Magickal Mystery Lore Read online

  Praise for the first Abracadabra Mystery

  Magick & Mayhem

  “Magic, Merlin, and murder are a great mix for this debut cozy. Up to her ears in problems, both magickal and mortal, Kailyn’s a fun and adventuresome heroine I loved watching. Crafting a spell, summoning a familiar, and solving a murder shouldn’t be this hard—or this fun.”

  —Lynn Cahoon, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author

  “Sharon Pape’s Magick & Mayhem is spellbinding, with magical prose, a wizardly plot, and a charming sleuth who, while attempting to protect a cast of sometimes difficult and always surprising characters, has a penchant for accidentally revealing her own powers and secrets to exactly the wrong people.”

  —Janet Bolin, Agatha-nominated author of the national best-selling Threadville Mysteries

  “Magick & Mayhem is a charming, must-read mystery with enchanting characters. A fun and entertaining page turner that I couldn’t put down.”

  —Rose Pressey, USA Today best-selling author

  Other Books by Sharon Pape

  Magick Run Amok*

  That Olde White Magick*

  Magick & Mayhem*

  Sketcher in the Rye

  Alibis and Amethysts

  Sketch a Falling Star

  To Sketch a Thief

  Sketch Me if You Can

  *Available from Lyrical Press, an imprint of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for the first Abracadabra Mystery

  Other Books by Sharon Pape

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Acknowledgments

  Don’t miss the next delightful book in the Abracadabra mystery series…

  About the Author

  Magickal Mystery Lore

  An Abracadabra Mystery

  Sharon Pape

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 by Sharon Pape

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: April 2019

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0872-5

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0872-8

  First Print Edition: April 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0873-2

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0873-6

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Jason and Lauren

  Who have taught me so much.

  Chapter 1

  “That infernal machine is naught but an instrument of torture,” Merlin grumbled as he staggered toward us. “What possessed you to allow me on it?” With his long white hair that had come untethered during the ride and his rats’ nest of a beard he looked more like a wino than a legendary sorcerer from the kingdom of Camelot. He stumbled over his feet and pitched forward into the frothy layers of my Aunt Tilly’s lavender muumuu.

  “We tried to stop you,” I said. “‘You won’t like it, Merlin,’ we said. ‘Don’t do it, Merlin,’ we said. ‘Please believe us, Merlin.’ Does any of that sound familiar?”

  “Well yes, but you must admit everyone on the ride seemed delighted.”

  “Some people love rides like that,” Tilly said.

  “In that case, I can refer them to a beefy chap who works in a dungeon and is quite skilled in all manner of torturous devices.”

  Tilly held him away from her, hands on his shoulders. “Let’s see if you can stand on your own without falling over.” Merlin wobbled a bit before finding his equilibrium. “There,” she said, letting go of him. “Are you at all queasy?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Count yourself lucky,” I said, not having been as fortunate my one and only time on that ride. “I couldn’t look at food for hours.”

  “You appear to be fine,” Tilly said to him.

  “I am not fine. The whole ordeal has left me famished,” he said, as we walked away from the Tilt-a-Whirl. We were in the thick of the forty-fifth annual New Camel Day Fair, elbow to elbow with a few hundred people. Moving from one attraction to another was largely a matter of joining the stream of people heading in the direction we wanted to go. If we weren’t careful, we could wind up back on the line for Merlin’s nightmare ride.

  “You’ve already had three hotdogs, curly cheese fries, lemonade and two root beers,” I reminded him.

  “And yet my stomach demands more.”

  “Does it have a particular request?” Tilly asked dryly.

  “Cotton candy,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. “And a candy apple. I’ve never tasted either.” There ensued a debate on the wisdom of Merlin eating the apple. A quick inspection of his mouth revealed he was missing a number of teeth and many of the remaining ones were chipped or broken. I explained that he could lose the teeth he had left with one bite into the sticky coating. Tilly suggested kettle corn instead, which proved to be a winner.

  Two pounds of sugar later, we headed over to the booths where New Camel’s merchants displayed their wares. My family had always participated, stocking our booth with our most popular health and beauty products, and Tilly held a drawing for a free psychic reading and English tea. It was a lot easier when my mother and grandmother were alive and there were four of us to take turns manning the booth. Althoug
h Tilly and I had managed all right on our own last year, now that we had to oversee Merlin, we’d decided to forgo the booth this once. It was a difficult decision, because Abracadabra always enjoyed a nice uptick in its customer base when folks bought our products at the fair and decided they couldn’t live without them.

