Murder & Spice Read online

  Murder & Spice

  Nether Edge Cozy Mystery #1

  Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Thanks for reading

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Also by Wendy Meadows

  Prologue

  The Money Jar

  A spell to bring money into your life.

  (Warning: don’t be greedy!)

  You will need:

  4 copper coins

  4 tall candles - any kind will do, scented or otherwise. Pick your favorite.

  2 cinnamon sticks

  A pinch of basil

  A pinch of thyme

  1 small cloth bag

  1. Place the spices into the bag and tie closed. You need not blend nor prepare, just pop them in!

  2. Run a bath (hot and deep).

  3. Place a coin at each corner of the tub, and then cover it with a candle. Use broad based candles, or melt a little wax over the coins first before sticking the candles down. Light the candles.

  4. Place the small bag with the spices into the bath and get in yourself.

  5. Now relax.

  This spell will send good fortune your way. We can all do with a little financial help, and this relaxing spell will give you that boost.

  Remember, if you don’t have the required ingredients, you can buy one of our pre-made Money Jar bath bombs at Nether Edge Spicery today!

  Chapter One

  It wasn’t that Cassandra was bad at magic—nobody who can do it for real has ever been called an underachiever—it’s just that her intentions never reflected the outcome.

  Take, for instance, the alphabetization of the ‘Roots and Tubers’ bookshelf in her Nether Edge Spicery. She’d never been one for organization in the traditional sense, believing that things found their own place in life, just as she had. The many tomes in the small shop had found theirs in no particular order. This caused confusion and awkward grimaces for some of her customers (although for some of her regulars, an awkward grimace was just their natural resting face, so she could have been mistaken).

  Dot had pointed out that morning that although it was beneficial to have many plants and seeds, powders, pastes, pods, masalas, mixtures and remedies in a more holistic presentation with books, people liked to know where they were.

  “What’s good for spices isn’t the same for letters,” Dot said, bestowing the words with the importance they didn’t merit. It was the biggest load of nonsense Dot had said all day.

  Something had stuck in Cassandra’s head however, and during the quiet morning period, she’d taken it upon herself to put things right. There was no way she would rearrange the shelves by hand. Being somewhat dyslexic and lazy before her third cup of tea, the witch used a little magic to do the job.

  The plan was simple. She only needed to suggest that the books were in the wrong order, and they would sort it out amongst themselves. Ultimately coming from trees, Cassandra believed her nature-focused magic would affect the books; this assumption proved wrong.

  “Heavens, what are you doing?” exclaimed Dot, sipping tea from a fine china teacup. Being a woman ‘of a certain age,’ Dot had an affinity for refinement; only meaning she was never found without a teacup, complete with saucer and a small silver spoon perched on the edge. She thought it gave her a distinguished air, like a lady in one of the many Regency Romance paperbacks she collected. Their yellowing covers portrayed heaving bosoms in frilly dresses, cradled by young lords.

  “I’m taking the initiative, Dorothy,” Cassy said, pushing up her sleeves. She faced the shelf head-on as if she were a picador taking on an enraged bull. She was well aware of how odd she must have looked, squaring up to a collection of inanimate objects with such intensity. But if she pulled this off, the books wouldn’t be so inanimate, and the shopping experience would be greatly improved. Her mother always told her she was wasting her talents. Well, now was the time to prove her otherwise. “Stand back, Dot.”

  Dot remained where she was, added sugar to her tea, sipped it, nodded with satisfaction, and looked on. Cassy took that as acceptance that absolutely nothing could go wrong, and she began the spell. Normally casting magic was a long and specific affair involving the mixture of ingredients in very defined doses, using an exacting recipe. Some potions, ointments, tinctures and salves that she sold in the Nether Edge Spicery contained such magic.

  There was another magic, however—the type her mother had used, which involved incantations. This magic was no easier than combining herbs and spices to create the desired effect, and it was considerably more time consuming. Some of the spells took so long that Cassandra rarely used them; she had developed an ingenious work-around. When she had spare time (which until the start of the summer season was more often than not), she would start the incantation but never finish it. She often had only a few crucial words left to complete the spell and seal its magic. Later, all she needed to do was speak the final words, and the spell would be unleashed. That was the theory, anyway.

  “… and follow then your heart’s desire. Gleaming wood, stagnant fire.”

  “Stagnant fire?” asked Dot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s a spell. One I made earlier. You’ll see; it’ll do the trick.”

  The Nether Edge Spicery was a small shop, and it was possible to hear just about everything within its cramped walls, but right now there was only silence. As if to break the tension, Dot slurped her tea.

