Where Pigs Fly (Nether Edge Cozy Witch Mystery Book 2)

by Wendy Meadows

  Where Pigs Fly

  Nether Edge Cozy Witch Mystery #2

  Wendy Meadows

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Bella Donnington was beautiful. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for people with her condition to be attractive, but she was rarely seen by the residents of the Nether Edge part of town. Although Cassandra had lived above the Spicery for four years, she’d only seen Bella about twenty times.

  It wasn’t that Bella was reclusive so much as housebound. She suffered from a combination of ailments, including chronic fatigue syndrome and, it was rumored, a recurring and rare strain of cancer, which limited her movement. It was a sad sort of life, Cassy thought, for someone so young to be stuck in a small apartment, especially on such a glorious day in the New England town of Havenholm.

  Chapter One

  “It’s too hot, Cassy,” Dot whined, as she lazily cooled herself with an oversized, ornate oriental fan, her elbows resting on the shop’s cash register. “We’re not meant to get heatwaves. Rain, snow, high winds, that’s what we like. Anything above ‘I’ll take my sweater off’ isn’t welcome.”

  Whereas Dot wilted in the unusual heat, Patty came to life in the sun. All morning she’d been bouncing around the place cleaning shelves, the floor, the windows, and anything that looked like it might need a good dusting, save the few customers who’d wandered in then promptly left after they’d unsuccessfully searched the shop for a beverage cooler.

  “Only you could see a downside to this weather, Dot,” Patty said, taking a breather at the entrance to the shop. A cool breeze snuck in, ruffling Patty’s blond pigtails. “I might go out to the lake later. It’s not often that you get to see me swimming in there.” She clasped her arms to her sides and shivered, then popped back into action, resuming her obsessive cleaning.

  “I don’t know how she does it, Cassandra,” Dot moaned, the hand fan now being moved at full force, “I’m glad we’re only doing half a day. Is everything ready?”

  It was a coincidence they’d chosen today, the hottest day of the year, to have the annual Nether Edge Barbecue and it had been fortuitous, considering the wash out the past two years. Besides, nobody had any desire to buy what the Spicery was offering. If it didn’t provide either shade or refreshment, then today it wasn’t leaving the shelves. Cassy thought of doing a spell, just by using some of the very basic ingredients they sold; something that would combat the hot weather, but it would mean giving away centuries-old family secrets and she would not do that. Her mother would hex her from the grave and Cassy wasn’t so sure that was impossible.

  “This year I decided to let someone else deal with it all,” Cassy said. She took a large ring of keys off her belt and selected the appropriate one. “Something always goes wrong when I organize the barbecue.”

  “Like the potato salad,” Dot replied, her face now crimson from the heat.

  “How was I supposed to know I told everyone to bring potato salad,” Cassy said, moments before realizing what a dumb thing it was to say. “Anyway, it’s all for a good cause, so nothing can go wrong.”

  “Do you think we’ll raise enough money? I’ve seen what some of these people spend and it doesn’t come cheap.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think we’ve already hit the fund-raising target. This is more like a celebration.”

  “Celebration? At $30 a plate you’d want to be happy, wouldn’t you?” Dot exhaled, wearily.

  Cassy left the older woman to huff and to puff and to stew while she locked the shop and then corralled Patty through the back door, into the courtyard. Dot followed them, still beating her fan like it was an Olympic event.

  Before leaving the murky confines of the Spicery, Cassy ran up the small, winding staircase that led to her apartment. Herzog, the cat, greeted her, his smoky grey fur rubbing against her face as she appeared out of the stairwell. It amused Cassy to think she was going below deck on a boat every morning when she went to work, and that her apartment was the only entrance to the rest of the world above deck.

  She made sure Herzog had water and food (tuna-mayo) and that the window in the TV room was open enough for him to squeeze out should he need to.

  “You be good,” she said, patting him on the head. Herzog sat on his haunches and looked her in the eye. The air in the apartment was still and hot, even with the window open. When Cassandra returned below deck to the coolness of the Spicery, it made her appreciate the air conditioning.

  Outside the store, people chattered and the damp earthiness of charcoal smoke permeated the air. Someone had put on music, some old rock ‘n roll tune. The superintendent of the building opposite Cassandra’s had kindly put up a small sound system for residents to use.

  The barbecue was just one of the ways everybody had come together for Bella. The burden of looking after someone with a life-changing illness could be overwhelming financially, so when the townspeople had heard that Bella needed a new treatment, no one hesitated to lend a hand. Cassy didn’t remember whose idea it was to make the annual barbecue a fundraiser, but it was perfectly timed and would do more than relieve the financial situation for Bella’s full time caregiver and mother, Minnie Donnington.

  More than money, Minnie would know how much everyone loved her. There were, no doubt, hundreds of things Minnie Donnington would have loved to have done with her life, but circumstance, fate and a husband who thought his talents would be better suited on the other side of the country, put those aspirations to rest.

