The Befuddled Butcher: Twistchapel Cozy Mystery Book 1

  The Befuddled Butcher

  Twistchapel Cozy Mystery #1

  by Alexandria Westbay

  Copyright © 2017 Herrin Enterprises LLC

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Twistchapel Cozy Mystery Series:

  The Befuddled Butcher (Book 1)

  Released September 2017

  The Suspicious Spirit (Book 2)

  Releasing October 18th, 2017

  The Vexing Vampire (Book 3)

  Releasing End of October 2017

  Chapter 1

  "You should really start practicing again soon, Zoey," said Bart, my cat.

  Well, he wasn't exactly a cat.

  Bart was the familiar I received from the Other when I finally became a witch a few months ago. Familiars were summoned to help train witches in their power and to act as companions. They would typically take on the form of humans, invisible to the eye for non-magic users, causing many adults to believe the kids just had an imaginary friend. Bart preferred the appearance of an Siberian cat, which I didn't mind. To be honest, I secretly kind of liked it. I was apprehensive about having a familiar at first, but the cat was adorable.

  "I know, I know," I said, brushing a few strands of my black hair out of my face as I got out of my car. "I just want to take it a bit easy after the whole, you know..."

  "Fire thing?" snickered Bart, following me out.

  My mother had been a witch from before I was born, but when I had reached my late teens without any magical tendencies, we all thought I didn't have the gift. Somehow, at the ripe age of 30, I suddenly unlocked my power. After stubbing my toe on a chair, I nearly burnt my house to the ground when a burst of fire shot from my hand.

  "That's the one," I said, pressing the lock button on my key fob multiple times. After clicking it for nearly a full minute, my car finally locks with a beep. If I could learn a spell to lock my door, I'd be all over it.

  "I wouldn't mind some fire. Your life is so boring," said Bart with a yawn. "Especially for a witch."

  "That's not true! There's a ton going on," I lied, as we walked into Foster's Market. Taking my last name, Foster's Market was the small grocery store I opened up in my childhood town of Twistchapel a few years ago. I was told by nearly everyone it was a horrible idea, that the big box stores would bankrupt me. To everyone's surprise, myself included, the store has not only survived but flourished.

  "Like what?" asked Bert. "All you ever do is work. You've got to find other things to do."

  "I'll look into it," I said.

  "Morning Miss Foster," said Eric Muller, one of the Produce Clerks. He had a trash bag with him and was combing through the apples, looking for any that were no longer fresh. "Talking to yourself again?"

  "Caught me again!" I laughed. I really needed to get better at not talking so much to Bart out in public. People were going to start think I was going crazy if I wasn't careful. "Good morning Eric, how are you doing today?"

  "Tired, but good," he smiled. Eric just graduated from Twistchapel High School and was working for me as he figured out what he wanted to do. Eric worked for me for the last couple of years, hopping around from department to department as needed.

  "Well feel free to get some coffee to help wake you up if you need it!" I said with a smile.

  I made my rounds saying hello to the rest of my employees on shift that morning. I made my way to the back meat counter, where Thomas Rollin was hard at work on a cut of meat.

  "Hey, Thomas!" I said.

  Thomas jumped and held his knife up defensively.

  "Someone's jumpy today," mumbled Bart.

  "Sorry if I scared you!" I said, startled myself. "Is everything okay?"

  "Y-Yes, Zoey," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "I just wasn't expecting someone to talk to me this early. Had a late night of bowling. You know me."

  I had known Thomas ever since I was a child. He was a friendly old man, known for being the best meat cutter in all of Twistchapel. When his butcher shop began struggling financially a few years ago, I offered to hire him without a second thought. It turned out to be one of my best hiring decisions. People came from miles away to get his specialty cuts. I even helped invest in some of the finest knives to make his job easier.

  "Alright, well if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here," I said, trying to be comforting. It wasn't like Thomas to act like this. He was normally a calming presence for everyone.

  "W-Will do," he said, painting on a smile.

  I smiled back and left. I didn't want to pry if he didn't want to talk about it. Well, that wasn't true. I did want to pry, but I'd do it another time.

  "What was that guy's deal?" asked Bart, walking beside me.

  "I don't know... he's been doing such a good job ever since he was hired. I hope everything is okay in his personal life."

  "Probably something not important. You humans are notorious for worrying over the littlest things."

  The last stop I had to make before heading into my office was the cash registers. We had two registers, with just one open during the mornings. We were rarely so busy at one time that there was a line, even with just one register open. It looked like Bridgette Simpson was on duty today.

  "Morning Bridgette!" I said.

  "Hi, Zoey! How are you doing today?" smiled Bridgette. She was one of my oldest friends, and we had gone to school together. She married her high school sweetheart, Dan, shortly after, and the two left town for his job. When they moved back to Twistchapel, Bridgette was looking for something to stay busy before the two had kids. It was a no-brainer to bring her on board.

  "I'm doing just fine, how about you?"

  "Good! I wanted to see if you thought you were going to be able to make it tonight?" she asked.

  "Tonight?" I asked. I had no idea what she was talking about.

