Witches' Secrets: Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series (Vampires and Wine Book 2) Read online

  Witches’ Secrets

  Vampires and Wine, Book 2

  Morgana Best

  Contents

  Glossary

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Next Book In This Series

  Also by Morgana Best

  About Morgana Best

  Witches’ Secrets

  (Vampires and Wine, Book 2)

  Copyright © 2017 by Morgana Best

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The personal names have been invented by the author, and any likeness to the name of any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book may contain references to specific commercial products, process or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and/or trade names of products, which are trademarks or registered trademarks and/or trade names, and these are property of their respective owners. Morgana Best or her associates, have no association with any specific commercial products, process, or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise, specific brand-name products and / or trade names of products.

  By this act

  And words of rhyme

  Trouble not

  These books of mine

  With these words I now thee render

  Candle burn and bad return

  3 Times stronger to its sender.

  (Ancient Celtic)

  Created with Vellum

  Glossary

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  I have used Australian spelling in this series, so for example, Mum instead of the US spelling Mom, neighbour instead of the US spelling neighbor, realise instead of the US spelling realise. It is Ms, Mr and Mrs in Australia, not Ms., Mr. and Mrs.; cosy and not cozy; 1930s not 1930’s; offence not offense; centre not center; towards not toward; jewellery not jewelry; favour not favor; mould not mold; two storey house not two story house; practise (verb) not practice (verb); odour not odor; smelt not smelled; travelling not traveling; lent not leaned; have concussion not have a concussion; go to hospital not go to the hospital; learnt not learned. These are just some of the differences.

  Please note that these are not mistakes or typos, but correct Aussie spelling and terms.

  AUSTRALIAN SLANG AND TERMS

  Big Smoke - a city

  Blighter - infuriating or good-for-nothing person

  Blimey - an expression of surprise

  Blue - an argument

  Bluestone - copper sulphate (copper sulfate in US spelling)

  Bluo - a blue laundry additive, an optical brightener

  Boot (car) - trunk (car)

  Bonnet (car) - hood (car)

  Bunging it on - faking something, pretending

  Cark it - die

  Come good - turn out okay

  Copper, cop - police officer

  Coot - silly or annoying person

  Drongo - an idiot

  Fair crack of the whip - a request to be fair, reasonable, just

  Flat out like a lizard drinking water - very busy

  Galah - an idiot

  Garbage - trash

  G’day - Hello

  Give a lift (to someone) - give a ride (to someone)

  Goosebumps - goose pimples

  Laundry (referring to the room) - laundry room

  Like a stunned mullet - very surprised

  Mad as a cut snake - either insane or very angry

  Miles - while Australians have kilometres these days, it is common to use expressions such as, “The road stretched for miles,” “It was miles away.”

  Mow (grass / lawn) - cut (grass / lawn)

  Stone the crows! - an expression of surprise

  Takeaway (food) - Take Out (food)

  Torch - flashlight

  Tuck in (to food) - to eat food hungrily

  Ute /Utility - pickup truck

  Vegemite - Australian food spread, thick, dark brown

  Wardrobe - closet

  Indigenous References

  Bush tucker - food that occurs in the Australian bush

  Koori - the original inhabitants/traditional custodians of the land of Australia in the part of NSW in which this book is set. Murri are the people just to the north. White European culture often uses the term, Aboriginal people.

  Chapter 1

  An early evening mist sat lightly upon Lighthouse Bay, bathing the cliff tops in pale blue. It imparted an eerie feel to the landscape, and I wondered if the ghosts from the shipwrecks below where I now stood were roaming freely. I imagined them now, their long pale dresses in tatters as they floated above the ebbing tide.

  I shook myself and came back to reality.

  No one had been murdered for a week.

  With that thought, I turned around, and stepped straight into a solid object.

  Lucas O’Callaghan steadied my shoulders. I flinched at his touch, not because I found him repellent, rather because I found him too attractive for my own good. I squinted at him, a handsome man in soft focus, the mist swirling into arabesques around him.

  “Did I startle you, Valkyrie?”

  “Pepper, please,” I said automatically, struggling to keep my voice steady. I knew he had used my legal name simply to irritate me. I snatched my hands from his chest and looked past him at his companion.

  “Allow me to introduce Lila Sanders,” he said, releasing his grip. “Lila Sanders, this is Valkyrie Jasper.”

  I frowned and shook the elegantly offered hand. “My name’s Pepper,” I said hastily. “Only my aunts call me Valkyrie.”

  “Lila.” The woman eyed me speculatively.

  “Your aunts have sent me to fetch you for dinner,” Lucas continued in the same mocking tone. “They suggested I show Lila the view.”

