Christmas Spells: The Kitchen Witch, #14

By Morgana Best

Amelia is feeling extra Santa-mental and wants the Christmas spirit, just not the Christmas spirit who arrives to demand her help.
The Ghost of Christmas Past was an elf-made man who was murdered the previous Christmas while in a Santa suit.
Can Amelia solve the murder, or is it a lost Claus?
Yule never guess who the murderer is!
 

Book 14 in this fun paranormal cozy mystery series from USA Today Bestselling author, Morgana Best.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Best Cosy Books
• Release date: Jun 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781922420480

Morgana Best

After surviving a childhood of deadly spiders and venomous snakes in the Australian outback, bestselling author Morgana Best writes cozy mysteries and enjoys thinking of delightful new ways to murder her victims.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The first thing I saw when I opened my front door was the dark sky, menacing black clouds piled on top of one other, threatening a downpour of rain. The second thing I saw was a green and white Christmas tree standing on my porch. The bottom of it was still in its cardboard wrapper, and only the top half was showing through the plastic.

Camino! I exclaimed, ducking instinctively as thunder boomed overhead. That’s one of the best onesies you’ve ever made. It looks like a real Christmas tree. I opened the door. Come inside.

The tree did not respond.

Are you having trouble walking in it? I asked, scratching my head. Camino usually didn’t have trouble getting around in any of her onesies, even the antique chair onesies.

When she didn’t answer, I leant closer. Can you hear me in there? I called out.

The whole street can hear you. Kayleen, the annoying mail lady, jumped out from behind the Christmas tree. Amelia, have you completely lost your marbles? Have you been drinking too much egg nog maybe? Or smoking the mistletoe? She looked me up and down and scratched her head.

What are you doing here? I asked her. It’s a Sunday. I wrinkled my nose, wondering about the terrible smell wafting past me. Maybe one of the neighbours was using liberal applications of fertiliser on a nearby garden.

What do you think I’m doing? Carrying the tree up your pathway, of course. It’s heavy too. I’m overloaded what with it being Christmas and all, so I’m working weekends. I should get paid more for this. And that is exactly why I’m starting my own business.

Surely she could have walked by herself? I was getting more puzzled by the minute.

Amelia, a voice called from down by my front gate.

I was surprised to see another Christmas tree. This one was hopping up the path towards me. Camino?

Yes, the Christmas tree called out.

I looked from Camino to the Christmas tree on my porch. This is a Christmas tree, I said in shock.

Kayleen thrust a clipboard under my nose. Duh! Sign for it.

I did as she asked. She pushed on. Did your husband buy this behind your back? He doesn’t tell you about his purchases? Is there some trouble in the marriage? She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

Alder and I are happily married, I said, not that it’s any of your business.

Kayleen simply snatched the clipboard back and stormed down the path, knocking Camino over on the way. I ran down the path and helped her up. Are you all right?

Camino’s branches nodded. It’s hard to walk in this because Christmas trees have a single trunk, not two legs, you see. Some are on tripods, and some have four legs, but none have just two legs.

I pointed to the tree on my porch. I thought that was you.

Camino beamed from branch to branch and then sneezed when a piece of tinsel flew into her mouth. That’s awfully kind of you, Amelia. It’s a very lifelike one. Did you order it online?

I shrugged. I think Alder did. It’s pretty, isn’t it?

Camino hopped up the path, and we both admired the tree. It was sparkling green and white. Camino gave it a little push. It’s heavy. I don’t know how Kayleen managed to carry it.

I waved one hand at her. Let’s leave it for Alder. Come in and have some egg nog. It’s eggless of course, since I don’t eat eggs.

It was Camino’s turn to be confused. How can you have eggless egg nog?

Easy, I said. You just buy fake egg powder. Oh, and add more bourbon.

A look of fear passed across Camino’s face. Did you make it?

Yes, but it didn’t need any baking, so it’s quite safe.

She shuddered. Maybe I’ll try a little sip first.

I helped Camino hop into my living room, flipping on the light switches on my way. It was awfully dark for an afternoon, thanks to the brewing storm.

What’s the house watching now? she asked me.

Hallmark Christmas movies, I said. Thankfully, she’s watching different movies this time, not the same movie over and over again. Would you like to sit down?

I don’t think I can, Camino admitted.

Then can I help you out of your onesie?

"That’s a good idea. I am dressed quite respectably underneath."

I helped Camino out of the Christmas tree onesie, and we carefully laid it over a chair. Camino was dressed as a Christmas elf. I wondered why someone would dress as an elf underneath a Christmas tree onesie, but I wasn’t about to ask. Willow and Hawthorn found the onesie fascinating and stalked over to sniff it.

This will be a nice Christmas, with no murders, Camino said.

Touchwood! I shrieked. How do you know there won’t be any murders?

We never have murders in Bayberry Creek at Christmas, Camino said smugly. We have them at all other times of the year but not at Christmas. Since you came to town, there’s been a murder every Halloween. She smiled and nodded slowly as she spoke.

I put my hands over my eyes. Don’t remind me! Well, at least it’s another nine months before Halloween comes again. Or is it ten months? I frowned. Never mind.

Camino jumped. Oh, I forgot. There was the murder last Christmas, of course.

