Spellcheck (The Kitchen Witch Book 7): Witch Cozy Mystery Series

by Morgana Best

  “But first, we have to find out whether Celia left anything in her will or whether she was as broke as they say. How do we find that out, Thyme?”

  Chapter 9

  I had been surprised when Jane agreed to meet us for coffee. I was even more surprised when she agreed to meet us for coffee that very day. It was a rather happy coincidence that this was her day off. Thyme had been convinced that Jane would know whether or not Celia had an inheritance. I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t know who else to ask. We could hardly knock on Celia’s lawyer’s door and ask about the terms of her will.

  I was looking forward to questioning Jane. After all, she was my major suspect, now that I had discounted Paul. Or rather, I would discount Paul when I had more information on whether or not Celia had been rich.

  Thyme and I reached the coffee shop first and found a seat in the far corner. Most cafés smelt delightfully of coffee beans, but this coffee shop had no enticing and heaven-sent aroma of caffeine. No, it was all horribly bland, like the surroundings. The floor was made of huge grey tiles, and the decor was black and grey. Large bifold doors opened onto an alfresco area, which sported mismatched and uninviting plastic tables and chairs, a fenced off area around a dead plant, and nothing else. It was as if an expensive designer had been called in and asked to make the place as bland and as unappealing as possible.

  “I hope she doesn’t want to sit outside today,” Thyme said. “There’s a bit of a wind picking up.”

  “And flies.” I swatted at a particularly persistent fly. “I wish she hadn’t chosen this coffee shop. Their coffee is as weak as dishwater.”

  Thyme burst into laughter. “What a funny expression.”

  I pulled a face at her. “Oh look, here she comes now.”

  Jane’s face broke into a smile when she saw us. If she harboured any suspicions that I was the murderer, she certainly didn’t show it. As soon as she sat down, I handed her a box of cupcakes that I had wrapped especially.

  “Thank you! What’s this for?”

  “Just to say thank you for being so calm and making everything bearable for us after Celia died,” Thyme said quite convincingly. In truth, it was our way to try to butter her up to make her more talkative.

  “You shouldn’t have.” Jane beamed at us. A waitress was hovering over us, so we ordered. As soon as the waitress left, I started the conversation. “I suppose things have been hectic at the nursing home,” I said.

  Jane nodded. “I was lucky to have today off. There’s been so much paperwork and police questioning, and all the residents are upset.”

  I murmured my sympathies. “And poor Edith, Celia’s best friend. How is she taking it?”

  “I don’t really know, to be honest,” Jane said. “She seems a little more withdrawn than usual, but I doubt she’s upset.”

  “What do you mean?” Thyme interjected.

  “This might sound awful, but in a way, I think Edith’s glad that Celia is gone. The two of them have known each other for years, and I think Edith was always a little afraid of Celia.”

  “Paul told us that Celia and Edith were childhood friends and that Celia stole Edith’s fiancé and married him,” I said, hoping that if I showed I knew something about the situation, that that would spur on Jane to speak more freely.

  Jane nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Edith was a much happier person before Celia arrived at Happy Valley Gardens. Now that Celia’s gone, perhaps she’ll return to her usual happy self. You saw for yourselves what sort of a person Celia was. She made everyone’s life a misery, really, everyone she came into contact with. She was such a mean-spirited woman.”

  “I feel so sorry for Paul, having to put up with a grandmother like that for all these years.”

  Jane nodded to me and hesitated before speaking. “Paul was nothing like her, thankfully. They were very close though, so he’ll take her death quite hard. I think the residents would want to throw a party and you can’t blame them for that. I don’t think a single one of them would be truly sorry that Celia has gone, least of all Edith. Poor Edith. She really enjoyed life at the nursing home until Celia came along. Celia was very competitive with her and had to beat her at everything—card games, you name it, Celia just had to be better than Edith. Edith was interested in Doug, one of the residents, but Celia made sure that he and Edith didn’t have any time alone.”

  “Don’t tell me that he was Celia’s boyfriend,” I said in shock. “Did Celia steal another man from Edith?”

