A Cereal Killer (A Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery, Book 1)

by Morgana Best

  "But you already knew," I said, ignoring the subject of Cressida thinking that her cat spoke to her. "I'd texted you by then."

  "Of all days for this to happen, too," Blake said. "The one time we'd all been called to Tamworth, and this happened. I'm just glad you left me a message and turned on your phone before you went into your cottage."

  I shuddered, and blinked back the tears. This could have all gone so horribly wrong.

  Another officer approached the car and called Blake over. Blake patted my shoulder a couple times before leaving. I figured it was his way of trying to comfort me. "I’ll come back soon, and drive you home. Constable Wright will drive your van back for you. You'll have to come into the station tomorrow to give your statement. No rush; just when you feel up to it. We have your whole conversation with Alison recorded anyway."

  I didn’t remember anything about the drive back home. I slept all the way; it had been a thoroughly exhausting day. I only woke up when the police vehicle pulled to stop. I staggered out of the car, feeling utterly exhausted.

  My van was already there. I assumed Constable Wright had driven it, as he walked over and gave my keys to Blake. After the two spoke in whispers, the constable left.

  "Come on, I’ll get you inside," Blake said.

  "Oh no, let me go ahead and make sure Max is all right," I said. "He can be funny with men."

  I hurried to the door and opened it, and then flipped on the light switch. Max was perched on the back of my sofa. I beckoned to Blake, who hurried in the door.

  "Oh, Max is a cockatoo," he said with some relief.

  I wondered who Blake had thought Max was, but then the next words out of Max's beak caused my face to turn beet red.

  "Max! That's enough." I turned to Blake. "I'm so sorry. I went to Rockhampton today to collect him from my ex-husband. Max never said anything like that before. He was always a very polite cockatoo."

  "*&$%##&," Max said again, causing me to gasp.

  I hurried over and picked him up, and then took him to the garden room at the back of the cottage. "Stay in there, you naughty bird."

  As I walked out of the room, Max called out after me, "Yes, your bum does look big in that."

  I was furious. My ex-husband must have spent quite some time teaching Max rude words just to upset me. He must have fully intended to send him back to me, all this time, along with a new and, shall we say, interesting vocabulary.

  I found Blake in my kitchen. "I'll make you a hot cup of tea before I go," he said. "Would you like something to eat?"

  "No thanks," I said. "I couldn’t handle eating right now."

  Blake shot me a look of sympathy. "Go and sit on the sofa. You've had a hard day."

  "That’s for sure," I said. "I've had long flights, spoken to my ex-husband which is bad at the best of times, and then Alison tried to kill me." I tried hard not to cry. "My ex-husband, Andrew, tried to kill me too. I knew he wasn't a nice person, but…" My words trailed away as the full import sunk in. I knew my ex-husband was a low life, but never in a million years would I have guessed that he was a murderer. I supposed he wouldn’t have been able to do the deed himself, but sanctioning it was certainly bad enough. He had agreed that Alison kill Tim Higgins, and also wanted her to kill me. A big tear rolled down my cheek.

  I looked over at Blake who was carefully stirring sugar into my tea. It was nice to have someone to look after me for a change, to bring me a cup of tea and care for me. Maybe one day when I had gotten over the fact that my ex-husband had tried to murder me, I would be able to consider dating again.

  Just as Blake handed me the cup, Max screeched again. "You're ugly!"

  I jumped, and spilled some of the tea down my shirt. "I'm okay," I said to Blake, who had a look of concern plastered on his face. "Thanks for the tea and the ride home."

  Blake looked awkward. "Will you be all right, or should I send Cressida over?"

  "No, I'm fine, thank you," I assured him. My hand flew to my mouth. "What about Cressida and Mr. Buttons? Has anyone told them about Alison?"

  Blake nodded. "Constable Wright was on his way to do that. Well, if you're sure you’re okay, I'll go. Don’t forget to drop by the police station in the morning to give your statement."

  "I will; thanks for everything."

  With that, Blake left, and I was all alone in my cottage, all alone that is, except for my trash talking cockatoo.

  * * *

  The following morning, I was driving back home from giving my statement at the police station. As I passed the boarding house, Cressida waved me down. "Lord Farringdon says he'd like you to join us for morning tea."

  How could I refuse? I nodded, and parked my car.

