ExSpelled (The Kitchen Witch Book 5): Witch Cozy Mystery series Read online

  I rested my ear against the door, and heard no one. My heart was beating out of my chest and my breathing was rapid and shallow. I wiped my palms on my jeans and looked around the room for something to use as a weapon. I came up empty.

  I forced myself to think logically. The others were hardly going to let someone wander off alone, so it was unlikely that the murderer would be able to get away from the group to harm me. However, the murderer might be someone outside the building, someone unknown. Yet if that were the case, surely such a person would not risk exposure by walking through the house.

  I sat back on the bed, my head in my hands. This was all too much. I was going around in circles and not coming to any conclusion. If I stayed in my room, I would go mad, not to mention starve. I had to get back out to the dining room. My stomach growling loudly made the decision for me.

  I decided I would just have to make a break for it. I crept once more to the door and listened. Again there was no sound. I decided to sneak along the corridor, and if I saw anyone coming, I would run. I was a fast runner, and I would be even faster if there was a murderer right behind me.

  I gingerly opened the door with the ball of my foot pressed against it in case someone tried to burst into the room. I opened it a little wider and peeped out. Not a sign of anyone. I stepped into the corridor and shut the door behind me as quietly as I could, while looking around me. So far, so good.

  I tiptoed down the corridor stealthily, which was easy, given the fact my feet were bare. To my great relief, I encountered no one. I slowed when I approached the entrance to the kitchen, listening for footsteps.

  There were muffled noises coming from the kitchen. It didn’t sound like anyone preparing food, and I couldn’t hear anyone talking.

  I waited, but the noises continued. I took a deep breath and willed myself to look. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

  Chapter 9

  Michael and Abby were kissing passionately.

  I averted my eyes and ducked back into the corridor. I had no idea if they had seen me, but I had no option except to move forward. I reached the dining room without further incident. I almost staggered with relief when I saw everyone sitting there alive and well.

  “Amelia, I was just about to go back for you,” Mandy said. “Not alone, of course. We were all going to go for you.”

  I thanked her.

  “We’ll all have to stay together from now on,” Owen said. He turned to the kitchen. “I hope Abby and Michael are okay. I’d better go check.”

  I didn’t know whether to say anything to stop him walking in on them, but I was saved from having to make the decision. The two of them walked out carrying trays of coffee and cups, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.

  Owen stood up. “There’s something I need to say. This has all been a big shock to me, we’re all like a little family here.” He cleared his throat and flushed beet red. “This has to be said. I know we locked up Bazza, but I’m not convinced Bazza is the murderer.” Everyone murmured, and Owen held up his hand. “I know you all must be thinking the same thing, or why else would none of us go anywhere alone?”

  Lisa agreed. “I’m sure it’s not Bazza.”

  “Better to be safe than sorry,” Abby said. “It’s not as if he’s faced a court of law—yet. We took him on earlier this year at the recommendation of the last pool boy who left in a hurry. We really don’t know much about him.”

  “We really don’t know anything about anyone here,” Lisa pointed out. “Mandy and I have been coming here for some time, and nothing like this has never happened before. I’ve always found Bazza to be a nice, helpful man. I’m sure it wasn’t him.” She looked around nervously as she spoke.

  “Amelia and I were together in the tunnel when Sarah was murdered,” Owen said. “So that rules both of us out, and I think it’s fair to say that whoever killed Sarah also killed Benedict and Laura.”

  Vanessa set down her coffee with a thud. “True, but that doesn’t rule out there being two murderers. There could be two people in it together.”

  Everyone looked around the table with fear in their eyes.

  “It is certainly possible that two people are in it together,” Michael said. “But for all we know, Bazza has a criminal record. The police could be looking for him at this very moment. He’s only been here a short time, so he could be fleeing from anything. Maybe he left a trail of murders behind him on the mainland.”

