Spells and Scones by Bailey Cates Page A

“I assume it wasn’t a Dana Dobbs title.”
    â€œI don’t know the title, but it was one of Craig Johnson’s mysteries.”
    â€œWhy do you care about that guy?” he asked.
    â€œWe were chatting over at the buffet table, and he said something about needing some catering.” The lie came with disturbing ease. I tried to mitigate it with a little truth. “Plus, I’m curious. After all, he harassed Dr. Dana, too.”
    He snorted. Still, he moved behind the counter and began pushing buttons on the computer. “Hmm. Onlyone Johnson book sold yesterday. To an Earl King.” He looked up. “That must be your guy.”
    â€œThanks, Croft. I’ll give you a finder’s fee if he ends up hiring us.”
Stop making it worse!
I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to get back and help Lucy close. I sure hope you’ll be able to open up tomorrow.”
    â€œFrom your mouth to God’sear.”

Chapter 9
    When I returned to the Honeybee, the last two members of the spellbook club had arrived. Bianca Devereaux towered over the others, her long black hair worn loose, and an elegant, mauve-colored maxi-dress draped on her willowy frame. Of all of us, she looked the most like a traditional witch—Mimsey actually looked more like the fairy godmother in Disney’s
Cinderella
. Bianca also had quite the talent for making money in the stock market, which nicely augmented the income from Moon Grapes, her wine shop on Factors Walk. I saw her familiar, a white ferret named Puck, stick his little pink nose out of the pocket of the jacket she’d slung over the back of her chair.
    Cookie Rios was the last and youngest member of the group, and even though I knew familiars chose their witches, I couldn’t help hoping that she’d left her king snake, Rafe, at home. She was originally from Haiti, her background in voodoo, but she’d turned away from that element of her life to focus on the kinds of magic the rest of the spellbook club practiced—until very recently, that is. Now she was slowly delving back intosome of Savannah’s voodoo culture despite the concerns of her husband of less than a year.
    She’d worked as a commercial agent for Quartermaine Realty for more than six months, and though she’d changed jobs every three months when I first met her, so far she wasn’t showing any signs of restlessness. Today she wore leggings as well, though unlike Jaida’s simple black ones, Cookie’s were leopard print and worn with metallic leather ballet slippers and a swirling ochre top studded with fake jewels. It made her look older; though I had only a few more years than her twenty-six, I tended to think of her as a bit of a youngster. Still, she was a settled, married woman, while I’d practically been left at the altar in Akron.
    I dashed over and gave them each a hug. “Hey. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
    â€œLucy said you needed us,” Bianca said with a smile, and that said enough.
    â€œWe just need to close things down so we won’t be interrupted,” I said. “Then I’ll fill you in on what happened last night.”
    â€œOh, I’ve already done that,” Mimsey said. “At least all the information your aunt gave me.”
    â€œWell, that’ll save some time,” I said wryly. “But I might have a few tidbits to add.”
    â€œDo tell,” Jaida said, her curiosity evident.
    â€œOh, I will,” I said, and headed into the kitchen.
    It was almost one o’clock. Of course, we could have added a few sales to the register if we’d stayed open on Sunday afternoon, especially in late November, but we had decided to draw the line. After all, if we’d stayed open until ten at night we would have garnered traffic from the after-dinner crowd, too, but there had to be some kind of a limit. Maybe we’d rethink things when we could hireanother