​Murder, magic, and misfits—secrets are steeping in Mockingbird Springs.

I thought life at Magickal Beans was finally settling down. Then my cousin Ross arrived from the U.K. with a posh accent, a mysterious past, and a flair for reading tea leaves. Letting him hang his shingle in a quiet corner of the coffee shop was supposed to be a quirky attraction.

Then he pretended to predict a murder, and someone had the gall to make it come true.

Now the police are pointing fingers, and Ross is suspect number one. It’s up to me to prove my cosmopolitan cousin is as harmless as his fish and chips addiction. When the tea leaves get murkier, my pets launch their own magical investigation.

Tension in town is heating up faster than a whistling kettle, and secrets are bubbling to the surface. To clear Ross’s name and get him back across the pond where he belongs, I’ll need every ounce of courage, caffeine, and charm I’ve got.

The Tainted Tea Leaves is a laugh-out-loud cozy mystery filled with mystical mischief, cheeky charm, and enough enchanted tea to keep a small town buzzing with gossip.

THE TAINTED TEA LEAVES
Cozy Culinary Mystery
BY R.A. MUTH

Excerpt

“Can I please get the dessert sampler?”

Although my pets waited for me at home, I couldn’t resist satisfying my sweet tooth. I wriggled in the booth to get comfortable and perused the handwritten listing of daily dessert selections on a sticky note inside the menu. Banana pudding? Red velvet cake? Peach cobbler? These were staples across most of the southern United States, especially in sleepy Mockingbird Springs, South Carolina.

“Sure, hon. I’ll be right back with it.” She disappeared into the back.

Bells over the door chimed. A gentle whirring preceded the arrival of a man dressed in a suit and tie who approached the counter in a motorized chair. He wasn’t anyone I’d ever seen around town. Given my aunt’s dabblings in federal affairs, he could be anyone from a government agent to a salesman looking to partner in her spirited moonshine side hustle. He rang the service bell on the counter with great enthusiasm.

Shelby came out of the back. “Well, hello, handsome. You hungry? Special of the day is chicken bog.”

Chicken bog was a regional pilaf-style dish with rice, chicken, and smoked sausage. The nearby town of Loris even hosted a Bog Off festival celebrating the dish.

“A bog with chickens in it? Why would anyone want to eat that?” the man asked, his voice heavy with a British accent. He wrinkled his nose and scratched the stubble on his chin. “Do the chickens live in the bog?”

Shelby’s eyes grew wide, and she giggled. “Oh, aren’t you a hoot and a half? And you sound just like that man on the Doctor Who shows. The doctor fella. You know who I mean?”

“Yes, I’m aware. No relations, ha ha.” The Brit raised his hands, palms out, as if in surrender. “I’m actually looking for someone. Perhaps you can help?”

My ears perked up. Our little town had grown in recent years due to an influx of new residents, but they all hailed from the north—places like Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York. International tourists were few and far between.

“Sure thing, darlin’. Who is it you’re lookin’ to find?” Shelby’s accent was already as deep as her roots in the town, but she laid it on a bit thicker.

I resisted rolling my eyes, but I might have done the same if I weren’t already in a part-time relationship with my former high school sweetheart. What could I say? The Brit was easy on the eyes. Raising the coffee mug to my lips, I took a sip I’d soon come to regret.

“Her handle on the family tree site is Zipper,” the Brit explained. “But her full name is Tziporah Esther Graham.”

Hearing my name out loud registered at the same time that I swallowed the coffee. I choked, coughing until tears ran down my face. My face heated up, and I knew a blush revealed my embarrassment over the outburst. Only one person messaged me on the family tree website, where I’d uploaded my DNA despite my aunt’s protests against it.

“Zip, honey, are you okay?” Shelby asked as she rushed around the counter with a damp dish towel. She simultaneously pounded me on the back and wiped the tabletop clean of the coffee I’d sprayed over it.

I regained my senses as quickly as I could and assured her I was fine.

“Zip? Tziporah? Are you one and the same? What a piece of luck that I found you at the first place I stopped into,” the Brit gushed, his accent making him sound like the love child of James Bond and Adele. He turned his chair and stared at me head-on. When I didn’t immediately reply, he said, “It’s me, your cousin Ross. Remember? You said if I was ever on this side of the pond to look you up in Mockingbird Springs, and, well, here I am! Aren’t you surprised?”

Surprised was an understatement. When I realized he was waiting for a response, I stammered, “Totally. Did I miss an email about your visit?”

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if I’d told you. I bought a ticket and hoped for the best. Touch wood, cross your fingers, and all the rest of it.” He pushed a joystick on the arm of the chair. It lurched forward, and he navigated it toward me, settling at the end of my table. “And here I am.”

“Here you are,” I echoed. “How long do you plan to stay, and where are you staying?”

“Ten full days. Can you recommend a place? Preferably somewhere that offers a discount. I’m a bit skint after buying the round-trip plane ticket and hiring a dog sitter.”

“Skint?” I repeated.

“Broke. Hardly a penny to my name.” Ross sheepishly looked at the ground.

Aunt Corliss was used to me dragging stray animals home, whether it was a floppy-eared puppy I pulled from a dumpster or a three-legged cat my boyfriend Jones and I had found cowering in the alley behind a thrift shop. This would be my first time bringing home a stray human. Our house wasn’t the most accessible, but Ross should be able to navigate the first floor.

Besides, he was family, and Aunt Corliss often reminded me in a world where so many were intent on tearing each other down, it was important to embrace family—whether it was by blood, by love, or both.

It was settled. Before I could think twice about it, I offered, “I suppose you can stay with us.”

“That would be grand, but won’t your Aunt Corliss think I’m a dodgy muppet for getting myself into this situation?” The more he spoke, the more his accent grew on me.

“I’m sure she won’t mind at all. The living room sofa pulls out into a bed and everything. Are you hungry? I just ordered dessert, but the kitchen’s still open if you’d like some dinner. My treat.”

“Are you sure?” Ross smiled. “Because I’d hate to put you out.”

“Don’t be silly. I offered.” I handed him a menu and thought, After all, the poor bloke was skint.