Magical Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 1) Read online

  “Of course, he is. Was. That was Larry Butterball. He was the lawyer who handled my grandmother’s will.”

  “Larry does handle most of the estates here in town, but I’ve never seen the man lying on the floor back there.” Sheriff Drake was shaking his head to someone behind me, but I was still reeling from his announcement and didn’t bother to turn and see who he was waving off. “And whoever he was, he didn’t die from any heart attack. That man was murdered.”

  “M-murdered?”

  This had to be karma biting me in the butt.

  Nothing else made sense.

  I thought back over the last week. Mr. Butterball had reached out by phone, but then we met in person at the gravesite. He’d handed me his card, the envelope, and then sat with me and my mother as a few words were spoken by a local pastor. We never even entered the town’s limits, though. My mother had already taken a step toward the car before the last word of the service had even been uttered.

  “Wait.” I had concrete proof that the dead man in there was Larry Butterball. “I drove here to meet with Mr. Butterball at his office four days ago. His office is on Lake Drive. I can even show you where we met, if you’d like.”

  “Ma’am, Larry is—”

  “Please call me Raven,” I interrupted, having enough of the ma’am stuff. I needed to concentrate, and he was making that almost impossible under the circumstances by constantly telling me I didn’t know what I was talking about. My observation was simple enough to prove. “Is your Mr. Butterball’s office on Lake Drive?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then that is Larry Butterball—my grandmother’s lawyer.”

  “Raven, I grew up with Larry,” Sheriff Drake said, all but destroying any hope of having this be a simple misunderstanding. “He’s thirty-six years old, six feet three, and bald. The man lying dead on your floor in the back of the shop might be the man you met, but he is definitely not Larry Butterball.”

  Chapter Three

  “It will be okay,” Heidi assured me with a pat on my arm before she opened the passenger door of my Corolla. I found it difficult to trust that she could truly believe that herself, but the tone of her voice betrayed no doubt. “Your Sheriff Drake will get to the bottom of this. Look at this as an opportunity to learn more about the day-to-day operations of the tea shop. You said yourself you needed to study the different ways to prepare it, what blends go together, and yada, yada, yada. Now you’ll have the time to figure it out.”

  Heidi waved her hand around and around in the air as she closed the car door, not waiting for me to do the same. I contemplated locking the doors and taking a nap. Honestly, I was completely exhausted after today’s events.

  Sheriff Drake had released us from the scene of the crime, which just happened to be my only means of making a living at the moment. I know, I was quite shocked that neither Heidi or myself hadn’t been thrown in jail, but he’d told us to go home and that he would be in touch regarding the investigation.

  Why did I feel as though it wasn’t going to be quite as easy as he’d made it sound?

  I sighed in frustration and popped the trunk to buy myself a few extra seconds. My eyes drifted back to the small cottage that sat on the edge of town. I wrestled with the memory of my grandmother in contrast to the one-story house in front of me. There was absolutely no way that Nan had lived here, but Heidi had checked the address twice.

  This was Rosemary Marigold’s property, alright. And now it was mine.

  Fake Larry Butterball had referenced Rosemary as a wicked witch. I thought he’d been referring to her using a rather base vernacular, but seeing what could pass for the eerie house that Hansel and Gretel stumbled upon in the forest might have had something to do with it. The place was practically overgrown, looking more like a gardener’s worst nightmare than an occupied residence.

  It didn’t help that a wrought iron fence surrounded the small yard, with each post having an ominously sharp spike on the end. The two trees on either side of the yard were beginning to lose their leaves, and I could just imagine what the entire scene in front of me would look like in the dead of winter.

  Again, an uneasy tingle began to make its way up my spine. Just maybe the old fake turkey’s description hadn’t been too far off the mark.

  What was going on in this tiny town of Paramour Bay?

  Was there another reason my mother left here without ever looking in the rearview mirror beside my grandmother? Had my mom sought to escape the embarrassment of living in a hovel nearly reclaimed by the gnarled hands of the untamed shrubbery?

  An abrupt knock on the window practically stopped my heart.

  “Are you coming or what? I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a glass of wine. Maybe even a shot of whiskey.”

  Heidi hadn’t cared that there was a pane of glass between us. She’d raised her voice and made her intentions known with a wide smile. It was a good thing that this particular plot of land was around a half mile from town, yet still within the city limits.

  How could Heidi smile so pleasantly all the while knowing a man was dead?

  I opened my door, having no intention of dragging everything from my vehicle to the house. At least, not all tonight. The completely jam-packed trunk and the sheer number of sundry items in the backseat made the car look like it belonged to some hoarder. Two different style suitcases took up most of the trunk, but piles of clothes that wouldn’t fit in the two cases, shoes, boxes, and miscellaneous items were all stacked on top of one another. It was why I’d packed an overnight bag, which I quickly grabbed from the floorboard behind my seat.

  “Did you hear what Sheriff Drake said about good ol’ Fake Larry?”

  “That he wasn’t actually the real Larry?”

  “No, the part about how there hasn’t been a murder in Paramour Bay in over fifty years.” I found that bit so hard to believe, but who was I to question the sheriff? He didn’t seem too talkative, anyway. “Fifty-three years, to be exact.”