  "The bonfire," said Bart and Bridgette at the same time.

  Oh, right. That.

  "You're more than welcomed to bring a plus one," added Bridgette with a wink.

  "I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it..." I said. I didn't mind going to social events, but Bridgette was always trying to hook me up with someone. I wasn't opposed to meeting somebody, but it was becoming an almost daily occurrence for Bridgette.

  "Aw, you should totally come! Please, please, please?" she begged.

  I sighed. I hated it when she begged. "I'll see what I can do."

  "I'll take that as a tentative yes!" she declared.

  "Fine," I laughed. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

  I walked into my office at the front of the store and flipped on the light. My desk and comfy office chair welcomed me, along with a large stack of paperwork. Aside from a couch for visitors to sit on, my office was bare. I tried to keep my office purposefully plain, with the exception of floral wallpaper on the wall behind me. We initially put it in when I started, and unfortunately I wasn't able to take it down. It led to interesting first impressions for visitors and new hires.

  "What are you talking about, not being able to make the bonfire? You're just going to go home and watch TV," said Bart.

  "That's not necessarily true," I said. "I've been meaning to pick up baking, or perhaps quilting. You know, those are all the rage these days. Maybe I'll start doing one of those tonight?"

  "Are you trying to kill me with boredom?"

  "Hey, if I choose baking, you get
to eat what I make!"

  "I don't think anyone will want to eat whatever you bake for the first time," he said, shaking his head. "If you're going to stay home, we might as well start practicing some basic level magic."

  "You think my baking will be bad, but my first time magic will be better?" I scoffed.

  "Lucky for you, I'm on of the best witch trainers in all of the Other," said Bart, full of confidence. "Nearly every charge I've had over the past few millennia have grown into some of the best witches of their age."

  "Nearly?" I asked.

  "I'll admit there were a handful of... questionable skill level. Not my fault if every once in a while a charge decides to spontaneously combust on me."

  "What?!"

  "Don't worry about it," he said, sitting down on the couch and licking his paw. "That never happens until we're at least a few months in."

  I cracked my knuckles nervously. Bart looked up at me and I could tell he had a hint of a smile. I'd cracked my knuckles when I was nervous ever since I could remember, and Bart seemed to have picked up on it. Not wanting to seem bothered, I casually picked up the phone on my desk and dialed.

  "This is Bridgette," said the other side of the line.

  "I'm doing one more check through my plans for tonight," I said, loudly rustling papers around aimlessly. "It looks like I can just squeeze in swinging by your place for the bonfire."

  "Yay!" she cheered.

  "Do I need to bring anything with me?"

  "Just a date if you've got one! Are you still dating Todd?"

  Ugh. Todd. That hadn't ended well.

  "No, Bridgette, we stopped seeing each other ages ago."

  "Oh, I forgot. No worries, Dan and I have the perfect guy for you."

  "N-No, that's oka-"

  "Wear something nice. Can't wait to see you tonight!" she sang as she hung up.

  I grimaced as I hung up the phone. Now I had to get dressed up, too.

  I looked up at Bart to see him staring at me, his tail covering his mouth. I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

  "Happy?" I asked.

  "Very. Maybe something exciting will happen tonight?"

  I started in on my paperwork. He could hope all he wanted, but nothing exciting ever happened in Twistchapel.

  Right?

  Chapter 2

  A few hours later, I was nearly finished with all my paperwork for the day when my phone rang.

  "Dang it, always when I'm almost done," I said, glancing at my watch. It was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon now. Time flies when you're signing your signature dozens of times.

  "Thank you for choosing Foster's Market, this is Zoey, how can we help you today?" I asked as I picked up the phone.

  "Zoey! Need you! Quick!" said Bridgette, frantically.

  "Bridgette? What's going on?"

  "It's gonna be bad! There's a fight! Need you!"

  "Wait, slow down. What's going on? I can't understand what you're saying."

  "Sorry, I'm trying to-STOP!"

  "Bridgette?" I asked, getting to my feet.

  "Gotta run, please hurry!"

  Click.

  "What was that about?" asked Bart, stretching as he came out of his early afternoon nap.

  "I have no idea, but it sounds like Bridgette needs me," I said, opening the door and jogging out.

  To my surprise, Bridgette wasn't at the register. Instead, Charline Baker, the oldest of my cashiers, was casually scanning a customer's items.

  "Um, good afternoon, Charline," I said.

  "Afternoon."

  "Have you seen-"

  "Helping a customer," she said, irritable as always. I smiled and said hello to the customer, whom I recognized as Jeff Mann. He was married to an old friend of mine, Sophie, and looked very tired. I saw he was buying only alcohol, but acted like I didn't notice. Hopefully things were going well with them.

  "Oh drat, it's Charline," said Bart, walking through the wall to join me. "This woman is the worst, simply the worst! She just drones on and on. Why haven't you fired her?"

  I gave Bart a look but couldn't say anything. Not just because it would've made me look insane, but because he was right. Charline was very particular about... well, everything. She refused to stop helping a customer to handle anything else, and had a one track mind. I had wanted to fire her, but she consistently received high praise from customers. Also, I was too scared to tell her I was letting her go. But it was mostly the customer thing.