  I’d already been stopped by a dozen people who were disappointed we didn’t have a booth. They’d come to the fair, hoping to stock up on our products at the same time. When I offered to open my shop at three o’clock to accommodate them, they acted like they’d won the lottery. Tilly applauded the move as good business. Merlin contended it was a fool’s errand to try to please everyone.

  The Soda Jerk was the first of the booths we came to. They weren’t making sundaes and shakes on the spot, but two of the owners’ great-grandkids were there handing out coupons to buy one sundae and get a second one free at their restaurant. Their line was long, but moved so fast that in no time we each came away with a coupon. We walked on past the stands that held no interest for Merlin. He turned up his nose at the vintage clothing shop, the dollhouse and miniature shop, and the recently reopened candle shop. But he was drawn to the display from the old-fashioned toy shop. He browsed for a few minutes while we chatted with the owner, Nelson Biddle. I’d known the man all my life. He was as much a staple of New Camel as our family was. Had it been up to Tilly and me, we would have stopped to say a quick hello to each merchant who wasn’t busy with customers. But we’d learned the hard way that a powerful sorcerer with a failing memory could wreak all sorts of havoc if he grew bored.

  When we reached the Busy Fingers booth, Penelope Rose saw us and waved. It would have been rude not to stop. She had a beautiful display of her handicrafts—knitted baby items, crocheted Afghans, and embroidered throw pillows. She was also offering half price lessons in any of the handicrafts, if booked during the fair. The goal of every merchant there was to entice fairgoers to visit their shops and become long term customers.

  While we caught up with Penelope, Merlin stole away to the next booth. Since it was Lolly’s, I didn’t try to stop him. He’d be waiting his turn in that line for a good fifteen minutes or more. She always had the longest line at the fair, because she was known to be generous with the free samples of her satiny fudge. She believed if you wanted to hook a customer on your products, they needed to associate your shop with abundance and satiation. It was a philosophy that had served her well over the years. After scoring their free sample, most of the people in line would also buy a box or two of her chocolates.

  Tilly and I had just bid Penelope goodbye and were crossing over to Lolly’s when someone in her line yelled, “Hey old man—no cuts.” From what I could tell, Merlin had grown tired of waiting and decided to march straight up to Lolly who was handing him a couple of samples. Lolly got to her feet, her cherubic smile stiffening. “Thank you, sir, but I’ll decide on the rules and how to enforce them. There’s plenty here for everyone.”

  Without missing a step, Tilly snagged Merlin’s arm and dragged him away before he could turn the man into a slug or a maggot. I mouthed an apology to Lolly. She answered with a wink. Tilly made it less than thirty yards with her charge before he dug in his heels, bringing her to a hard stop that could have given her whiplash. “It’s not a good idea with all these people around,” she muttered as I caught up to them. I followed Merlin’s line of sight. He was glowering at No-Cuts-Guy directly across from us in the line.

  “No dark magick,” I added.

  “Fear not, Mistress,” he said without shifting his focus. “I will do nothing untoward.” I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice anyway. Tilly looked at me and shrugged, having apparently come to the same conclusion. Since the day Merlin crash landed in my shop, we’d tried to keep the legendary sorcerer from drawing attention to himself and the fact that he hailed from another time and place. It had been a losing battle from the start. On New Year’s Eve, Tilly and I had finally caved. We resolved to continue giving him our opinions on spells and other actions he was considering, but we wouldn’t penalize him for his choices. Unless they were likely to have a deleterious effect on our lives as well.

  Merlin was still staring at No-Cuts-Guy. We waited anxiously for something to happen, something to change. I was half-expecting the guy to turn into a frog right there in line. When the spell started working, I didn’t immediately realize it. Two squirrels scampered across the grass, coming to a stop near No-Cuts-Guy’s feet. They were quickly followed by half a dozen more. Before we knew it, No-Cuts-Guy had an entourage of a dozen chittering squirrels chasing each other around him. The people nearby gave him and his squirrel circus as wide a berth as possible without forfeiting their place in line.

  No-Cuts-Guy tried shooing them away. He looked around for help, but since there were no squirrel containment officers wandering around the fair, he resorted to kicking at them. That was unacceptable to Merlin who instantly recalled his minions. Once released from their thrall, they scampered off in every direction. Except for the one Merlin charged with a second mission. That squirrel shimmied up No-Cuts-Guy’s pant leg. The expression on the man’s face was priceless. He did a panicked little dance in an effort to dislodge the critter. When that proved unsuccessful, he ran off screaming, presumably to the first-aid station or the restroom.

