Root Cause by Lisa Bouchard

Author:Lisa Bouchard [Bouchard, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy paranormal mystery, paranormal women's fiction, witch, potion witch, murder, new hampshire, pwf, detective romance, funny, humor, handsome detective, secrets, lies, betrayal, urban fantasy, amateur female woman sleuth, mystery book with a cat
Publisher: Lisa Bouchard
Published: 2021-11-20T23:00:00+00:00

Excerpt Leaf of Faith

Isabella Proctor Mysteries

Book One

Chapter One

Being a witch isn’t something we talk about with customers. It’s been over four hundred years since my ancestor, Elizabeth Proctor, was convicted of witchcraft and the fear of being found out still runs deep. That’s why on the surface, the witches in Portsmouth seem like normal people. Okay, maybe not normal, but harmlessly eccentric. Take me for example, I look like any other twenty-one-year-old shop girl with two jobs trying to make it on her own. I’m five-foot-six, I have long curly black hair and I think my features are too large for my face, but my best friend Abby insists I’m glamorous. I’m just a normal person, except that I’m also one of the only potion witches in New England.

I opened the front door to the Portsmouth Apothecary and made my way to the office where I hung up my coat and tied on an apron. This store gave me the opportunity to use my talents as a potions witch to help our customers, even if they didn’t know magic was involved. I took a moment to survey the sales floor before I got to work and was surprised to see the jars of herbs that lined the wall were running low despite the stock we kept in the back room, the candle display in the center of the room was almost empty, and there was no tea brewing at the customers’ tea table.

I looked to Trina Bassett, my boss, her curly gray hair escaping its chignon in places. She was busy helping Mrs. Williams with an order. Mrs. Williams reminded me of my grandma. Both Mrs. Williams and my grandma were short and had perfect posture despite being in their eighties. They also knew what they wanted and were unwilling to accept anything less.

“Good morning, Isabella,” Trina called to me as she pulled a jar of lavender from the herb wall and showed it to Mrs. Williams.

“Morning, Trina,” I said

The clouds broke and sun flooded through the two large picture windows at the front of the building. The light reflected on the pale yellow walls and the entire shop looked like summer had arrived. March in New Hampshire is almost always gray, but these moments of sunshine reminded us better weather was coming. The sun reflected off another shard of broken glass near the herb jars. I wanted to ask Trina what happened today that the shop was in such disarray, but that would have to wait because Mrs. Williams’s order wasn’t filled. I went to the storage closet by the back door and grabbed the broom and dustpan. As I closed the closet door, Mrs. Williams raised her voice.

“I don't care what you think, Trina, you know the right thing to do and I expect you to take care of it by tonight.” Mrs. Williams huffed. “I won’t be held responsible if you don't.”

I stood still at the checkout counter in the back of the room, not wanting to intrude.

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