One Poison Pie

Book 1: Kitchen Witch Mysteries

by Lynn Cahoon

Genres: Ghost; Mystery; Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

In the first in New York Times bestselling author Lynn Cahoon's Kitchen Witch series, Mia Malone is starting over in Magic Springs, Idaho—where murder is on the menu . . .



What's a kitchen witch to do when her almost-fiancé leaves her suddenly single and unemployed? For Mia Malone, the answer's simple: move to her grandmother's quirky Idaho hometown, where magic is an open secret and witches and warlocks are (mostly) welcome. With a new gourmet dinner delivery business—and a touch of magic in her recipes—Mia's hopes are high. Even when her ex's little sister, Christina, arrives looking for a place to stay, Mia takes it in stride.



But her first catering job takes a distasteful turn when her client's body is found, stabbed and stuffed under the head table. Mia's shocked to learn that she's a suspect—and even more so when she realizes she's next on a killer's list. With Christina, along with Mia's meddling grandma, in the mix, she'll have to find out which of the town’s eccentric residents has an appetite for murder . . . before this fresh start comes to a sticky end . . .

Release date: January 26, 2021

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 274

Reader says this book is...: clever protagonist (1) entertaining story (1) female sleuth (1) rich setting(s) (1)

Sample

Karma sucks.

Mia Malone slapped the roller filled with cottage yellow paint on the wall. She’d missed another spot. Her lack of attention was one more thing on the long list of karma credits she could blame on her ex, Isaac.

If karma didn’t smack down the lowlife soon, she had several ideal spells just waiting to be used on the rat. Maybe he’d like to develop a rash? Or be turned into a toad to match his true personality? A line of yellow paint dripped off the roller and onto the scratched wood floor.

She set the roller in the paint pan and, with a rag, wiped up the paint before it could dry. Maybe a run would be more productive right now. She could burn off this pent-up energy tingling her fingers. Teasing her with all the curses she could inflict.

She took a deep, calming breath. Magic came back threefold. She needed to control her impulses, keeping her anger in check. As much as she wanted Isaac to pay for his betrayal, she didn’t need any help in the bad luck department. Sighing, she sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the half-painted schoolroom and tried to envision her new life.

A noise echoed through the empty schoolhouse. Had the door opened?

“Mia,” her grandmother called. “Are you here, dear?”

“To your left, Grans.” Mia stood and dusted off the butt of her worn jeans, imagining dusting off Isaac and his bad energy at the same time. Keeping her karma clean seemed to be a full-time job since she’d left Boise.

Mary Alice Carpenter, tall and willowy, stood in the doorway to the foyer. The curl in her short, gray hair was the only physical trait Grans and Mia shared. Mia stood a good five inches shorter than the older woman, and Mia’s curves would have made her prime model material, oh, about a hundred years ago.

Besides her curly hair, she’d inherited power from her maternal grandmother. While her mother had turned away from the lure of magic, choosing instead the life of a corporate lawyer’s wife, Mia had embraced her heritage.

Her grandmother took one look at her and groaned. “I knew he wouldn’t stay gone. That boy is worse than spilled milk. You just can’t get rid of the smell.”

“I can handle Isaac.” Mia gave her grandmother a hug. “You don’t worry about him.”

Grans’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure, dear? I’ve done a few transmutations in my time that may be quite appropriate.”

Mia bit back a laugh and glanced around the large room. “Seriously, don’t get involved. That part of my life is over. I’ve made a fresh start.”

“You’ve bought a run-down money pit that’s going to bankrupt you just trying to keep the place warm.” A second woman followed her grandmother into the room, shoving a cell phone into her Coach bag. “Sorry, had to take that. Apparently, my long-lost nephew is gracing us with his presence at my birthday party. Probably needs money.”

“Adele, so nice to see you,” Mia managed to choke out after a death stare from her grandmother.

Adele Simpson stood next to Grans and glanced around the room, noticeable disgust covering her face. “Mary Alice, this is what you fought so hard with the board to save?”

“The building should be on the historic register. You and I both know it would have already been protected if it sat in the Sun Valley city limits. Magic Springs is always an afterthought with the historical commission.” Grans slipped off the down coat that had made her look like a stuffed panda.

Mia watched the women bicker. Adele, the meanest woman in Magic Springs, was the dark to Grans’s light and, for some unbeknownst reason, Grans’s best friend. She was also Mia’s first and only client for her new venture. So far, she amended.