  I know what view she wants to see, I thought cattily, watching the way Lila ogled him. Aloud I said, “It’s normally a beautiful view from here. Sometimes you can see whales, and sometimes dolphins.” I waved my hand expansively past the nearby lighthouse perched high on the rocky headland, a small lighthouse as such structures go, to the pristine white beaches either side. I knew why the woman was here. She was a journalist, working for East Coastal Life, a glossy magazine which declared itself to be a popular lifestyle publication. The magazine was doing a spread on Lighthouse Bay, and Lila had booked one of the cottages for the week. My aunts had allocated her a cottage next to Lucas’s.

  A sudden gust of wind pushed me forward, and I all but landed on Lucas once more. “Enjoy yourselves,” I said, doing my best not to sound jealous, and I headed downhill in the direction of Mugwort Manor.

  I inhaled the salt air as I walked, enjoying the feel of the sand between my toes and the dampne
ss of the fog on my skin. The sudden arrival of butterflies in my stomach disturbed me, a sure sign that something was about to happen. When I crested a sand dune and came to the start of the pathway to the cottages, I put my sandals back on. It was only then that I risked a glance over my shoulder, but Lucas and the woman were nowhere to be seen. Still, the mist was heavy now. I took one more long deep breath of salt air to steady myself, and strode out purposefully.

  Although I had newly moved into the Assistant Lighthouse Keeper’s Cottage, my aunts wanted me to join them for dinner at Mugwort Manor every night. I enjoyed spending time with my eccentric aunts, even more so now I had my own space. I was grateful for the opportunity to become a partner in their Bed and Breakfast business, which did not, in fact, offer breakfast. Go figure.

  I walked past my cottage, smiling as I did so, on past the newly rented cottage, grimacing as I thought of the hideous theme that I had not yet addressed. Still, I had only been here a short time and there was so much work to be done, not the least of which was toning down the aunts’ peculiar decorating schemes.

  As I walked past the Williamses’ cottage, my right eye twitched. This was an unreliable indicator that something was terribly amiss, unreliable in the sense that it did not warn me on every occasion. I expected Paul and Linda had another of their nasty arguments.

  I picked up the pace, only too aware that my aunts did not like to be kept waiting for dinner. I had just reached the edge of the vegetable garden when Linda Williams emerged from the haze, heading for her cottage.

  I had not liked Linda when we had first met, but had warmed to her. Her husband, Paul, was a rather obnoxious man, a taxidermist by trade and a sexist control-freak by nature. From what I had seen, he was overbearing and controlling.

  I noticed Linda was carrying an overnight bag. I wondered why, but considered it would be tactless to comment on it. “Hi, Linda,” I said when she drew near, dismayed to see her face was red and puffy. It was clear she had been crying. She didn’t seem to have had much sleep either, judging by the dark circles under her eyes. “Are you all right?” I said, before I realised it might not be the most tactful thing to say. Since I had moved into my cottage, I had heard loud arguments on several occasions.

  She nodded and clutched her bag. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. “Well, I’d better be going,” I said finally. “My aunts get thingy if I’m late for dinner. I’ll be in my cottage later, so feel free to pop in for a glass of wine if you feel like a chat.”

  Linda mumbled her thanks and then left. I stared after her for a moment. Something was clearly wrong. Her impossibly white face had turned even paler, as if she had been drained of blood. I shrugged and turned back to the manor.

  The back door of Mugwort Manor opened onto the vast kitchen. Sometimes the aunts had dinner in the dining room, but sometimes in the kitchen. Tonight, it was in the kitchen.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said, but Aunt Agnes waved a hand at me in dismissal, so sharply did she make the movement that her red, bat-wing glasses fell to the end of her long, pointed nose.

  “You’re just in time, Valkyrie.”

  “Pepper.” I didn’t know if there was any point trying to get my aunts to call me Pepper; instead they insisted on my legal name, the bane of my existence.

  I sat at the table and took the offered goblet of Witches’ Brew.

  The gold rim had barely touched my lips, when an ear splitting scream pierced the air.

  The aunts leapt to their feet and were at the back door in a blink of an eye. I was only marginally behind them. As I peered around Aunt Maude’s ample frame, I saw Linda running out of her cottage, waving her arms wildly in the air.

  My aunts moved, more slowly this time, but I sprinted past them.

  Linda ran to meet me, still gesturing wildly. I grabbed her flailing arms and held them to her sides. “What’s happened?”

  “Paul, it’s Paul. He’s dead!”

  Chapter 2

  It all happened at once. I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and called emergency, while hurrying into the cottage. The aunts followed me, but Linda stayed outside.

  When I reached the living room, Paul was sprawled on the floor, a grotesque sight in a weirdly themed jungle cottage, observed by a painted zebra and a lion. Through the potted Cycad Palm plant draped over him, I could see he was deceased. There was no blood, just a victim on an otherwise pristine floor of bleached wood.