  Jane shook her head. “Oh no, nothing like that. Doug made it quite clear that he wasn’t interested in Celia, but that didn’t stop her. She did everything she could to keep Doug and Edith apart.”

  “Was Doug at the…” My voice broke off. I started again. “Was Doug there that day that Celia died? I didn’t notice anyone being particularly attentive to Edith.”

  “He was there, all right,” Jane said, “but he would have been keeping a low profile. Any time he tried to speak to Edith, Celia made a scene.”

  “What a thoroughly unpleasant woman,” I said.

  The waitress returned and placed our coffee down in front of us. As she turned to leave, I spoke. “Excuse me, are our cakes coming soon? We’d like to have our cakes with our coffee.”

  The waitress glared at me, nodded, and then walked away. I usually made it a point to avoid this café, but on the few occasions I had been here, the cakes had arrived well after I had finished my coffee. Who doesn’t like to have their cake with their coffee?

  I sipped my coffee, and it was as bad as I had feared. I wondered if they had forgotten to put any coffee in it. It was horribly weak and tasteless, and a complete waste of money to boot.

  “Thyme and I went to pay our respects to Paul and Maria this morning,” I said. “When we were there, the police called Paul and told him that Celia had been poisoned.”

  Jane had been eating her froth off the top of her cappuccino with a spoon, and she dropped the spoon into her coffee in fright. “Poison!” She said it so loudly that other patrons turned to look. She fished out her spoon and wiped it with a napkin. “Did they say what the poison was?”

  “Codeine,” I said.

  Jane frowned. “Codeine? But Celia wasn’t on any codeine.”

  “Yes, the police meant she was murdered,” I said gently.

  “Yes, as in deliberately murdered, not accidentally poisoned,” Thyme added for good measure.

  “But who would do such a thing?” Jane said in horror. “And how would they get the codeine into her? I’m sure she wasn’t allergic to codeine. I remember all the allergies of all the residents. Yes, she definitely wasn’t allergic to codeine. It must’ve been a large amount to kill someone so quickly. Yes, a large amount,” she said thoughtfully.

  I regretted mentioning that Celia had been poisoned. Perhaps I should have asked about the inheritance first. Jane seemed quite fond of Paul and I didn’t want to tip her off to my suspicions.

  “Paul and Maria said the police ordered them to stay in town a few more days, and the police have given us the third degree,” Thyme said. “Have they given you the third degree as well?”

  Jane sipped her coffee before speaking. Obviously the coffee was to her taste. “Yes, it’s been awful. They questioned the residents too, and we had to tell them again and again not to upset the residents. I must say, they were quite good about it, but there’s always the potential to upset the residents. They’re elderly, and most of them are ill, anyway. They’ve already had one shock with Celia’s death and they don’t need another shock with being suspects in her murder.”

  The surly waitress deposited our cakes at this point, mine rather too hard. I just hoped she hadn’t spat in it. “Surely the police can’t suspect any of the residents,” I said. “That is, unless Celia had been wealthy and left all her money to one of the residents.”

  Frustratingly, Jane tucked into her cake without answering.

  I tried again. “Was Celia wealthy? I mean, did she leave all her money to
one of the residents, perhaps Edith? Or to one of the other residents?”

  Jane swallowed her mouthful. “No, Celia was flat stony broke.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked her. “Would you know if she was wealthy? What if she was wealthy but pretended she wasn’t?”

  Jane looked off into the distance for a moment. “No, I would definitely know if she had any money, and she didn’t. She was skint. Paul had to do everything for her. She came from a sheep farm out west, you know, and she’d been through drought after drought after drought. The bank eventually foreclosed on the property.”

  Thyme spoke up. “Yes, Paul and Maria mentioned something about that.”

  “If she’d had any money, she would have used it all to try to save her farm. No, I know she didn’t have any. So whoever murdered her, didn’t murder her for her money, because there just wasn’t any.”

  I shot Thyme a look. That meant that Paul was definitely off the hook, as was Maria. I would have to turn to other suspects. “Jane, did Celia pretend she had money? I mean, did she tell the residents that she had a lot of money and she would leave it to them when she died?”

