Spellcheck Witch Cozy Mystery Series

by Morgana Best

  Spellcheck

  The Kitchen Witch Book 7

  Morgana Best

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Next Book In This Series

  Also by Morgana Best

  About Morgana Best

  Copyright © 2017 by Morgana Best

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The personal names have been invented by the author, and any likeness to the name of any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book may contain references to specific commercial products, process or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and/or trade names of products, which are trademarks or registered trademarks and/or trade names, and these are property of their respective owners. Morgana Best or her associates, have no association with any specific commercial products, process, or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and / or trade names of products.

  By this act

  And words of rhyme

  Trouble not

  These books of mine

  With these words I now thee render

  Candle burn and bad return

  3 times stronger to its sender.

  (Ancient Celtic)

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  The doorbell rang just as I was getting out of the shower. I smacked my head. Camino was early. I had promised Camino we would have a girls’ afternoon watching trashy television, and that meant I had to wear one of her infamous onesies. She had come over the night before and left me a selection of three.

  Alder had been staying at my place the last few days, but had slept the whole time. I had ordered in meals for him—after all, I didn’t want to kill him—and after he had eaten, he had gone back to sleep. I supposed being shot does that to someone. Still, he was recovering nicely, and today was spending the entire day at the hospital for a round of tests.

  I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped into the bedroom, where the onesies were laid out on my bed. The first was a dinosaur onesie, complete with a huge tail that would no doubt sweep into chairs and tables, causing a huge mess. I immediately discarded that onesie and looked at the second. It was an elephant onesie, and the ears were enormous, at least twice the size of my head.

  The last onesie was suspiciously normal. There was no huge tail and there were no huge ears. It was just red, and a nice red at that, one which would go well against my skin tone. Without looking, I grabbed the closest pair of undies and a bra, put them on, threw on the onesie, and hurried to answer the door. If I wasn’t so rushed, maybe I’d have been suspicious as to why there was a pleasant cool breeze on my bottom.

  “Hello, Camino,” I said, flinging open the door. “Ready for a girls’ afternoon in?”

  “Yes,” she said with delight. “I’m so glad Mint’s helping Thyme at the store, so we can have the afternoon off.” She looked me up and down, clearly doing her best to disguise her disappointment at my lack of animal-themed onesie. She was wearing a kangaroo onesie, but instead of a joey, her pouch was filled with snacks. “Will the house let us watch the Married At First Sight marathon?”

  I nodded. “I think so. She’s been watching The Biggest Loser, and she’s been letting me watch whatever I want on TV if I eat at the same time.”

  Camino nodded, and while it didn’t make much sense to me, I hoped against hope that a treadmill or an elliptical trainer wouldn’t suddenly appear in the living room, given the house’s current fondness for The Biggest Loser. It also didn’t make much sense that the house was inhabited by my departed grandmother, Thelma Spelled. I had only discovered this fact the past week, and it was taking quite some getting used to.

  An hour into our television and junk food session, I was beginning to come around to this onesie idea, given there was so much room in it even after downing packet after packet of popcorn and chocolate. I didn’t get a chance to think on this any longer because the door bell rang for a second time that afternoon, only this time I wasn’t expecting anyone, because Alder was meant to be at the hospital, otherwise I’d have changed.

  “Amelia.”

  I opened the door to Alder, who was looking very dashing, albeit still pale. He looked me up and down, trying not to smile.

  “You’re back early,” I said abruptly, trying not to sound too horrified. At least he was used to Camino’s onesies.

  “Lovely to see you, too,” he said with a laugh.

  I turned to let him into the house. I was about to say more, when there was a strange muffled sound.

  I turned to see Alder doubled over. “Are you okay?” I was dismayed to see he was clutching the spot where he had been shot.

  Camino, the giant kangaroo, hopped over. “How are you, Alder?”

  “I’m fine,” Alder said, although both eyes were twitching. “They’ve given me the all clear. I can go home now.”

  I hoped my disappointment wasn’t too apparent. I had hoped for romantic nights, sitting side by side, watching movies, and then kissing, to be honest. Yet there had been none of that. I found that strange, given that we were dating. Still, the man had been shot, and his face was an unpleasant shade of pale green. “Surely you can’t go back to work yet,” I said, as we walked into the living room.

  Alder shook his head. “No, only paperwork for me for a while, I’m afraid. It’s been so good of you to look after me.” I nodded and bent down to stop Willow and Hawthorn scratching the side of the sofa instead of their expensive scratching post, as cats like to do, when Alder’s voice broke into a snuffling sound. After a moment, he composed himself. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Captain America.”

  It took me a moment to understand what had happened. I excused myself and hurried to the bathroom, where I turned and looked in the mirror. The onesie had a bottom flap, and that bottom flap was swinging freely open, revealing the Captain America undies I’d thrown on without thinking.