  Cassy stepped outside and held her eyes to her hand like a visor. The buildings on either side of the courtyard provided much-needed shade. Dotty was among those more prudent revellers, while Patty danced in the sun under one speaker.

  “She’s in a world of her own, that girl.” Dot watched Patty from the safety of the shadows, with an expression that bordered envious. But it wasn’t Patty, the increasing number of people joining in, nor the bounty of salads, cold meats, drinks and other things that caught her eye. It was a delicate young woman in a wheelchair. Under an enormous sun hat, the rim of which sagged almost comically low, Cassy glimpsed the sweetest smile; red lips against pale white skin.

  “You should mingle, Dot. Get to know my neighbors. They’re an odd bunch. You might even meet the Grump,” Cassy said, referring to the author, Frowd, who occupied the entire top floor of the North building. At this suggestion, Dot brightened. She’d long desired to meet an older, rich man, and although there was no way Frowd would ever succumb to Dot’s particular charms, this would not stop her from trying.

  “Good idea, hon.” She scouted over the heads of the others, who by now numbered in the twenties, which at $20 a plate wasn’t bad. “You stick around though, Cass…”

  Oh, here we go. />
  “What is it Dot?” Cassy rolled her eyes, not that Dot noticed. It had become something of a tradition that Dot would arrange dates for Cassy. It had also become a tradition that Cassy would often bail on the date when he was inevitably wrong for her, and her for him.

  “I met this lovely young man.” Dot leaned in close, as if it were a secret. ‘Lovely’, ‘young’, and on one peculiar instance ‘man’ were very hazy definitions when it came to Dot’s choice of blind dates. “In the medical profession. Very respectable.”

  “Respectable? You know I’m a witch with a shop whose biggest seller is love potions, right? Even I know I’m not respectable.”

  “Maybe it’ll rub off?” Dot replied without a hint of irony, something which Cassy had become accustomed to, so she let it slide.

  “Make sure to point him out, won’t you?” Cass said, “I want to say hello to the woman of the hour.”

  Cassy approached the wheelchair with an outstretched hand; but the girl’s wide-brimmed hat blocked her view. Cassy stooped and said, “Hi Bella.”

  “The witch,” Bella blurted, then retreated further back into her chair, “I mean—sorry. That just slipped out.”

  Cassy put a hand on the girl’s blanketed knee. “It’s all right. I guess that’s what I call myself.”

  “I didn’t mean to be rude, I don’t really talk to many people.” They laughed together and Bella relaxed.

  “There are a lot of people here, all for you.”

  As Bella looked round, the sun caught her face, exposing just how pretty she was. Cassy couldn’t help but think of the world she was missing, stuck inside. She looked healthy enough, but then again so had Cassy’s mother before the end. To think that perfect young thing might be in pain, or goddess forbid, succumb to the unfortunate hand she’d been dealt, broke Cassy’s heart.

  “I really want Frowd to show up. I know he won’t, but wouldn’t that be crazy?” Bella became more animated than Cassy had considered possible and she shifted restlessly in her chair. “I’ve read all of his books, even the ones he disowned. I know he won’t come down. He never does. But wouldn’t that be crazy?”

  “It sure would. But don’t get your hopes up. He’s the closest thing we have to a celebrity in Havenholm, you might be disappointed if he were to turn up. Besides, I don’t think that spare ribs and too much potato salad are exactly his kind of deal.”

  “But Miss Dean, I wouldn’t be disappointed. I want him to be the most miserable and rude person you’ve ever met. I want him to skulk around with a whiskey in his hand, grimacing at people then storming off when someone—possibly her-” Cassy didn’t need to turn around to know that Bella was pointing at Dot- “asks for an autograph.”

  “So, what if he turns out to be a sweet old thing who just likes to be on his own and not bother anyone?”

  Bella contemplated the possibility for a second then slumped against her armrest. “Maybe it is better not to meet your heroes. What if he turned out to be nice?”

  The absurdity of the conversation hit them both simultaneously and they burst out laughing, which drew attention. A woman waddled over from the buffet, clutching a plate loaded with food.

  “Mother.” Bella sighed.

  “Mrs. Donnington.” Cassy smiled, standing once more to greet Bella’s mother. The woman looked Cassy up and down as if it had been the first time they’d met.

  “Cassandra, isn’t it?”

  “AKA ‘the Witch’.” Cassy looked to Bella who smiled back. She’d lifted the brim of her hat so the sun met her face.

  Mrs. Donnington placed her plate on her daughter’s lap and fussed over the hat, replacing it to its original state. “Let me get that for you, child.”

  “Mom,” Bella whined, but it was no use. She could not escape her mother’s unwanted doting.

  “You’ll burn up in this heat. You know how you get.”

  Cassy tried to lighten the mood, remembering similar situations in her own childhood.

  “I think your mother might be right, Bella. I can feel myself melting as it is. I need to know where I can get one of those satellite dishes you’re using as a sunhat.” While Bella chuckled, her mother wasn’t as amused which only spurred Cassy further. “Seriously, I think you might be able to detect alien life with that thing. I guess I’ll just drop by NASA on the way home and pick one up. This weather-sheesh.”

