Spelling Mistake (The Kitchen Witch Book 4)

by Morgana Best

  All the blood drained from my face.

  Chapter 10

  The entity finished his speech, and then handed the microphone over to an actual Councilor, who at once commenced a boring speech in a monotone. This time, I didn’t mind. I was glad to be surrounded by boredom while I tried to collect my thoughts. Had I muttered that I’d like to kill Scott Plank? I didn’t recall doing so, but then again, it was entirely possible.

  By the end of the speech, I had come to the conclusion that there was nothing I could do about the entity, not right now. Ruprecht would have to be the one to dispatch it. It was still possible, even likely, that Scott was murdered by a human. I had to look into that option, and this service was the best place to do it. I knew that people would mingle after the service, and so we were likely to be mingling with the murderer. Then again, detectives might arrest someone in the next few days, with any luck. I tried to force myself to feel optimistic.

  My phone vibrated, and I pulled it from my pocket. It was an incoming call from a number I didn’t recognize. I whispered to Thyme, “I have to take this,” and hurried outside.

  It was Detective Greene. “Miss Spelled, we’re finished with your store now. You’re free to return.” With that, he hung up. While I was pleased I could return to my store, I was puzzled that he hadn’t said more. It would have been good if he had let on whether or not he thought I was a suspect, or whether he had information on the case.

  Once I was outside, I had a wicked urge to go and get coffee and then return when the service was over, but I resisted my bad self and went back inside.

  Two hours later, the service was drawing to a close. Everyone was yawning, whether from the lack of oxygen in the musty building or from sheer boredom, I had no idea.

  I stood up, and then realized that my back had stopped hurting. Well, that was something to be grateful for. I turned around and saw Mint shaking Camino gently. She had been snoring, although I had mistaken the sound for the noise of the ceiling fan.

  The five of us walked over to the refreshments table, where chocolate cookies, plain cookies, and two urns filled with hot water along with jars of instant coffee and packets of teabags, filled every available surface. I eyed the instant coffee with alarm.

  “Low budget,” Thyme said to me. “They must’ve spent all their money on catering for the new building. Well, our offering will be vastly better than this.”

  Ruprecht spoke from behind us. “You two split up. Go and mingle, and Mint, Camino and I will likewise mingle, and then we’ll meet up later and compare notes. Remember, we’re looking for anyone who had a grudge against Scott.”

  Thyme and I nodded. Thyme stuffed a chocolate cookie in her mouth, and made to go into the crowd, when I caught her arm. “Let’s stay around here. Everyone will be coming here at some point.”

  “Good idea.” Thyme selected another cookie.

  Helen Harden, the physical therapist, hurried over to me. “Hello Amelia, how’s your back? I hope you weren’t sitting there all this time?”

  I felt a little guilty. “Yes, I was, but my back’s been good all day. In fact, I’d completely forgotten about it.”

  Helen bit her lip. “Well that’s good, but don’t take it lightly. You need to keep doing the exercises I showed you and perhaps make another appointment. And remember, try not to sit for long periods at a time. Anyway, enough talking shop. This is my husband, Henry.”

  Henry and I shook hands. He had a particularly strong grip. “Yes, I know you from the cake store,” he said.

  I gestured to Thyme. “This is my friend, Thyme,” I said to Helen, because Thyme and Henry would have recognized each other from the cake shop. He was a fairly regular customer.

  “Did you know Mr. Plank well?” Thyme asked them.

  Helen snorted rudely. “Yes, but not in a good way. I don’t know why we’re here, but Henry insisted we come. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but Scott Plank cheated us over a big real estate deal.”

  Henry shot his wife a withering look, and then abruptly changed the subject. “That was a rather strange memorial service, wasn’t it? I have no idea who that tap dancing man was.”

  We all laughed politely.

  Henry grabbed his wife’s arm and ushered her away. I overheard Helen whisper, “I didn’t go into detail! There was nothing wrong with saying that.”

  Thyme raised her eyebrows. “Well, that didn’t take us long at all, did it? We can add Henry and Helen Harden to the list of suspects.”

