Inconvenient Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery by Auburn Seal, Amanda A. Allen Page B

sounded interesting,” Emily replied as she stretched out on Ingrid’s chaise lounge. She pointed her toes toward the ceiling, rotated her feet and sighed. She pulled Ingrid’s case of nail polish onto her lap and began digging through it.
    “Are you talking about the sugar scrub in your shower?” Emily rose, setting down the case of polish she’d just picked up and crossed through the wide-open living room that had barely been refinished by the crew that Ingrid hired to completely renovate the apartment. Emily pulled open the drawer that held the takeout menus. “I don’t eat bath products. Also, you have herbs.”
    Ingrid glanced over and said, “Do I want anything that delivers? Maybe I want schwarma. Oh, yeah, I should put sage on my grocery list. In case I ever cook or get Gabe to cook for me. But I think that the sugar scrub is just like sugar and oil and like fancy smelly stuff.” Ingrid typed into her phone before making a face to look up and say, “All I can think to put on my grocery list is more coffee and wine. I guess I could get steaks, but then I’d have to cook them.”
    “Can we just agree to never cook again?” Emily asked. Without asking Ingrid what she wanted, Emily called in a massive order to the Chinese place and then convinced them to deliver the food.
    The two looked at each other when Emily set her phone down with an irritated sigh.
    Emily growled. “Melinda is driving me insane with her ‘let’s bond’ texts. No, I don’t want to have dinner, Melinda. And no, I don’t want to come stay with you for a weekend. She slept with my husband. Does she think we are going to get our nails done? If anything, I’ll pull all her fingernails out one by one.”
    Ingrid put her own phone down and was laying on the floor with her legs over her head. “My back hurts. I blame everyone else ever. Especially that cold dove Melinda. Her too-frequent texts are making my back hurt.”
    “Yeah, she insists we meet in person. Whatever. So, speaking of herbs,” Emily said, changing the subject. “Sheriff Hotpants was totally asking me about some. I had to tell him that I had no idea what any of them were. Though I did tell him that you might know some, so I guess he’ll probably come by at some point.”
    “I can identify as many as five herbs. Sage,” Ingrid said, nodding at Emily before adding, “obviously. Bay leaf—because it’s the one that’s always a whole leaf. I think it’s always a whole leaf. If it’s crushed up, I won’t be able to tell what it is. Don’t you throw it out after you use it? I bet that’s why it’s whole. ‘Cause how else are you going to fish it out?”
    “I have no idea,” Emily said. “What about cookie dough?”
    Ingrid shrugged and picked up her phone to add it to the list. “Also, I know bella donna because I considered poisoning Harrison’s kids with it. Especially Daniella as she’s an evil dove. Instead, I tortured her with nonsensical purchases. Those brats are the reason I have that,” she pointed to a huge, enamel peacock.
    “That’s terrible.” Emily began pilfering through the case again and rejected a bottle of nail polish after bottle of nail polish, making a pile on the floor next to the chaise lounge
    “Rude!” Ingrid made a face and added, “It was, by the way, $5700.00. What was dickhead poisoned with anyway? If it’s bella donna, I might be in trouble since I have some in the container next to the flour.”
    Emily choked as Ingrid added, “I left the receipt out for the peacock for like four weeks before Harrison’s brat, Daniella, finally had a tantrum over it. That was one of the times she was trying to pretend to be nice. All that trouble of buying that piece of crap and then leaving it out, and she couldn’t be counted on to have a whine fest. By the time she did, I was fond of it. I had named it Pierre.”
    “Paint my toes,” Emily ordered. She tossed Ingrid a bottle of polish and scooted across the floor while