  I stepped ahead of Heidi and flipped the latch on the gate, wincing when the hinges squeaked as if the pivots had forgotten to be oiled since they had been installed. It looked somewhat new, so I had to wonder if it hadn’t been put together properly to begin with. Had Nan been ripped off by the sham door-to-door installers? It happened all the time in New York, but I would think things would be different out here in a small town.

  “What does fifty-three years have to do with anything? We weren’t even born yet,” Heidi pointed out, walking through the gate first. We both strolled down the cobblestone walkway, stopping at least twenty feet before what could only be the front step. I was pretty sure it was a flat slab of rock to match the rest of the house. Either way, it appeared dark gray in the shadows of the setting sun, and reclaimed by the same half-dead tentacles as the rest of the house. “And it wasn’t like you killed Fake Larry. Sheriff Drake can take that sexy swagger right out the door if he believes otherwise.”

  I decided not to mention that fifty-three was my mother’s age. There were too many unanswered questions here as it was, and if I mentioned that fact, Heidi might very well decide to drive back to town to remedy that quandary. There was no need to throw anything else into the recipe. The pot was bubbling over already. I had twelve months to find out all of Paramour Bay’s dirty little secrets.

  I shivered as a cool breeze came off the lake behind the cottage. The temperature had dropped quite precipitately this evening, so it was no wonder the welcoming scent of burning firewood drifted through the air. The bright orange sunset glistened off the still water, but it wouldn’t be long before it was dark as the moonless sky.

  Fall was suddenly in the air.

  “We should either go inside or pitch a tent.”

  I tried to steer my thoughts to what treasures this house held, considering I wasn’t allowed in the back of the tea shop until Sheriff Drake gave the all clear. He’d actually called in the state police, who in turn had grilled me for the past six hours. I tol
d my side of the story three times before they all seemed to believe me, especially given that Heidi had said the exact same things when they’d turned their attention toward her.

  “You have the key Fake Larry gave you, right?”

  I did, right on the keychain in my hand. Something held me back from closing the distance to the front door. It was then that the wreath hanging in the middle of the wooden entrance caught my attention.

  I’d seen it before.

  “Heidi, that’s betony.”

  “Who’s Bethany?” Heidi asked, scanning the yard for a person when I meant the purple perennials. “Where?”

  “Not who, but what.”

  “What?”

  I shook my head at the confusing conversation. I pointed toward the wreath, finally moving closer to the front step. This was exciting for me. I’d read up on tea leaves on the Internet, choosing the most reputable sites I could find, and discovered the various flavors from different herbs and leaves. And if I remembered correctly, this particular flower was used to cure many ills.

  “The wreath is made of betony. It’s an herb used to blend with tea.” My spirits lifted at the fact that I knew more than I thought I did, so I lifted the key in small victory. “I wonder why she made it into a wreath?”

  Heidi was behind me as I slid the key into the slot, but she tapped me in the middle of the back, preventing me from twisting it. And she didn’t stop until I finally turned around. All I wanted to do was see the inside of the cottage. Was that too much to ask?

  I had numerous questions that needed answering.

  Would the interior resemble the outside with its strange haunted vibe? Would there be answers regarding who Fake Larry was and why he’d pretended to be another person altogether? Would this house contain the answers to the questions I had about my lineage?

  Heidi was still tapping me, though I’d turned enough that she was now hitting my stomach. I brushed her hand away in irritation while following her gaze. My heart skipped a beat, maybe two, as I caught sight of a large man standing on the other side of the gate. All I could think was that it was a good thing it was closed, because that small blessing would give me and Heidi time to run. If we could make it to the backyard, we could always try and swim to safety.

  “Hello.”

  “Um, hello?” That was the second time today that I worded a statement as a question. The man was still as a statue, and he didn’t seem inclined to say anything else or to gain entrance. I prodded him along. “Can we help you?”

  “I’m Ted.”

  “Ted Bundy,” Heidi muttered underneath her breath, certainly not talking about the man’s looks. He was at least six feet and six inches tall, if not more. He had yellowish blond hair and what appeared to be sunken eyes. I couldn’t really tell from where we were standing. “We should run all the way back to the city.”

  “Stop it,” I murmured just as low so that my voice didn’t carry in the slight breeze.

  We both waited for the strange man to continue, but all he did was remain standing where he was while staring at the two of us with curiosity. Well, it was a two-way street.

  Speaking of streets, I tore my gaze away from the mysterious Mister Ted. I scanned the area and couldn’t fathom where he’d come from or even from which direction he might have approached us. As I said, this property was located a half mile from town. There were no neighbors and no trails that I could see.

  “Hello, Ted.”

  “You look just like her.”

  Ted had to be talking about Nan, but I wasn’t convinced this guy was on the right side of sanity. For one, he wore a suit. He kind of resembled an undertaker. Wait. Did he work for the funeral home that had buried Nan?

  “I do look like her,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. Heidi was still pulling at the hem of my shirt, but I kept batting away her hand. “I’m Raven, Rosemary’s granddaughter.”