  I had to agree. “Yes, and did you see how awkward he looked when she mentioned that Scott cheated them in a property deal? We have to find out how long ago that was.”

  “Good idea,” Thyme said. “If it was ten years ago, then that won’t be significant, but if it was recent, then it could be significant. Of course, the police must already know this.”

  “Oh that reminds me. That call I got, when I left the service, was from the detectives. They said we’re allowed back in the shop now.”

  “That’s a relief!” Thyme popped a cookie into her mouth. “You know, Scott was the Town Planner, and if he cheated Henry and Helen, then it was likely that he cheated others. I think we’re onto something here.”

  I nodded. “I only hope that they don’t cancel the catering for the opening of the Council Chambers, given that Scott was murdered in my store and all.”

  Thyme bit her lip, but didn’t reply. I was about to say more to her, when the woman who had booked me for the catering caught my eye and hurried over to me. I held my breath. She launched straight into speech. “Amelia and Thyme, good to see you both here. I must apologize. Obviously, we didn’t cater this. The Mayor just sent people out for tea, coffee, and cookies.” Her tone was apologetic, and I was relieved. She didn’t appear to have any intention of canceling the catering. “So we’re on schedule for the opening?”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “I assume it’s still going ahead on time, despite what happened to Scott Plank?”

  A scowl crossed the woman’s face. “Of course. I don’t think you’ll see too many people mourning over that pig of a man.” Her cheeks flushed red with either embarrassment or anger. She excused herself and hurried away.

  “Phew! What a relief,” I said to Thyme.

  “It sure is. Amelia, do we have to add her to our list of suspects, too? I mean, did everyone hate the man?”

  I shrugged. “It’s only two suspects so far, if you count Helen and her husband as joint suspects.”

  “Two out of two,” Thyme pointed out. “That’s one hundred percent.”

  “But not a viable statistic,” I said. “Only two suspects after all.”

  Thyme clutched my arm, and nodded to a man nearby. I figured he was Laurence Burleigh. After all, he was dressed brightly, although not quite as brightly as the entity, who, by the way, I hadn’t seen since his speech. He was talking to another man, and Scott Plank’s name was mentioned. Thyme and I edged closer.

  “So you’ll be the Town Planner now, Laurence?” the shorter man said.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  The other man extended his hand and shook Laurence’s vigorously. “What a relief! That will end some of the corruption on the Council.”

  “I hope it ends all the corruption on the Council,” Laurence said firmly.

  “I’m sorry he’s dead,” the short man continued, “as far as I care about any human being that’s been murdered. I mean, you wouldn’t wish that on your worst enemy, but Scott Plank was a blight on humanity.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me,” Laurence said. At that point, the two men looked at us, so I avoided eye contact and selected a cookie. Thyme did the same. I went to the other end of the table, and Thyme followed me.

  “The suspects list is getting rather long,” I said in a low voice.

  Thyme chuckled. “Still a small number of people, four, but that’s four out of four. Still one hundred percent.”

  I resisted the urge to throw a piece of my c
ookie at her. “Have you seen the entity at all? We should keep an eye out for him.”

  Thyme shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen anything unusual. Perhaps you should make a wish aloud, and see what he does.”

  “No way! I’ll only do that under controlled conditions, with Ruprecht there. And speaking of Ruprecht, I wonder how he, Camino, and Mint are going with gathering information?”

  “We should all go to Ruprecht’s for dinner tonight and discuss it.”

  I figured now was as good a time as any to break the news. “Thyme, I’m going over to Alder’s for dinner tonight.” Thyme did not look happy so I hurried to add, “We’re going to look through his family’s old books and see if there’s anything about the entity.”

  Thyme raised her eyebrows. “Is that like asking you up to see his etchings?”

  I pulled a face. “Ha ha, very funny. Thyme, I know you don’t like Alder, but I really do. He really isn’t like his family. He doesn’t have anything against witches at all.”

  “Look Amelia, I respect your wishes, but don’t expect me to like him.”

  I supposed that was fair enough. “At least his family has all those ancient books, so that might turn up something about the entity.”

