Cornbread & Crossroads Read online

  Cornbread & Crossroads

  A Southern Charms Cozy Mystery

  Bella Falls

  Copyright © 2020 by Bella Falls

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Also by Bella Falls

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Hextra Free Stories

  Series Order

  Series Order

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Bella Falls

  A Southern Charms Cozy Mystery Series

  Moonshine & Magic: Book 1

  Lemonade & Love Potions: A Cozy Short

  Fried Chicken & Fangs: Book 2

  Sweet Tea & Spells: Book 3

  Barbecue & Brooms: Book 4

  Collards & Cauldrons: Book 5

  Red Velvet & Reindeer: A Cozy Short

  Cornbread & Crossroads: Book 6

  Preserves & Premonitions: Book 7

  Southern Relics Cozy Mysteries

  Flea Market Magic

  Rags To Witches

  Pickup and Pirates

  Vintage Vampire

  Bargain Haunting

  *All audiobooks available are narrated by the wonderful and talented Johanna Parker

  For a FREE exclusive copy of the prequel Chess Pie & Choices, sign up for my newsletter!

  Share recipes, talk about Southern Charms and all things cozy mysteries, and connect with me by joining my reader group Southern Charms Cozy Companions!

  For the real Nicky D

  Chapter One

  A deafening crash jolted me out of sleep. I bolted upright in bed, holding my hand over my heart to keep it from jumping out of my body. My mind struggled out of my sleepy fog, wavering between my fading dream and reality. A slight breeze blew the gauzy curtain back from the window, revealing an almost full moon glowing in the dark sky and a beam of moonlight filtered through the gap in my curtains onto my quilt. I crossed off the option of a wild storm causing the terrible noise and held my breath, tense as I listened for the slightest sound in the nighttime stillness.

  Another couple of loud bumps set my teeth on edge. The noise was definitely coming from somewhere inside my house. I picked up my spell phone from my bedside table to text Beau and make sure he wasn’t entertaining a lady friend and making an unnecessary racket while wooing her. Pixie poop! I’d forgotten to plug in the charger before falling asleep, making it totally useless.

  Climbing out of bed, I crept to the door and placed my ear against it. The heavy thud of my worried heartbeat was hard to ignore, but I strained to interpret any other sounds from the other side. My imagination went into overdrive. Maybe that scraping noise I could hear was someone dragging a body across the wooden floors downstairs. Glass shattered from somewhere below. Was someone breaking into one of Uncle Tipper’s old curio cabinets that still held some of his prized possessions?

  With shaky fingers, I turned the knob on the door with caution until the latch unhooked. As a last-second measure, I fumbled in the dark and grabbed some unknown object off my dresser, raising it in the air to strike any intruder who dared to bust into my place. The door opened just a crack and something small rubbed against my leg as it burst into my room. It took all my strength and my hand over my mouth to hold in a scared squeal until the tiny creature leaped on top of my bed and mewed at me.

  “Peaches!” I scolded in a low voice. “Little girl, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You best be glad I didn’t hex your little behind to kingdom come.”

  She cocked her head to the side and meowed in response.

  “No, I will not scratch your head. Not unless you can tell me who was making that noise.”

  The little fuzz bucket licked her paw in indifference, circled three times, and settled at the foot of my bed.

  “Fat lot of good you are as a guard cat,” I whispered, gathering my wits about me and making my way into the hall.

  The other side of the house on the second floor was pitch black. Either Beau was in for the night or he hadn’t made it home yet from one of his many dates. But a dim light emanated from downstairs and upset voices echoed up the stairway. Based on the high-pitched tones of the argument, I guessed whatever was going on involved a few of my recent houseguests.

  I flicked on the light so I wouldn’t trip and fall down the stairs and made my way to the general kerfuffle. After sticking my head into the formal parlor and making sure nothing was truly broken, I followed the din until I stood in the doorway of the small kitchen at the back of the house.

  Two pixies were holding onto either side of a glass pie plate while floating in the air. They dodged a third companion who dive-bombed them in an attempt to steal the prize away. Underneath the three, a brownie wrung her hands and reached up to rescue the dish.

  “Don’t!” she admonished, jumping as high as she could but missing as the pixies pulled their prize out of her reach. “That pie belongs to Miss Charli, and if you don’t stop, she’ll kick us all out.”

  The little minx who had been trying to take the pie dish away from the other two stopped midair and placed his hands on his hips before fussing at the small fae underneath him in a shrill shout. When he finished, he stuck his tongue out at her and resumed chasing the plate. He misjudged the angle of his attack and the other two pixies didn’t react fast enough. The glass plate flew out of their hands, flipped in the air, and crashed onto the ground, joining the broken shards of a lasagna dish.

