy her,” Dorothy said. “I hope that awful Jezabeth doesn’t come here.”

  “So, is Jezabeth working for The Other too?” I asked them.

  “We don’t know,” Dorothy said. “Gorgona and Jezabeth didn’t get on at all. The relationship was quite strained.”

  “Why was that?” I asked.

  Aunt Maude shrugged. “Gorgona’s relationship with everybody was strained.”

  “Then Jezabeth won’t have any idea who murdered her mother,” I pointed out.

  There was a scratching sound at the back door, so I walked over to open it. Breena, in cat form, ran inside. Her tail was fluffed up horribly, and she looked startled. I emptied some cat treats into a bowl for her.

  “That only encourages her, Valkyrie,” Aunt Maude scolded me. “Breena, can you turn back into human form?”