Magic and Mocha Read online

  Once again Maddie remembered the fairy earrings Ellie wore. Was there magic involved with the two of them meeting?

  She shook her head as if to clear it. Although she was limited proof that magic and witches existed – even familiars – she didn’t know if fairies were real or not.

  “We should get back.” Suzanne interrupted her musing after finishing her hazelnut latte and slice of banana bread.

  Maddie had been so wrapped up in her thoughts, her friend’s voice gave her a start.

  “How was the coffee?” She gestured to the empty glass.

  “Not as good as yours.” Suzanne grinned. “But it wasn’t bad. A lot better than that mocha drink.” She tilted her head, indicating Fred, eating at his table in the corner.

  On the way back to the ballroom, Maddie checked her watch. Fifteen minutes before round two started. She told herself to relax as she and Suzanne walked down the hallway, but it was no good. She was too keyed up again to do anything apart from forcing her feet in the direction of the ballroom.

  A scream made Maddie freeze, one foot in mid-air. She turned to Suzanne, her eyes wide.

  Before she could say anything, another scream rent the air.

  “It’s coming from the ballroom.” Suzanne grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the noise.

  They ran to the ballroom, Maddie hoping they wouldn’t come across something awful. Maybe someone had fallen down. Or stubbed their toe.

  But she had a sinking suspicion in the pit of her stomach that it was something awful.

  As they reached the ballroom door, Diana Swift rushed out, her eyes wild. “She’s dead!”

  CHAPTER 2

  “WAIT!” MADDIE CALLED out as the elegant woman raced down the hallway, back toward the main area of the hotel.

  But Diana ignored her and kept running.

  Suzanne turned to Maddie. “Do you think we should go in there?”

  “No.” Maddie hesitated. “But what if whoever is in there isn’t dead and needs help? If we don’t go in and see—”

  “Then they could very well die.” Suzanne nodded. “We better go in.”

  They stood staring at the now closed door.

  “On three.” Maddie drew a deep breath.

  “One,” Suzanne counted.

  “Two,” Maddie said.

  “Three.” They pushed open the door and strode inside.

  At first glance, Maddie didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Her gaze flickered over the espresso stations. Everything looked fine.

  She and Suzanne viewed the rows of plastic chairs for the audience – no one was slumped over – in fact nobody occupied that part of the room.

  And then ...

  A pair of legs, ending in crimson shoes decorated with a discreet gold bow on each heel, dangled from the mocha vat.

  “Suzanne.” Maddie’s voice was a strangled whisper. “Over there.”

  “Where – oh!” Suzanne’s mouth froze in a perfect O.

  Maddie raced to the vat. What if Margot Wheeler wasn’t dead? If there was a possibility that the woman was still alive, then she and Suzanne had to help her.

  Margot’s head and torso were submerged in the vat of bubbling mocha.

  “Help me get her out,” Maddie urged.

  Before Suzanne could do anything, a loud voice sounded:

  “Stop right there!”

  Maddie turned. A hotel security guard hurried into the room, accompanied by Diana.

  The guard was middle-aged, with a paunch and slicked back dark hair.

  “Get away from the body,” he barked.

  “I was trying to help her.” Maddie slowly took a step away from the vat. “Maybe she’s not dead.”

  “I’m calling for backup.” The guard spoke into his radio, squawks emitting from it.

  “But if Maddie’s right, and she isn’t dead?” Suzanne spoke up over the radio static.

  “Ah, jeez.” After a second’s hesitation, the guard heaved Margot out of the vat and squatted down beside her.

  Cocoa brown liquid covered Margot’s face and dribbled down her neck and chest, staining her crimson suit.

  “I told you she was dead,” Diana spoke, staring at the female judge. “I don’t think CPR is going to help her.”

  “How do you know this?” the guard asked sharply. He looked at the three of them. “All of you, stay where you are.”

  “You don’t think I had something to do with this, do you?” demanded Diana, paling. “I was the one who sought help.”

  Before the guard could reply, two more security guards rushed in, joining their colleague.

  “I’ve already called the police,” one of them said. “We need to secure the scene until they get here.”

  “Then make sure those three don’t leave.” The paunchy security guard pointed to Maddie, Suzanne, and Diana. “They might have had something to do with it.”

  Maddie bit her lip at the accusation. Suzanne huffed and looked daggers at the man, and Diana pursed her mouth.

  Maddie watched one of the security guards attempt CPR, but it looked like it was hopeless.

  The door swung open and Ellie and Connor entered, talking and laughing. They stopped abruptly as they took in the scene.

  “What ... what happened?” Ellie asked in a tiny whisper.

  Connor looked shocked.

  “It appears that Margot Wheeler is dead.” Suzanne hurried over to them, Maddie right behind her.

  “No talking and no moving,” snapped the paunchy security guard who’d first appeared in the ballroom.

  Ellie looked like she wanted to run out of there, despite being ordered not to. Connor put his arm around her in a comforting gesture.

  “Isn’t anyone guarding the door?” the second guard asked.

  The third guard stopped the chest compressions, shaking his head and looking dejected.

