Witches' Brew: Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series (Vampires and Wine Book 1)

by Morgana Best

  The shrill sound of the doorbell nearly made me choke on a piece of toast. “We’re not expecting anyone, are we?” Aunt Maude asked.

  “No, we’re not.” Agnes pushed her chair away from the table and pulled herself to her feet. I noticed she and Aunt Maude exchanged glances. The tension rose in the room and set my stomach fluttering. My right eye twitched.

  I sipped some coffee while I waited for Agnes to return. To my surprise, she returned with Sergeant Carteron. He looked a bit sheepish. “I’ve just come to ask a few questions,” he said.

  “But it’s not yet eight in the morning,” Aunt Dorothy protested. “Isn’t it a bit early for interrogations?”

  Sergeant Carteron’s tone was soothing. “Certainly, I don’t intend to interrogate you. No one here’s a suspect. I start work at nine, so I wanted to come around first and ask some questions off the record.”

  “Off the record?” I repeated.

  “Yes.” He shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Would you like some coffee?” I asked him. “Please have a seat.”

  He thanked me and sat down, but it was only when he did so that I was aware of the tension at the table. My aunts clearly didn’t want the sergeant to sit with us, and I didn’t know why. The sergeant himself appeared oblivious to the taut atmosphere and thanked me warmly when I handed him a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Aren’t the detectives the ones investigating this matter?” Agnes asked, fixing him with a steely glare.

  “Yes, and that’s why I’m here off the record,” the sergeant explained. When no one spoke further, he continued. “I know I haven’t been in town long, but I’m quite attached to Lighthouse Bay. In fact, I intend to stay here for years. The detectives are from out of town and don’t have the same vested interest.”

  “Are you saying they’re not exactly doing their job?” I asked.

  “I’m not saying that,” the sergeant said with a wink, “but I would like to do a bit of nosing around on my own, entirely off the record.”

  “Do the detectives have any new information?” Agnes asked him. “Since you’ve told us your secret, I thought you could share that information with us.”

  I had to admire her. That was a veiled threat, if ever I’d heard one. I wondered if the sergeant realised that she was subtly threatening to tell the detectives he was asking questions if he didn’t share information with us.

  If the sergeant harboured any resentment, he didn’t show it. “The detectives are quite stumped, to be honest,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. If I share some information with you, can I have your word it won’t go any further?”

  All four of us nodded, but I could see my aunts were still eyeing him warily.

  “They think it’s tied up with your guest, Lucas O’Callaghan.” He smiled as if he had given us a piece of juicy information.

  “But that’s obvious,” I said. “The victim was the wine scientist working for the winery, the winery that Lucas O’Callaghan has just inherited, and the body was thrown at his feet only minutes after he arrived in town. What’s more, they were related. Of course it’s not a coincidence, Sergeant Carteron.”

  The sergeant was still smiling. “Please call me Owen. And my policing instincts are usually fairly good, Valkyrie, if I may call you Valkyrie?”

  I shook my head. “Please call me Pepper.”

  “Pepper. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He leaned across the table, and I could feel a shift in the room.

  “I’m not deliberately withholding information from you, but something happened just before you arrived. I was going to call the detectives later and tell them.”

  His eyes glittered with an almost animal alertness, like a dog when offered a treat. “What is it?”

  “I was just outside, wondering how anyone managed to get up on the roof, and that’s when I realised there was the tall Alder tree. I used to climb the lower limbs as a child when I visited my aunts. There’s a fork low in the tree, and there’s a fork higher up.” I was about to mention that Lucas had climbed the tree, when the butterflies in my stomach started again and my right eye twitched. I interpreted that as a warning not to mention his name—why, I didn’t know, but I went with it. “I climbed onto the lower fork and then looked up the tree. I could see broken branches up high. I wouldn’t be able to climb up there, but I’m sure anyone who was athletic would be able to climb it. There were quite a few broken tree branches. I’m sure they’d be able to get hair and blood samples from it. I think that was the way the murderer got onto the roof.”

