Sit a Spell: Abbie Adams Mystery, #1

By H.M. McQueen

Random thefts are rampant in Whisper, Georgia and Witch Abbie Adams, the owner of Sit A Spell Tea shop decides to step in and help investigate.  After all with the Whisper Festival about to take place, the town doesn't need this hanging over their collective heads.

It's more complicated than she expects, as everyone seems to be hiding something.  From the new hunky veterinarian to the town's mayor.

Just as Abbie gets close to finding out who the random thief is, she becomes the prime suspect.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pink Door Publishing
• Release date: Jan 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386603856

Book preview

Chapter 1

Arosy cheeked Becka and the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon scones greeted Abbie Adams when she walked into, Sit A Spell Teahouse. She and her best friend Becka had grown up in Whisper, Georgia, a town of mostly witches and mediums sprinkled with a human or two.

Her best friend and partner Becka stood behind the counter, her pretty cherubic face flushed from the ovens. With flour on her cheeks and in her red curls, she looked cute as a button. Hey Abbie, you gotta hear this.

Let me put down this heavy box first. Abbie called out heading to a side door so she could go into her small office space. She put down her box and purse then walked into the back kitchen area.

It was early yet. They didn't open until ten in the morning for tea customers and closed promptly at four o'clock in the afternoon. When they'd gone into business, they'd made an agreement not to allow it to take over their lives. Even though many of their customers in the small town sometimes complained, they'd never changed their hours.

She donned a chocolate brown smock with the Sit a Spell Teahouse logo over her left breast covering the striped blue t-shirt she wore with jeans and flat shoes. Once that was done, Abbie pulled her long hair back into a high ponytail, peeked in the mirror. A rather pale face and chapped lips looked back.

Ugh, I need more sleep. I have enough bags under my eyes to give Coach a run for their money.

Glamour spell, Becka called back. Oh and no one buys Coach anymore.

She frowned and peered at her new bag. No true!

After a quick glamour spell giving her mascara and bright moist pink lips, she then walked through the swinging door to behind the counter.

Her friend wiped her hands on a towel and grinned. Becka wore her wild curls up in a messy bun from which most of her hair had escaped. In one of her usual mix-matched patterned outfits, she wore a fifties housewife style dress with bunches of cherries on a teal blue background. Yellow frilly socks and apple green Reeboks completed the ensemble.

Her vivid green eyes twinkled mischievously when Abbie frowned at her hairstyle. I forgot to do a tidy up. I had to hurry out after a bit of early morning delight. She winked. Abbie winced.

Becka loved giving details of her love life. I left Gary lying across the bed, naked and breathless. She snapped her fingers and instantly her hair became a more manageable but yet messy style and her eyes sparkled with bright blue eye shadow. There.

Seriously? Abbie stared at her friend. Do you really think I wanted to hear that? She didn't want to picture her best friend's husband naked. Gary Knudsen was a burly, handsome man who doted on Becka and from the information her friend always insisted on sharing, there were apparently plenty of reasons why.

Oh yeah, Becka got a dreamy look. But that's not what I wanted to tell you. she continued while carefully setting the fresh scones onto a beautiful blue flowered china plate.

Abbie snatched one from the baking sheet and plopped onto a tall chair. Talk all you want while I have a cup of Darjeeling, and this yummy darling here. She eyed the teapot clock on the wall. It was nine-thirty, plenty of time before they opened.

Listen to this, Becka whispered even though there wasn't anyone else in the shop. Someone stole Polly and Peter right off Mrs. Polanski's porch.

Who?

Her parakeets. You know how she dotes on them. She is beside herself, poor thing. Becka continued to tsk as she pulled a different tray of scones from the oven, these were their Wednesday special flavor, golden butter raisin.

If she'd known those were in the oven, Abbie would have waited. She studied her already bitten into scone and wondered if maybe she should go ahead and take a golden raisin one and eat half of each. Why is it such a big deal that the birds are missing?

Because, Becka continued hesitating for effect. It's another random theft in the string of things taken around town. First the Smith's mailbox, then Julie Milton's rocking chair, Amelia's mother said a cat statue was snatched from their back deck and now this. The mayor is having a town hall meeting tomorrow night.

Losing the willpower when the aroma of the fresh scones beckoned, Abbie got up and grabbed one. Goodness, Abbie replied absently biting the scone. I hope they figure out who's doing it. It's a shame when you can't leave things on your own porch. Who the hell has a cat statue anyway?

Maybe someone making an altar to the goddess of the underworld, Becka replied.

There is no such thing, Abbie more asked than said. Right?

Coy is so annoying; she's smudging the glass. I suppose we’re opening early today. Becka went to the front door and flipped the sign to open when the woman cupped her hands and peered in. Hi Coy, you're up and about early.

The woman walked past Becka barely sparing her a glance and rushed to the counter her hands on the counter. Her sparkling bright pink two-inch long nails extended like talons. Coy took a long breath. Oh my God. I want to eat the entire shop.

That would not surprise me. You're always eating. Becka said. The two had a good-natured banter going, constantly chiding each other over their lack of ability to stick to a diet.

Coy adjusted her headband and looked Becka up and down. Hmm, you’re one to talk. Looks like you've been your own taste-tester lately.

Both burst into giggles and Abbie shook her head. Coy have you heard about the random thefts? What do you think?

I think there's a mad warlock living amongst us. And he needs to be stopped before he moves on to women's underwear. I am keeping my panties inside from now on.

There was silence as Abbie and Becka exchanged looks, neither daring to ask where Coy normally kept her panties.

Abbie cleared her throat. I have to agree, there seems to be a crazy person living here in Whisper.

Or persons, Becka said in a conspiracy tone. Maybe the thief has a partner, someone who is his or her lookout.

The bell over the door