  “Very funny,” Mrs. Donnington said, “It’s actually from the Appledown collection. Very expensive, but nothing’s too much for my girl.” A small epiphany came over Mrs. Donnington and her disposition changed, perhaps remembering Cassy had helped organize the charity barbecue. “The turnout’s more than we could have hoped for. Bella’s secret crush even contributed.”

  Bella’s eyes flicked nervously across the courtyard. Surreptitiously, Cassy followed her gaze and found a young man leaning against the far wall, arms resting behind him, ankles crossed. He had a young Marlon Brando thing about him, white t-shirt, black jeans. Cassy saw the appeal.

  “Mr. Frowd donated $1,000 to the fund,” Minnie Donnington proudly announced.

  Realizing her mother was talking about the old, reclusive author and not the mysterious young man vaping in the corner, Bella looked away sharply but not before she noted Cassy. They held each other’s eyes for just a moment, deep understanding passing between them in a fraction of a second. Frowd be damned, there was a real secret crush, and he might just pass his driving test one day soon.

  Chapter Two

  All things considered, the barbecue was a success despite the burned chops (which everyone ate anyway) and the mushy eggplant. As usual, the Spicery’s tea stand, manned by Dot and Patty, was a big hit. Most people did not realize just how many varieties there were and Cassy had long ago made it her mission to educate people. Even the Oranges - the couple who ran the cafe across the street and lived almost exclusively on coffee - had to admit that it was something special. Tea had been an obsession for Cassy since childhood. It was the aromatic sensations, both in taste and smell, that entranced her. There was subtlety across the various blends much like grapes from the world’s best vineyards. There were other properties to the infusions of leaves and secondary ingredients. Most had mild medicinal effects, this was a truth long held by tea drinkers, there were also more refined magical blends. The combination of several types, in just the right amount, and stewed for the correct duration, could provide something a little extra. None of what was offered that afternoon to the residents of Nether Edge and those who had come in from further afield in Havenholm had those magical properties, this Cassy had made sure of. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain sudden hair growth, or an unexpected spike of babies born early the year following.

  “Ooh and what’s this one?” a woman asked, peering over the range of desiccated and prepared leaves on display and ready for infusion. She was a large woman dressed all in white, including her thick woollen pantyhose, though her feet were clad in chunky, sensible black shoes. Her hair was long and blond with rivulets of white running through it, pulled over her scalp where it terminated in a tightly knotted bun held with long black pins much like those used to knit. Cassy had seen her before and knew she was associated with the Donnington’s somehow. The woman had been coming and going over the past year and Cassy suspected that she was domestic help, or a private nurse. She had a near impenetrable accent that must have been from somewhere in Britain but not being familiar with the many odd dialects of that distant island, Cassy could only guess at the origin. It took a lot of guessing too, to translate what was being said and Cassy stared blankly at the woman for a second as her mind processed the tortured vowels.

  “That one’s my favorite. Darjeeling. A common leaf available anywhere but I like to infuse it with a little essence of orange zest,” the woman said.

  Cassy spooned a sample from the ornate glass jar and lifted it so the woman could smell it.

  “Bloody mah-vlous is that,” she said, drawing in breath through her nostri
ls. Her chest inflated and Cassy became concerned that her shirt might pop open from the strain. Thankfully the buttons held tight and the revellers were spared an unwarranted sight. “Reminds me of my Grandfather does that,” she said with a single great exhalation. “So hard to get decent tea in this country, I think I’ll have to stock up while I’m here. I’ve passed by your shop every time I’m here but I never thought to ask if you stocked tea.”

  “You have no idea what you’ve been missing, hon,” Dot interjected, “We’re the tea experts around here.”

  Though Cassy would not contradict Dot--they probably had a keener sense of the stuff than most people—their primary relationship to tea was that they drank far, far, far too much.

  “Where are you from? I couldn’t place the accent. Is it Liverpool?” Cass asked, not letting her ignorance get in the way of an approximate guess. The woman stood back in mock terror.

  “Far from it,” she said, “I’m not English though, am I? I’m from Wales, love.”

  Dot and Cass exchanged glances and Cass saw she was thinking the same thing as her; wasn’t Wales in England? How did all that whole Kingdom thing work anyway?

  “Like Catherine Zeta-Jones!” Patty shouted enthusiastically from behind the stall. She had stuck to diet cola, preferring to take her caffeine cold, and sipped on her can.

  “Well that would be South Wales. I’m from the North. Not that it means anything to you people though,” the white clad woman said with a resigned chuckle. “I’m Gwyneth, by the way. You may have seen me around. I help the Donnington ladies.”

  “Are you a nurse?” Cassy asked. There were no official badges, emblems or any markings on Gwyneth’s clothing to indicate that she was from any institute, but she looked the part.

  “I was once long ago, but now I’m what you call a Private Health Professional.” She handed her a business card. “I offer my services to families with long-term situations, as it were.”