Muffins, Magic, and Murder

by Jessica Lancaster

  I trudged out of the car, hooking my bag over my shoulder and my book under my arm. “I’ve been better.”

  “I heard, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wish I knew what to say.”

  “I’m fine, I’m just annoyed,” I said.

  Rosie gasped, falling behind as she stopped and I walked ahead. “At me?”

  “No, Rosie, not you.”

  All eyes on me. I was prepared. I walked into the café with my head high. Nobody said a word, not even Margery or Ethel, or David who sat on his own, rolling a piece of cake around on his plate with a fork. The only sound came from idle chit-chat and the sound of frying on the hot plate.

  Rosie followed behind.

  “Morning,” Ralph said, tipping his head.

  I made my way straight for the backroom.

  “Wait for—” Rosie said before I cut her off and the door slammed shut.

  There were enough crystals in the back to pick me up. I placed my book on the pedestal before scanning the shelves for a pick-me-up. Bloodstone crystals were the best for energy, they were beacons of positive lifeforce. I held a large bloodstone geode to my chest as I sat on a cushion on the floor.

  “Good Goddess, give me strength,” my meek voice let out.

  Feeding on energy crystals was a clean practice, it involved sitting comfortably with your crystal of choice and meditating on the energy inside, taking what was required. Right now, I required it all.

  I brushed myself off twenty minutes later and left the room.

  “Morning,” I said to Abi and Ralph as I let myself behind the counter. I tied an apron around my waist and waved with a healthy dose of optimism to the people inside the café. They looked back at me like I’d grown three heads.

  “How’re you feeling?” Abi asked as she pulled the plastic gloves off.

  “I’m feeling great,” I said. “Is Rosie back there?” I asked, nodding to the doors which led to the bakery.

  “Yup, I think she’s getting started on some of the fudge cake, we don’t have a lot left, and if Mr. Patterson stays any longer we’ll be out a lot sooner.”

  I glanced over to see Mr. Patterson, a local fisherman sat with a coffee and an empty plate. “Are you okay over there?” I asked as he dipped his paper.

  “Heard you mention fudge cake,” he chuckled. “I’ve been eying that second slice up.”

  “It’s on the house,” I said with a wink.

  What better way of showing people I was okay than to give things away for free, that wasn’t unlike me at all, I should’ve renamed the café On the House, and let it go bankrupt. Or perhaps I was just stalling so I didn’t have to be face-to-face with Rosie, who could always see so clearly through me, I wasn’t one-hundred per-cent certain she wasn’t psychic herself.

  “Get your butt in here,” Rosie said, parting the door slightly.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  Rosie threw a hairnet my way as I entered the baking studio. “I’m going to make your life a whole lot easier,” she said. “I’ve made a list of the cakes that need baking, and we’re going to go through them, baking each one-by-one, okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “But do we have all the ingredients?”

  “Do we have all the ingredients,” she mocked, laughing at me. “Of course, we do.”

  She didn’t have to say it, but I knew what she was doing, she was distracting me. I didn’t mind, if anything, I was glad she was distracting me. I wasn’t sure I could do it alone, I’d bake alone sometimes, but I’d be left with my thoughts and lost down the rabbit hole I’d bury myself in, with Rosie, I knew she wouldn’t let that happen.

  “And what about music?” I asked, nodding to the stereo in the corner.

  “Fleetwood Mac?” she asked.

  The smile beaming on my face said enough. There was something to be said about the soothing vocal abilities of Stevie Nicks, when Jack was only a baby he wouldn’t sleep without her playing.

  Abi knocked on window of the door as I began beating butter and icing sugar.

  “Rosie,” I said, interrupting her beautiful rendition of Rhiannon. “Oh, I’ll finish this when I’m back,” I said, “Abi wants me.”

  Rosie nodded. “If you’re not back, I’ll be out to find you.”

  I nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Joining Abi in the café, she pointed to the backroom. “You have visitors.”