  Soon I was sitting in the main living room at the boarding house with Cressida, Mr. Buttons, Lord Farringdon, and Sandy. Of course I had to tell Cressida and Mr. Buttons about the whole sordid events of the previous day, and it was no fun recounting any of it at all.

  “No offence Sibyl, but Lord Farringdon says dogs shouldn’t be allowed inside,” Cressida said, “although I don’t mind. Oh, stop glaring at me, Lord Farringdon.”

  As if on cue, Lord Farringdon hissed at Sandy, who hurried over to slobber on my knee. Mr. Buttons pulled out a white, linen handkerchief and rubbed my knee hard.

  On the upside, I was drinking English Breakfast tea out of delicate, fine bone china, and eating cucumber sandwiches which were sliced into little triangles and were missing their crusts. The taste was beginning to grow on me.

  "You know," I said. "I came to Little Tatterford for a life of peace and quiet. It looks like I might finally get it, with all this behind me."

  Cressida and Mr. Buttons agreed. I supposed Lord Farringdon did too, but he just sat there, while Sandy drooled.

  Mr. Buttons pulled a set of tarot cards from his pocket, and unwrapped the cards from their crimson velvet covering. "I'll just draw a card."

  "No," Cressida and I said in unison. "I’d rather not know," I added, but it was too late.

  He pulled out a card, The Tower. A look of horror crossed his face.

  * * * * The End * * * *

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  * * *

  Watch for Book TWO in the Sibyl Potts Cozy Mystery series.

  Murder Most Fowl

  When one of the new boarders is found murdered, eccentric boarding house owner Cressida Upthorpe soon becomes the main suspect. Sibyl Potts, with the help of Mr. Buttons, launches into the investigation, much to the consternation of stressed police officer Blake Wessley. As the body count mounts, will Sibyl be able to clear Cressida's name and find the real killer?

  * * *

  You might also enjoy Morgana Best's #1 Best Selling series: The Misty Sales Cozy Mystery Series.

  Book ONE in the Misty Sales Cozy Mystery Series.

  A Motive for Murder

  Misty Sales is a slightly overweight journalist for a paranormal magazine in Australia. While her social life is almost non existent, she does have one skill: while wearing shapewear and with her reading glasses perched on her nose, she can out-research the best of them, especially when her caffeine levels are high.

  When sent to England to write articles about alchemists of the past, Misty has no sooner arrived than she finds the body of her elderly Aunt, and at once inherits her Aunt's feisty cat, Diva. Misty is suddenly drawn into a web of intrigue, secret societies, and the mystical.

  What secret of her aunt's gave someone a motive for murder?

  As time runs out, Misty races to put the pieces together before she becomes the next victim.

  Book TWO in the Misty Sales Cozy Animal Mystery series.

  A Reason For Murder

  What do Voodoo spirit bottles have to do with the ghosts in an Australian touristy village? Plenty, as Misty Sales discovers to her detriment. Morpeth, once an early riv
er port of Australia but now famous for its ghosts, plays host to Misty's latest mystery. Misty Sales, journalist for a paranormal magazine, is back from London, having been made Keeper of a Society about which she knows nothing. Her caffeine habit is out of control, as is her job security, and her cat, Diva, is more unpredictable than ever. Even Misty's life is left in the balance, as her Editor sends her to write about the ghosts of Morpeth. In danger, in shapewear, and in debt, Misty matches wits against an unseen enemy. He attacks Misty with natural and unnatural means, while Misty hits back hard with facts.

  Book THREE in the Misty Sales Cozy Animal Mystery series.

  A Basis for Murder.

  It's Welsh Druids meets an ancient Australian evil in Misty's latest mystery. Misty finds out more about the Society of which she is Keeper - but can she trust the men in her life? Sent to the Australian village of Hillgrove which has a violent history, Misty is marked by an ancient evil to become Hillgrove's latest victim.

  As soon as Misty sets foot in town, she finds her contact has died suddenly. The police rule it as an accident, but Misty is not so sure. Misty has to multi task to fulfill her assignment and somehow manage to stay alive as two categories of killers, human and non-human, close in on her.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Morgana Best lives in country Australia, and is owned by one highly demanding cat and two less demanding dogs. She runs an animal sanctuary not-for-profit.