  “Doesn’t he know you can’t run away from your troubles?” Tilly said with a giggle. Merlin had a grin from ear to ear. Everyone who’d witnessed the squirrel incident, as it was destined to be called, was roaring with laughter, until even I had to join in. But someday Tilly and I might have to pay the consequences for allowing the wizard such latitude in casting spells. Our resolution might need some editing.

  Still in high spirits, we wandered into the area where one could win a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a little round bowl. After scouting out the various games, Merlin opted to try his hand at darts. “All I must do is hit one balloon on that board,” he said.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks,” I told him

  “I’ll have you know that I’m the finest player of the sport back home.” He played three games with three tries each and failed to hit a balloon on any of his first eight attempts. However his last dart sailed straight into the heart of a sky-blue balloon that burst with a satisfying pop. He picked out a gray stuffed bunny with a white fluff of a tail, after I nixed the goldfish. Too many cats in the family. The poor fish would die of a heart attack if it didn’t wind up as someone’s lunch. When Tilly asked what he planned to do with the stuffed animal, he proposed giving it to Lolly’s new great granddaughter. I felt like the proud parent of a child with a generous nature.

  From there we followed a crowd of people to what we hoped was the petting zoo. Merlin hummed a song as we walked. Although it had a familiar ring, it took me a minute to identify. And I wasn’t happy once I did. He was humming the song “Camelot” from the Broadway musical. He must have seen the movie version of it on TV. Tilly chimed in with the words.

  “Don’t,” I cautioned him. “You’re trying to send the subliminal message that New Camelot is the town’s proper name.”

  “Oh dear,” Tilly said, abandoning the tune. “If I’d realized that, I would never have aided and abetted.”

  The wizard looked wounded. “Why do you always think the worst of my intentions?”

  “It’s based on your record to date.”

  “Is it not possible that the song simply popped into my head on its own? Have you never had a tune take up residence in your head?”

  “Not such a convenient one,” I replied. All the people passing around us were now singing the song. Great—sooner or later someone was going to realize that by adding two letters to the peculiar name of New Camel, it became the much lovelier and more romantic New Camelot. From there it was a short leap to the fabled home of King Arthur and Merlin, the famed sorcerer.

  We had to wait our
turn at the petting zoo, but once we were inside the enclosure, Merlin’s eyes lit up and he instantly dropped the aggrieved expression as if it had come to the wrong address. Tilly and I knew how much he missed the animals that populated the forest near his home. But his home was thousands of miles away and hundreds of years in the past. He sat on one of the low benches meant for children, and within seconds the baby goats, piglets, lambs and bunnies formed a semicircle around him, vying for his attention the way my cats did. Children complained to their parents that he was hogging the animals. Before irritation could boil over into heated words and actions, Tilly and I told the old wizard it was time to leave. He did not take it well. The animals seemed to share his disappointment and tried to follow him out. In the end, two animal wranglers and a maintenance man had to hold them back so we could leave without causing a mass exodus.

  Poor Merlin was further vexed when he realized we’d come to the end of the fair. Of course no New Camel Fair would be complete without a couple of the town’s churlish mascots stationed at the exit. Merlin took strong exception to their presence. “Thus the lie is perpetuated for another year. It is truly a diabolical plot.” One of the camels spat at him. He spat right back. Before the animals’ owner could add his two cents to the exchange, Tilly and I grabbed Merlin’s arms and whisked him out of the fairgrounds, his feet skimming the ground.

  I dropped my aunt and our foster wizard at her house, stopped back home long enough to deposit my car in the driveway and grab Sashkatu, who was clearly miffed at being left for hours with the five other cats. We walked across the street to the rear door of Abracadabra. The moment we were inside, he ascended his custom-built steps to his padded window seat with its fine view of Main Street. He’d been my mother’s familiar, and she’d spoiled him shamelessly. Not that I’d done anything to remedy the situation since he’d come into my keeping eighteen months ago.

  I was turning the closed sign to open as my first customer reached the door. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you were willing to open for me on your day off,” Lenore Spalding boomed. She was a petite woman in her fifties, with the vocal projection of a stage actress. Whoever raised her had failed to teach her the difference between an outside voice and an inside one. “For a little bitty thing, she can sure rattle the timbers,” my grandmother Bronwen used to say after each of Lenore’s visits.