  Before the brownie could scold them, I cleared my throat, causing them to freeze where they were. “Be careful, Bea. Don’t cut your feet on the broken glass.”

  It took me a second to take in the whole mess of my kitchen. A cutting board full of chopped vegetables covered the small table I usually ate at with the discards lying on the floor underneath. A couple of drawers were pulled out with various contents scattered on the floor. And a wisp of black smoke rose from my oven.

  Ignoring my instructions, the brownie rushed over and, using some oven mitts she’d found in one of the drawers, opened the door and retrieved a blackened hunk of what must have been food at some point. “I’m so sorry, Miss Charli. This was supposed to be a surprise for you in the morning, but those three ruined everything!” She glared at the three pixies still hovering, their tiny wings creating a slight buzz.

  As soon as the accusation left Bea’s lips, the other three exploded into piercing protests, pointing at her and each other. I’d never understood the language of the pixies, and the middle of the night was not the time to start learning.

  I held up my hand to stop everyone from shouting and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. Ever since we’d returned from Charlesto
n, several of their local magical folks had taken us up on our invitation to come live in Honeysuckle Hollow. We thought at the time that only a few would take us up on our offer. Instead, our small supernatural Southern town had become the hub for many disenfranchised or mistreated fae.

  With exponential growth came a lack of housing. Like me, several Honeysuckle residents volunteered to accept temporary borders. David, the half-brownie half-dryad who had helped us solve a murder and prove my grandmother’s innocence in Charleston, was staying with Mason. Since I had a bigger place, I offered to house more than most. Beyond the four in the kitchen, I had at least three others supposed to move in with me sometime over the next week.

  Taking a deep breath, I attempted to speak. Before I uttered one word, Bea slammed the casserole dish down on top of the stove and wagged a finger at the other three. “I told them that they shouldn’t eat your food unless they were willing to replace it with something else like I was doing. And that the pie especially was yours and not for them because it’s your favorite. Plus, it came from your boyfriend.”

  I had told Bea about my history and preference for chess pie after Mason brought one over to help bolster me for the challenges he knew were coming. Perhaps I’d been too naive in thinking nothing would really change when I opened my home to the guests. Right now, I could have used a big fat piece of the pie to curb my current nighttime annoyance.

  “It’s fine,” I reassured her, attempting to smile at the pixies. “But I’d appreciate if you would take more care when trying to eat or make food and try not to make as much mess. Or at least clean it up. Also, I’d appreciate if we kept the noise level or any ruckus to a minimum.”

  One of the pixies zipped over to Bea and whispered in her ear. The brownie’s expression of anger softened. “Nug is asking what you’re going to do to them?”

  I blinked twice in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think they’re worried that you would use that in order to cast a spell of punishment or something on them.” Bea pointed at the object I still gripped in my left hand.

  Looking down, I noticed the hairbrush I’d grabbed in my sleepy panic. “Oh. Uh, I’m not planning on doing anything to them. I just want everything cleaned up.” My heart squeezed a little, realizing they expected harm from me instead of kindness.

  I put the brush down and held my hands up, addressing the pixie still hovering close to Bea’s shoulder. “I would never do anything to any of you. That’s not how we do things here in Honeysuckle, and I’m sorry if it’s how you were treated before you arrived.”

  A tense silence followed my words until all three pixies burst into animated flight around my kitchen. I cringed, wondering what damage they might cause in their flurry of excitement until they circled right above my head. Although I couldn’t understand the exact words they spoke, the tone and musicality of what they said sounded like gratitude.

  Bea chortled. “I’ll make sure everything’s cleaned up before you get up in the morning.”

  “And no more middle-of-the-night cooking fests, please,” I begged with a yawn. “If anyone’s gonna burn down my house, let’s do it in the daytime.”

  With a nod, I left the kitchen, muttering a wish under my breath that everything would be in decent shape come dawn. I trudged back upstairs and thought about asking Nana to come over and spellcast a fireproof protective charm over my entire house. Just in case.

  When I got to my bed, I noticed a familiar furry lump curled up right in the middle of my pillow. “Move it or lose it, Peachy Poo. I gotta get some sleep or I’ll be a walking zombie tomorrow. Or I guess, later today.”

  She didn’t even move an inch. Exhausted, I clambered into bed and rolled onto my side, accepting the minuscule little corner of the pillow left for me. As I closed my eyes, images of shattered pie plates and tiny flapping wings chased me into sleep.

  I woke up to my head boiling like a volcano about to blow. Just what I needed, to get sick on top of everything else I had to get done today. Raising my hand to check my forehead for a fever, I touched fur.