Gritting her teeth, Mia forced her lips into what she hoped was a passable smile. “Ladies, welcome to Mia’s Morsels.” She glanced around the room, sweeping her arm as she turned. “Currently, you’re in the reception area, where staff and students will gather before classes, and where we’ll do most of the daily work scheduling. Here, customers will be able to sample dishes and peruse a weekly menu of available meals.”

“You sound like a commercial,” Grans chided. “It’s just us. You don’t have to put on the sales pitch.”

Mia smiled. “Just trying it out. I’ve got a lot of work to do before I can even think about opening.” She nodded to the half-painted wall. “Do you like the color?”

Her grandmother nodded. “It’s friendly without being obnoxiously bright, like so many buildings. Day-care colors have swept through the decorating studios. I swear, the new crop of interior designers have no sense of style or class.”

“Fredrick just did Helen Marcum’s living room in pink.” Adele sniffed. “The room looks like an antacid commercial. I swear, the woman shows her hillbilly roots every time she makes a decision.”

“I don’t believe Helen’s Southern, dear.” Grans focused back on Mia, closing her eyes for a second. “Color holds a lot of power. Pull out your books before you go too far. Although if I remember, yellow represents the digestive system.”

Mia loved listening to her grandmother talk about the representations of power. Being kitchen witches was different from being Wiccan, or what normal people would think of when you said witch. They didn’t wear black, pointy hats or fly around the moon. Mia’s magic was more about the colors, the food, the process of making a house a home. That was one of the reasons her career choice was such a natural extension of her life. Food made people happy. She liked being around happy people. Sometimes magic was that easy.

“You are not doing woo-woo magic stuff again, are you, Mary Alice?” Adele shook her head. “Next you’ll be telling the girl to open on a full moon and wave around a dead cat.”

Grans looked horrified at her friend. “I would never tell her to desecrate an animal that way. We’ve been friends for over forty years. You should know better.”

“Oh, go fly your broomstick.”

Grans and Adele had been the swing votes on the board, allowing Mia to purchase the property based on her pledge to save the building’s history. The losing bidder had presented a plan to bulldoze the school and replace it with a high-end retail mall. Instead, Mia had a place to start over. Grans always said the best way to get a man out of your head was to change your routine.

Mia may have gone a little overboard.

Her arms and back ached from painting. Another two, three hours, the room would be done. Then she could move on to the kitchen, the heart of her dream. Right now, all she wanted was to clean up the paint supplies and return to her upstairs apartment for a long soak in the claw-foot tub. The unexpected visitors had her skin tingling, a sure sign nothing good was about to happen.

Catering Adele’s birthday party had been an order more than a request, even though her business wouldn’t be completely up and running for a month or so. The planning for the event had gone smoothly, like an aged Southern whiskey. The final prep list for Saturday’s party sat finished on her kitchen table in the apartment. James, the chef at the Lodge, had allowed her time to prep in his kitchen tomorrow evening. By Sunday she’d have a successful reference in the books for Mia’s Morsels. Now, without warning, the triumph she’d hoped for was slipping through her fingers.

“Add one, maybe two more, to the guest list. Who knows who he’ll bring from Arizona to help me celebrate.” Adele shoved a piece of paper toward her.

Mia glanced down. A name had been scrawled on the torn notepaper, William Danforth III. She hadn’t known Adele had any living relatives, no less a nephew. “How nice. Are you close?”

A harsh laugh came from the woman. “Close? I wasn’t kidding about the money. He’s checking on his inheritance. I’m pretty sure he thought I’d be dead by now.”

“Now, Adele, at least he’s visiting.” Grans picked up Mr. Darcy, Mia’s gray cat, who’d wandered into the room. He’d probably been sleeping in one of the empty southern classrooms, where the afternoon sun warmed the wood floors. He curled into her neck and started purring. Loudly.

Unfortunately, during a late summer visit to Grans’s house, Mr. Darcy had picked up a hitchhiker. The spirit of Dorian Alexander, who had been Grans’s beau before his untimely death, had taken up residence with Mia’s cat. A fact that weirded Mia out at times, especially at night, when Mr. Darcy slept on the foot of her bed. Mia really needed to get Grans focused on a reversal spell. But this wasn’t the time to be chatting about spells and power. Instead, she focused on Adele and her party.

“I’m sure he’s . . .” Mia stopped. What had she been going to say? That Adele’s nephew was nice? If the guy had any of Adele’s temperament, the guy would be a royal jerk.

Adele waved away her words, her hands showing her impatience, “Let me worry about Billy. You’re serving beef tomorrow.” The words weren’t a question.

