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    A Corpse at the Polls: Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies, #3
    A Corpse at the Polls: Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies, #3
    A Corpse at the Polls: Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies, #3
    Ebook127 pages3 hours

    A Corpse at the Polls: Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies, #3

    By Lisbeth Reade

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    About this ebook

    Elections are murder. 

    When Ella Sweeting, aromatherapist witch-in-training, stumbles over the body of Helen Christianson, the leading mayoral candidate, she knows Detective Garza will have her head for getting mixed up in yet another murder. But when Garza herself is attacked, there's no holding back.

    Finding herself at the helm of police department in turmoil, Ruby the cop turns to Ella for help in solving the murder. But as the attacks increase, and Rory starts to get suspicious of Ella and her Aunt's magic, Ella finds herself in more trouble than she could ever imagine.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLisbeth Reade
    Release dateMar 5, 2017
    ISBN9781386335764
    A Corpse at the Polls: Ella Sweeting: Witch Aromatherapist Cozies, #3

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      Book preview

      A Corpse at the Polls - Lisbeth Reade

      Chapter 1

      T his time , try not to pop the bubble, Aunt Hazel said for the tenth time.

      Aunt Sarah sat on the porch blowing bubbles.

      I was trying to use a spell to blow the bubbles through a hoop that Aunt Hazel held high above her head. So far I wasn't getting anywhere. The bubbles kept popping. I sighed. At least the weather was cooperating by being sunny and clear. The magic clearly was not.

      You said this was a simple spell, I huffed.

      No, we said it did a simple thing, Hazel corrected. Magic is never easy. It if was, everyone would do it and no one would need microwave ovens. Take a breath. Let it out slow. Feel the magic. Feel the spell and try again.

      I closed my eyes. I tugged at that part of me that felt magical and I tried to feel the spell. Aunt Sarah blew a batch of fresh bubbles. I caught one and used a gentle wind to push it towards the hoop. It was so close to the hoop I could taste it. I was definitely going to do it this time. I felt a surge of adrenaline and all the bubbles popped at once.

      Aunt Sarah laughed. I did the same thing when I was learning. You got too excited and the extra energy had to go somewhere.

      I murdered all my bubbles. I said sadly. Sitting down next to Sarah, I put my head on her shoulder. I'm a soap serial killer.

      Hazel dropped the hoop. You're powerful, Ella. This is delicate stuff. You crushed an ant with a truck. Too much. You have to learn to exert just a hint of force. We'll try again later. But you did well!

      I wasn't a witch by trade. I was actually an aromatherapist. I even made my own oils in the summer and spring. The witch thing was new. My aunts had come to live with me on my twenty-second birthday, which apparently is when you get to be magical. Life was definitely more interesting now with my new aunts and magic lessons, but I still had a job to do.

      Helen Christianson had called me this morning for an appointment. The tall, elegant brunette was running for mayor and was understandably stressed. She and I had a regular appointment once a month, but she had moved it up. I was excited. Helen was pleasant company and a gracious hostess who always served guests tea from her antique silver tea set before we got started. She was one of my favorite clients.

      She wasn't my only one, either. I was getting a reputation in town. My oil blends and sachets were becoming all the rage. I wasn't going to be on TV anytime soon but my dance card was getting pretty full. Any fuller and it might affect my magical training.

      Auntie Joe came outside with a pitcher of iced tea and some tea cakes on a tray. Did you hear who's running for mayor this year?

      Of course, Sarah told her. The mayoral race is all anyone's been talking about for weeks. Most people think the mayor is going to get reelected, and this is just a waste of time. He's got the biggest campaign and people are used to him. Personally, though, I'd like to see Helen win.

      Helen Christianson is amazing, Auntie Joe agreed. She started two animal shelters and a meal program for the homeless. I like her style.

      And I like her because she's my client, I said. I'm all about loyalty. Besides, she is always so open and honest with everyone. That has to be a good quality in a mayor. Current Mayor Mark Strous is who the Stewarts are voting for.

      Now I know why you don't like him, Aunt Hazel said. You wouldn't support butter on toast if Max Stewart agreed with it.

      I laughed and took a tea cake. Maybe. I just don't trust Max. So by extension I don't trust Max's opinions.

      Who else is running? Auntie Joe asked, skimming her paper to see if she could catch the names.

      I knew without looking. Caitlyn Jones and Mike Hutchens.

      Jones is the one who doesn't like cats, Aunt Hazel said with a scowl. She's not getting my vote.