  “I suppose so,” Thyme said after she finished another cookie. “But it would be good if you could find out the type of entity it is or even its name.”

  I agreed. “I wish I knew its name.”

  Thyme clapped her hand over her mouth, and I realized too late that I had wished aloud. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, and there was a man standing behind me. “My name is Fred.”

  “Fred?” I said.

  “What’s wrong with my name?” the man said defensively. “It’s a good solid name. I supposed you expected me to have a magical name like Callakazam! I think you’ve been watching too many movies.” With that, he spun on his heel and walked away in an obvious huff.

  I turned to Thyme, but the Mayor hurried over to me, followed by a man in a tight suit. “Did you enjoy the service, Miss Spelled?”

  “Yes,” I lied. “You spoke beautifully about Mr. Plank.”

  The Mayor rubbed at his dry eyes and sniffed. “Excuse me, I’m so emotional. Yes, dear Scott was wonderful, wonderful! He will be sorely missed. Isn’t that right, Cedric?”

  The man in the tight suit forced a smile. “Wonderful,” he said in a choked voice.

  The Mayor hurried away to speak to someone else, followed by the unfortunate Cedric. Two elderly ladies who had lamingtons piled on their paper plates scoffed loudly. “Wonderful? Did you hear that, Myrtle? What a joke!”

  “Yes, Beatrice, he was an evil man, evil. Oh Mr. Foxtin-Flynn, how are you today?”

  Ruprecht kissed both ladies’ hands. “Better for seeing you, my dear ladies.”

  The ladies twittered nervously before sitting on the nearest chairs and continuing their conversation.

  Ruprecht came straight to the point. “Did you find out any information?”

  “Just that the Mayor is the only one with a good word about the deceased,” I said. “Everyone else hated him.”

  Thyme nudged me in the ribs. “Amelia! How could you forget? The entity’s name is Fred.”

  Mint and Camino chuckled. “Are you serious?” Mint asked. “I thought his name would be Belphegor or Ziminiar.”

  “Or Sejazel or Eisheth,” Camino added with a laugh.

  I held up my hands. “What can I say?” I noticed that Ruprecht was not joining in the laughter. “I’m sorry to say that I wished I knew his name.”

  Ruprecht nodded solemnly. “I was afraid as much. Try to be careful with your words, Amelia.”

  I nodded, suitably chastened. “Helen Harden did let slip that Scott cheated them—her husband wasn’t happy that she said that, either—and then everyone we spoke to was full of venom about Scott. Even those two ladies didn’t like him.”

  Ruprecht clasped his hands. “I’m afraid an obvious suspect hasn’t come to the fore.”

  I knew what Ruprecht was thinking but was too kind to say. The entity was the main suspect, and since I had summoned him, I was responsible for a man’s death.

  Chapter 11

  I caught my heel in the cobblestones and, after flailing my arms wildly, paused to compose myself. No one had seen me recover from the face plant, as the little side street was invariably deserted at any time of day. Ahead I could see the entrance to Alder’s office—hard to miss given the impressive gothic wrought iron bars covering the windows.

  I had that awful nervous feeling one gets before entering some sort of competition, such as a race. When I reached the heavy oak door, I rested my hand on the brass handle and took a deep breath. Here goes! I rang the bell. As I waited for Alder to answer the door, I looked up and forced myself to focus on the bottle green awning and the pretty blue-green porch ceiling.

  When Alder opened the door, I at once noticed the scent of lemongrass and citronella. “Van Van Oil?” I asked him, and then instantly regretted my opening words.

  “Amelia, come in.” Alder stood aside for me to enter. “Yes, I did a floor wash earlier.”

  “Because of Fred? Oh, that’s the entity’s name. I wished he’d tell me what his name was, and he did.” I silently scolded myself. Stop talking, you idiot. Take a deep breath.

  I’ve never seen Alder look so shocked. “Fred? You’re kidding me, right?”

  I was still standing in his doorway. “That’s what he said his name was, and he didn’t appear to be joking.”