  I scrunched my nose up at her. “Who?”

  She shrugged.

  I untied the apron from my waist, removed the hairnet, and pulled the plastic gloves off. Visitors were prohibited from going in without me.

  It was the other coven witches. Three of them, pacing around the box room. Allegra, Tana, and Eva. They each shared the same look, a mixture of despair, anger, and shock. Not many looks could portray all at once, but between the three of them, it was overwhelming.

  “I tried to call you,” Allegra said.

  “We all did,” Eva added.

  On the table in my bag was my phone. I’d forgotten all about it. “I’m trying to busy myself,” I said, digging through the bag for my phone.

  Tana was tall with long black hair and of Asian descent. She busied herself with the collection of rocks around the room. The air sign, transcending of all things in the circle. The passive and neutral of all of us. “Everything happens for a reason,” she said.

  “No, a witch doesn’t just die,” Eva said, slamming a fist on the table.

  “You mean murdered,” Allegra said. “Marissa was murdered, and I can’t help but feel like I knew it was coming, I told you yesterday I wasn’t feeling too good, but just brushed it aside because of the full moon, and now look, we don’t even have a completed circle to even do the ritual.”

  I shook my head and took a deep breath. “I saw Marissa last night.”

  “You did?” Tana asked, breathlessly. “How was she?”

  “She was Marissa, busy, she had a lot going on, she always does.”

  “Did,” Eva said. “She always did have a lot going on.”

  Referring to someone in the past because they were dead was something my body couldn’t grasp as quickly. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. “Did the detective talk to you?”

  They each nodded.

  “I’ve never liked him,” Tana said softly, picking up a small polished bloodstone from the shelf. “Always very aggressive and mean, like he’s—” she blushed.

  Eva chuckled. “Go on, say it,” she laughed.

  Tana shook her head, her straight black locks falling in front of her face almost as if trying to hide her completely.

  “Frustrated,” Allegra said. “The man needs a win. He couldn’t find out who stole the boat even after I told him the exact place, and not to mention when those kids were throwing stones at Ethel’s windows, he said it was probably big bird poop.”

  Even given the circumstances, we all laughed about it.

  “So,” I said, my voice heavy. “Has anyone been to her house yet?”

  They each shook their heads.

  “I don’t want to be caught there, they’ll use that to point the finger,” Eva said.

  Allegra nodded. “Maybe in a few days once it’s all blown over,” she said.

  “No, no, no, not in a few days, I’m thinking tonight, what if Laurie knows something, we can’t wait a couple of days for her to be caught by some strangers,” I said.

  “Her cat will be fine,” Eva said, sitting calmly at the table. “I’m surprised it hasn’t made its way to yours, you don’t live too far.”

  Tana cleared her throat. “You could go.”

  After the earful from the detective this morning, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be caught there. “Maybe I can find something they missed.”

  They nodded, almost like we’d all agreed I’d be the one going to Marissa’s house, and on my own nonetheless.

  “The next pressing matter at hand is that we don’t have a fifth for the full-moon ceremony,” Allegra said. “We don’t h
ave time to find an alternate, an alternate earth.”

  “Can anyone put any feelers out for witches without covens, we need to get this taped up quickly,” Eva said. “I don’t mean to sound like we’re replacing Marissa, but without a fifth, we’re a sinking ship.”

  “I agree, we need someone else,” I said.

  A knock at the door roused the four of us. I approached the door, pressing it ajar. “Hello?” I peered through the small gap.

  It was Rosie. “Gwen, you need to come back to pipe icing.”

  “It’ll be out in a minute,” I said.

  “We should all leave, if the detective sees us together he might think we’re guilty.”

  Allegra scoffed. “We’re a coven, we congregate.”

  “So, tonight, I’m going to Marissa’s, and if you can, send me energy, I think I’ll need it to set foot in the house, I can’t imagine the residue energy will be good.”

