by Jinty James
Maddie stopped in her tracks and stared at her friend.
“Are you crazy? It’s difficult for me to get up at 6.30 as it is – you want me to get up one hour earlier?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d be happy about that.” Suzanne blew out a breath. “But I’m really excited about this idea. And I thought if our first batch was a hit, we could make a second batch for the lunch hour rush.”
Maddie frowned. “How many balls will we make from one batch? And what is our profit going to be on each ball?”
“We can make a large batch of forty, and we should make at least one dollar profit on each ball. So if we sell forty per day—”
“That’s two-hundred dollars extra per week, plus however many we sell Saturday morning.”
Maddie and Suzanne parked the coffee truck at the town square on Saturday mornings as well, closing at lunchtime. That gave them one and a half days to relax and have fun, before starting work again on Monday mornings.
“Okay.” Maddie sighed. “Six-thirty tomorrow. But,” she warned, “there’s no way I’ll be getting up one hour earlier every day.”
“I know.” Suzanne nodded. “Once I get a system sorted out, I can probably make them during our slow times, and you won’t have to get out of bed any earlier.”
“Deal.” They smiled at each other, then stored the ingredients in the truck.
Maddie dropped off Suzanne at her house nearby, then headed home.
It had been a long day. First, the news about Joan, then her investigating Joan’s death. And being warned off by law enforcement.
She parked the truck and unlocked her front door, her thoughts busy with everything they had learned that day.
“Trixie!” She pushed open the wooden door, a creak sounding in the air. No matter how many times she applied olive oil to the hinges, the door still creaked when she arrived home every day.
Her fluffy Persian trotted down the hall to greet her.
“Mrrow.”
“What have you been up to today?” Maddie bent to stroke the feline.
“Mrrow. Mrrow.” Trixie looked up at her expectantly.
“I saw you sitting next to the spell book,” Maddie told her, wondering if her cat minded being filmed when she was alone in the house.
“Mrrow.” The Persian rubbed her face against Maddie’s leg.
“All right.” Maddie put her purse down on the side table in the hall and followed Trixie into the living room. “Do you want to show me something?”
Trixie hopped up on the sofa right next to the spell book, looking at Maddie.
“Okay.” Maddie sat on the other side of the open book and studied the two pages.
“How to discover if someone is telling the truth,” she read out slowly.
“Mrrow!”
“You want me to try this spell?”
“Mrrow!” Trixie nudged her arm from across the book.
“Well, okay,” Maddie said. She read the spell thoroughly. If she could master it, it would help with her investigation into Joan’s death.
“It says I need to cast it when I’m talking to someone and I want to know if they’re lying to me or not,” she told the feline. “So I’m going to have to memorize the words – I can’t exactly carrying this big heavy book around with me.”
Trixie made a raspy noise that sounded like “No.”
Maddie nodded, wondering not for the first time if she was crazy for talking to her cat as if Trixie could understand every word Maddie said.
But why couldn’t Trixie do that? Her unusual turquoise eyes gleamed with intelligence, and her silver spine and tail made her stand out from a regular cat.
If Maddie was truly a witch, then why couldn’t Trixie be her familiar, and have the ability to understand human speech?
And besides, she enjoyed talking to Trixie as if the Persian could understand her.
“Maybe I should write this down, Trix.” Maddie jumped up and grabbed a pen and note pad from the kitchen, and returned.
After writing down the spell, she read it silently again, then nodded.
“I’ll give this a try tomorrow, if I ask more questions about Joan,” she told Trixie, folding up the piece of paper and tucking it into her purse in the hall.
“Mrrow,” the cat said approvingly.
“We’re going to have to get up early tomorrow,” she told the cat. “Suzanne wants to make health balls before our first customers arrive.”
“Broomf!” Trixie’s face scrunched up in disapproval.
“You don’t have to get up with me,” she reassured her. “You can stay home again tomorrow if you want.”
Trixie closed her eyes, as if thinking about it. Finally, she let out a grudging, “Mrrow.”
It seemed Trixie would be joining them tomorrow.
CHAPTER 8
“THE HEALTH BALLS WILL be ready in thirty minutes!” Suzanne called out.
Maddie grunted in reply, struggling to open her eyes. As soon as she’d parked the truck in the square that morning, she’d made herself a super strong espresso, but even that hadn’t been enough to stop her eyelids from closing. She had dozed on her stool in the truck, half listening to the whizzing and whirring as her partner made the health balls in the food processor.
Trixie had insisted on coming this morning, although she seemed a little grumpy, too, at the early hour.
“Sorry.” Maddie opened her eyes and looked at Suzanne. “I haven’t been much help this morning.”
“No worries.” Suzanne smiled at her, looking positively cheery. “Once you taste them, you’ll know they’re going to be a best seller. And,” she continued, looking excited, “you can try the first one!”
“You should,” Maddie replied. “They’re your idea.”
“But I want you to,” Suzanne said. “They’re full of healthy ingredients and might give you some extra energy.”
“As long as you take the second bite,” Maddie insisted.
“Mrrow.” Trixie sounded as if she agreed with Maddie.
“Okay, Trixie.” Suzanne giggled.
