Framed & Gamed: Trouble Down Under, #4

By P.A. Mason

Ash has been missing since the launch of Garden Gate Nursery and Supplies. And as a tech-illusionist, Kat's pal is impossible to track down online.

 

But when Kat suspects the magical Inquisition is behind his disappearance and connects that with two suspicious arsons in the small town of Myrtleglen, things only get stranger. Desperate to help the guy who worked tirelessly to clear her name just weeks ago, Kat is compelled to take the situation in her own hands, and will use all the magical means at her disposal to locate him.

 

With the Inquisition refusing to talk to Kat about the arsons, she must call on her undead ancestor for a spell capable of reaching a person who doesn't want to be found. And the real reason Ash has gone underground leaves this green witch scrambling for a way to set the record straight.

 

Framed & Gamed is the fourth book in the Trouble Down Under series—a paranormal cozy mystery with a horticultural twist. If you enjoy travel, small town mysteries, a dash of gardening, and a splash of magic, you'll love P.A. Mason's quirky Aussie take on small town cozies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P.A. Mason
• Release date: Mar 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224800452

Book preview

Chapter 1

Dang it. I tapped a finger on the wheel of my truck in irritation as I glared at the closed sign hanging in the window of Ash’s computer store. It was eleven AM, for Pete’s sake. It had been a week since I’d actually laid eyes on the man, and the fact that he wasn’t returning my calls so soon after risking his own neck helping me on a case had me worried. Really worried.

I pulled out my phone to call for the millionth time, and it went straight to voicemail. It was about time that I contacted the Inquisition. Or perhaps the regular police to see if I could file a missing person’s report. The thing that stayed my hand was knowing just how deep he’d dug into both mundane and magical databases lately. If he’d simply taken off for an impromptu vacation or was off covering his tracks somewhere, he wouldn’t appreciate me shining a beacon on him.

Pulling the keys from the ignition, I jumped out of the truck on my errand to get coffee for both my employee, Bill and me. Perhaps after work I could come back and break into the shop for clues. Though, knowing my luck, I was sure Ash had the premises rigged with all manner of alarms.

After ordering coffee and a couple of sweet buns, along with a newspaper for Bill, I forced my mind to turn to my other problem. Both coffee and sugar were required for my next task of giving my employee a comprehensive tour of the point of sales system at the store to prepare for the weekend. If business was going to be as busy as I thought it would be, scratching down sales on a notepad and leaving them for me to put into the system long-term was unfeasible. If the lesson went as expected, it would probably be simpler for me to come into the shop myself for the three-hour shift.

Bad mood aside, pulling up at the front of the Garden Gate Nursery and Supplies—complete with its newly installed set of antique cast iron gates out the front—still gave me butterflies in my stomach. A new batch of plants had arrived from the wholesaler the day before to fill the spaces that launch day had left behind, and I was looking forward to finding an hour or two to get them properly settled in. And maybe a cheeky bit of magic to bring on a burst of growth. Balancing my tray of coffees, I crunched across the gravel as Bill met me at the door and held it open.

Glad you’re back. I can’t for the life of me get this bloody order sorted out.

Handing the coffee over, I craned my neck around Bill to see a woman by the counter, her eyebrow arched in irritation. It took all that I was worth to smile instead of sigh as I strode in to assess the situation.

Morning, I beamed. My apologies, I’m afraid this is my fault for leaving my post. Now what do we have here?

It turned out the error was indeed mine as a mosaic pot scanned up at the wrong price, and Bill watched over my shoulder as I adjusted the sum manually on the computer. The week I’d entered the new stock into the system hadn’t been my best. In my defense, I’d been a suspect in a murder investigation at the time.

Now, I really appreciate your patience with us today. Why don’t I help you out with all this, and I’ll getcha an extra ficus on the way out?

That earned an exclamation and a smile from the customer, and I wrangled the pots on the counter to follow her out to a small, white sedan. Making sure to chat with her about her plans for the indoor plants before leaving, I hoped she’d be a return customer. Just how long had Bill kept her waiting, anyhow?

Inside, my older employee sipped his coffee with the newspaper spread in front of him, and I picked up another mosaic pot to correct the sales price on the system. My dyscalculia—or trouble with ordering numbers—caused me no end of trouble while running my business. It wasn’t the first mistake I’d found that week.

Dead. Bill shook his head before taking a bite of his sweet bun, his eyes on the newspaper.

Say what? The pot fell through my fingertips and shattered on the floor. Bill blinked up in surprise and frowned at the mess.