  I plucked my kitty from her position and plopped her on top of my chest where she rewarded me with strong purrs. My fingers stroked between her ears and under her chin, earning that closed-eye cat grin that always filled me with joy.

  “Whaddya say, Peaches? Think it’s safe to go down to the kitchen this morning?” Placing her at the foot of the bed, I yawned and stretched with loud groans before making it out of bed.

  My spell phone still lay on top of the bedside table, and when I picked it up to check the time, I realized with a cringe I still hadn’t recharged it. After last night’s debacle and spotty sleep afterwards, my energy reserves were down to almost nothing, so trying to charge it enough myself wouldn’t work. With an irritated sigh, I pulled out the cord from under my bed and plugged it in. The screen lit up, and I jotted down my duties for the day on a scrap piece of paper.

  It took extra effort to get showered and dressed due to my exhaustion. No amount of coffee would perk me up today. When I trudged my way downstairs and ventured into the kitchen, I found it cleaned up for the most part. One less thing to worry about, but the thought of fixing anything to eat exhausted me. Even toast. Luckily, an easy solution to my laziness and hunger lived not too far away.

  As if sensing my newly-hatched plan, Peaches zipped down the stairs and sat with her tail flicking in front of the door, almost tripping me as we left the house. I followed her off the porch and around the corner to where my special mode of transportation leaned against the house.

  My orange kitty waited with an impatient meow for me to lift her up and place her in the front basket of my bicycle. I flipped the switch to enable the spell to charge it, but no power zinged through it or me.

  “Frosted fairy wings, this is not gonna be my day,” I groused, unsure if I could risk any of my own magic to power it. “Looks like I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

  I hopped of and walked the bike to the edge of the property and onto the nearby road. Straddling the saddle again, I pushed with my feet and pedaled under my own steam towards my grandmother’s place. The trip that usually took five minutes with the magical boost took me closer to fifteen. Heck, Peaches could have gotten out and trotted faster than I rode. About the time Nana’s house came into view, I heard a popping sound and the bike wobbled out of control.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Once I lurched to a stop, I got off the bike. “Great. Just what I needed. A flat tire.” Could I fix it with a little magic? Maybe. Did I have any power reserves to deal with it? Not this morning.

  My cat turned her head far enough to give me a little kitty side-eye as if scolding me for not getting her all the way there. “Hold your horses, princess,” I snorted.

  Grabbing onto the handlebars, I pushed the unwieldy bike all the way down the road and up to the edge of my grandmother’s porch. Peaches hopped out without another glance my way the second Nana pushed her screen door open.

  “Whoo boy, what’s got you in a tizzy this fine mornin’?” she asked, watching my cat saunter right inside her house as if it belonged to her, too.

  I moaned and practically pouted. “Don’t get me started. Last night, my guests decided to destroy my kitchen, managing to wake me up in the process. I barely got any sleep after that. Oh, and I forgot to charge my spell phone, so I’ll have to work without it today.” I kicked the flat front tire of my bike. “And then this happened just over yonder.”

  “Sounds to me like you woke up with a case of the grumps,” crowed Nana, crossing her arms. “And what have I always told you about starting your day, Birdy?”

  No part of me wanted to play games. I debated whether or not eating some of her home cooking was worth it or whether I should walk my crotchety behind all the way to the Harvest Moon Cafe instead. Imitating her stance, I frowned. “What?”

  “That you gotta live the life you want every day. And I refuse to believe you want to spend the rest of to
day with a cloud hanging over your head and carting the heavy burden of doom and gloom everywhere you go.” She nodded once for emphasis. “At least you’re not crossin’ my threshold until you fix your attitude, Birdy. And it would be a shame for you to miss out on some ham biscuits, blueberry pancakes, eggs, and some crispy bacon. And maybe I should pour out that fresh pot of coffee I just brewed.”

  My stomach gurgled at the details of the prepared breakfast. “All right, I give in.” I forced a smile on my lips. “There, are you happy?”

  “The question is, are you happy? You possess the power to make or break your own day. Which way would you like it to go? Sour grapes or grape jelly?” she cajoled.

  I slumped as I surrendered for real. “Jelly. Especially if you’ve got some I can slather on those biscuits.”

  Nana gestured for me to come up the porch stairs and into her house. “Come on then. It ain’t getting any hotter sittin’ and waitin’ on you.”

  When I entered her kitchen, I marveled at the sheer amount of food waiting on the table and covering nearby counters. “You look like you’re ready to feed an army,” I said, picking up a plate and piling all kinds of goodies on it. “As starving as I am, there’s no way I can eat all this by myself.”

  “Who says it’s all for you?” My grandmother teased with a wink. A knock on the front door caused her to grin like the cat who ate the canary. “Why don’t you go see who that is?”