  For some reason, Jane thought that was awfully funny. “No, Celia wasn’t the type of person to pretend. That would take imagination and she didn’t have any. Besides, she didn’t want people to like her. Are you thinking one of the residents murdered her?”

  I shrugged, not knowing what to say.

  Jane pulled a face. “I still find it hard to believe that she was murdered, and with codeine at that.”

  “I’ve only seen codeine in the form of those white headache or flu tablets,” I said. “Since it’s sold over the counter, I wouldn’t have thought it would be poisonous.”

  “The government is starting to make it prescription only in Australia now,” Jane said. “Soon you won’t be able to buy it over the counter at all.”

  “Surely it would take a lot to kill someone?” Thyme asked her.

  Jane shrugged. “It would depend on a lot of things, like other medications and if the person had any medical conditions. Plus it would depend on how much the person weighed. As you saw, Celia was short, thin, and wiry.”

  “But she looked awfully strong,” I said.

  “That doesn’t matter—it’s the actual body weight that counts,” Jane explained. “Codeine is usually combined with other medicines and so there could be harmful effects of those other medicines as well.”

  “Paul only mentioned codeine,” I said.

  Jane tapped her chin. “Perhaps the police thought that would be the only drug he would understand,” she said. “It’s often found in other medicines, like I said, and it certainly is poisonous in large amounts. Come to think of it, Celia did have bluish coloured fingernails and lips, but at the time, I thought that was due to compromised cardiac output. I just can’t understand how she ingested the codeine. One thing I know, there’s no way it was suicide. And that must mean it was, in fact, murder, although that’s awfully hard to believe.” Jane was staring at the ceiling. She now appeared to be talking to herself rather than to us.

  “I noticed that Celia drank out of a hip flask when she thought no one was looking,” I said. “Do you think the poison could have been in that?”

  “Possibly. It can be given in liquid or powder form, but someone might have injected her with it. An overdose would be easier to do with injection.”

  “If someone gave it to her orally, how long before the symptoms would start?” I asked her.

  Jane continued to think, rubbing her forehead. “I’m no expert on it, but I’d say within half an hour. And like I said, she was quite a thin woman. I still can’t believe it was murder,” she said again.

  Chapter 10

  After our coffee with Jane, Thyme and I hurried back to the store to relieve Ruprecht and Mint. Camino was at the coffee machine, frothing milk, I assumed for the young couple who were sitting at a table holding hands and looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. That, of course, made me think of Alder. I had texted him in the car and brought him up to speed.

  I left Thyme at the counter to serve, and summoned Ruprecht and Mint into the back room so I could tell them what had happened.

  “You know, the fact that it wasn’t injected tends to rule out the nursing staff,” Ruprecht said. “If one of the nursing staff wanted to murder Celia, then a better way would be to inject her.”

  “Unless the murderer wanted to make it look like it was one of the residents,” I said. “Perhaps one of the nurses used powder instead of an injection because an injection would show it really had to be one of the nursing staff.”

  Ruprecht stroked his chin. “You may be right, Amelia, but as I always say, ‘Non sunt multiplicanda entia sine necessitate,’ or for those of you who don’t understand Latin, ‘Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity.’”

  “That made no more sense to me in English than it did in Latin,” I admitted.

  Clearly, Mint had heard this more than once before. “Occam’s Razor!” she said happily.

  Ruprecht patted her shoulder. “Precisely, although the phrase was coined centuries after Ockham’s death. Put simply, it means that the simplest solution is usually the best.”

  I had heard Ruprecht mention Occam’s Razor many a time before. “Okay, so you’re saying that if a nurse chose to poison Celia with codeine powder rather than injection, simply to throw the suspicion onto someone else, well, that would be too convoluted a theory.”

  Ruprecht’s brows knitted together. Clearly, he found my words confusing. Finally, he said, “Yes. If a nurse did try to throw suspicion onto someone else, then in this case, the nurse made quite a weak effort. There is no apparent scapegoat. Therefore, my initial statement stands.”

  I wasn’t too fond of philosophical discussions, even though I was fully aware Ruprecht would not consider this to be a philosophical discussion. Still, it was as close to one as I cared to get. “So then,” I began, rather afraid to say something in case it bordered on one of the Logical Fallacies that Ruprecht was only too fond of pointing out to people, “that means we can rule out the nursing staff, apart from Jane, as I think she should be included.” I cast a nervous glance at Ruprecht, but to my relief, he nodded.

