“Keys, keys, where are the blasted—ah, there.”

As usual, they’ve dropped to the bottom of my bag where they’ve gotten entangled in the soggy swimming costume. I fumble the key into the lock, throw open the door, and enter an L-shaped corridor filled with the homey smells of fried bacon, Clorox, and rose potpourri.

Oh, by the way, welcome to the Witch’s Retreat Bed and Breakfast in the idyllic British village of Avebury, now home sweet home.

I’m Myrtle Coldron. Just call me Myr. Most people do.

I check my watch. Blast, I’m later than I thought. And that when the guests are due any minute.

But it’s no surprise, really. Not when Chris, the guy I’d like to get to know a bit—a lot closer is back in Avebury village. He drove me home, and he must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. The drive from Knick-Knack’s took a lot longer than the usual ten minutes.

Still, the trip was much too short.

Then there’s Greg, the guy from the States running the Whacky Bramble Pub, who’d stumbled over a dead body in his beer cellar and hollered for help.

He’s a friend, and of course I went. But I won’t forget that scene in a hurry, believe me. During my stint as amateur sleuth earlier this year I never had to face an actual corpse.

Urgh. My teeth were clattering like a set of wind-up dentals the whole time.

Actually, in hindsight the scene was more sad than scary. A pathetic heap is all that remains of a life, discarded like a bunch of old clothes, smelly and soiled.

What a rotten way to go.

And to round off this crazy day, my fellow witches are breathing down my neck, wanting me to run the coven.

Yeah, right. As if.

I’m a grammar school teacher gone landlady, not some fancy Hogwarts prof. If we were at least halfway clued up about magic, it wouldn’t be so bad.

But we’re not.

Instead, there’s a real risk I mumble my way through what I believe to be a recipe for biscuits and a demon pops up in my pantry.

Okay, okay, according to Dot—that’s our most experienced witch—they don’t exist.

But it’s bad enough as it is. The only hexing I’ve done so far is morphing a gun into a cactus. The others are even worse.

One thing’s for sure—we must not be discovered. Otherwise, we’re in real trouble.

Crap, I don’t have time for this.

“Yoo-hoo, ladies, I’m back.”

At first, there’s no response. Then the door at the end of the hallway creaks open. The mottled furry shape of my cat Tiddles slinks through and pads alongside the coconut runner, her claws clicking on the wooden floor. From the now-open private parlor behind her come swishing and whooshing noises, followed by a chink as something hits the windowpane.

“Petty, stay where you are. “We’ve got people coming. You’ll get your water later.”

The cat I can explain to the guests since she features in our brochure. My other companion is something else entirely. The last thing I need is Petty on the prowl when the visitors arrive. Not that she’s been out and about much recently. After almost getting composted when she saved my life back in April, my magical primula has been taking things easy.

About to dash up the stairs, I stop. The house is quiet, too quiet.

Where are my housekeepers?

Since the day I first met them, the two Simpkins sisters always arrived at least ten minutes ahead of every appointment, their stiffly sprayed poodle perms bristling with anticipation and their work-worn hands reaching for the nearest mop as soon as they cross the threshold.

The traffic was backing up a bit around the pub. And there were a lot of police cars.

But surely my friend, Sergeant Sarah Widdlethorpe, wouldn’t arrest poor Greg? He’s hasn’t done anything. He’s the kindest person on earth, and she a clever and competent officer. She doesn’t make stupid mistakes.

Her boss does, though.

Oh rats, I really don’t have time for murder!


Down the Hatch, A Magical Misfits Mystery Book #2
Genre: Cozy
Release: April 2023
Format: Print, Digital
Purchase Link

In the idyllic village of Avebury, murder is on the menu.

Myrtle, the new owner of the Witch’s Retreat B&B, juggles way too many plates. As if wrestling with erratic magic while running a business wasn’t enough, she faces pleas to lead the coven. Throw in the budding romance with “witch hunter” Chris and the shenanigans of Petty, the zombie flower, and Myrtle is in trouble.

Then the tourists start dying.

The police are called in, but Myrtle’s bestie, Sergeant Sarah Widdlethorpe, gets no chance to build her case. When the death count rises, the clues pile up—and they point way too close to home. Myrtle has to act fast to save the coven from discovery.

But soon it becomes clear she’s facing something far worse than a serial killer…

Down The Hatch, the second in the Magical Misfits series of witch cozy mysteries, follows on from In My Attic, Lina Hansen’s award-winning debut novel.


Meet the author
Lina Hansen has been a freelance travel journalist, teacher, bellydancer, postal clerk and science communication specialist stranded in the space sector. Numbed by factoid technical texts, she set out to write the stories she loves to read— cozy and romantic mysteries with a dollop of humour and a magical twist. After living and working in the UK, Lina, her husband, and their feline companions now share a home in the foothills of Castle Frankenstein. Lina is a double Watty Award Winner, and her debut novel “In My Attic” won a First Prize in the 2020 CIBA Awards and was an Indies Today Award Finalist in 2020.

All comments are welcomed.