A Spell of Murder: Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies, #2

By Lisbeth Reade

Ella Sweeting, aromatherapist and secret witch-in-training, is looking forward to her date with Rory, the cute mailman who took a bullet saving her life. But when he stumbles over the body of a famous rock star in the middle of their date, it looks like romance isn't going to be the only thing on the menu.

Join Ella and her nutty witch aunts, their smartypants talking cats, and fashionable and fearsome Detective Garza on a romping cozy that will keep you laughing with every twist and turn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisbeth Reade
• Release date: Dec 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386734413

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A Spell of Murder

Lisbeth Reade

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Chapter 1

C oncentrate , Trouble hissed.

How can I if you keep saying 'concentrate'? It's very distracting, I told the cat.

He immediately started licking one of his giant paws, though whether in annoyance or embarrassment, I couldn't tell. I turned my attention back to the spell at hand. I was trying to change an apple from red to green. It was a deceptively easy magical task. You stare at the apple and mentally whisper the color you want it to be, and poof!

Except... no poof. I could feel the tension -- or tingling, whatever you wanted to call the sensation that signaled I was using magic -- but the apple stubbornly stayed red.

I flopped down on the edge of my bed and Livvie, a smoky gray cat, bumped her head against my shoulder. I gave her ears a scratch. She sat on her haunches and I held the apple up for her examination. She sniffed it.

Smells different, she mused.

I knew what she meant. Magic seemed to almost leave a scent hanging in the air. It was a hint of something, but I wasn't quite sure about it yet.

I had only become a witch about a week before, on my twenty-second birthday, and I hadn't really got a grip on it yet. I was still dealing with the weirdness of not only having three magical aunts but two talking cats, to boot. The Aunts said the cats were their familiars and I might attract one of my own someday, but for now I had Trouble, who was the biggest black tom I had ever seen, and the slightly more delicate Livvie to keep me company.

I'll give it one more try, I told her.

I placed the apple next to her. She eyed it. I eyed it. I summoned my magic and aimed a command at the apple.

Are you doing it yet? Trouble asked.

Shh, I smell magic, Livvie told him.

Then why isn't it changing colors?

I frowned, putting my hands on my hips. Well that's disappointing.

It smells like magic, Livvie insisted.

I picked it up and bit into it. Still tasted like a red apple, but when I looked down the inside was Granny Smith green. I whooped!

Is that for me?

Startled, I tossed the apple up in the air and spun around in time to see Rory catch it one handed. I clapped, delighted. He looked down at the apple. It was all green now.

He frowned. Funny... thought this apple was red a minute ago. Maybe I need new contacts. He shook he head and looked at me. You ready to go?

I shared a meaningful look with Livvie. She spun around in a circle. Trouble slunk under the bed. I turned back to look at Rory, knowing my eyes were sparkling with mischief. His hair was a lovely chestnut brown and disheveled in that way that made you just want to reach out and touch it. I resisted the urge just now since I had a cat audience.

Oh, yes, I answered. Where are we going?

He winked and my heart did a little flip flop. This was our first official date. We had hung out off and on since the Stewart murder case was solved but this was the first time we were properly going out.

I was wearing a white cotton dress with black and red poppies along the hem. I didn't want to look too dressed up or down, and this outfit did the trick. My hair was loose, makeup light. He'd apparently dressed up a bit in a nice pair of slacks and an Oxford shirt.

It's a surprise, he said, and glanced at his watch. And if we don't leave now, we're going to be late.

I stepped into a pair of high-heeled espadrilles and followed him down stairs. The Aunts were in the drawing room, arguing about the proper way to make candles. When my 60's mod style Aunt Sarah saw him she waved, but kept the other two from rushing out to mob us. It didn't stop them from calling out though.

Have a good time, you two, Auntie Joe said saucily.

Have her home by ten, there's a good lad, Aunt Hazel added.

Enough, I said, laughing. We'll be fine.

