Magical Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 1)

by Kennedy Layne

  “We’ve heard you have to keep the shop open for one year in order to gain ownership. Our lawyer will be in touch with you at that time, seeing as we’d love to expand our space into your lot.”

  “Cora, let the poor girl order her lunch,” Desmond said disapprovingly, his worried gaze skimming over the rest of the diner. He worried about what people thought of him, whereas it was evident that Cora believed others looked up to them because of their obvious station in life. The rings on her hand probably cost more than what I had made for the past three years, maybe even four. “We should be going anyway. We need to be in New Haven by two o’clock.”

  “Don’t mind them.” Flo had leaned over the table to collect the empty plates, doing so in order to speak with me privately. I appreciated her support and now understood why Nan had come here for lunch every day. “They’re a bit uppity, is all. At least, she is. That’s what happens when you come from old money. You begin to believe you’re better than the other folks who have lived here just as long. Either way, she still ages with the rest of us.”

  Had Desmond and Cora figured out Nan’s side business? Her obvious dislike for me was disconcerting, seeing as I hadn’t been the one to sell anyone a love potion that was probably made of herbs my Nan had gotten out of her own garden. Then again, my grandmother wouldn’t have been caught dead pulling weeds in fear of getting dirt underneath her manicured nails.

  “This is the real Larry Butterball.” Liam had walked up behind Flo, who was now heading around the counter with the empty dishes in her hand. She shot Albert and Eugene a look of warning before she disappeared behind two swinging doors. It was rather difficult to pull my gaze from the two older men, who were now speaking with each other in hushed tones. “Raven? Is this who you saw yesterday?”

  A heavy weight settled in my stomach when I had no choice but to accept that I was wrong, at least on the count of who the bald man had been standing behind Pearl.

  “No, it wasn’t Larry.” I sat back in my seat, ignoring the fact that Desmond and Cora had yet to leave their table. The blonde had a grimace to her pink lips that I didn’t appreciate, but it did remind me that I had to fess up my grandmother’s crimes to Liam. “Liam, I might not know who killed Jacob Blackleach, but I do know that Rosemary has been conning the good people of Paramour Bay.”

  “I’m sorry?” Liam carefully set down the picture of Larry he’d taken off the wall. “Conning who? Oh, wait. You mentioned that Pearl stopped into the shop this morning, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” I dragged out the last sound of the word a little bit longer than necessary, experiencing a wave of uneasiness. It was a sensation similar to what I had sensed right before Heidi told me that there had been a dead body in the backroom of the tea shop. “Pearl slipped me a fifty—don’t worry, though, I gave it back—and wanted a crazy love potion. Rosemary had some of the residents believing she could concoct magic potions, and she was selling them on the side. I’ll go over the books when I have time, but it’s pretty obvious she was pocketing the money and not paying any taxes on those ill-gotten proceeds. I’ll do my best to assist you in the investigation, but I think it’s best for you to speak with Pearl firsthand to—”

  “Raven, stop,” Liam directed gently, even reaching across the table and resting his warm hand over mine. “Pearl is overly dramatic, but I believe I know what the problem is.”

  The stark contrast between his touch and Ted’s was astounding, reminding me that I hadn’t addressed the tenant in my backyard during this conversation. I wasn’t able to get another word in edgewise, though, because Liam’s next statement had me once again wishing I’d stayed in New York.

  “It was public knowledge that your grandmother dabbled in witchcraft. She was the genuine article, if you listen to some folks.”

  Chapter Seven

  Witchcraft.

  My fingers trembled slightly as I slid the key into the slot. I flicked my wrist and was grateful for the solitude the tea shop offered me after that massive bombshell. It was more than apparent that Liam didn’t believe in all that hocus pocus, and he’d apparently given Nan a pass on her side business, even allowing Nan and her patrons to revel in their own delusions.

  What had Liam called the money that transferred hands?

  Oh, that’s right.

  Donations.

  That was like dropping a quarter down a wishing well.

  What did it matter if it was donations or payment? Nan was still involved in conning the good residents of Paramour Bay into believing she could make potions that could alter someone’s perception or personality.

  It was downright criminal to me, like stealing from the donation plate at church.

  Honestly, it had taken every ounce of strength I had not to snag the coffee mug in front of Liam, especially before Flo had served me a cup of warm tea. Somehow though, I can now reluctantly admit that the soothing concoction did calm my nerves just a tad bit. There might be more to tea than I had originally suspected, giving me all the more reason to dive into the research I’d been putting off while cleaning the sundry items in the shop.

  Should I flip over the open sign or try to figure out Nan’s various blends?

  I decided to wait until tomorrow, and I made sure to engage the lock so that no one could enter the shop without knocking. The bell seemed to be working perfecting fine now, but Pearl had somehow taken me by surprise earlier. I certainly didn’t want another scare like that when I was already on edge.

  The scent of lemon hung in the air from my earlier dusting spree, though there was a fruity fragrance mixed in that came from the various tea leaves. It was rather welcoming, and the tension in my shoulders began to subside as I walked over to the counter to hide my purse in one of the cubbies underneath the worktop.

  Witchcraft.

