Seven Pets for Seven Witches: A Collection of Paranormal Cozy Shorts by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Red Palm Press LLC
Published: 2018-01-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

“May we come in?” Oleander said.

I fought the urge to tell her that she was already in, and so were her companions. She smiled broadly. “We just want to make sure you’re doing okay after your fright.”

She, Athanasius, the driver, and the other people from the bus crowded around me, peering at me. “I’m doing fine,” I said, “apart from having the most dreadful caffeine-deficiency headache. If I don’t get some good coffee soon, I’ll be sick.”

They all headed, unconcerned, for the nearest armchairs. “Tea or coffee?” I asked them. “The coffee’s instant, you know,” I added, hoping I wouldn’t offend Laura.

Oleander shot a look at the detective. “Coffee is illegal in this town.”

The detective frowned. “Don’t mind me! I’m not about to arrest anyone for drinking coffee here.”

I took the opportunity to study him more closely. He was good-looking, not as good-looking as Thomas, yet while Thomas’s looks were somehow soft, the detective was attractive in a rugged way. My eyes lingered a little too long on his well-muscled arms and broad shoulders.

I shook my head. “What about cafés?” I asked them.

Oleander, Athanasius, and the other residents whose names I had forgotten all nodded solemnly. “It’s a wonder the lack of coffee hasn’t driven us all to an early grave,” Oleander said sadly.

Harriet, the driver, readily agreed. “I moved to town only last month, and I was surprised that not one single café in town serves coffee. They’ll have to change the law if they want to make this a tourist destination.”

My head was spinning. It seemed my life had taken a strange turn, and was getting stranger by the moment. “I’ve never heard of cafés that don’t serve coffee,” I said. “How close is the nearest decent coffee?”

“An hour away,” the detective said. “I was here only a day, before I had to go and buy a coffee machine. The removalists lost mine. Of course, I know it’s illegal to use a coffee machine in East Bucklebury.”

“That’s where we were going when we saw you, to a café in Southport to get coffee,” Oleander said. “Is that a truck outside?” She handed Persnickle a piece of carrot, and he ate it greedily.

I jumped up to look out the window. Sure enough, it was the removalist. I hurried out the door, and down the garden path to meet him. “I tried to call, but you didn’t answer,” he complained.

I hurried to apologise. “My phone was out of battery.”

He motioned me to stand aside, and soon the removalist and another man were taking my furniture inside. I didn’t have much—after all, my apartment had been tiny. I had a double bed, a Chinese cabinet, a treadmill, and not much else. Of course, the most important item was my coffee machine.

I told them where everything should go. Given they weren’t there long at all, it was something of an anti-climax. When I went back into the kitchen, all the retirement home residents as well as the detective were staring at my coffee machine.

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