Murder at Barnaby House Read online

  “Murder at Barnaby House”

  A Witch Cozy Mystery

  The Witch of Bayou George Series

  Volume One

  Chloe Mayson

  © 2019

  Chloe Mayson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.00 (2019.08.05)

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Julie Pope, Christine S., Amanda Peters, Dick B., Toni Tran, Kari Wellborn, Michele Beschen, RB, JayBee and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

  Join the Cozy Club Today

  The Cozy Club is an email newsletter you’ll discover new cozy mystery authors, get free cozy mystery books, and receive updates from your favorite Cozy Mystery Authors. Membership is free. There is no obligation to buy anything and you can unsubscribe anytime. Also receive a Free Exclusive Book from Kendall Scott “Marriage Can be Murder”. Click here to join.

  Free Book “Marriage Can Be Murder”

  Click Here to Join Today!

  Table of Contents

  Join the Cozy Club Today

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Free Kendall Scott Book “Marriage Can Be Murder”

  Chapter One

  Cortney hated that she had been forced to leave Malvern a day before her twenty-first birthday and drive a hundred miles to Bayou George. However, if she wanted the inheritance of an aunt she hadn’t known existed until two days ago, she had to arrive in the city of Bayou George before her twenty-first birthday which was tomorrow. If she failed to meet the executor of the will today, her aunt’s estate would go to the city of Bayou George.

  “An orphan one day and the recipient of a five-million-dollar estate the next,” Cortney mumbled as she drove her rattling green sedan down county road seven toward Bayou George. Cortney’s head still spun when she replayed the call from the executor of Morticia Barnaby’s will.

  The man’s ghoulish voice had creeped Cortney out so much she had hung up the phone the first time he called. Cortney glanced at her image in the rear-view mirror and sighed. The raven-haired girl sighed back at her.

  “Cortney, are you sure about this?” she asked her image. Hmm, I’m not crazy unless my image answers me, Cortney thought.

  The answer to the question was a resounding yes. An orphan until two days ago, with just a high school diploma and a waitress job at the Malvern truck stop, the answer had come easy. With her salary and tips, she struggled each month to pay the bills. The thought of five million dollars took her breath away.

  Cortney suddenly spotted something lying in the middle of the road and slammed on the brakes. As her clunker of a car skidded to a stop, she recognized the object as a large black cat.

  Is it dead? Cortney wondered as she stared at the unmoving form of the cat. She turned the steering wheel to drive around it but decided to remove it from the road instead. She couldn't bear the thought of more cars running over the poor creature.

  I had better hurry before another car approaches, she thought as she opened the car door. "I bet you were a handsome cat," she mumbled, approaching the dead black cat. "Poor thing. I wonder how you got way out here in the middle of nowhere," Cortney added as she knelt beside the creature.

  She paused before touching the animal. "Wow, this is a yucky moment," Cortney told herself as she gathered up enough courage to grab the dead cat's tail.

  The moment her fingers touched the cat's black tail, she felt a sudden electric jolt.

  "Ouch!" Cortney called out as she jerked her fingers away from the cat's tail. "What the heck was that?"

  The cat flicked its tail.

  "Oh my God, you’re alive," Cortney cried out. She jumped to her feet when the cat opened its eyes. The cat's green eyes followed Cortney as she backed away. What do I do? It's alive! I can't leave it lying in the road! Should I put it in the car? Cortney thought as she stared into the cat’s emerald eyes. “You aren’t going to scratch me if I pick you up, are you?” Cortney asked.

  “Meow.”

  “I’m going to take that as a no,” Cortney said in a soft voice as she slid both hands under the body of the cat. The cat flicked its tail as Cortney lifted it off the tarmac.

  “What happened? Did you get hit by a car?”

  “Meow.”

  “I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no,” Cortney said. “Your vocabulary is rather limited.” Gee, why do I always joke when I get nervous? Cortney asked herself as she carried the cat to the car. Luckily, she had left the door open, or else it would have been difficult to work the latch while holding the cat.

  Cortney leaned across the driver’s seat to place the cat on the passenger seat.

  “There. Is that better?” Cortney said.

  The cat let out a soft meow and flicked its tail.

  “Wow, a meow and a tail flick. I’m impressed. I guess soon you’ll be doing a comedy routine.”

  “Meow.”

  “Yeah, sure, I can’t wait,” Cortney said as she closed the car door. “I’ll take you to a vet when I get to Bayou George if the town has one.” Cortney had researched Bayou George. Like the name suggested, the town of five thousand people was right in the middle of an enormous swamp. She had asked herself, as she stared at the pictures of the town on her computer screen, why anyone with millions of dollars would choose to live in the middle of a swamp.

  “You are one lucky cat that I’m soon to be a millionaire, or I couldn’t afford to take you to a vet,” Cortney said.