A knock sounded on the glass window. They hadn’t opened up the counter for business yet, since they were at their spot earlier than usual and hadn’t expected any premature customers.
Maddie and Suzanne exchanged a glance, then Maddie hopped up and unlocked the window.
“Are you open yet?” A senior citizen whose bobbed gray hair was tinged with a pink rinse, peered up at her. She wore a pink blouse and skirt and carried a black handbag.
Maddie recognized her as one of their semi-regulars, but she usually arrived mid-morning.
“What would you like?” Maddie smiled.
“One of your wonderful cappuccinos, please,” the elderly woman said, rummaging in her capacious purse for her wallet. “Thank goodness you’re here already! I had a terrible coffee yesterday when you’d closed the truck—“ she peered at them curiously “—from that coffee shop over there.” She pointed a finger at Claudine’s café on the far side of the square. She shuddered. “Never again.”
“I’ll get it started for you.” Maddie poured some beans into the machine, the sound of grinding filling the air.
Suzanne took the customer’s money and gave her change.
“You girls aren’t usually here this early, are you?” the senior continued.
“No, ma’am.” Suzanne’s tone was upbeat. “But we’re introducing a new sideline – health balls. They’ll be ready soon if you’d like to come back and try one.”
“What’s that?” The woman’s nose wrinkled.
“They’re full of goodness,” Suzanne said enthusiastically. “They’ve got coconut, dates, almond meal, and cacao in them.”
“I don’t know ...” the senior said hesitantly. “I don’t know if I’d like it. On the other hand, they can’t be worse than that horrible cookie I had at the coffee shop yesterday.” She shuddered and lowered her voice. “I think it was stale!”
“Our goodies are made toda
y,” Suzanne said. “And the dates are fresh, not dried.”
“Maybe I’ll come back, then,” the senior said, as Maddie handed her the paper cup. “Thank you, dear.” She took the cappuccino, sipping it briefly. “Delicious as always.”
“Thanks.” Maddie smiled at the elderly customer.
“Where were you girls yesterday? I was disappointed that you were closed.”
Maddie hesitated. What should she say? That they’d been investigating the death of one of their regular customers?
But before she could answer, the old lady continued, “It was terrible news about Joan’s death, wasn’t it?”
“Did you know her?” Maddie asked.
“Mm-hm.” The senior nodded. “We did some fund-raising a while ago for starving children in Africa. She seemed a very nice woman.”
“I thought so, too,” Maddie replied. “She was one of our regulars.”
“It doesn’t surprise me, dear. Your coffee is wonderful.”
“Thank you,” Maddie said again.
The old lady shook her head. “I don’t know what her husband is going to do without her. And her neighbor! They were very close, I believe.”
“Do you mean Linda?” Suzanne asked.
“Yes, Linda.” The woman leaned forward, although there was no one else around, and lowered her voice. “I saw her going into that massage parlor yesterday, the day Joan died! I don’t know what her husband would say if he found out.”
“Massage parlor?” Maddie and Suzanne said at the same time.
The elderly woman nodded. “I saw him once standing in the doorway. Very handsome in a European way, if you know what I mean. And I’m sure he’s younger than Linda. Why, she must be fifty-five if she’s a day. So what was she doing going in there, that’s what I’d like to know.”
“Um, getting a legit massage?” Suzanne offered. “That’s the tiny store squeezed into the corner of the square, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, dear.” The senior took another sip of her cappuccino. “You have to go upstairs.” The last word was spoken in a hushed whisper.
“What time yesterday morning?” Maddie knitted her brow. Hadn’t Linda told them she’d been unwell and had cancelled her jog with Joan?
“It was quite early.” The elderly woman shook her head. “Too early for hanky-panky, if you ask me. Even if he is devilishly good looking.”
Before they could ask the senior any more questions, a sudden influx of people crowded around the truck.
“Don’t let me keep you, girls.” The old lady toddled off toward the other side of the square.
Maddie and Suzanne were so busy keeping up with orders, Trixie “helping” by dozing on one of the stools, that it was almost an hour before they caught their breath.
“Drat!” Suzanne made a sound of exasperation. “We were so busy I forgot all about the balls!”
“Let’s try them now,” Maddie replied, feeling brave.
Suzanne took them out of the small refrigerator. Forty balls coated with shredded coconut covered the tray.
Suzanne checked her watch. “They should be more than ready now.”
She offered the tray to Maddie before taking one herself.
“Don’t forget, you get the first bite.”
Maddie nodded, then bit into it tentatively. An explosion of texture and taste tingled her taste buds. Dates, chocolate, coconut. To her surprise, she took another small bite, and another, until the morsel disappeared.
“Good?” Suzanne asked in a mumble as she chewed and swallowed her own sample.
“That was better—”
“Than you were expecting?”
“Yeah.” Maddie nodded.
“I told you!” Suzanne grinned. “I’ll make a sign for them and list the ingredients, and I bet we sell out of them by lunchtime.”
“There.” Suzanne held up a sign a couple of minutes later.
“We’re selling them for a dollar fifty each?” Maddie asked.
“Yep. That way we make one dollar profit from each ball.”