      She's allergic to cats. She doesn't hate them. I told her, but she just sniffed. What about Hutchens?

      Sarah frowned. I like some of his ideas. I just like Helen's more. What are your parents going to do?

      I shrugged. Mother doesn't discuss politics or religion in public forums. But she'll probably vote for Helen.

      Are you seeing Rory today? Auntie Joe asked, obviously tired of the political conversation she had started.

      No, I said. He's working overtime at the post office. With all the rallies, there are tons of buttons and flyers waiting to be delivered. We're meeting for lunch tomorrow since it's Saturday.

      Not a dinner date? Aunt Hazel asked.

      Ha, not if I want him awake and alert. They've had him getting up an hour earlier and staying an hour later at work. He'll be asleep in the seat if I take him to a movie. I grinned at them.

      Can't have him sleeping on dates, Aunt Sarah said. That would never do.

      Tell me about it. Well I better go get my bag. I have an appointment with Helen Christianson in a half hour. She called this morning. Apparently the election is ramping up and she needs aromatherapy help. I don't want to be late. I waved at my aunts and rushed inside the house. I took the grand staircase two at a time, almost crashing into my father.

      Hi, he greeted me with a smile.

      You're home early, I said and hugged him. He smelled like tangelos and marjoram. He always wore the best colognes. You smell fantastic.

      Thanks, he said. Coming from an aromatherapist that's a high compliment. Going to work?

      Yes, I said. Just gotta grab my bag. That's why I almost knocked you down.

      I won't get in your way. I promised your mother a romantic dinner. So I snuck home early. He said with a grin. Go make people happy.

      Thanks, I said giving him a big cheesy grin. Seems like my parents were finally getting on board with my aromatherapy work. Well, at least Father was. Mother could be an enigma.

      That’s my girl. Father smiled and waved and then headed down the stairs in search of Mother.

      I didn't run the rest of the way up. Wouldn't do to fall down and bang myself up before seeing a client. I stopped in the bathroom to check my hair and freshen up my makeup. I had a few fly-aways to take care of. I sprayed them into submission and kicked off my loose sandals on my way down the hall. I would wear grown up shoes for the appointment.

      I made it to my room and saw the cats lying on my bed. Cat eyes opened part way to see me then slid shut. You should be napping, Trouble said.

      Humans never get enough sleep, Livvie remarked, rolling onto her back. She wiggled her back to sink deeper into the comforter.

      Please, I have work to do, I told them and put a few of the specialty concoctions into my bag. I don't have time to hang out with you lazybones.

      Humans work too much, Livvie told Trouble with an air of infinite sadness.

      They're just not as clever as us, Troubled commented before starting to snore.

      I was sure they were right. The bed did look incredibly comfortable. With a sigh I headed down the steps and had Girard bring my car around. Aunt Sarah was in the foyer. She waited out front with me.

      I don't suppose you could give Helen some of my ideas for how to improve town? Aunt Sarah asked.

      I don't think candidates take advice on being a mayor from their aromatherapists. I'm more of a peace-of-mind tincture and a nice soak in lavender scented baths kind of adviser.

      Oh, I know, Aunt Sarah agreed. Just thought it might be nice to get some pot holes filled. And there's that lot on Main Street that would make a perfect neighborhood garden. And Joe saw a perfect location for a drum circle but no one understands the permit system...

      I'm not running, I reminded her. But if she asks me, I'll be sure to tell her that you and Auntie Joe want to run a drum circle.

      Girard stepped out of the car and held the door for me. Thanks Girard!

      Aunt Sarah hugged me. Have fun. Get some of these ideas into her ear and I will love you forever.

      Aunt Sarah slid a piece of paper in my pocket.

      She's not even elected yet, I cautioned her.

      Just trying to get there early, I guess, Aunt Sarah said with a wave.

      Helen's condo was in a gated community not too far from our house. I had been there twice with lavender concoctions. The stress of running a business or two or three and then running a campaign on top of that, meant that what Helen needed most of all was: relaxation.

      I pulled up to the guard. Hi, I'm here to see Helen Christianson? I'm expected.

      Hi, name? The friendly young gate guard asked me. He had a dusting of freckles on his nose and pretty green eyes. He had to be seventeen, but he was dressed smartly in a pressed uniform and lifted the chart to check me off.

      Ella Sweeting, I answered.

      "Go right in ma'am. Ms. Christianson's residence is in the back overlooking the

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