  The sergeant looked at me with admiration. “You’re quite the detective, aren’t you?” I didn’t know how to respond, but he pushed on. “Still, I caution you to be safe. Just leave the detecting to the detectives.”

  “But you’re taking the detective work into your own hands,” Aunt Agnes pointed out.

  “I’m a police officer.”

  We were silent; there was no comeback to that.

  The sergeant turned his attention to me. “Pepper, call the detectives and tell them exactly what you told me, but please don’t mention I was here.”

  I agreed.

  He set down his coffee cup. “Well, that will be all, ladies. Thanks for the coffee. Pepper, would you walk me out?”

  “Sure.” I wondered what he wanted to say to me, and I could see that the aunts did, too. They tried to mask their concern, but I could see through it, as I knew them well. I doubted the sergeant would know anything was amiss.

  He didn’t say anything on the walk to the door, even when we had to skirt the police tape. I opened the door for him.

  He stood in the doorway, and faced me. “Valkyrie, sorry, Pepper, would you have lunch with me today?”

  I nodded awkwardly and muttered something unintelligible. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t particularly want to have lunch with him, but I couldn’t think up an excuse on the spur of the moment. After all, I wasn’t used to attractive men asking me out and me having to come up with an answer to refuse them.

  “Do you know where the Tall Olives Italian Restaurant is? It’s in the main street.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find it easily enough,” I said, wondering if it was still too late to come up with a good excuse to refuse.

  “Okay then, see you at twelve. My shift ends at twelve, so don’t worry if I’m a few minutes late.” He shot me one last smile and walked out the door.

  I shut the door, locked it, and leaned back against it. What on earth had I gotten myself into? I hadn’t come to Lighthouse Bay to look for a date, far from it. And as attractive and as handsome as the sergeant was, there was just something off about him. There was no chemistry there. Besides, a man had just been murdered only a short distance from where I now stood.

  I was still leaning against the door when Aunt Agnes came into the room. “What did he want?” she asked me.

  “He asked me to join him for lunch today.”

  Aunt Maude made to speak, but Agnes shushed her. “And how do you feel about that, Valkyrie?”

  I walked over to them. “I don’t really want to go, but couldn’t think up a suitable excuse on the spot.”

  “Just keep your wits about you and you’ll be okay,” Aunt Agnes said.

  I thought that a strange thing to say, but before I could ask her what she meant, the three aunts turned and left the room. I shrugged. Perhaps she didn’t mean anything by it.

  “You made sure to lock the front door, didn’t you?” Agnes called out to me over her shoulder.

  I answered in the affirmative, but just then the doorbell rang. The aunts came back to the edge of the room.

  I opened the door, to see the two detectives, Banks and Anderson, on the doorstep. “May we come in?” Detective Anderson asked before I had a chance to speak. I opened the door wide by way of answer. “We’ll take the police tape down now, and you ladies are free to use the foyer again.”

  The aunts converged on them. “Valkyrie, tell the detectives
what you just found out,” Agnes said in a commanding tone.

  “I was just about to call you,” I said. “I remembered that I used to climb the big tree at the side of the house when I was a child, and it occurred to me that the murderer reached the roof by way of the tree. I went out to the tree this morning and had a look, and I could see another fork higher up the tree. I figured if the murderer was a very agile person, then he would’ve been able to climb the tree all the way to the roof while carrying a body.”

  Anderson and Banks looked at each other, and I had the sensation that they already knew. And then again, I supposed they did. The tree surely presented the only possible logical explanation.

  Instead of responding, Anderson asked, “Do you have a dog as a pet?”

  The black cat walked past and hissed at the detectives. “No, we don’t have dogs,” Aunt Agnes said. “We’re cat people, not dog people.”