  That does it, I thought, embarrassment burning up my face. I can never see Alder again.

  Chapter 2

  “It’s not that funny, Thyme,” I said in the sternest voice I could muster. “You can’t imagine how embarrassed I was.”

  Thyme was laughing too hard to respond. I ignored her and continued packing the cupcakes. Today, Ruprecht and his granddaughter, Mint, were minding the cupcake store while Thyme and I attended a sponsored-by-my-store morning tea for Happy Valley Gardens, the local aged care facility. Camino was on barista duty as usual. I was providing the cupcakes for the event, and after my afternoon off yesterday, I had gone back to the store to make sure everything was all right. Still, it had been hard to concentrate, given the onesie disaster and the fact that Alder had moved out.

  It had been so nice having him in close proximity for the last few days, even though all he did was sleep and
eat. I wondered idly if he was turning into a cat. It wasn’t as if I had seen much of him. Still, even the house now seemed a little sadder without him. Willow and Hawthorn certainly missed him.

  I ate one of the chocolate frosted, triple chocolate cupcakes greedily. I had always been a comfort eater, and I’d had a few shocks in the last week. Not only had that dreadful woman tried to kill me, but I had found out the shocking news about my grandmother, Thelma Spelled. That explained a lot, especially why the house liked watching TV. Apparently, my grandmother had been a powerful witch and that was why the house was now powerful. And to think my grandfather was somehow inhabiting the garden, or haunting it, if you will. Despite the fact I had seen so many strange things since I moved to Bayberry Creek, this was the most surprising of all.

  Without thinking, I popped a lemon meringue tart in my mouth.

  “Hey,” Thyme’s voice resonated from behind me, “you’re not supposed to eat the merchandise, boss!”

  I swallowed the last morsel guiltily. “I didn’t mean to,” I said with a sigh. “It’s just that so much is going on.”

  “You mean Alder moving out? It’s not as if you’ve broken up, Amelia. You knew he was only going to stay there a few days.”

  “Sure,” I said, “but it’s this whole Grandmother Thelma thing as well. It’s hard to come to grips with it. The way Marina explained it to me, Thelma is not exactly haunting the house, she is the house. Well, it’s not exactly that—she can sort of become the house. It all takes a lot of getting used to.”

  Thyme finished packing the last of the red velvet cupcakes into a box before turning to me. “Surely it’s not that much of a surprise. After all, the house has been doing strange things for ages, like scaring away bad people, even adding new rooms. When I found out it was your grandmother, it all made sense to me. You seem to have had the opposite reaction.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. It’s not just that. I have an uneasy feeling. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “It’s probably everything adding up,” Thyme said as she stacked one box on top of the other. “What with Selena turning out to be the murderer, and finding out Alder had been shot and then him staying with you, and then finding out that everything the house had done was due to your grandmother—well, that’s an awful shock for anyone, even a powerful witch.”

  I rubbed my forehead. An uneasy feeling was growing in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t from all the cupcakes I had consumed while organising the catering. I shook my head. “No, there’s something else. I have this weird feeling and I just can’t explain it.”

  “You’re probably tired, that’s all.” Thyme looked around. “Have we forgotten anything? Let’s go. Don’t worry Amelia, you probably just need a good sleep.”

  I followed Thyme to the door. I sure hoped she was right. I had been up early, preparing everything and getting the store ready for Ruprecht and Mint. Plus, the town was favouring us more and more for catering jobs and I had to focus. I had to put Alder and Grandmother Thelma out of my mind, at least for the morning, and concentrate on the event.

  I had been looking forward to the event, the morning tea at the aged care facility for the frail and elderly. I was keen to become involved in helping the community. Apparently Aunt Angelica had run this event every now and then, and I was looking forward to doing it on a more regular basis.

  I had never been to Happy Valley Gardens before—why would I? I didn’t have any relatives in town. The most elderly people I knew were Ruprecht and Camino, and they were hardly all that elderly.

  I found the place readily enough. After all, it was a small town and everyone knew where everything was. Plus Thyme was being a backseat driver as usual. However, unlike the usually very wide streets of Australia, the streets leading to the facility were quite narrow, causing me to pull over several times to let traffic past.

  When I reached the buildings, I gave them the once over. They were long, low, and brick, with well manicured lawns and rose gardens behind a high iron fence. It looked somewhat forbidding, a little like a prison. I could almost imagine one of the residents making a run for it, and being tackled to the ground by a burly nurse. I shook my head to dispel the image. I would have to do something about my overactive imagination.

  My sense of foreboding increased, as Thyme directed me to a parking spot. I opened the car boot, and looked at all the boxes. “Oh well, might as well make a start if nobody comes out to help us,” I said as I reached in for a box.