  “Well at least the shop didn’t catch fire this time,” the older woman said. The remark wasn’t intended with malice, and Cassandra knew it, but it still made her wince. Memories of the unfortunate incident early last year sprang to mind. Cassy approached the shelf, but nothing happened. There had been no mad fluttering of books as they swapped themselves into the right order, no magical fizz or flash, or the expected fireworks. Nothing.

  “I was sure I could make this work, Dot.” With a deep sigh, Cassy ran her fingers over the spines of the books. She noted something very peculiar; more peculiar than having a bookshelf in an herbs and spice store. The first book at the top left was Allow’s Thousand-and-One Recipes for Potatoes, Sweet and Otherwise, which could only be considered a good thing in a strictly alphabetical sense. The problem was that the remaining books were also Allow’s Thousand-and-One Recipes for Potatoes, Sweet and Otherwise.

  “Dot, the books…”

  “What is it, hon?”

  “They’re all in order, but they’re all the same book.”

  Dot put an arm around Cass’s slumped shoulders. “It’s all right, Cassandra, dear,” she said. “I never understood why we had a bookshelf anyway. Let’s just hope potatoes, sweet or otherwise, come back into fashion.”

  With a rumbling purr, Herzog the cat chose th
at moment to jump onto the shelf and parade along it. He inspected the books with a distinctly condescending look on his face. He sat at the end, miraculously perched on the edge without tumbling off, and licked his smoky gray fur.

  “Don’t you start,” grumbled Cassy, eying the feline. “The last thing I need right now is you passing judgment on me. It does little for a woman’s confidence if her pets comment on her work.”

  Cassy turned decisively away from the books, eager to put the whole episode behind her and prepare the shop for the rest of the day, She caught Dot’s bemused expression, and she waited for the inevitable.

  “Do you know what you need?” Dot asked.

  Cassy knew exactly where this conversation was going before it had even started. Still, she would humor the woman for now.

  “Tell me, Dorothy. What do I need?”

  “It’s just that I’ve always thought you might need a man in your life. Call me old-fashioned—”

  “You’re old-fashioned.”

  “At your age it’s considered a bit odd not to have a companion. Now I’m not saying get married; I understand what it’s like these days, and things aren’t like they were in my day. I just think it would do you a world of good.”

  Here came the part where Dot suggested a suitor, plucked from the ever-dwindling pool of candidates in Havenholm. It wouldn’t have been the first time Dorothy had set her up on a blind date and undoubtedly wouldn’t be the last, considering Cassy’s luck with the opposite sex. At 41, Cassandra didn’t think she was too old for anything. She had her own business, which supported two employees and a third during the summer months. She also had magic to practice; something her mother would have said had been grossly overlooked. The life she’d led until then had been rich and rewarding. She’d never felt the need for a man to justify her; not that she wasn’t looking for love. Occasionally, Dorothy’s contenders were on the acceptable side, and Cassandra allowed herself to be wooed long enough to discover that they weren’t right. There was something very specific she wanted in a man. The only problem was that she didn’t quite know what it was.

  “Who have you had your eye on?” Cassy asked. She rearranged the small pots of dried petals that filled the central display, noticing Dot had gone a subtle shade of red. As Cassy had long expected, Dot’s suggestions were always based on who she found attractive herself.

  “Well I just happened to notice a new boy—I mean man—at the station today.”

  “Noyce finally got that new recruit?” Phillip Noyce, Havenholm’s long-standing sheriff, had been looking to fill a vacant post for weeks, but the town being as small as it was, he had very few candidates. After the last deputy had left suddenly, the sheriff transferred an officer from a nearby city, a process that had taken some time.

  “He’s new in town. Maybe you should introduce yourself. He’ll want to meet the people of Havenholm; now’s the time to make a move.”

  There was only so much arranging Cassy could do while Dot put forward her proposal. Eventually, Cassy admitted the store was as good as it would get; selection of books notwithstanding.

  “You called him a boy. I hardly think some young graduate starting out in a career of law enforcement is going to take a second glance this way.”

  “Darling, they’re all boys to me,” said Dot, flustered. “He must be thirty…something. Besides you never give yourself enough credit. You’re a good-looking woman. A prize catch, they’d call you. And with all those things you can do! Well, you understand. It’s an added bonus.”

  “You mean my magic?” Few people knew Cassandra was a witch. Dot was the only person in Havenholm who knew her secret and that was exactly how Cassandra wanted it. She found that the fewer people she showed her gifts to, the smoother her life was. She advertised herself as a genuine witch and sold spells and other magical items, but that was very much part of the subterfuge. No one actually believes you when you say you’re a witch. “If you think that anyone’s going to be impressed by my ability to make twenty of the same book, then maybe you should start looking further. You know, cast the net wider.”

  Immediately Cassandra saw cogs turning inside Dot’s head, behind the gray hair tied up in a bun. Already she was thinking of people she knew out of town. With an exasperated, yet highly amused sigh, Cassy flipped the closed sign to open on the front door.