  “Yes, we like dogs,” Maude said, “but we’re those stereotypical old cat ladies that you see on TV. You know, the ones who are spinsters and are surrounded by cats. We’re only surrounded by one cat. Not that one cat can surround anyone, but I’m sure you know what I mean.”

  I zoned out as she continued to babble away. I thought that a rather strange thing for the detective to say, and it had obviously startled Aunt Agnes, judging by the look she was giving him.

  “Have you seen any dogs around here lately?” Anderson asked.

  We all shook our heads. “And the guests don’t have pets either,” Aunt Dorothy added.

  “You don’t allow pets here?” Banks asked.

  Aunt Agnes nodded. “Yes, we do allow pets, because our business consists of self-contained cottages. The cottages all have small fenced yards, and we’re a pet friendly establishment. It’s just that the current guests don’t have pets.”

  I had a sudden moment of clarity. “You’ve already taken samples from the tree, haven’t you? And you found dog hair there, so the murderer is someone who owns a pet dog.” I said it more as a statement than a question.

  Detective Banks’s expression did not change, but he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned backward. “I can’t comment on that, but I ask you not to make that remark to anyone else.”

  I nodded. At least it was good to know the detectives were on the job after all, and had already taken samples from the tree. Yet surely wouldn’t Sergeant Carteron know that? I supposed not, upon reflection. From the little I knew of detectives, they didn’t share their information with the uniformed police unless they had to.

  Detective Banks stepped forward. “Nothing happened last night? You didn’t hear any noises?”

  We all said that we hadn’t. I was still stuck on the idea of the pet dog. “Remember I told you that I heard growling in the bushes when I arrived? Perhaps the murderer’s pet dog was with him.”

  Sergeant Anderson’s usually impassive face crinkled into a frown. “It seems unlikely the murderer would take a pet with him when he was about to perpetrate a crime,” he said.

  I at once felt foolish. “Of course.” I added, “But it is strange that I heard a loud growl in the bushes only moments before the man was murdered.”

  Aunt Agnes patted my arm. “Oh well, Valkyrie, the police know what they’re doing. I’m sure they’ll have that that nasty murderer behind bars in no time at all, and then we’ll all feel safe at night in our beds. Isn’t that right, Detective?”

  “We’re doing our best,” he said gruffly. “Good day, ladies.”

  I watched the detectives walk down the flagstone pathway. I had the feeling the aunts knew something that they weren’t telling me. I considered asking them, but I knew them well enough to know that they wouldn’t share information unless they truly wanted to do so. There was no way I’d be able to get anything out of them.

  My right eye twitched.

  Chapter 10

  Owen snapped his fingers at the waiter as we hovered in the lobby, waiting to be seated. I cringed. Any man who snaps at a waiter is not a man I was all that keen on seeing. I thought I wouldn’t actually mind seeing Lucas, what with the dark blue eyes and the stubble and that jacket, the one who likely said, ‘Yes, I ride a motorcycle, and yes, I did lots of naughty things in high school and yes, I am my grandmother’s favourite, because she’s always found my devilish antics charming.’

  “Are you okay?” Owen asked, pressing his hand into the small of my back as we walked towards our table. The table was at the back, near a spreading fern.

  “Fine,” I replied. “Fine.” I was lying, of course. What was I doing here? I knew the answer. I was here because I wasn’t fast enough to think on my feet, and because I was probably more of a people-pleaser than I wanted to admit. My first instinct had been to refuse, and I should have done so. Still, I was here now, and I would just have to make the most of it, whatever that entailed.

  I sat in silence while Owen studied the menu. I usually didn’t have an appetite before five in the afternoon, but I made up for it after that. The aunts had not wanted me to have lunch with Owen, and I didn’t know why. That only served to reinforce the feeling I had that the aunts were hiding something from me. And then there was the mysterious room. What was that strange sound, and the strange light that came from it?

  Still, it was awfully kind of the aunts to offer me a job, and it was lovely to have family around me again. My mind wandered to my parents, and I tried not to think about them. It was too upsetting; not knowing what had happened was torture in itself.