  The truth was that Cortney had barely scraped up enough gas money for the road trip to Bayou George, aka Hicksville. Her tips the past week had been terrible. The short-haul truckers didn’t tip as much as the cross-country truckers, and long-haul truckers had been as scarce as eye teeth the past week.

  Cortney noticed as the oak and pine trees along the road slowly gave way to palmetto palms and vine-covered cypress trees growing out of murky water. I’m glad I’m going to arrive before dark, Cortney found herself thinking as the landscape morphed into one big swamp.

  “Meow.”

  Cortney glanced over at the cat, now sitting up in the seat.

  “Well, I guess you are feeling better.”

  “Meow.”

  “Then I guess I can wait to take you to the vet tomorrow,” Cortney said.
>
  The executor of her aunt’s estate had said he would meet her at Aunt Morticia Barnaby’s house. Hopefully, he would have some cash. If not, it would be canned pork and beans until she could get her hands on some money.

  Cortney had used her GPS to drive to the address that the man had given her over the phone. The Victorian house was entirely out of place among Bayou George’s aging antebellum homes. The pictures of the house on the internet had looked as creepy as the man on the phone had sounded.

  Instead of king cotton as the money crop, sugar cane and rice had brought wealth to the landowners of Bayou George before the civil war. Now the residents relied on crawfish, catfish, and welfare checks. At least those were the legal sources of income; Cortney didn’t want to speculate on the illegal revenue streams.

  Cortney slowed the car when she drew closer to the big “Welcome to Bayou George” sign. The sign featured a picture of antebellum homes and cane fields with Welcome to the Old South under the image. However, a graffiti artist had spray painted “tuorum periculo ingredi” across the bottom, swampy part of the picture.

  Hmm, it’s a good thing I was raised in a Catholic orphanage, Cortney thought as she translated the words aloud, “Enter at your own risk,” as the car passed the sign.

  “Meeeoooowww!” the cat suddenly wailed.

  Cortney glanced over as the cat arched its back and hissed.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  The cat turned its head toward Cortney and hissed.

  “Maybe it’s time we parted company,” Cortney said as she slowed down.

  The cat flicked its tail as it sat down.

  “That’s better,” Cortney said shaking her head. Wow, this cat seems straight out of the twilight zone. God, I hope it doesn’t have rabies! The thought sent a chill through Cortney. Hmm, if I get my hands on some cash, I think I’ll take… Cortney took a good look at the cat… Tom Cat for a rabies shot.

  “They say if you name a cat, you own it,” Cortney said as she took her eyes off the road a moment to look at the cat.

  I should be able to come up with a name more original than Tom Cat.

  “How about Blackie for a name?” Cortney said.

  The cat lifted its paw and licked.

  “Okay, so that name doesn’t interest you. How about Midnight?”

  The cat continued to lick its paw.

  “I raised you from the dead. How about Lazarus? No?” What am I doing talking to him? He’s a cat. He can’t understand a word I say. I can name him whatever name I choose.

  “Well, Lazarus is a better name than Tom Cat.”

  The cat glanced at Cortney. “Meow.”

  “Seriously? Tom Cat?”

  “Meow.”

  Get a grip, Cortney, the cat doesn’t understand a word you are saying.

  “Tom Cat, are you hungry?”

  “Meow.”

  “Do you want to drive?”

  Tom Cat licked his paw.

  “Okay enough of this spooky Halloween stuff. I’m freaking out,” Cortney said aloud. As she concentrated on the road ahead, she spotted a church steeple.

  The sight of the town of Bayou George shouldn’t have surprised Cortney as she rounded a curve and found herself driving on Sugar Cane Street. Sugar Cane must have doubled as the main street in town since it ran straight through the center of Bayou George.

  Cars parked in front of buildings marked ongoing businesses. Cortney drove past a hardware store, a drug store, and several clothing stores before she spotted an old-fashion drive-in diner. A purple neon sign that read “The Sweet Shop” flickered on and off on the roof of a building that resembled a shiny metal railroad car.

  “Time to stop for a burger before I meet with the executor of my aunt’s will,” Cortney said aloud even though she knew she shouldn’t get into the habit of talking to herself.

  “Meow.”

  “That’s right I’m not talking to myself, am I?” Cortney said with a giggle. “I’m talking to a dumb animal and pretending it understands every word I say,” Cortney added.

  Hmm, that almost sounds crazier than it talking to me, Cortney thought as she parked in front of the diner beside a red pickup truck.

  “I’ll bring you a wiener,” Cortney said as she climbed out of the car. “What? A wiener doesn’t get a meow?” she added shaking her head as she closed the car door.

  Whatever. The cat will eat it if it's hungry, Cortney thought as she opened the diner’s door.

  The owner of the red pickup, sitting in the booth near the door, turned his head as Cortney entered. She noted his Republican baseball cap and cringed. Cortney didn’t have anything against Republicans. It was their lousy tipping habits that she had an issue with.