Who was dead? I’d had enough of that word over the past few months. Assuming the worst, I stepped over the shattered pot with a sense of dread.

Sharon Symes. Bill gave me a strange look. That house fire last night? Terry down the road took off from my place to help when it got too big for the CFA to handle.

House fire? I blinked. Who’s Sharon Symes?

Bill shrugged. Just a woman who ran one of those candle shops in town. My Mary used to go to school with her in Rutherglen.

Oh. I ran a hand through my hair and felt awkward at my dramatic display. Fetching a dustpan and broom, I turned to clean up my mess. Well, that’s awful.

Sure is. They’ll be looking into it properly today, I reckon, but the rag says it was an electrical fire. He flicked the newspaper to make his point. Too many houses around here with old, dodgy wiring.

I’ll take that on notice, I sighed as I emptied the shattered pot into a bin behind the counter. The store had a ways to go yet, and I should probably add electrical to the list of things to see to, both there and at home. Now, let me show you how to fix up prices on an order.

It took a few demonstrations, but Bill finally nodded and said he thought he could handle it. When I went back into the database to fix up the price properly, he tapped a page in the newspaper.

It’ll be busy this weekend. Goldbury will be bursting at the seams with tourist types.

Labor Day weekend? I was still familiarizing myself with the Australian calendar and peered at a full-page advertisement for a country music festival across the border. It was a couple of weeks away by the looks. Hm. Well, I can come in on the Saturday with you, and I’ll be here Monday same as usual. Do you think opening Sunday would be a good idea?

Bill snorted and pushed his glasses further up his nose. If you want to run yourself right into the ground. Working seven days a week with a busy weekend won’t do you any favors.

I pressed my lips together and considered the extra hours I’d been putting into the store. The adage of doing what you love ensures you’ll never work a day of your life only extended so far sometimes. But I’d always thought opening weekends made more sense than coming in on a slow Tuesday to while away the hours, and I wasn’t going to get far spinning my wheels during the week when I knew tourists turned up on the weekend.

Maybe I need to employ someone a few days a week. I puffed out my cheeks. It’ll be an extra cost, but maybe I can switch to weekends and they can help out during the week.

Bill’s roster had been the same before I’d bought the place. He came in for three hours on a Saturday in exchange for one day a fortnight off during the week. It suited me fine to carry on the arrangement—folks on more domestic projects tended to drop by on a Saturday—but browsing the nursery and gift shop needed a different tactic. Nobody was rushing out on their lunch hour to grab a Philodendron for their desk or getting out of bed on the weekend on a mission to get to the nursery before noon.

If ya reckon you’re ready for that kind of thing, Bill said noncommittally. It has been a lot busier here this week.

Word of mouth from the launch. I can’t count on that to last forever though. I dragged a hand over my face. If I want to hold on to the same success, I’ll need to attract people passing through.

Well, I dunno how many tourists will come looking over this side of town, but I’ve got a niece after something part-time. Smart kid, too. Studying business at uni.

I blinked, then narrowed my eyes mischievously. Another Rowlands? Geez, you folks are taking over.

Bill laughed good-naturedly at that. His wife Mary had been a savior in taking care of the bookkeeping for me. But the man was a good judge of character, and maybe offering something very casual to someone in college might be less cumbersome on the business than advertising for a part timer.

What’s her name? I asked.

Megan. Megan Rowlands. My youngest brother’s daughter.

I chewed my lip as I considered it. So long as I made it plain that it was a trial of sorts, I could make the timeline work to be ready for the long weekend. I assumed she’d be a fast learner but tending a shop and managing customers couldn’t be too difficult for someone studying business. The experience might even offer her a good dose of reality in running an enterprise.

Tell you what. You talk to your niece and see if she’s interested, then give me her number. I’ll take it from there.

Bill grinned and nodded, then ran a pen down the list of orders to go out for delivery. I’ve got a few loads to go out to the road crew. I shouldn’t keep ‘em much longer.

Right. I peered at the delivery sheet and nodded. The road construction on the way to Melbourne was a pain for almost everyone except me. They ordered by the truckload, and plenty of them over the past weeks. I could forgive Bill for skipping a sales lesson for that, something which I suspected he’d counted on since before I went to pick up coffee.

We can revisit the computer stuff tomorrow. I gave him my cheeriest smile.

Bill’s eyes widened just a fraction, and he rubbed his chin sheepishly before trudging out of the office muttering something that sounded like agreement. Thrumming my fingers on the counter, I wondered how many calls I’d have to field over the weekend to talk him through a transaction. A new employee was beginning to sound rather good.