  Maddie’s knees wobbled. Margot hadn’t seemed like the friendliest person this morning, but that didn’t mean she deserved to be killed.

  Was it an accident?

  Or murder?

  The ballroom door opened again, and this time a man in his thirties dressed in plain clothes, flanked by two uniformed police officers, entered the room. He strode over to the security guards, and after talking briefly with them, and taking some photos on his phone, addressed the rest of the room.

  “I’m Detective Rawson,” he began. “None of you are to leave the room until I’ve spoken with each of you.” His russet hair and strong-chinned face with a hint of stubble suggested arguing with him was a bad idea.

  Brad barged into the room, stopping in his tracks as he took in the tableau.

  “What’s going on?” He looked shocked.

  “It appears a woman has been the victim of foul play,” the detective answered. “And you are?”

  “Brad Dawes,” he replied. “A round two finalist.”

  More people suddenly appeared at the door. Perhaps they’d watched round one from the audience, and were back for round two of the competition. Maddie didn’t recognize them as competitors.

  Detective Rawson jerked his head and a police officer hurried over to the door, barring the crowd from entering.

  “Who was the first person to find the victim?” the detective asked, looking hard at Maddie, Suzanne, and the rest of the contestants in the room.

  “I was,” Diana admitted.

  “But when I got here, these two—” the paunchy security guard who’d arrived first indicated Maddie and Suzanne “—were next to the body.”

  “Is this true?” Detective Rawson asked Maddie and Suzanne, a frown marring his features. “What were you doing?”

  “She was in the mocha vat when I found her,” Diana interrupted.

  Maddie and Suzanne nodded vigorously.

  “That’s right.” Maddie found her voice, wishing the detective’s penetrating gaze didn’t seem to be piercing through to her core. If he looked at criminals like that, he must get a lot of confessions. She felt like confess
ing to something but she couldn’t think of anything – apart from the fact that she might be a witch, and she had never told anyone that, except Suzanne.

  “Yes,” Suzanne agreed. “We were about to try and lift her out of the vat when the security guard came in.” She pointed to the guard who’d been first on the scene.

  “All right.” The detective sighed. “Let me get this straight. You are all here today for a barista competition, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Brad responded, looking at his watch. “And the second round was supposed to start in four minutes.”

  Maddie felt a little rumpled after round one, but Brad looked fresh and unwrinkled, as if competing in a barista competition was no big deal. Perhaps it wasn’t – for him. After all, he’d said this wasn’t his first time competing, and he wore his “lucky” shirt.

  “Well, it won’t be happening any time soon,” the detective told him.

  “What do you mean?” Brad narrowed his eyes.

  “I mean—” Detective Rawson gestured to the victim, “we need to secure the crime scene – what’s left of it, anyway – and get everyone’s statement. That’s going to take some time. And we need to identify the victim.”

  They were ushered out of the ballroom, Detective Rawson instructing the officers to seal the crime scene. Maddie and Suzanne, along with the others, followed the detective next door, to a smaller room.

  “Okay,” Detective Rawson said, looking at Maddie, Suzanne and Diana. “Do you know who the victim was?”

  “Margot Wheeler,” Diana told the detective. “She was one of the judges.”

  The detective whipped out a fancy notebook and gold pen and jotted down something.

  “Did anyone have any dealings with her before today?” he asked.

  Maddie and Suzanne shook their heads. Maddie noticed that Diana hesitated, then shook her head as well.

  “No,” Ellie replied in a whisper.

  “No,” Connor said firmly, his arm still around Ellie’s shoulders.

  “No,” Brad replied.

  “And the six of you made it through to round two?” Detective Rawson asked.

  “No,” Suzanne replied. “Maddie made it to the second round and I was watching the first round from the audience. But the rest of them made it to round two, I believe.” She gestured to Maddie and the other four.

  “There should be another three finalists somewhere,” Brad said, looking around the room as if expecting them to pop up from behind the espresso stations. “Eight made it through to round two, which is also the final round.”

  “They might be outside, and I’ll speak to them later,” Detective Rawson informed him. “Now, how did the judge seem this morning?”

  “Bossy,” Suzanne murmured under her breath.

  “And you are?” the detective enquired, pinning Suzanne with a steely-eyed stare.

  “Suzanne Taylor,” she replied. “And she was bossy.” Her voice was louder. “At least I thought so, but I wasn’t competing.”

  “She seemed to be in charge,” Maddie contributed, not wanting her friend to get into trouble.

  “That’s right,” Connor agreed. “She was the judge who told us what was going to happen today.”

  “Apart from the fact she was going to be murdered,” Brad muttered.

  “And she marked everyone pretty low,” Connor said.

  “What do you mean?” The detective stared at the muscular, tattooed guy.

  Connor shrugged. “The scores were posted outside, and she seemed to give everyone low marks – much lower than the other two judges, apart from one person.” His gaze zoomed past Maddie until it landed on Diana.

  “She marked me low as well,” the elegant woman protested.

  “But not as low as everyone else,” Suzanne blurted out.

  “That’s right,” Brad agreed with a scowl.

  Diana’s expression flashed with indignation. “If that’s true, then why would I kill her? Perhaps it was one of you.” Her hand swept in the direction of Maddie and the other suspects.