  She sensed the man’s eyes following her as she walked to the middle of the room and slid into a booth. After a long moment without a waitress appearing, Cortney glanced at the counter. Through the service window, she could see a gray-haired, middle-aged man flipping a hamburger patty on a black grill.

  The cook must have sensed her stare. He turned around. “I’ll be out to take your order in a minute,” he shouted.

  Cortney nodded feeling sorry for the cook, as she knew without asking that the waitress hadn’t shown up for work. Not that she could blame the woman for quitting. Tips at a greasy spoon like the Sweet Shop would hardly pay the rent, even in a jerk water town like Bayou George.

  To kill time, Cortney pulled one of the menus from between the sugar jar and the napkin dispenser and opened it even though she knew exactly what she would order.

  As she read the menu, Cortney noticed movement in the seat across the table. She glanced up from the menu to find herself staring at Tom Cat. Cortney rubbed her eyes with her fists. When she looked back into the seat, the black cat licked his paw.

  “We don’t allow cats!”

  Cortney glanced around.

  “What the heck!” the middle-aged man said as he took a step back. “It can’t be possible!”

  “Yeah, I don’t know how he got inside. I left him in the car,” Cortney said. “Sorry.”

  “Oh God, the cat too?” the man exclaimed as he wiped his hand with his dirty white apron. “You are both dead!” the man added.

  “If I’m dead, why am I hungry?” Cortney asked.

  “Morticia?” the man asked.

  “I’m Cortney Barnaby. Did you know my aunt, Morticia?” Cortney asked.

  “Right, I guess you do look too young to be Morticia,” the man said as he leaned closer. “But that’s definitely Tom Cat, Morticia’s cat, and I know for a fact he died the same day as your aunt,” the man said.

  “How did you know his name? I just named him,” Cortney asked suddenly confused. “I found him in the middle of the road. I thought at first he was dead until he twitched his tail,” she exclaimed.

  The cook removed his white chef’s hat and scratched his head. “Well, cats are supposed to have nine lives. I didn’t believe it until now. I know they buried Tom Cat in the same coffin as Miss Morticia, but here he is plain as day. I have to believe my eyes,” the man said shaking his head.

  “Now that we have all the weird stuff out of the way, can I order a hamburger and french fries?” Cortney asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” the cook said. “Coming right up,” he said as he turned to leave.

  “Meow.”

  The cook paused and slowly turned back around. “My God it is Tom Cat sure as God made little green apples.”

  “Meow.”

  “What’s going on? This is getting too weird for me,” Cortney said.

  “The cat. I mean Tom Cat wants a bowl of milk,” the cook said.

  “Ah… And how do you know this?” Cortney asked.

  “Miss Morticia always ordered him a bowl of milk when she stopped by for lunch,” the cook said.

  “I thought you said no cats,” Cortney said.

  “If Miss Morticia wanted to bring a skunk in, I wouldn’t say no, since she owned the Sweet Shop along with h
alf of the town,” the cook stated.

  “You mean, I now own this restaurant?” Cortney said.

  “Meow.”

  “Yes, if you are the heir to her estate,” the cook replied. “And, if you are the owner, you better hire a waitress, or I’m quitting as of tomorrow,” the cook said. “I can’t run the kitchen and wait on customers at the same time.”

  “I’ll tell the executor of the will. I’m supposed to meet with him in a couple of hours at my aunt’s house,” Cortney said.

  “What’s the executor’s name? Maybe I know him,” the cook said.

  “Frank Steinson.”

  “Miss Morticia’s butler. Hmm, there’s a strange bird if I ever met one. I mean strange like a raven in one of Poe’s poems. I can imagine him walking around that big spooky house saying Forevermore. I sure wouldn’t want to meet him on the street late at night. He looks like he walked into a buzz saw,” the cook said.

  “What do you mean he looks like he walked into a buzz saw?” Cortney asked.

  The cook smiled. “You’ll see when you meet him.”

  “What’s your name?” Cortney asked. “If you work for me, I guess I should know your name.

  “Pop. Everyone calls me Pop,” the cook said.

  “Hey, Pop, when you finish with the skirt, I would like a refill on my coffee,” the man sitting next to the door shouted.

  “Yeah, Billy Jack. Hold your horses. I’ll get around to you,” Pop replied.

  “And for God’s sake get a waitress. I’m tired of looking at your buns,” the man replied.

  “Spit in his coffee. He’s not going to leave a tip,” Cortney whispered.

  “You got that right. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one in town that is as tight as bark on a tree. That’s the main reason I can’t keep a waitress. Nobody in this town tips!”

  “Meow!”

  “Okay, Tom Cat I’ll get your milk. Gee, I’ve never known a cat as impatient as him,” Pop said as he walked away.

  “Hey, Toots, do you need company?” the man near the door called out.

  “No thanks, I’m good. I’ve got my cat with me. I’m taking him for a rabies shot. He’s been attacking people lately, and that’s not like him,” Cortney replied as she saw the man sliding out of his seat.