With that in mind, I turned my attention to the computer screen with a notion to take some screenshots to collate in some kind of manual. Or perhaps a video would work better. I pursed my lips as I pictured Bill asking a customer to wait until he could get to the part of a video which told him what to do next and shook my head ruefully. Something on paper would be more appropriate. I was about to rummage up some stock to do some testing when my ginger feline familiar leaped onto the counter to land on the keyboard.

Hey! I protested, shifting him off the keys. No wonder Bill has a hard time with orders. I’m sure I saw a receipt on Tuesday with your typing handiwork on it.

Gus sat by the computer and glared at the keyboard. ‘It’s the location. Why must it sit in the perfect landing position?’

Frowning, I waved to the rest of the cleared counter. If he couldn’t figure out how to land elsewhere, then he could stay off it entirely. Do I need to get you some cat stairs in your old age? I teased.

‘Surely not,’ he said, lifting a paw to chew at his claws. ‘Did you find the illusionist?’

Gus was one of the few ‘people’ I could talk to about Ash’s disappearance. He’d been less troubled by it than I was, but as the week wore on, he appeared to be taking more interest. I heaved a deep breath and shook my head.

Nope. Closed again. I can’t keep pretending that he’s just going to turn up tomorrow.

‘A tracking spell is difficult to achieve. Even so, if we had some of his effects…’

I don’t even know where the guy lives! I exclaimed, then noticed two women browsing out the front lift their heads. I dropped my voice to a whisper and picked up my phone to hold it against my ear to keep from looking unhinged. And I’ve got a bad feeling about breaking into the shop. Ash wasn’t the most trusting type. I’ll wager the place is warded.

Gus turned his head to peer at the customers who appeared to be making their way toward the door with an armload of plants. ‘Then we must devise a cunning plan. We can confer with Sorcha later this evening.’

Great. I made a show of pressing buttons on my phone as the bell over the door sounded and turned on a smile. Enlisting the help of an undead necromancer from the sixteenth century to find a friend was totally sensible. But sitting on my hands wasn’t working for me.

Chapter 2

I almost kept driving when I saw the suits carting armloads of computer hardware to the back of waiting vans. But I slowed and pulled up nonetheless. Gus put his paws up on the dash to stare at the scene at the front of the computer store. I didn’t even cut the ignition as I watched open-mouthed, along with pedestrians who gawked as they went about their business in Myrtleglen.

‘Inquisitors,’ Gus said.

Blinking, I inspected the vans and had to agree with Gus’ assessment. They were unmarked, unlike the police vans I’d seen previously when they came to search my house, and the folks in suits rarely did the heavy lifting. Every time I’d tangled with Inquisitors they’d dressed similarly, and I knew they had cause to apprehend Ash, even if he worked as a subcontractor for them.

I’m glad we stopped by. I swallowed. Not a few minutes before, my familiar and I had been arguing over the point of checking yet again if the tech-illusionist had returned to his place of business. The situation had to be as bad as I thought it was, and I fought the dread rising from my belly that this was likely my fault. If his hacking activities on my account had finally unearthed his surveillance of the Inquisition itself, well… I wasn’t sure how I could reconcile with that.

‘Amelia,’ Gus hissed.

Amelia Ward, Inquisitor and medium by craft, stepped out of Ash’s shop with her hands on her hips. Glossy black hair hung around her face, and her pouting red lips contrasted with smooth brown skin. In her heels and pinstripe black business suit, she looked more like a Hollywood lawyer than a ghost whisperer, and from the way she carried herself, I assumed she was leading the operation. Which meant I had someone to demand answers from.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I slid out of the truck and belatedly cut the ignition to stuff the skeleton key in my pocket. Gus slipped out behind me and trotted off before I could protest. Reefing the door closed, I turned and met Amelia’s eye before storming over.

What in the light is going on here? I demanded.

Kat Crowe, Amelia said as she looked me up and down. Should have known you’d turn up. I’m sure trouble must be your second name.

My mouth worked, then I pointed to the shop window. I’m trouble? What have you done with Ash?

"What have I done? Amelia’s perfectly shaped eyebrows knitted together, then she shook her head in irritation. I’m not discussing this with you. This is Inquisition business, so I’m going to ask you to move along."

Another suit passed between us to heap more gear in the back of the van. Passersby had stopped to gawk, and I clenched my fists to keep from screeching. "Ash is my friend. That makes whatever you’re doing here my business, too."

That’s not how this works. Amelia held up a warning