  Before anyone could utter a word, Detective Rawson took charge.

  “I’ll speak with you individually now,” he said, “starting with you.” He pointed to Maddie.

  Maddie gulped. Suzanne squeezed her hand before she followed the detective to the other side of the room.

  Maddie gave Detective Rawson her name and address, then told him she’d won the small Estherville coffee festival last month which gave her the wildcard entry into today’s competition.

  “So, how are you doing so far?” he asked.

  “I’m coming third right now,” Maddie replied, wondering at his question. He’d be able to see from the rankings posted outside the room where each competitor was placed.

  “Congratulations. Now, Estherville.” He looked down at his notes. “I have an uncle who works there. For the sheriff’s department.”

  “You do?” Maddie furrowed her brow.

  “Detective Edgewater.”

  “Oh, I know him.” Maddie smiled before realizing that perhaps she’d just said the wrong thing.

  “You do?” He looked at her keenly. “How?”

  She hesitated, then decided to be truthful. “I met him for the first time when one of my customers died.” Should she mention the incident at Estherville’s coffee festival last month? Before she could decide, he continued the questioning.

  “What sort of business do you run?”

  “Suzanne and I operate Brewed from the Bean. It’s a coffee truck,” she told him. “We’re at the town square in Estherville.”

  She watched him make some notes.

  “And why was that vat of mocha in the other room?”

  “I don’t know much about it,” she told him. “Apparently it’s something to do with the sponsor of this competition – Fred Beldon. He said his mocha drink – MochLava – will be in Seattle cafés soon, and—” she paused. Should she tell the detective the other contestants’ views on the subject?

  “And?” he prodded. “Go on.”

  “Some of the contestants didn’t seem to like the beverage,” she said in a rush. “Suzanne and I tried it after round one and it was horrible.” She tried not to screw up her face at the memory.

  “When was the last time you saw Margot Wheeler alive?” he asked.

  “When she went outside to post the scores,” Maddie answered. “Suzanne and I went to take a look, but I didn’t notice Margot in the hallway.”

  After Maddie told him that she and Suzanne went to the hotel coffee shop, she remembered who they’d seen there.

  “Fred Beldon was there in the café, at a table by himself,” she told the detective. “Then Suzanne and I came back here. We heard Diana scream as we neared the ballroom, and then she rushed out, saying, “She’s dead.” Suzanne and I went inside to check and then that’s when the first security guard showed up.”

  Maddie paused. “Did Margot drown in the mocha vat?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” the detective informed her. “We’ll know more after the autopsy.”

  She shuddered. What a terrible way to die. She’d suspected that might have been the case, but now it was semi-official, the horror of what had happened to the female judge swept over her.

  “Thanks, Ms. Goodwell.” The detective finished writing in his notebook. “I’ll need to get a formal statement from you later so stay outside in the hallway until I tell you that you can leave.”

  “Yes, sir,” Maddie replied, wishing she and Suzanne could leave right now and drive back to Estherville. All she wanted to do was to relax with her best friend and snuggle with Trixie. Thank goodness she’d left the Persian with Mom.

  Maddie walked toward door leading to the hallway, glad the interview was over.

  “How was it?” Suzanne asked her, just as the detective gestured for her to head toward him for her turn to be grilled.

  Maddie watched her friend go, noticing that Suzanne’s ponytail seemed subdued for once, just like the rest
of her.

  Afterward, when Suzanne met Maddie in the hall, she asked, “Did he tell you he’s Detective Edgewater’s nephew?”

  “Yes.” Maddie nodded. “I don’t know if that’s good news or bad.”

  “It’s good if he asks his uncle about us. Detective Edgewater will vouch for us.”

  “I hope so,” Maddie replied, thinking that their exposure to two dead bodies in sleepy Estherville wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.

  “I wonder,” Suzanne mused, “if—”

  “My MochLava!” Fred Beldon appeared in the hallway, his big belly jiggling under his suit. “What happened?”

  “Stop right there, sir.” One of the uniformed police officers headed off Fred before he could enter the ballroom.

  “No one is supposed to enter that room.” Detective Rawson stuck his head out of the temporary interviewing room and frowned at the police officer.

  “I’m sorry, sir, he took us by surprise,” the officer replied.

  “I’ll deal with this gentleman next.” The detective indicated the mocha sponsor.

  “What’s happened?” Fred looked distressed.

  “There’s been an incident.” The detective guided him inside the small room, indicating to Connor that his interview was over for now.

  Maddie watched the detective talk to Fred before he closed the door, and the expressions flitting across the big man’s face – shock and horror – as she guessed the detective apprised him of the female judge’s fate.

  “I wish we could get out of here.” Suzanne nudged her. “All I want to do is go home.”

  “Me too,” Maddie replied, heartfelt.

  “Do you think he did it?” Suzanne looked at the now closed door of the temporary interview room.

  “Fred? No – why? Do you think he killed the judge?” Maddie kept her voice low.

  “I don’t know.” Suzanne scrunched up her nose. “But she didn’t seem to be a fan of his mocha drink.”