  Abby gently rocked her chair and twirled her coffee cup around several times. Everyone’s attention turned to her. “Here’s one way to put this to rest. We need to go back up the hill and tell the police about Bazza, if that’s even his real name. If they say he is wanted for murder, then we can all rest easy, since he’s locked up with no hope of escape. Then we won’t all be suspecting each other and jumping at every sound.”

  Everyone agreed, but I had my doubts. Was that just a ploy to get everyone up the hill to pick off one more victim? I remembered the words of Mulder on The X-Files, “Trust no one.”

  Owen sat down, and spoke before anyone else had the opportunity. “Now we all know that we can’t leave the island until the storm clears and the police come, and the circumstances are far from pleasant. Nonetheless, I think we should continue the cooking school.”

  Everyone erupted into chatter. Lisa was the first to speak. “Isn’t that a little disrespectful? Of the dead, I mean.”

  Owen shook his head. “It could be two to three days, possibly more, possibly less—who knows?—before the police can get here. What are we all going to do during that time? No one can swim, no one can walk along the beach, not in the storm. We could all sit here and read, and go crazy trying to think who the perpetrator or perpetrators could be, or we can continue with the cooking school. That will give us something to focus on.”

  I could see everyone was coming around to the idea, and that made me somewhat concerned. Once they sampled my cooking, they would no doubt be convinced I was the murderer, and I would spend the next few days locked in a small room. That reminded me of Marcel de Vries, the chef who had already fallen victim to my baking. “Owen, are you sure the French chef left on the boat?” I asked him. “I mean, did you see him leave and sail away?”

  Owen seemed taken aback. “Why, yes.”

  I pressed the matter. “Did you actually see him leave, or could he have gotten off the boat when you walked away?”

  Owen rubbed his chin. “I put him on the boat and then I left. I saw the boat leave, but I suppose it’s always possible he did get off, hypothetically speaking. I’m sure he didn’t, though. I mean, what reason would he have to get off the boat?”

  I shrugged. “What reason would anyone have to murder Benedict, Laura, and Sarah?”

  “I think Amelia’s right,” Lisa chimed in. “Perhaps he was faking his teeth falling out. Maybe it was so we’d all think he’d left the island, and he could sneak off the boat and double back and murder everyone.”

  “Amelia would be the first person he’d murder if that was the case,” Vanessa said smugly, shooting me a look of pure spite.

  “No, that’s just it!” Lisa exclaimed. “I just said he was faking his teeth. I mean, how can anyone lose their teeth just from biting a chocolate chip cookie?”

  “Trust me, he wasn’t faking it,” I said sadly.

  “Let’s not worry about Marcel de Vries for now,” Owen continued. “We’ll all go stir crazy sitting around here staring at the four walls. Haven’t you heard of cabin fever? Or the expression Going Troppo? Those expressions refer to people who are locked up like we are. We might as well continue the cooking lessons. What else can we do? Needless to say, Abby and I will refund you the costs of your stay here, so I’m not speaking for financial reasons. I just think we need to do something to occupy ourselves.” He paused to look at everyone in turn. “And then there’s the problem of the meals. The meals are made by all the students, with our help. If we are all going to prepare the food, as planned, then we mi
ght as well continue with the lessons.”

  “I do think it’s a good idea,” Vanessa said. “I’m awfully bored already.”

  She didn’t appear to see anything wrong with what she had said. I found it rather disrespectful to the victims, but then again, I hadn’t found Vanessa to be a pleasant type of person.

  Owen looked satisfied. “All right then, since everyone’s in agreement, we’ll carry on with our cooking lesson schedule as originally intended. And then, after the cooking lesson and lunch, we’ll decide who will go up the hill this time.”

  “Do you think there really could be someone else on the island?” Mandy asked. “If not the chef, then someone else?”

  Michael joined the conversation. “It’s highly unlikely, but of course, anything’s possible. All we can do is keep ourselves safe until the police come. If we do find out that Bazza is wanted for murder or some other terrible crime, then we can stop suspecting each other. Right now, I suggest we prepare lunch. Let’s all go to the teaching kitchen.”