“They’re pretty small,” Maddie said doubtfully, “although delicious,” she added. “Do you think people will buy them at that price?”
“You bet,” Suzanne snapped her fingers. “But if we don’t sell any by lunchtime, I guess we can give out some free samples.” Her expression looked so sad that Maddie hoped their next customer would buy one.
“If I go now, I’ll be back before the lunch rush.” Maddie checked her watch.
“Go where? To interview the masseuse?”
“Yes.”
Suzanne looked torn between wanting to accompany her and wanting to stay at the truck in case a pre-lunch customer wanted to buy a health ball.
“I’ll stay here.” Her gaze strayed to the healthy goodies she’d now placed on a plate covered with a plastic dome.
“Okay. I won’t be long.” Maddie paused. “Have you ever been there – to get a massage?”
“No,” Suzanne replied. “I just happened to glance by one day when I was walking past and that’s when I saw the narrow doorway with a sign saying there was a masseuse upstairs. But if I’d known he looked like that, I might have booked more than one by now.” She winked.
Maddie suppressed a laugh. “I’ll tell you what I find out.”
“You better.”
They both turned to look at Trixie, who still dozed on a stool.
“I’ll look after her,” Suzanne promised.
“Thanks.” Maddie jumped out of the truck, her thoughts in a whirl. Looking at Trixie had jogged her memory; she had the tell the truth spell written on a piece of paper in her purse.
Should she use it on the masseuse?
She’d forgotten about it when their elderly first customer had stepped up to the counter. Perhaps because she was still recovering from getting up so early this morning?
Or maybe because she was worried something would go wrong if she tried to cast it?
Before she knew it, she’d arrived at the “massage parlor”. A discreet sign on the narrow glass door told her a masseuse was available upstairs.
Maddie walked up the wooden stairs, the sound of her work shoes on the steps alerting the masseuse that someone was arriving.
At the top of the landing, a wooden door with a metal plaque emblazoned with Ramon – Qualified Masseuse greeted her.
Maddie raised her hand. Should she knock? If someone was having a massage right now, she didn’t want to interrupt.
Tap tap.
Just when she thought maybe she hadn’t knocked hard enough, she heard a low male voice.
“Come in.”
Inhaling deeply, Maddie pushed open the door and walked inside.
Cream walls and a small reception desk greeted her. Two comfortable looking chairs in the waiting room invited her to sit down.
A beaded curtain at the back of the tiny room signaled the treatment room.
“Can I help you?” The man sitting at the desk took her breath away.
Early forties, with jet black hair, liquid brown eyes framed with thick dark lashes, olive skin, and firm, sensual lips – he was exactly as their elderly customer had described.
Devilishly good looking.
There was a trace of a European accent in his voice, but Maddie couldn’t place it right away.
“Hi.” Her voice squeaked and she cursed silently.
“Hi.” He smiled back at her.
Her insides began to melt. Had it really been so long since she’d had a date? Focus.
She reached into her purse and fingered the tell the truth spell.
“Um ...” She attempted to gather her thoughts.
“You would like a massage?” he asked.
“Um ...” Yes please. Her cheeks burned at the thought.
“My friend Linda – she said she came here,” was the best Maddie could think up.
“Ah, Linda, yes. One of my favorite clients.” His white teeth flashed in a gorgeous grin. At that very moment, Maddie coul
dn’t blame Linda if she had strayed from her husband.
“She came here yesterday morning?” She cursed the up-speak in her voice.
“That’s right.” The man looked at her curiously. “I am Ramon. And you are?”
“Maddie.” When he continued to look at her admiringly – was he flirting with her? – she added breathlessly, “I have a coffee truck in the town square.”
“Ah, yes, I have seen it,” he replied. “The only reason I have not visited is I prefer to make my own coffee. In Spain, we have a special technique to extract all the goodness from the beans. Here, in America, you have percolated coffee.” He shuddered slightly.
“Not in my truck,” Maddie stated. “I buy only the best beans and I attempt to bring out the flavors of each different roast.”
“Then I must come by and try you one day,” he said. “And then, perhaps you will sample me and my massages.”
“Um ... maybe,” Maddie squeaked again. Wait until she told Suzanne! Knowing her friend and her adventurous side, Suzanne would probably book a massage right away.
“I have no clients now, if you would like to—” he waved toward the beaded curtain.
“I can’t right now,” Maddie said hurriedly. “I just thought I would talk to you first about what Linda gets—”
“You are romance writer too?”
“Yes,” she blurted out before she could think better of it.
“Ah, that makes sense.” He nodded. “You have a fire in your eyes and desire in your heart, no? Your smooth brown hair, your heart-shaped face, your amber eyes – you are what a heroine looks like.”
Maddie had never thought of herself that way before, but she had to admit, it did have a flattering, poetic ring to it. But could he tell she was a witch? What he’d just described could loosely describe her witchy abilities – or the one she had, the ability to cast the coffee vision spell.
“But I did not think Linda told anyone about her secret yearning to become a romance writer.” He frowned.
“We’re in the same writers’ group,” Maddie fibbed, wondering at herself for jumping into a lie so quickly.