  “Yes,” he said. “Our suspects are, Paul acting alone, Maria acting alone, Paul and Maria acting together, Jane, and any one of the residents.”

  “Jane was quite convinced that Celia had no money,” I pointed out. “That kind of removes the motive for Paul and Maria. That leaves Jane or one of the residents. As I mentioned earlier, I did wonder whether Jane and Paul were having an affair, but why would Celia be murdered if that was the case?”

  “Perhaps Celia threatened to tell Maria,” Ruprecht said. “We can’t assume the only motive was inheritance. People are murdered for lots of reasons.”

  I nodded. We had been through this countless times before. “Love; money; revenge; saving face; wrong place, wrong time,” I said without drawing breath.

  Ruprecht clasped his hands together. “That is correct. At any rate, tomorrow’s funeral could well throw light on the matter. I suggest we should all be in attendance. Is it possible for you to shut the shop for the morning, Amelia?”

  I readily agreed. “I don’t think any of the customers would begrudge us time out for a funeral,” I said. “I’ll ask Thyme to mention to all today’s customers that there’ll be a funeral tomorrow and that we’ll be shut within those hours. Do you know what time it begins?”

  “It starts at ten, but we should be there a little early. Perhaps you should say you’ll be shut from nine to twelve in order to attend a funeral, and give apologies if you’re back late. That will give you some leeway.”

  “Good idea. Thanks, Ruprecht. As Celia didn’t have any relatives, it will only be us, Paul and Maria, the residents who are mobile enough to get there, and the nursing staff.”

  “And the detectives,” Mint added. “And I sure hope Constable Dawson is there, for Thyme’s s
ake.”

  Ruprecht stood up. “I had better be getting back to my store.”

  “Thanks so much for helping out, you two,” I said. “If Thyme isn’t too busy, I’ll make a batch of cupcakes.”

  Both of them gasped in horror. “I am getting better at it,” I said defensively.

  Mint looked doubtful, and Ruprecht narrowed his eyes. “I suppose you haven’t started any fires lately,” he said doubtfully.

  “Yes, and the last few batches I’ve made haven’t made any dents when I dropped them,” I said proudly. “And I deliberately dropped them to see if they’d crack the floor.”

  Ruprecht, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words. He simply nodded, took Mint by the arm, and beat a hasty retreat. I followed them out and checked in with Camino and Thyme. “If you’re not too busy out here, I want to practise baking cupcakes. I found a foolproof recipe online.”

  Camino looked up from grinding coffee beans. “Just make sure you have a large bucket of water nearby to put out the fire, dear,” she said and then continued grinding.

  “Practice makes perfect,” Thyme said cheerily as she waved me back to the kitchen. “You’re getting better with every batch, Amelia. Honestly.”

  That encouraged me, so I headed back to the kitchen and brought up the recipe on my iPad. It was simpler than the other recipes I had tried before. They had mentioned creaming butter and sugar and separating eggs, and doing the dry and the wet ingredients separately, but this recipe basically just said to stick everything in together and beat it. I could do that. What could go wrong?

  I soon found a catch in the recipe. It had said to place the flour, baking soda, butter, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and milk in the bowl of an electric mixer, but now I discovered that the flour had to be sifted and the butter had to be softened and chopped. I thought this was too good to be true.

  There was a large industrial looking sifter in the kitchen, but I always used the little one with the squeeze handle when I was practising making cupcakes. I reached for it and then started sifting the flour. I sifted it directly into the bowl of the electric mixer. I placed in almost a full cup of sugar, two eggs, the milk, and the two teaspoons of the vanilla extract. How much baking soda was it again? My internet connection dropped out while I was looking at it. I remembered it was one something—one cup? That would do. Now all I had to do was soften and chop the butter. The butter was as hard as a rock, and I didn’t know how much time I had to spare. It seemed that we either had hardly any customers or a flood of customers. There was never any middle ground, so I wanted to make the most of this quiet time before things got busy.