  The corners of Alder’s mouth twitched. “I don’t think you’ll be able to banish him then, because I’m sure the family’s ancient spell books don’t have any mention of an entity by the name of Fred.” Alder put his hand under my elbow and steered me inside.

  I hoped Alder couldn’t see my knees shaking. To say I was nervous about the upcoming dinner was an understatement. Alder had never kissed me, and it wasn’t as if we were officially dating. The very thought made my heart race, and I shivered.

  Luckily, Alder had his back to me and couldn’t see my discomfort. He ushered me down the long corridor past his office entrance and into his private apartment at the back of the building. It was still daylight, and the dimming sunlight fell gently on the flowers in the high walled garden. I could almost smell the honeysuckle trailing over the high brick walls. I forced my attention from the bi-fold doors back to the kitchen.

  I cast my eyes around the industrial chic, stainless steel and utterly spotless kitchen and realized that Alder was likely a neat-freak, but I could forgive him that flaw. He nodded to his dining table and pulled out a chair for me. “Sit down and relax while I finish dinner.” He poured me a glass of wine. “Chardonnay.”

  I was touched that he remembered I was partial to Chardonnay. Of course, it was hard to relax with Alder in front of me. After all, he was tall, incredibly good looking, with a wicked and mysterious edge. Alder caught my eye and winked at me. I pushed my heels into the floor to stop my knees shaking. “So, tell me more about this Fred.” He chuckled as he said it.

  “This Fred could be a murderer,” I pointed out.

  “I doubt it.” Alder turned to the wok over the gas flame before speaking again. “Scott Plank wasn’t at all popular, and he was involved in some shady deals. I’d be very surprised if he wasn’t murdered by a real, live human.”

  “I hope so,” I said fervently, immediately followed by, “Oh, that didn’t sound good. Of course, I’m sorry that he was murdered, but I just don’t want to be the one responsible for it.”

  Alder nodded. “That’s entirely understandable. Have you come up with any suspects yet?”

  I spun my glass of wine around. “No, but I went to his memorial service earlier today, and there wasn’t a single person there with a good word to say about him. Well, apart from the usual platitudes you’d expect at that sort of thing, and even those were few and far between.”

  Alder looked up from his preparations and smiled at me. “
After dinner, we’ll look through the books and see what we can find. I hope you like nasi goreng istimewa?”

  “Yes,” I said. I, in fact, had not the slightest clue what the dish was, but it sure smelled good. I started to relax as Alder stirred the wok. He had cooked Thai green pumpkin curry on the only other occasion I’d been in his apartment, an impromptu dinner that time. I liked the faint smell of gas emanating from his gas stovetop—it reminded me of those few occasions I had gone camping with my parents as a young child. Of course, the only things that emanated from stovetops when I cooked were thick black smoke and hideously charred remains.

  I took the opportunity to study Alder. He was dark and brooding. I didn’t like sulky men, but Alder didn’t have that type of energy at all.

  “So, how are you adjusting to being a Dark Witch?”

  I jumped. “I’m still adjusting to being any sort of witch,” I said with a laugh. “There’s so much to learn, you know, spells, herbs, potions, and all that.”

  “I could give you lessons.”

  I’ll bet you could, I thought, and then fervently hoped Alder didn’t know what I was thinking.

  Apparently, Alder wasn’t a mind reader, and he continued speaking without pause. “Magic comes from within,” he said with a flourish of his wooden spoon.

  “You sound like Ruprecht,” I said.

  Alder flashed me a look before continuing. “If you can visualize and concentrate, then you can do magic. It’s really that simple. All the potions and spells in the world won’t help someone who can’t focus. Some people follow the inner temple tradition. To put it simply, someone can visualize all their ritual workings in a visual temple.” I must have shown my confusion, as he continued. “Say you are somewhere and you want to do a spell for say, communication, but you cannot because of your location. Perhaps you are visiting friends, for example, and can’t just whip out a candle and perform a spell. So then, you go into your inner temple in your mind’s eye. You visualize a yellow candle there and you visualize the spell. That works just as well as a spell carried about with an actual candle. Do you understand?”