  “Maybe I’ll take a break from dating for now,” Cassy said. Across the street, the bank was opening, as was the cute café she was determined to visit one day. Early morning commuters were beginning the long drive to work, and an already stressed-out mother herded a gaggle of children into a park. Two streets down, the workmen had already demolished an old building, the hammering of their tools vibrating.

  “Well, about that… I may have already set you up for tonight,” Dot said. “Besides, he’s coming around later with Sheriff Noyce.”

  Cassy unlocked the door and slumped against the glass. What was one more man to disappoint, she thought. She was getting good at it, and maybe because he was the new deputy, this ‘boy’ might spread the word, and Cassy wouldn’t have to bother doing it ever again.

  “Thank you, Dot.”

  “No problem, dear.”

  Herzog wound himself around Cassy’s legs, purring contentedly. He let out a little yelp as Cassy picked him up. She lifted him to her face and looked right into his glassy, green eyes.

  “I don’t know what you’re so happy about. What if he’s the one? Then you’ll be the second most important man in my life.”

  Chapter Two

  The shop was busier than expected that morning, and it was only when Mrs. Hamswell, the local busybody, head of the PTA and the Havenholm Women’s Lawn Bowls Association, council representative and treasurer for the Scrapbooking in Havenholm Gathering, arrived in a bluster of leaflets and posters just before lunchtime. It was quite a sight to see the stout woman, scarlet jowls quivering, come thundering through the Nether Edge Spicery. Cassy was happy to sit by the register sipping a nice mint tea and let her get on with it.

  “Do you need some help?” Patty asked, rushing to Mrs. Hamswell’s aid. Patty was the second full-time employee at the Spicery, after the long-serving Dot. The two women couldn’t have been more different. Dot was tall, almost regal looking, wearing only the most out-of-fashion floral dresses, Patty was heartbreakingly young and somewhat enviably slight in figure. She could pull off a more vibrant wardrobe, which she did with aplomb. Today she wore an eye-watering striped set of yellow and pink leggings and a large, loose-fitting blouse that wouldn’t have looked out of place back when Dot was a girl, but Patty made it seem the height of fashion. Everything about her shouldn’t have worked but somehow it did; from the blonde hair with red tips down to her big, clumping boots.

  “I’ll be fine,” protested Mrs. Hamswell, gathering her various one-sheets and pamphlets around her. Patty looked to Cassy and gave a ‘well, I tried’ shrug, to which Cassy replied with a sharp nod to the line of customers forming by the counter. With the young girl attending to business, Cassy focused on the maelstrom of paper Mrs. Hamswell had brought.

  “Do you have a poster for me, Mrs. Hamswell?” Cassy asked, picking up a piece of paper from the floor. It bore all the marks of having been mocked up at home, possibly by Mrs. Hamswell herself. What it lacked in professionalism, it more than made up for in giant bold red lettering.

  EMERGENCY MEETING TONIGHT @ 8 PM

  TOWN HALL

  Then in smaller red letters it said:

  To address the wholesale ransacking of our town by unscrupulous contractors / developers.

  Followed by:

  Coffee and cookies provided.

  Cassandra had to concede that it got the job done, but what it was about still eluded her. She felt compelled to attend; the red lettering was very convincing.

  “I wasn’t aware we were being ransacked,” Cassy said, scrutinizing the poster. She tried to give it back, but the Treasurer for The Scrapbooking in Havenholm Gathering refused
it.

  “Put that up in your window,” she demanded, once she’d composed herself. “You’ve seen what they’ve done to the Langdon building, haven’t you?”

  The incessant thrumming of the deconstruction work had petered out by mid-morning. Either that, or Cassandra had grown accustomed to it.

  “That old place? It’s been unoccupied for over a year now.”

  “But do you know why?”

  She had to admit that she didn’t. Town planning was not her specialty.

  “They’re taking over, Miss Dean,” Mrs. Hamswell hissed, as if it was self-evident who she was talking about.”

  “The contractors?”

  “The corporations. They’re buying up all the buildings around town. Before long you won’t recognize our Havenholm. Always the same with these out-of-towners, thinking they know what’s best for us. Remember that department store? That’s not what we need, but that’s what we’ll get if we don’t stand up to them. It’ll be nothing but drive-thrus and discos.”

  This was hardly surprising news, though if they did get a disco, Cassy would raise an eyebrow. The Langdon building had been little more than a magnet for vandalism since the previous business shut down. It had been home to an ill-advised department store, something that a little place like Havenholm could not support. If someone wanted to come in and buy the vacant properties around town, then Cassy had to assume it could only be a good thing. Too often little places like this die out. The young move away eventually, and there’s little to tempt new people.