I thought I saw my mother peeking out from the kitchen but I was probably imagining things. Even though I'd read her the riot act for her resistance to Rory based on his social standing, and she'd finally agreed to tolerate my friendship with him, I figured she'd want to pretend this date wasn't happening.

Outside, Rory's old beat up car was sparkling. Maybe we were going for a drive? That would be exciting in that Chevy Nova. He opened the door for me and I hopped in.

My curiosity peaked when we passed my favorite pizza place and the excellent Chinese food place. We even passed the old movie theater that showed double features of old movies. Where were we going? The park? No, we passed that too, and suddenly we were heading into the heart of town. He slowed down outside La Beck.

Here?

La Beck was the most expensive French restaurant in town. Rory couldn't afford this! He was a mailman. His father had lost all his money in risky ventures back when we were in school together. This was way out of his budget.

Yup! He got out and handed his keys to the valet. The valet beamed at me, but frowned at Rory's car. Take good care of her, Rory told the valet.

Yes, sir. The valet sounded pretty doubtful, though.

He climbed into the old Nova like it was full of nasty things and drove it away, leaving us standing in front of the elegant façade of La Beck. I felt like a skittish horse. How could I order something here? It could easily cost Rory a whole paycheck. But then, how could I not? That would be so insulting.

Oh, don't look so worried, he said, taking my arm. I've got this covered.

How could you--?

Ella, your face gives away every single emotion. But seriously, don't worry. Tonight is just for us, he said with a wink.

Inside, the atmosphere was open but still felt intimate. Little tables covered in white and silver damask tablecloths filled the room like dollops of cream. The decor was a little too Louis the XIV for me, with the heavy brocade on chairs and the delicately carved lintels and columns, but the scent of the food was fantastic.

The maître d' led us to a small table under an arch dripping with fleur-de-lis. Rory pulled the chair out for me, and I sat, his chivalry making me feel a bit tingly inside.

The waiter handed us menus and crystal water glasses and disappeared. He was tall and thin, with neatly trimmed black hair, and pale blue eyes that didn't meet mine. I frowned as he walked away. He looked so familiar; I was sure I knew him, but his name wasn't coming to me. Grr. It was like a jigsaw missing a piece.

It's Thomas Cambridge, Rory whispered.

Oh, I breathed. That hit hard. Thomas went to school with us, too. What was he doing working as a waiter?

You should really be looking at the table to the right of you, anyway, Rory whispered.

Why?

Just look, he said, eyes wide.

I turned and saw four older couples about my parents' age sitting at a large table. What was Rory talking about? And then the one with longish, silver-touched brown hair with turned and I gasped.

Oh my goodness! Is that Hank Stillwater from that band? Oh, they were all the rage when we were kids... What was it called, Run something?

Run of the Indifferent! We said it together and collapsed into giggles.

Their drummer Neil is there too. Neil Campbell, I think? That's definitely Hank's wife Evelyn. Wow, Rory gushed. I have all their CDs.

He grabbed my hand in his enthusiasm and I felt a warm blush creep into my cheeks. It was still there when Thomas came back to take our orders.

Did you see who is at the next table? Rory asked him.

Thomas rolled his eyes. His Majesty Hank Stillwater? Yeah, I'm working that table, too. He's already sent back two perfectly good, perfectly expensive bottles of Cabernet. Nothing's good enough for the bastard.

I was taken aback by the intensity of his anger, but then he took a deep breath and put his waiter face back on. He told us the specials, but I already knew what I wanted.

I'll have the Sole Meunière, I told Thomas.

Um, I'll have the Magret de Canard, Rory said, his French accent better than mine. I beamed at him as I ordered a white and he ordered a red wine.

Okay, I'll put that right in for you, Thomas said with a smile. The other table called out for him and Thomas' smile became fixed, looking more like a grimace, if you asked me. If you'll excuse me...

I turned back to Rory and kept beaming. We were still holding hands.

This is wonderful, I said. Talk about spoiling a girl. We could have just had pizza, you now.

He snorted. "Yeah, no way. I need to make a good impression on you. We can save the sauce and cheese