  With a heavy heart I walked with the others to the teaching kitchen. I wondered what disaster I would have to prepare for lunch. I didn’t have long to wait. Abby immediately distributed a laminated sheet to everyone. “Here’s your recipe. We’re going to make something incredibly simple for our first lunch: Mexican beans with Avocado Salsa. What could be more simple?”

  Only with difficulty did I remain silent. Owen walked along, distributing the ingredients to everybody.

  Abby gestured to the steel work benches. “Each of you take your place at a countertop. We will be making this easy meal in a pressure cooker. It’s foolproof.”

  “That’s what you think,” I muttered.

  “Amelia, did you say something?”

  “No,” I lied. I nervously eyed the beans.

  “Rinse the pinto beans and remove any tiny stones from them,” Abby instructed. She demonstrated as she spoke.

  At least that was something I could do well. I rinsed the dried pinto beans and picked through them, looking for any foreign matter. I probably spent too long rinsing my beans, because I looked around and saw others were fastening their lids. I quickly consulted the recipe, and added the required cups of water and the tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil. I poured them all into the high pressure cooker and then shut the lid. I set the pressure cooker to high pressure. What a relief! It had all gone far better than I thought it would.

  Now I saw that everyone was chopping up vegetables. The recipe told me to chop up the bell peppers and the onion. I wondered at the wisdom of giving large sharp knives to possible murderers, but I supposed there was no option.

  Now the part I was dreading. It said to heat a teaspoon of oil in a large frying pan and sauté the vegetables for three to five minutes. I was terrified. Most of my baking accidents were something to do with flames.

  I very cautiously heated the oil, having put in a little less than the recipe required, and very carefully put in the vegetables. I kept an eye on the flame, but so far all was going according to plan, much to my surprise. I reluctantly dragged my gaze from the flames to look at the recipe and saw that I had to add oregano, ground cumin, and minced garlic, and then cook a further two minutes.

  It was with enormous relief that I turned off the gas and removed the frying pan from the heat. One thing was for sure, my cooking was definitely improving. The recipe then required that I remove the beans and drain them, but not rinse them. I did that, feeling a sense of achievement. I then placed the beans back into the pressure cooker with the sautéed mixture, along with three cups of vegetable broth. This time, I had to cook the mixture for six minutes at high pressure. I turned the pressure cooker to high, and checked my watch. What a relief! I was all almost done. Now I just had to make the salsa, but that did not include any baking.

  I looked up at Abby, and she was nodding at me approvingly. I diced the avocados into small pieces and put them in a glass bowl, and then poured on some lime juice. I paused to see what everyone else was doing. It seemed I had caught up to them, because they were all dicing avocados as well.

  “Well done, everyone,” Owen said. “Now we just have to wait for the beans to cook, and then we’ll season them to taste with freshly ground sea salt and black pepper. We will serve them hot with the salsa in the dining room. I’m sure everyone will enjoy a hearty meal.” He was about to say more, when there was an almighty explosion.

  At first I thought someone had thrown a hand grenade into the room and was firing bullets at us. We all dived under our benches.

  I peered out from my place of safety, terror-stricken. Finally, the assault stopped and I gingerly crawled out.

  “It’s safe to stand up now.” Abby sounded angry rather than scared. I wondered why there was an edge to her voice.

  “But someone’s trying to shoot at us,” Lisa said.

  “No, it was just an accident,” Abby said, with the same edge to her voice.

  I stood up, as did the others, and saw that Abby was pointing to the ceiling. I followed her gaze. There was a pressure cooker lid wedged in the ceiling above me.

  I looked back at the others. They had beans stuck to various parts of their body. Owen had a bean wedged in his ear, and a bean was stuck on the middle of Michael’s forehead. Abby had a row of beans in the formation of a tiara stuck to her hair. I considered pointing this out to her, and then thought maybe I should not.