“I’d planned to serve squab with raspberry sauce and wild rice for the main course.” Mia held her breath. Please no last minute changes—please.

“That won’t do at all.” Adele watched as Mr. Darcy crawled up on Grans’s shoulder. She reached out a hand to pet the cat, who hissed at her. Dropping her hand, she focused her glare on Mia. “My parents ran the Beef Council for years. You had to have known we had the largest cattle operation in the Challis area, maybe even the entire Magic Valley.”

“I sent you the menu a week ago.” Mia thought about the prep list she’d spent hours writing out last night. A list that would have to be completely revamped if Adele made this change in the menu. “I’m sure you responded.”

“I’ve been busy. You should have called rather than sending paper.” Adele stepped farther away from the hissing cat. “I don’t remember everything. That’s why I’m telling you now. Oh, and no cake; pie for dessert. Several different types, of course; you’ll know which ones to serve with the beef. I’ve never liked cake.”

“You already approved the menu,” Mia repeated through clenched teeth. Apparently sensing her distress, Mr. Darcy jumped out of Grans’s arms and walked over to Mia. He curled on her feet, watching the women.

“I doubt that. No matter, you need to serve beef. It’s a tradition. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Adele pulled out a beeping phone and, after glancing at the display, focused on Grans. “We need to leave now if we’re going to keep our court time.”

Mia sighed. Trying one more time to win a battle already lost, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want squab?”

“The homeless eat pigeon. Porterhouse. Or whatever cut you think is best. You’re the expert.” Adele turned toward the door, pulling Grans along with her.

That’s what you keep saying. Mia said, “I’ll try, but the party is this weekend.”

“I’m sure you’ll do your best.” Grans shook off Adele’s grip and turned back to Mia. She planted a kiss on her cheek.

Mia followed them to the front door. Daylight filtered through the dirt-covered windows. Another item for her to-do list: hire a window cleaner. Mr. Darcy’s soft footsteps padded behind her. “Thanks for stopping in,” she called as they left the building. After the door closed she added, hoping her grandmother wouldn’t hear, “And ruining a perfectly good day.”

If she was being honest, though, the ruination of her day had started with Isaac’s call. She reached down to stroke Mr. Darcy. He meowed his wishes.

“Sorry, your dinner is going to have to wait. I’ve got to get to Majors Grocery,” Mia told the cat, who looked horrified at the thought. She hauled the painting supplies to the kitchen. Her mind whirled as water rinsed cheery yellow paint out of the roller and down the drain. Her detailed plan of attack for the event had disappeared with a flick of Adele’s perfectly polished, bloodred nails.

Mr. Darcy wove through her legs as she stood at the sink. Finishing the cleanup, she laid the tools on a towel to dry and double-checked the lock on the back door. Then she climbed the two sets of stairs to the third floor and her apartment.

Christina Adams, the almost-twenty-year-old sister of her ex, jumped up from the couch when Mia entered the apartment. “I thought you were going to paint this afternoon?”

“I thought you were coming to help just as soon as you finished lunch?” Mia studied the girl. Last month Christina had returned to Magic Springs. She’d shown up on Mia’s doorstep with a police escort. Mark Baldwin, the town’s only officer, had found her loitering in the small downtown park. Her long, blond hair screamed cheerleader, but the bars in her eyebrow and her lip along with the row of piercings in her ear hardened the look.

Christina had been planning on starting college this semester after spending last year in Las Vegas, trying to make it as a dancer after some bad advice from her substitute dance coach. Now, after one more fight with the family, she’d tracked Mia down and asked if she could live with her for a while. Mia didn’t have the heart to turn her away, even if Mia wouldn’t be part of the Adams family, now or ever.

She had the decency to blush. “I’m not really good at all that painting stuff. Maybe I could just help you with the cooking rather than the remodeling.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have a feeling we’re going to have to pull an all-nighter if we want to finish prep before the party. And now we have to bake pies as well.” She went into the kitchen to get her list. “I’m heading over to Majors. Be ready to work when I get back.”

Mia heard the television come on as her only answer. Training Christina to be a sous chef might be harder than she’d imagined. Running her fingers over the cookbook she’d left out that morning with the prep list, she remembered Isaac’s call. Could there be another reason Isaac’s sister had come to live with Mia? She locked her cookbook in the safe in her room. She’d been stupid before. Today she’d take paranoid.

Where was she going to get thirty servings of steak by tomorrow evening? And the side dishes had to completely change. Adele was paying for both grocery orders, no matter what Grans said.

She hoped the small country store had enough meat on hand. Or an idea.