  Were the aunts doing something illegal, and was that why they didn’t want me to get too close to Owen? If they were doing something illegal, then they clearly weren’t putting the proceeds back into the business. I had spent the last few hours going over the books, and while I wasn’t mathematically inclined, even I could see that they were barely breaking even.

  Still, there was plenty I could do to improve the business. A decent website with online booking was the first thing I had to do, and then I had to change the decor of the cottages. Not surprisingly, not one person online had praised the themed cottages. Rather, they had made disparaging, even cutting, remarks.

  I was sure I would be able to improve the business by attending to the major problems. The cottages did not afford a sea view, but I did not think that would be a problem given that the beach was only a short walk away. The cottages themselves were well presented from the outside, and the grounds were nicely kept. I was optimistic I would be able to improve the occupancy rates. However, Mugwort Manor looked unkempt from the outside, but that was the least of my worries. I pulled out my iPhone and made a list: fix the themes; change the website; enable online booking.

  I smiled and looked up at Owen, but he was still staring at the menu. Clearly, he was a man who took his food seriously. I turned my attention to the menu just as I saw the waiter making his way towards us.

  The waiter looked at me expectantly, his pen paused over his notepad. “Could I have the Greek salad please, but no onions?” I said.

  “We don’t have onions in our Greek salad,” he said with a superior air.

  “Onions make me quite sick, so I always have to check,” I said. It was bad enough having food intolerances, without encountering the attitude that intolerances prompted from time to time in some of the hospitality industry.

  He turned up his nose and looked at Owen. “I’ll have the largest T-bone steak you have, rare, with mushroom sauce, fries, and vegetables.” The waiter scrawled for a moment and then handed Owen the wine list.

  Owen handed it to me. “Do you see anything you like?”

  I handed it back to him. “I’m not a big wine drinker. You choose. Hey, what about the local wine, the one that Lucas O’Callaghan’s family makes?”

  By the look on his face, anyone would have thought I had suggested a glassful of squashed funnel web spiders.

  “Oh, isn’t his wine any good?” I hastened to say.

  “Oh no, nothing like that,” he said. “I’m sure it’s excel
lent wine, but I just prefer this one.” He tapped his finger on the wine menu.

  “Yes, that will suit me fine,” I said. I wondered about his strange reaction. I was sure I hadn’t imagined it. I also wondered why he had invited me to lunch. He hadn’t flirted with me, even in the most minimal way. He hadn’t done so much as say I looked nice.

  For the first time since we had met outside the door of the restaurant, Owen turned his attention to me. “So, Pepper, why did you return to Lighthouse Bay?”

  “I haven’t returned as such,” I said, “because I’ve never lived here. I visited many times as a child, but my parents didn’t get on too well with my aunts.”

  He interrupted me. “Why was that?”

  “They never did say specifically, but I guess it was because my aunts are quite eccentric.”

  The waiter came over and poured wine for Owen to taste. He did so quickly, and then the waiter poured wine into our glasses. I sipped the wine, and thought it not as good as the wine that Lucas had brought to dinner the previous night, but of course I kept my opinions to myself.

  “So where are you from?”

  I set down my wine glass. “Sydney. I did my degree in Classical Literature there, and then just a variety of temporary jobs.”

  “What sort of job would someone get after doing that type of degree?” He downed his glass in one go and then poured himself another.

  I laughed. “That’s just the point. There really isn’t one, but I suppose I should’ve thought of that before I started the degree.”

  Owen raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t think of a career path before you enrolled?”

  I shook my head. His tone appeared to be lecturing, but perhaps I was just overly sensitive.

  The food arrived, and Owen tucked into it greedily. The conversation came to a complete halt while we ate. I wasn’t particularly hungry, so picked the olives out of my salad to eat them. It didn’t take me long, but by the time I did so, Owen had finished his meal. He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.