  Liam hadn’t said Wiccan, he’d said witchcraft. Even I understood the difference, but who in this day and age would actually believe in spells and potions?

  Nan always had been unique, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch to think she used that rather particular image to make a little extra cash. She did have expensive taste back in the day, preferring quality over quantity. She’d obviously hoodwinked Otis into allowing her side business to stay up and running, and Liam must have just followed suit when he’d taken over for sheriff.

  If she’d stored Pearl’s bag on the top shelve in the storage room, Nan might have done so with others. I wouldn’t keep Pearl or those who’d placed their orders from receiving them, but I would ensure that the customers understood that there would be no more future love potions or whatever they might have been looking to change in their lives.

  None of this explained why Jacob Blackleach would come to Paramour Bay to impersonate Larry Butterball. I had to wonder if he was part of the con or maybe investigating the witchcraft stories surrounding Nan. Of course, it didn’t solve the mystery of who the bald man had been standing behind the gathered crowd yesterday morning, either.

  Well, I couldn’t do anything about that now. The afternoon was wasting away, and I needed to see who else might be stopping by for their magical blend of home remedies. I recalled Pearl’s bright smile when she claimed that Henry was falling in love with her all because of the tea or whatever else had been in the bag. At least Nan had made Pearl happy in her later years.

  One tended to believe what they needed to when it came to matters of love.

  I worked my way through the ivory-colored beads, the musical tune reminding me that I could always use my phone to play some background music. Better yet, maybe I should get those surround sound speakers for the shop.

  What kind of music would encourage customers to buy tea?

  It was something to think on as I began organizing the numerous small bags lined up on the top shelf of the storage room.

  Lydia.

  Oliver.

  Ben.

  Elsie.

  Wilma.

  Otis.

  There were more bags with other names
on them, but it just went to show that a lot of the townsfolk in Paramour Bay had come to Nan for something or other. Not all of them were love potions. Otis’ bag had instructions on the back, and his magical blend of leaves was intended for arthritis.

  I began to feel slightly better, believing that maybe Nan was using tea leaves and herbs as some type of old school homeopathic treatments that were known as those home remedies from the past.

  That wasn’t so bad, was it?

  Really? Home remedies?

  I’ll admit it.

  I screamed like a little girl who thought she saw a monster in her closet. Remember, a man was killed right here in this room. Had Jacob Blackleach heard the voice before someone hit him over the head with an object that had yet to be found? Was my time here on this earth about to come to an end?

  I hastily spun in a circle, trying to find the person who was talking.

  I give up. At first, it was fun. Now? It’s just boring.

  And there, sitting next to those old iron mixing bowls that I’d found so interesting was a…ragged old cat?

  Now mind you, I wasn’t talking about the average housecat that people had as pets. You know, the ones that purr and weave between your legs to show their love? No. I wasn’t even remotely about to describe that kind of cat.

  The orange and black furry thing in front of me looked like he’d been put through the wringer and then back again for good measure. A few of his whiskers were bent at odd angles, his left eye appeared slightly larger than his right, and the end of his tail had a crink in it that resembled a bent hanger.

  And those weren’t the only oddities to stand out once I’d gotten a good look at him.

  His fur resembled what a comforter would look like after it had been washed too many times. You know, where the fabric begins to pill and the material starts to pull? Well, the tuffs of this cat’s fur made it seem as if he’d been in the battle of his life.

  I have been, thank you. And I blame your grandmother. Why she left me here to deal with you is beyond me.

  “I’ve gone crazy,” I murmured, wishing I’d brought my phone into the back room with me. I could have called Heidi to come and get me. Maybe Nan was putting psychedelics in her special blends. I didn’t feel high, though. I could always have Heidi discreetly sneak me out of town and take me to the nearest hospital. No cat—imaginary or not—should be able to read my mind. I turned around so that I could no longer see it. “I didn’t even reach thirty years old before I lost my sanity. I only had three days left.”

  I’m not an it. I’m a him. And you may call me Mr. Leo. After all, I was supposed to be a Persian leopard, given my service. Ohhh, I would have been glorious had your grandmother not messed up that darn spell. She didn’t listen to me, and now here I am, a leopard stuck in a munchkin housecat’s body. Life truly isn’t fair.

  He was still talking. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  It was then that it hit me. And my understanding would undoubtedly solve Jacob Blackleach’s murder. There was a gas leak in the storage room causing hallucinations to those who were exposed to the fumes.

  It made perfect sense.

  I was hallucinating, and so had Jacob Blackleach. We all assumed that he’d been hit on the head by someone wanting him dead, but what if he’d fainted and hit his head on the corner of the counter on the way down?

  No, he was murdered. That much should be clear.

  “Would you just shut up?” I exclaimed, spinning around and pointing my finger at a nonexistent cat. “Stop talking. I need to think.”

  You need a glass of that wine Heidi left at your house. But alas, so much for getting what we want or need.

  Was the cat supposed to be my subconscious? Did inhaling natural gas cause that type of reaction?

  Not that I’m aware of.

  “How would you know?”