  Thyme and I were halfway to the building, struggling under a load of stacked boxes, when a nurse hurried over. “Thank you so much,” she squealed. “Can I have a look?”

  Without waiting for me to respond, she opened the lid of the top box I was carrying, and promptly emitted another squeal of delight. “Oh, those look delicious!”

  I wondered if she knew they were for the residents and not the staff. “Come this way,” she said, as she took off at a fast pace.

  Thyme and I followed her into a spotlessly clean, stainless steel kitchen.

  I nearly gagged at the strong smell of disinfectant as I placed the boxes on a stainless steel bench. Someone dressed in white, I assume a cook, came over, and we introduced ourselves. “That’s so kind of you to help out,” she said. “Let’s plate these up and take them straight in. The residents are waiting. By the way, here at Happy Valley Gardens, we provide a superior level of accommodation and services to our residents. Now please make sure you call them residents and not patients. Most are frail and elderly, but we think of them as guests.” Her voice trailed off in a monotone, and I assumed it was a well-rehearsed and oft-delivered speech.

  Soon Thyme and I were following the nurse and the cook into a room full of residents. The room looked comfortable, with various comfortable chairs, bookcases filled with books, and even a desktop computer in the corner of the room.

  A short, wiry woman marched over to us, snatched a cupcake from the plate and shoved it in her mouth. She smelled overpoweringly of mothballs, and the smell did not combine pleasantly with the pervading odour of disinfectant. I did my best to resist the urge to run outside and take a deep breath. “You’re the cake store owner, aren’t you?” the woman said.

  I nodded, looking the woman up and down. I didn’t know whether she was a resident or a nurse. She was dressed in long brown pants and an orange shirt. While she appeared to be elderly, she didn’t look frail like the other residents. Rather, she had a commanding air about her. “Yes I am, Amelia Spelled. Have we met?” I wondered how she knew that I, and not Thyme, was the owner.

  “I suppose you’re wondering how I knew you were the owner?” she said forcefully, mirroring my thoughts. I nodded. “Well, look at you! You’re a bit chubby, aren’t you? It’s clear you’ve been eating your merchandise. Your friend there,” she said, nodding to Thyme, “is skinny, but I can’t say the same for you! My advice to you is to lay off eating cupcakes, or you won’t be turning much of a profit.”

  With that, the woman turned on her heel and marched over to the other residents.

  The nurse who had met us, who had introduced herself as Jane, leant in to whisper to me. “Don’t let Celia get to you. I could strangle that woman! She’s an outright…”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Celia yelled out to us. “Don’t just stand there, you silly things. Put the cakes on the table. Can’t you see we’re all starved? Our families pay high fees to have us here and all they do is starve us and feed us rice and water.”

  I was shocked. I looked at Thyme, and saw her mouth was hanging open. I had been expecting elderly and even ill people, but I hadn’t expected to receive a tongue lashing. And those personal remarks! Surely they were uncalled-for.

  It soon became apparent that the other residents didn’t find Celia particularly likeable. An elderly man next to her struggled to his feet and feebly made his way to sit elsewhere. That left Celia sitting next to an elderly lady, both of them on a row of chairs along
the back wall, a rather unpleasant salmon pink wall upon which were many faded, framed photographs hanging at an assortment of angles. I looked at the other wall. It consisted of large glass windows overlooking the garden, but the view was spoilt by flounces that framed the windows in various shades of pink and beige in mismatching patterns, and at that, in a particularly hideous fabric. I shuddered. The facility should be arrested for crimes against interior design.

  “Now, let’s have some music, Sarah,” Jane said in a soothing tone. She nodded to another nurse I hadn’t seen enter.

  Once again Celia spoke up. “Don’t put on that horrid old people’s music that all these wretched old people like,” she said. “Can’t you put on something modern like Dolly Parton?”

  The nurses exchanged glances. I wondered what Celia was doing at the nursing facility. She didn’t look frail at all. In fact, she looked like she could easily live independently. Still, I wasn’t a doctor, and she probably had a condition I didn’t know about.

  I looked over to see Jane was speaking to me. “Sorry,” I said. “I was distracted. I know you can’t tell me, but I just wondered why Celia was in an aged care facility. She looks so strong.”

  Jane pursed her lips. “Yes, she certainly is strong. She was a farmer for years, a sheep farmer from western New South Wales. She can probably out arm-wrestle any of the stronger male visiting doctors.”

  “She sure has attitude,” I said, in something of an understatement.

  Jane smiled at me. “To tell the truth, she’s the most unpopular resident here. Even her so-called best friend, Edith, can’t stand her. She makes that woman’s life a living hell.” Jane gestured to the frail looking lady sitting next to Celia. Celia appeared to be berating her for something and Edith looked quite put out. “Poor Edith’s just had a bad bout of flu, too, so the last thing she needs is that dreadful woman on her case.”