A French Press of Murder: A Witch & Ghost Mystery (Welsh Witch Mysteries Book 5) by Alyn Troy

Author:Alyn Troy [Troy, Alyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

14

I waved an espresso into the cushion-and-pillow fort on the couch.

“Come on, Fuzzbutt, time to go work.”

“Juuussh one more video…” he muttered and snuggled deeper into the pillows, rolling on his back with his front paws covering his face.

“Silly pwca, Elain turned the telly off when she came back last night.” I blew the steam from the cup towards his face. “I need you this morning. Get your fuzzbutt up.”

He didn’t say anything, nor move. So I set the cup down and tossed the cushions back to their respective chairs, then the pillows. I jerked the last one from under him, which sent him tumbling off the sofa. With a twist, he landed on all four feet.

“HEY!”

“Get moving! Work day.”

“Can’t. I’ll jinx you again. Catastrophe, remember?”

“If I hear that word one more time, we’ll make a special trip to go meet my aunt after work. Get moving.”

“You’re grumpy in the morning. Did I ever mention that?”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll leave your mini espresso in the kitchen. Then you better be down at Mystic Brews. Or else I’ll text Elain to find you and bring you in via kitty carrier.”

“Not the caged pram!”

“You know she’ll enjoy it. She might even take you on a tour of Misty Valley and show off her fuzzy baby.”

“You’re evil,” Punkin sneered. “And so is she.”

I left him to stretch and headed back to finish my morning routine.

Ten minutes later, I was through the teleport crystal and in Mystic Brews. Mia and Aunt Rose bustled about the kitchen, both getting the fine pieces and pastries baking.

“Mmm… I smell Chelsea buns.”

“Io asked that we make them today,” Aunt Rose said. “Have you worked through your business and staffing plans if the minister approves both the hotel and the Trimbolt Villas?”

“They are mostly complete.” I slid one of the Chelsea buns onto a plate for myself.

“Oo! That’s from my batch,” Nia said. “Let me know if you like it.”

“Smells as good as Aunt Rose’s.” I didn’t need to encourage her. She was a natural at baking, just like her sister was at the coffee bar. I looked back towards my aunt. “I called Kyle last night. He said he’d look over the rough draft and give me feedback.”

Aunt Rose nodded and kept stirring whatever was in the mixing bowl.

“Let me know if you like the Chelsea bun,” Mia called.

“It smells yummy.” I waved the plate at Mia, then snagged a fork from the racks at the end of the gleaming steel dishwasher that took up one side of the kitchen. That was the wall that the dough golem had plastered Vivian Bentwhistle to when she broke in a few months earlier.

Out in the café, Nia and Holly were busy getting the counter set for guests. Nia passed me an espresso. I smelled, then took a sip.

“Very good. Did we get any of the new Ethiopian beans in?”

“I didn’t check the green delivery,” Nia said. “Punkin always tallies that.”

“Then I’ll ask him when he gets here.” I watched her and Holly prepping while I nibbled on the pastry.

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