  The energy of a house where there’s been a murder will always have a cold spot, a space where nothing good happens, a space where everything stops, usually people will just forget what they were doing or accidentally drop what they’re holding, for a witch, the energy is a real living colour, often a representation of the deceased.

  I was the last to leave the room, straightening out the shelves, and collecting my bearings. But as I left the room, I walked backward into the doctor. He scooped his hands up around my waist and caught me before I fell on my back.

  He kept his coffee in hand, not a drop to spill and held me perfectly still. “Lucky I caught you,” he said, flashing his wholesome pearly whites like something from a toothpaste commercial.

  “Oh,” I said, straightening myself out. “I didn’t see you.” I chuckled.

  “That’s fine, I could see you a mile away,” he said.

  My face immediately flushed. “I’ll grab you a cake, on the house,” I said, raising a finger to signal for Abi.

  “Then I’d love it if you could join me,” he said, nodding to the free table and chairs.

  “She’d love to,” Rosie said, appearing at my side to nudge me into a seat. “I’ll grab you both some cheesecake.”

  “Thank you, Rosie,” I said, my eyes wide, glowering at her. “But I have to do some piping.”

  “So, Gwen, right?” he said.

  I nodded. “That’s me.”

  “Rosie’s told me a lot about you, actually, in fact she never stops,” he said. “I gave her the day off after she told me what happened to your poor friend.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, it’s tough,” I said.

  “Whoever did it must be a monster,” he said.

  “I can’t imagine what she must’ve gone through.”

  He sipped his coffee, staring at me all the while. “The mortuary asked me to look at her body,” he said.

  I gasped. “They have, what do they think happened?”

  “Slow your horses,” he said. “They don’t know, I did an internship in pathology a couple of years ago, if anything, or at best I’m a second opinion.”

  “Will you tell me when you find out?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “That’s kind of illegal,” he said. “I’m sure once I write a report, the detective in charge will be able to give you more information.”

  I wasn’t too sure about that, or the trust he had in the detective; it was somewhat scary.

  CHAPTER 7

  After work I went straight home, passing Marissa’s house to see a single police car in the drive. I drove slowly, noticing all the lights were off, as I continued down the road I found the doctor’s house lights were all brightly shining.

  Stopping only once I reached my house. The dull light of early evening illuminating upturned gravel around the front of the house. My eyebrows pinched together as I glanced over the steering wheel at it.

  Collecting my belongings, I climbed out of the car. Upon further inspection, I noticed the upturned gravel appeared deeper than previously.

  Juggling my bag on my arm and my book of shadows hooked beneath, I opened the front door. “August, sweetie,” I cooed softly, prepared for the worst. For all I knew he’d be stuck upside in a vase. “August?”

  Placing my bag on a hook by the front door and kicking off my shoes, I made the slow descent to the kitchen. There was no whizzing black ball of fur anywhere to be found.

  “August?” I called once again, relieving my arm from the weight of the book onto the counter. “I swear you need a babysitter.”

  Through the kitchen to the conservatory, I checked the door handle. Locked. It wasn’t like I suspected him of being outside, but on the off chance someone came in unexpectedly he could’ve escaped.

  “I have dinner,” I said, tapping my foot against the side of his food bowl. It was another day of rabbit and gravy for him.

  Once I squeezed the food into his dish, a fumbling thumping thud came from the staircase. August appeared, swaying side-to-side as he sauntered into the kitchen.

  “There you are.” I knelt, tipping my hand beneath his chin to look in his eyes. “Did you get into the catnip?” I didn’t need a response, he clearly had, given it rendered his ability to speak useless.

  As August wondered in his daze, I prepared my dinner. I needed to line my stomach, especially because I was going to Marissa’s house to be confronted with every memory we shared. I made spaghetti in tomato sauce, paired perfectly with potent herbs grown fresh in their pots on the windowsill.

  It was darker out, and the darker it became, the better my chances of sneaking into Marissa’s driveway without being caught or rousing suspicion. I knew one thing for certain, I couldn’t drive there, I’d have to use my son’s old pushbike.