  Mostly.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Charline, but Bridgette-"

  "What has that little hussy done this time?"

  "Well, I'm not sure if hussy is a fair word to-"

  "Does it have to do with that fight at the meat counter?"

  "The meat counter?" I asked.

  "Fight?" Bart asked.

  "Yes, at the meat counter. Apparently, a customer was giving Thomas a piece of his mind. Bridgette ran back there when the yelling began."

  "Yelling?" I asked.

  "Fight?" Bart asked again.

  "I had to take over for her at her register. Can you believe she would just up and leave a paying customer high and dry?" said Charline, ignoring my question. "Half of that nice man's items were already scanned. If I hadn't stepped in as fast as I did, who'd have known what he would've done? Probably taken to that internet website and posted horrible things about your fine store."

  "Thanks Charline," I said, running by. I liked to think her heart was in the right place, she just didn't always do the best job of prioritizing.

  "Oh, I hope we make it in time to see the fight," said Bart, running beside me. "Charline just wouldn't stop talking, would she?"

  I turned at the end of the aisle, where I saw Bridgette desperately trying to push Thomas backwards, away from an old, bald man. A couple of shoppers were positioned around them, watching to see what happened next.

  "Excuse me, excuse me," I said pushing my way past the customers. As I got there, I recognized the old man as Mr. Ed Spinner.

  Mr. Spinner was one of Twistchapel's richest citizens. Legend held that Mr. Spinner started as a teller at the Twistchapel United Bank when it opened 40 years earlier, and had risen to the position of loan officer. He probably could have continued working his way up to even owning the bank, but the rumor was that he enjoyed denying people their loans so much, that he turned down any promotions he was offered. For the loans people did manage to get from him, he was notorious for applying horrible interest rates.

  I had saved every penny I made since I was in high school to open up Foster's Market, so I believed I was spared the pain he would have caused. Unfortunately, I was wrong. He became a regular shopper here and brought his nastiness with him.

  "Gentlemen!" I said loudly. Thomas, who was red in the face and shaking, stopped trying to move past Bridgette. Mr Spinner turned to look at me, a wicked smiling spreading as he recognized me.

  "Ah, Miss Foster. Just the woman I wanted to see," he said.

  "Shows over, everybody," I said to the small gathering. "We do have a special sale on Honeycrisp apples this week, so please feel free to check those out at the front of the store before you leave."

  A few people in the crowd grumbled as they dispersed, heading down various aisles. I was happy to see one or two made a beeline for the produce section.

  "What's going on here?" I asked.

  "Your barbarian of a butcher-"

  "This oaf, Spinner here, can go-"

  "Stop!" I said. "One at a time. Mr. Spinner, what can I do for you today?"

  "The other day, I came in looking for an expertly cut porterhouse steak," began the old man. "Going against my better judgment, I came to your establishment. I have had some very poor cuts from Mr. Rollin here several times, but thought I would give this place one more shot. I told him I wanted the finest porterhouse cut that he could make, and took it home with me."

  "What brings you in today?" I asked.

  "Last evening, I made what should have been a delic
ious steak. What I got instead was... mediocre at best," he scoffed. "I came in to demand my money back, and give Mr. Rollin some much needed feedback."

  I nodded at Mr. Spinner and looked at Thomas.

  "It ain't my fault Mr. Spinner can't cook to save his life," said Thomas. "You know I would never mess up an order, even for a snob piece of garbage like-"

  "Enough!" I said, holding up my hand. "This is no way to treat a customer. Please get back behind the counter and carry on with your work."

  Thomas glared at Mr. Spinner, but turned and went back to his station. Thomas grabbed a giant blade and raised it high, his eye's still on the loan officer. With surprising speed, Thomas swung down at the slab of meat in front of him, getting back to his job.

  "Mr. Spinner, if you would be so kind as to accompany me back to the front, I would be happy to give you your money back," I said, wanting us to give Thomas his space. What was going on with him? He was normally so composed. It wasn't uncommon to get customers complaining from time to time, and he normally handled customer service like a pro. I understood not always being in a great mood, but the way he held that knife while looking at Mr. Spinner was bizarrely threatening.

  "What?" asked Bart, walking beside me as we traveled down the aisle. "Why are you giving this guy his money back? Surely you don't believe that Thomas screwed up?"

  I gave Bart another look but didn't say anything. I didn't think Thomas did anything wrong with his cutting, but it was not okay to get in a customer's face and insult them. I had no choice but to refund Mr. Spinner's money.

  "It's a good thing your cashier here was there to intervene," said Mr. Spinner. "Wouldn't have wanted to close this place down with an assault charge, you know."

  "Just doing my job," said Bridgette quietly. I caught her giving a nasty look at Mr. Spinner, who was oblivious.

  "I apologize for the way Mr. Rollin treated you, and for the unfortunate meal you had last night, Mr. Spinner," I said as we made it to the front. "I'll have one of my cashiers return your money to you."

  Bridgette's eyes widened as they pleaded to not have her be the one.