This was news to me. There was?

She nodded. Ignatius Benedict. They thought it was a heart attack at the time, but then they found arsenic in his system. The local paper didn’t mention it, really.

A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder stopped her speaking. The lights went out.

Camino shuddered. Just as well it’s not night time. I hope the lights come back on soon.

Well, we have plenty of candles. It’s atmospheric. I found a box of matches under a magazine and lit the nearest candle, a vanilla and caramel scented one. It was one of my favourite scents.

Camino peeked out the window. It looks like no one else in the street has lights either. Maybe a tree fell over the power lines.

I hurried past her and shut the curtains. Don’t stand near a window in a thunderstorm, I admonished her.

A loud crack of thunder made us both jump. We clutched each other. That was spooky, Camino said. I don’t know why, but I’m feeling very uneasy.

The house is uneasy too. She turned off the TV. I clutched Camino’s arm a little harder. What’s happening?

The room grew darker and darker.

The cats ran out of the room. Camino pointed over towards the fireplace which, of course, had not been on since October, given that Christmases in Australia are in the middle of summer. A ghost!

At first, I saw nothing, and then a shape began to form. It was a hideous apparition, a spectre, the eerily floating ectoplasm forming the figure of an old man with a long white beard and elongated, bony fingers. He floated towards, us his hands outstretched.

We screamed.

CHAPTER 2

I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, the ghost uttered in the scariest voice I had ever heard.

Go away. My husband will be home soon, and he’ll deal with you. I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. It was a silly thing to say.

Camino peeked between her hands, which were clamped firmly over her eyes. Don’t I know you?

I wished she hadn’t said that because the apparition floated close to us. I shuddered in terror. It was white and wispy, with grey eyes and a grey face. The ghost extended one unearthly finger. Camino Abre?

Camino took one hand from her eyes. Ignatius Benedict?

The ghost rose a little higher in the air. Yes. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. You must solve my murder or I will never leave you alone.

Colour was returning to Camino’s cheeks. I wasn’t sure the same could be said for mine. You were murdered? I squeaked. I was so scared I had momentarily forgotten Camino had just been talking about him.

Last Christmas, he said.

They never found out who did it, did they? Camino asked him.

The ghost sighed, wispy bits of white air floating from his mouth. Obviously not, he said snarkily. That’s why you must solve it. I need to know who murdered me.

Why didn’t you want your murder solved before now, given that you were murdered last Christmas? I asked him.

Because the Ghost of Christmas Future has only recently been pursuing me and I wonder if that’s because my murder must be solved before this Christmas. What’s more, the will that was discovered is not the real will.

I was beginning to become interested despite my terror. Somebody faked your will?

The ghost’s eyes flashed red. No! he said in a bone-chillingly cold voice. It was a genuine will, but it was an earlier will. You need to find the current will and you need to solve my murder.

I took a step backwards. Who do you suspect?

He jabbed a bony finger in my direction. Everybody! I am tasking the two of you with solving my murder and finding my will. Until you find the will, I will visit you on a frequent basis to remind you of your task. Fail me, and I will haunt you forever. I need you to…

His voice faded, to be replaced by a scream. His eyes grew redder and redder as his body became less corporal. Finally, his body vanished, leaving two red dots in the air. I thought I would pass out from fear, but the red eyes suddenly vanished.

Another hideous apparition appeared in front of me, this one worse than the first. It was shrouded in black and moving ever so slowly. The one outstretched hand was impossibly pale.

It’s the Grim Reaper, Camino squeaked.

No, it’s the Ghost of Christmas Future, I said.

The second apparition vanished.

What was that all about? I asked Camino, trembling.

I need a brandy. Do you have any brandy? she asked by way of response. I hope there were only two of those ghosts!

I have cooking sherry, I offered.

Camino pushed past me and ran into the kitchen. She opened the cupboards until she found the cooking sherry and then downed half of the small bottle in one go.

Do you mind telling me what’s going on? I prompted her.

You know that creepy old house on the outskirts of town that’s always overgrown?

I thought about it. The scary Victorian one with the spire on top? The one with the old iron fence? And waist-high weeds?

Camino nodded vigorously. Ignatius Benedict lived there for years. He was murdered there and as you heard, his murder was never solved.

Is that why no one has bought the place? Because they think it’s haunted?

Camino shook her head. "It is haunted, but it was haunted even when Ignatius Benedict was living there. He was a recluse, kept to himself. Why don’t we drive there now?"

"What, now? Are you mad? It’s about to rain heavily." As soon as I finished speaking, rain pummelled the roof. I normally liked the sound of rain on the tin roof, but when the rain was heavy, it always sounded like the roof would fall in.

No time like the present, Camino said cheerily. And the rain won’t last long. They never do with these summer thunderstorms. We can all meet at Ruprecht’s.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket ready to call Alder, but Camino was already pulling me out of my living room.

I grabbed my keys from the hall stand on the way.

When Camino opened my front door, we both stood stock still, looking at the onslaught of heavy rain. We’ll have to make a run for it, Camino said.

Give me a second. I’ll call Alder and tell him to meet us at Ruprecht’s. Alder didn’t pick up, so I texted him. By the time I’d finished the text and