  My first thought was that he had not been shot or stabbed, and my second thought was that this was the second murder at Mugwort Manor in a short space of time.

  Lucas pressed past me. I had not even seen him arrive. “This is a crime scene,” he said, pushing between two tall Yucca plants in fluoro green pots. “You should all leave.”

  “You’ll need to leave, too,” I pointed out, irritated that he had taken charge of the situation.

  In response, he made a shooing motion with his hand, but then fell in behind us as we made our way back out the door, waiting for the police to arrive.

  Aunt Dorothy did her best to comfort Linda. “Why don’t we all go to the manor and wait for the police?” she said.

  Linda looked as though she might faint. She was trembling violently, but followed Dorothy without question.

  We as a group had only taken five or so steps when a police car screamed to a halt, and hard on its heels was an ambulance.

  Two uniformed officers I had not met jumped out of the car. Lucas once more took charge. “The body’s in the cottage,” he said.

  “Do you suspect suspicious circumstances?” the more muscular police officer asked.

  “Well, we don’t know,” Aunt Agnes said. “That’s why we called you. Aren’t we supposed to call you when someone suddenly drops dead?”

  Linda burst into tears at her words.

  “Police are only called to the scene of a death if suspicious circumstances are suspected,” he said. “Normally, a doctor calls us if necessary.”

  “Then you had better speak to the paramedics,” Lucas said, gesturing to the man and the woman who were halfway to the cottage door.

  The two officers nodded and followed the paramedics into the cottage.

  “Did your husband have a history of heart trouble, or anything like that?” Aunt Agnes asked Linda.

  Linda shook her head and burst into a fresh bout of wailing.

  “What if he was murdered?” Lila said, clutching Lucas’s arm and edging ever closer to him. “I’m so terrified.”

  It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. Someone had just died, and this woman was using it as an opportunity to seduce Lucas? Perhaps she didn’t need an excuse. For all I knew, they might already be lovers.

  I shook my head. There were more important things to worry about, namely, a dead guest.

  The police and the paramedics took ages to emerge. That, and the fact my right eye was twitching violently, gave me reason to think Paul had been murdered. This was no simple heart attack.

  We all stood around awkwardly until the police walked from the building. The more muscular officer—I had already forgotten his name—took out a notepad and pen. “We’re going to treat this death as suspicious for now, but when the detectives arrive in town they’ll question each one of you.”

  “So it was murder then?” Aunt Agnes asked.

  The officer did not respond. “Miss Jasper, could you please tell me where you were after six last evening?”

  “My sisters and our niece, Valkyrie, were having dinner,” she said, “and after dinner, we all went to the living room where we chatted for some time, and watched old episodes of Gilmore Girls with the cat.”

  He turned to me. “Do you live with your aunts?”

  I pointed to the Assistant Lighthouse Keeper’s Cottage nearby. “I live there, but I had dinner with my aunts and watched several episodes of Gilmore Girls with them. I suppose I went home about nine,” I said, guessing that would be his next question.

  “Did
you see anyone on your way to your cottage?”

  I shook my head. “Not a soul. It was a much heavier mist last night. I did notice the lights on at the cottage.”

  The officer turned his attention to Linda, as if realising for the first time that she was the wife of the deceased. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs Williams,” he said, his voice entirely devoid of compassion. “When did you last see your husband, and what were your movements last night?” His pen hovered over his notepad expectantly.

  “I stayed in the Wayfarers Motel in town,” she said, wringing her hands nervously.

  “And why was that?”

  “My husband and I had an argument.” Her expression was stricken. “I stayed in the motel overnight, and I only found him when I came back, just now.”

  “I saw Linda arrive back here,” I said. “I was on my way to have dinner with my aunts, when I saw Linda arrive. We heard her screaming soon after, so we went to investigate.”

  He turned to Linda. “Did anyone see you at the motel?”

  “Actually, I did have dinner in the motel’s restaurant, so all the staff would have seen me, plus I ran into an old customer of my husband’s, Jack Murphy. I didn’t have dinner with him, though; I just chatted for a while with him and his wife. They’re holidaying here. Then I went to my room, but I didn’t order room service or anything, so I don’t think anyone saw me after that. I suppose someone last saw me around ten at night.”

  The officer nodded.

  “And you, Mr...?”

  “Lucas O’Callaghan. I’m currently staying in the cottage there.” He gestured in the direction of his cottage, now enshrouded by mist.

  “And what were your whereabouts last evening, sir?”

  “I was doing some paperwork after dinner, so I was home all night.”

  The cop’s pen stopped. “Alone?”

  Lucas hesitated, but then said, “Yes.”

  “And nobody can vouch for that?”

  Again the hesitation. “No.”