  Like everything that no longer had a purpose, the bicycle was shoved in the garage. There was a lot of Peter’s old things still inside, even after all this time. Maybe I could’ve moved them by now and used the garage for its actual purpose, to house my car.

  Scavenging in the garage I found a torch and a helmet, essentials for riding in the dark. My son’s pushbike had rusted a fair deal but the wheels turned. I turned my back on the garage, letting it close behind me.

  It had been a while since I’d done any cycling, and I wasn’t sure how long it would take to get to Marissa’s house. Once I was on the bicycle I kept peddling, getting faster and faster on the winding country road. I had the torch fired on full blast as my headlight to see the road ahead.

  Passing the doctor’s house once again, I noticed all the lights on. I continued cycling until I passed Marissa’s house, scouting out my best route in, but the drive was clear. The only car there belonged to Marissa.

  I placed the bike at the foot of the drive and unstrapped the helmet to go with it. Illuminating my path, I walked to the front door where police tape forbidding anyone to enter, but the door was ajar. At least I could say I wasn’t breaking in, the door was already open. I pushed slightly, holding the torch firm in my hand.

  The darkness around the stream of light from the torch revealed just how empty and alone the house was now. Strange how a house could lose its spark the instant the owner was gone. I dreaded to think what would happen once I was gone, or even how August would survive, because I knew Jack wouldn’t care for him.

  “Laurie,” I whispered, calling out for her cat. I tiptoed over threshold, trying not to disturb the precariously placed police tape. “Laurie.”

  Witches had a lot at stake when it came to humans entering our lives, more so after a witch died. We had our book of shadows and our familiars, but importantly to any working witch we had our log books.

  Marissa had kept her log book taped under the side of her kitchen sink, while I kept mine inside a locked box at the café, but it had been weeks since I’d been open to clients.

  I made my way to the kitchen where I’d been yesterday when I saw her fumbling around as she cleaned away her mess. She always had a lot on her plate, and seeing her log book would let me know at least what she was dealing with
.

  But there was no log book to be found. Nothing. Only a piece of Sellotape attached to the underside of the sink remained. Either she hadn’t put it bag or someone had taken it. Perhaps even the police had taken it.

  I stood and straightened myself out, placing the torch on the counter to shine on the room. In the light, the kitchen was a mess, but it was difficult to tell what the police had touched and what Marissa had been using.

  Everything in the house had been disturbed, it was no wonder Laurie was missing.

  Whoever had been here messing was looking for something. I knew exactly what it was. Her book of shadows. Behind the open glass cabinet doors of the herbs and spices rack there was a small groove in the far right. I knew this spot, and as I pushed my finger inside to pull the shelf out I said a silent prayer. The shelving unit swung open on a hinge, revealing a pedestal where Marissa’s book laid open.

  “It’s open,” I said to myself, pulling the book out on my open arms. Pursing my lips, I read aloud the title on the page. “Cursed crystals and—” The rest was barely visible in the darkness. I placed the book beside the torch on the kitchen counter, revealing the rest of the page. “Hexed objects,” I continued.

  A shadow formed across the page where a tear had been made, removing pages from the book. I ran my finger along them. Two pages to be exact. A pit opened in my stomach, I didn’t want to think someone had killed her for whatever was on those pages.

  I closed the book and tucked it beneath my arm, I couldn’t let it get into the wrong hands, especially not the police, once they had it, there was no questioning what they could do with the information inside.

  With the book under my arm and the torch in my sweaty palm, I made my way upstairs. I knew she didn’t keep anything in her room, but she did have storage in her daughter’s old room. If there was even the slightest clue somewhere else in the house, it was worth trying to find it.

  Her bedroom was immaculate with nothing out of place, she was clearly killed before bed. “Laurie,” I called out softly, dipping to my knees to look beneath the bed. I picked myself from my knees and sat on the end of the bed. “Laurie, if you’re in here it’s Gwen.”