Free Bewitched, Bothered, and Biscotti: A Magical Bakery Mystery by Bailey Cates

I sank into a kitchen chair and surveyed myhandiwork, still holding the spatula. It looked pretty much plain-Jane, but I was
     sure it would taste heavenly. I looked at Mungo. “At the bakery I’ll just make a sheet
     cake, and the frosting hardening too fast won’t be a problem. We’ll sell it in precut
     squares.”
    He ignored me, staring a hole in the spatula.
    “What? You want some?”
    Yip!
    I grinned and put a little dollop of frosting in his empty bowl. I could swear that
     dog ate more than I did and didn’t even weigh fifteen pounds. Maybe I’d grab a snack
     later, but it had been a crazy day. I needed to clear my head and stretch my body.
     I needed endorphins swishing through my system.
    That meant a nice hour-long run.
    The clock read five thirty, which left me enough time to work up a good sweat before
     sunset. Of course, now that I’m a Southern gal I don’t sweat; I glow. I changed into
     running shorts, a sports bra, and a T-shirt, and laced up my trusty trail runners.
     No trails today, though. The placid streets of Midtown Savannah would suit me just
     fine. I began to unclasp my dragonfly necklace so it wouldn’t bounce in my face as
     I ran. Then I remembered Mimsey’s insistence that I wear it and tucked it inside my
     shirt instead.
    Better safe than sorry.
    “Sorry, buddy,” I said to Mungo when he looked up from his bowl. “I plan to run hard,
     and you’re too little to keep up.”
    He gave me a baleful look. If a dog could shrug, he did before turning back to his
     bowl. Deep down, I suspected he didn’t enjoy running as much as I did. Mungo could
     be a bit prissy at times. And lazy.
    “You have frosting on your nose,” I tossed over my shoulder on my way out.
    Margie’s voice drifted through the evening air as I stretched my hamstrings on the
     front porch. “Come on inside and get your mac ’n’ weenies, kids.” I shuddered at the
     thought, then reminded myself to stop being such a snob. And I knew for a fact that
     her mother-in-law cooked all sorts of good things for those kids—and for Margie and
     Redding, too.
    My footfalls pounding on the cement in time with my heartbeat, I took off slowly to
     warm up my muscles. As I built up steam and increased my pace, my mind left my body
     to its activity and began gnawing on all the things that had happened since I’d met
     Declan for our picnic in Johnson Square that morning. Finding the dead body had been
     bad enough, but then there had been the unpleasant Detective Taite and Detective Quinn’s
     veiled reference to having done something to make his superior unhappy. I couldn’t
     help but wonder what it could have been. Peter Quinn had always struck me as a real
     stand-up guy.
    I smiled at a bearded man walking a golden retriever and moved toward the curb to
     let him pass. He smiled back.
    Then there was the tattoo, which led to the Dragoh Society. Mimsey’s frightened expression,
     so at odds with her usual twinkly self, loomed large on my mental movie screen. Heinrich
     Dawes’ glowering frown soon replaced it as I remembered his condescension and threats.
     It
had
been interesting to meet Steve’s father, though, even if he turned out to be kind
     of scary. And what about Steve’s revelation that he was a druid and in line for membership
     in a very exclusive magical club?
    Unbidden, his words came back to me:
I’ve never met anyone like you. We’re connected. I know you feel it, too. We have
     a destiny.
    I ran harder. Faster.
    But there was no escaping what he’d said. I could only push it aside with thoughts
     of the dead man. Lawrence Eastmore. His death was none of my business. Everyone kept
     telling me that, and I wanted to believe it. But Mimsey’s reference to my being a
     catalyst, the way the wreath sigil on Eastmore’s arm had sent shivers down my spine,
     and the fact that I was already involved—well, sort of involved—with someone who would
     someday be in the same druid…clan?…as