  I dragged the stool closer to me so that I could sit down and think this through. I couldn’t run back to the diner and tell Liam that I was seeing things or else he might suspect that I was going crazy and actually had something to do with the murder, after all. That left me little choice but to stay here and try to figure things out on my own.

  I could help you with that.

  What could it hurt? Maybe my subconscious had answers that I’d somehow suppressed thus far.

  Let me spell this out for you.

  The cat shimmied his crooked tail until he was in a sitting position, his green eyes focused only on me.

  Rosemary Lattice Marigold was a witch, and so are you, little miss.

  My subconscious was not doing a good job of explaining itself, so I slid my eyes to the strings of ivory-colored fairies. Maybe Liam would go easy on me if I turned myself in to his custody to be committed to a mental institution.

  Of course, that would eliminate any chance I had of him asking me out for dinner.

  I wish I could tell you the mental institution was where you belonged, because then my suffering would end. I could then move on to my next incarnation.

  Leo lifted a paw and looked at it lazily as if he wanted to clean himself, but he didn’t have the required energy. Or he could have been studying the one claw that was slightly larger than the others. He sighed as if he were dealing with a petulant child.

  But, alas, I cannot lie. You’re a witch, and I was chosen to stay behind and teach you the ways of your ancestors.

  “The ways of my ancestors? Obviously, my family has a history of mental issues. That would explain quite a lot, actually.” I was making things worse by addressing this strange mirage, but what else could I do? Another thought struck me. “Is Ted even real?”

  Unfortunately, yes.

  Leo licked the side of his paw before stroking his warped whiskers.

  They’re a little crooked, not warped. Look, let’s move this along, shall we? I’m going to prove to you that I’m not a mirage or your so-called subconscious playing tricks on you. After all, we’ve got work to do. So go out front to the counter. There’s a false bottom in the top drawer. You’ll find a ledger with a list of Rosemary’s customers inside, along with what spells she used to create the hex bags you found.

  I could have stayed where I was, looking at one of the most unattractive cats I could have ever created with my overactive imagination. But it was best that I get some fresh air. I’d eventually return and see that I’d done nothing more than inhale some gas fumes that had affected me in an odd way.

  Yes, that was the best course of action.

  I practically dove headfirst through the string of beads. I had every intention of heading straight for the door to breathe in the coastal breeze until I was thinking clearly. After that, I’d place a call to the gas company.

  But something stopped me.

  A false bottom in the top drawer.

  That’s what the cat had said, and as peculiar as that might sound, it would be easy enough to disprove. I tentatively took the last few steps until I was standing behind the cash register. I’d already looked inside the drawer earlier when I’d been dusting and rearranging things to suit my specifications. I hadn’t seen anything unusual. But what could it hurt to check, right?

  I ever so slowly pulled on the knob, which was silly. It wasn’t as if a snake was going to jump out and bite me. Then again, who knew at this point what my overactive imagination could come up with, but an odd-looking cat was totally different than a slimy reptile.

  It didn’t take me long to pull out the pens and papers from inside the drawer. With a little manipulation and a lot of disbelief, I discovered the false bottom. It was right there like he’d said.

  A few realities hit me in that moment, but only one stood out glaringly amongst all the others.

  I was a witch.

  Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t feel like a witch, pointy hat and all. I didn’t have a wart on the end of my nose and my skin wasn’t green. I couldn’t wiggle my nose and have someone disappear, no matter how many times I may have wanted that to happen. Hones
tly, I’ve never done anything in my entire life to ever indicate I had any kind of powers other than inhale caffeine at a rapid pace.

  That’s a misnomer. A true witch can’t wiggle her nose and make some poor sod disappear.

  Leo had come out of nowhere. I’d left him in the back room, and he suddenly appeared next to the cash register.

  I, on the other hand, can disappear anytime I want. I figure we have two minutes before the Bobbsey twins make their way across the street, so I’ll make this quick. You devise power from the earth. At first, Rosemary believed you would come into your gift at eighteen. It was the reason she’d gone to visit you in the city on your eighteenth birthday. When you showed no signs of connecting with the source of your power, she left you and your mother to live your lives in New York. It wasn’t until a few years ago that she’d discovered there was a second occasion in a witch’s natural life where a witch’s powers can be harnessed inside her body at the age of thirty. If your family lineage follows the same pattern as before, you—

  I admit, I was so caught up in Leo’s explanation that I was surprised when he stopped speaking.

  What was I saying?

  “Seriously?” Was Leo toying with me? I wouldn’t put it past this particular imaginary cat, especially seeing as I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. “You were talking about my family’s lineage and something about there being a pattern from before. My thirtieth birthday is in three days.”

  If I wasn’t going certifiably mad, then Leo the cat might actually be telling me the truth.

  It’s Mr. Leo to you.

  The cat’s whiskers twitched in irritation.

  I know I’m speaking with a novice, but surely you’ve watched enough television shows to know that a familiar dies alongside his or her patron. I shouldn’t even be here. I’ve got a few more reincarnations to go. But no, Rosemary wouldn’t listen to reason, and now I’m stuck with you. I could be in my new glorious self, catching all the bigger game and reigning like the king I am on the other side of the rainbow bridge. It’s an atrocity, is what it really is.