  Another round of silence lasted at least forty-five seconds. And while that doesn’t seem to be long, trust me, it felt like an eternity.

  “Ted, do you live somewhere around here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Raven, do you think—”

  “I live around back.”

  Ted hadn’t known that he was interrupting Heidi, but his answer certainly had her shutting up.

  What did he mean around back? He wasn’t talking about some sort of shed in the yard, was he?

  Heidi and I slowly stepped off the flat rock in unison and just as gradually made our way to the side of the house. Sure enough, what appeared to be a large shed overlooked the lake. It didn’t look nearly large enough to accommodate such a big man.

  And no longer was the sun shimmering off the water. The sun had left us to our own devices, leaving us here alone with Ted in the diminishing twilight.

  “I’m ready to run,” Heidi whispered, clutching her overnight bag. “Are you ready to run? Where are the keys? We could use them as a weapon.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d left the keys in the door. It was better for her not to know and die thinking we stood half a chance of survival.

  Hope was a powerful emotion.

  “I can put these inside.”

  Heidi shrieked after we both realized that Ted had somehow come through the gate without a single squeak. How had he done that? I managed to keep both feet rooted on the ground, but I was no longer beginning to think something was strange about Paramour Bay.

  I was absolutely positive this place was totally off its rocker.

  The knee-high boots I wore underneath my skirt were luckily flat. They would have come in extra handy had I expended any energy to make a run for it, but something peculiar happened that changed my mind.

  Ted smiled.

  Well, he tried to smile with the collection of broken teeth he had.

  He reminded me of a lost boy, eager to find someone to tell him what to do.

  He was also standing there with practically everything I’d packed in the backseat of my car. Again, it made me wonder how he’d gotten through the gate without making a sound, but it no longer mattered. He was obviously a friend of my Nan’s. Otherwise, why would she allow him to live on the property?

  Could Ted be some type of groundskeeper? Maybe I could ask him to take a whack at the shrubbery.

  “Thank you, Ted.” I rushed over to open the door for him, ignoring the look of incredulity on Heidi’s face. It was a good thing I had a bottle of wine tucked away. It would help her come to terms with leaving me here come morning. “That’s awfully sweet of you.”

  Ted made his way into the small cottage before us, followed by me, because Heidi wasn’t going anywhere near Ted. I didn’t blame her, but something told me that Ted was entirely harmless.

  “Oh, wow.”

  I came up short, allowing Ted to walk farther into the absolutely stunning cottage. It was much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside.

  “Oh, wow, indeed,” Heidi said a little breathlessly. The view of the interior took her attention off Ted. “You know, I can quit my job to help you. We could split the profits. You do the research while I socialize with the local talent.”

  I understood her offer. Man, I totally did. And to say I was thanking my lucky stars to have a Nan who had such good taste was an understatement. This was the Nan I remembered. I made a mental note to grill my mother about why the two of them hadn’t gotten along. It was time I get some answers.

  It wasn’t like I could put off calling her for much longer, considering the police would want her statement regarding Fake Larry. She would need to answer some of their questions as well.

  “Did you not have a home?”

  Ted’s odd question in such a sad tone made me realize he took Heidi’s reaction in the literal sense.

  “We live in apartments in New York City, but we’re just surprised by the interior, is all. Nan had great taste. This place is absolutely beautiful.”

  And it was, with all the surprisingly moder
n furniture, updated appliances, and granite countertops. There were splashes of color everywhere, from the burgundy pillows to the gold and blue rugs. The living room furniture was made of cream, overstuffed cushions that a person could sink into and never want to leave.

  As for the coffee table, it was the one piece of furniture that stood out the most. It had to have been handmade. The intricate wooden designs were nothing like I’d seen before, and my fingers itched to trace the carvings.

  “You will sleep there.”

  Ted pointed to the wooden railing above the kitchen, signifying a loft bedroom. I would have gone straight up the spiral staircase, but I didn’t want to appear rude. Ted had been so nice to carry in the things from my backseat. I automatically reached into my oversized purse and pulled out a few ones.

  Ted stared at the money in my hand, making no move to take it.

  “It’s my way of thanking you, Ted.”

  “It’s a good thing Ms. Rosemary brought you here.” Ted reached out, and with the coldest of hands, closed his fingers around my own so that the money was clutched in my palm. “I am not a man of the night. But thank you.”

  I was so shocked by what Ted was referring to that I could only stare at his perfect posture as he bent his head to duck as he walked out the door. He even closed it quietly behind him so softly that I didn’t hear the expected click.

  How did he do that?

  “Did he think you called him a—”

  “Who is he?” I asked in confusion, looking down at my hand where the coolness from his touch still remained. How could someone be so cold? “He takes things so literally. And he never did say how he’d come to live in the backyard. Heidi, I’ve got to tell you that this place is far past the point of freaking me out.”

  I’d gone through a myriad of emotions throughout the day, ranging from skepticism to horror, and then from excitement to unease. The people in Paramour Bay, maybe with the possible exception of Sheriff Drake, were odd. And that included the older woman with the purple hair who looked as if she’d seen a ghost after she’d set eyes on me. Not even the younger man standing behind her had been able to flush some color in her cheeks.