  “Let this be a lesson to you all to make very sure the pressure cooker lid is secured firmly,” Abby said tersely.

  Chapter 10

  After lunch—and thankfully people had shared their beans with me—there was a lively discussion as to who should go back up the hill. Once again, nobody had any objections to me going, no doubt thanks to my spell to ensure that would happen.

  “I think I should go,” Owen said, “and Michael should stay with the remaining people.”

  Abby crossed the room to look out the shutters. “I want to stay.”

  “I’ll stay with Abby,” Mandy said.

  “I’m not going,” Vanessa screeched. “And what if the food’s poisoned? We’ll all die if we eat it, or starve if we don’t.”

  A hush fell over the room. That idea had not occurred to me, nor to anyone else, judging by the looks on their faces. It was a strange change of subject, but I thought it a valid point.

  “I know you’re the murderer,” Lisa piped up. She stood up and pointed at Vanessa, who simply rolled her eyes.

  “And what makes you think that, Sherlock?” Vanessa asked.

  “It’s either you or Bazza, and I know it isn’t him. I can’t think of anyone else.”

  I silently agreed with Lisa. If it wasn’t the pool boy, then Vanessa was the next likely suspect. I would have locked her up with him, but I didn’t know whether that was just because I didn’t like her.

  Vanessa leaped from her seat, and Michael hurried to separate the two women. She pursed her lips. “I’m not going up the hill again!”

  After Vanessa declared she was staying, Mandy and Abby said they wanted to go up the hill. I wondered if that was because they secretly thought Vanessa might have had a hand in Sarah’s murder.

  “I’m getting a headache,” Lisa said, rapidly standing up and rubbing her forehead. “I can’t go, after all.”

  “It’s settled, then,” Vanessa said. “Lisa and I will stay.”

  I saw Owen and Michael exchange glances. “I have to go to my room,” Lisa added. “I feel really sick. I think it’s a stress headache.”

  “Michael and I will take you to your room,” Owen said. “Make sure you lock your door, and don’t open it to anyone. I mean anyone. When we come back, we’ll knock on your door. Make sure you hear two voices before you open the door. Bazza’s locked in the room, so don’t go near him. Michael and I will check on Bazza to make sure he is still safely in his makeshift prison cell.”

  We were all quiet while Michael and Owen were gone. I wondered if Vanessa really would insist on staying on her o
wn. That would be foolhardy, to say the least.

  “I was hoping the storm would be on its way out by now,” Owen said upon his return, “but it looks as though that’s not the case. Now, we have to settle the matter of who stays and who goes. Will anyone stay behind with Vanessa? We need two people. Lisa will be in her room, so she doesn’t count.”

  His remark was met with dead silence. There were no volunteers. “Vanessa, you’ll have to come with us,” Owen said, “unless you want to stay locked in your room.”

  Vanessa left her chair, her face red and her eyes narrowed into slits. “All right then, but I’ll have you know, I’m coming under protest!” She pushed past Owen and stormed out of the room.

  Once again, I wasn’t keen to go up the hill, but I would do anything to get a chance to speak to Alder, or even send him a message. And like the last time, I had already written a text and so all I had to do was send it as soon as I had service. Hopefully, there would again be reception up the top of the hill. I couldn’t shake off the reminder that Sarah had been murdered on my last venture up the hill, so I hoped nothing would happen this time, especially not to me. I did suspect Vanessa, so I was disappointed that she was not staying behind. I intended to stick like glue to Owen, because my suspicions had been right—Sarah and Vanessa had been the two to bring up the rear, and look what had happened to Sarah! It’s always the ones who bring up the rear who get killed.

  I wasn’t as scared entering the tunnel as I had been the first time. After all, I was now familiar with the tunnels, but Mandy was none too thrilled, judging by her comments. I had my phone in my pocket in case the flashlight batteries failed, and I had charged my phone.