As she opened the front door, she tripped over an envelope. The delivery service must have dropped it off late yesterday. They’d been busy in the kitchen, doing a trial run-through of the menu. The return address on the top was smeared, but the envelope was clearly addressed to Christina. Mia shoved the envelope into her purse. She’d give it to her when she got back. Or after the party, when she wouldn’t mind losing her apprentice.

A dusting of snow had fallen the night before, coating the town in white. Magic Springs looked like a Dickens-novel Christmas. The roads had been plowed. Someone had run a small blade—probably on the front of a four-wheeler—over the sidewalks in front of the school and down the two blocks toward Majors. Small towns, Mia mused. No way had the city paid for this type of service. It had to be one of the homeowners in the village who donated their early morning service for the pleasure of driving their toy around the snow-covered streets.

Mia took a deep breath, trying to focus on solving her menu problems rather than being filled with the quiet beauty of the town. Beef. Maybe a garlic mashed potato? Or a scalloped? Or would Adele consider the menu too homey for her party? Would there be any way Majors could pull off an order of fresh asparagus? It was April, even though the town wouldn’t acknowledge spring for a few weeks at the earliest. There had to be asparagus ready to harvest somewhere.

Stomping the snow off her boots, she pushed open the glass grocery slider. A bell rang over the door, echoing in the seemingly empty store. No cashier stood at the register, no shoppers filled the aisles. Mia glanced at her watch: 5:15. The store closed early during the winter, but she’d just made it.

She grabbed a cart and headed to the butcher block in the back. The meat case stood empty and her heart sank. A bell sat on the top of the case and she rang it once. No one came through the doors. Maybe Adele would just have to suck it up and eat the food Mia had planned to serve.

Mia could see her grandmother’s frown. Again, she banged on the bell, harder this time, picturing Adele’s unsmiling face each time she hit the silver chime.

“Hold up,” a man’s voice called from the back. “I heard you the first twenty times. I have my hands full back here.”

Mia jumped back from the meat case. Her hand still reached out in front of her. She called toward the door, “Okay, I’ll wait here.”

That was dumb. Of course she would wait. Now that she’d had some time to think, Mia pulled out a slip of paper and started making a quick shopping list. Peaches, asparagus, more butter, fresh horseradish, potatoes; she continued to write as she waited. Finally, she looked up from her list satisfied. She only needed to add thirty quality steaks. Maybe she should serve a soup too. That would give her more time to grill and prep the main course.

Loud voices were muffled by the swinging doors. Was that an argument? She inched closer, trying to see through the window in the door. Two men stood by a large metal table. One, dressed in a suit, shook a finger at the other. Now she could hear the actual words. “I’m not making this offer again. I’ll wait and get the property for pennies when it goes to auction.”

“I’m not losing this store. Majors has been in the family since the settlers came to Magic Springs. It’s part of the community, the town’s history. We’re just going through a bad patch. Everyone is.” The man dropped a box on the table. “I have a customer waiting for me. Unless you’re here to shop, get the heck out of my store.”

“You’ll regret turning me down.” The suit walked toward the door and caught sight of Mia watching. “Of course you’d be here. Are you trying to ruin all my business?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Mia stood back, stunned at the man’s outburst.

“Why would you?” The man glared at her, then stomped around the counter and almost ran from the store.

A voice behind her caused her to jump. “John seems to hate you worse than he does me at the moment. I guess I should thank you.”

Mia turned and spied a man watching her from behind the counter. His light brown hair curled around his face and a set of the greenest eyes peered out at her. A smile sat lightly on his lips. Just looking at him caused Mia to shiver, thinking thoughts not exactly PG. She bit her bottom lip and focused. She was here for meat. Not a man.

“Who was that?” Mia’s voice cracked on the question. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

A smile played on the man’s lips. “I think you got what he wanted. Anyway, not for me to gossip. What can I help you with?”

Mia shook off the negative energy lingering from John’s departure. “I’m Mia Malone and I . . .”

The man interrupted her. “You bought the old school. How do you like the apartment? My brothers and I did some renovation for the principal a few years ago. He turned one bedroom into a bath and a closet. Never knew a man to love his closet as much as Albert did.”

“I love it. The apartment’s great. But I have a favor to ask.” She took a breath.

Again she was stopped. “I hear you’re putting in some kind of cooking class business. You really think there’s enough of a market for that type of company up here?”

“It’s not just a cooking school. I’ll start out delivering made-to-order dinners for customers. For when you want a great meal, but don’t want to cook? I’m also catering. In fact. . .