The Name of the Game is Murder (A Clarissa Spencer Cozy Mystery Book 6)

by Alaine Allister

  Once she had started to recover, she glanced up. She saw that Parker and Dave were engaged in a violent struggle. The two men were rolling around on the floor, throwing punches at one another at every chance they got.

  Parker’s youth and athleticism worked in his favor, of course. With broad shoulders and well-defined muscles like his, one would expect him to win in a fight against Dave with no problem. But compared to Parker, Dave was a heavyweight. In some ways, the older man’s ample size gave him an advantage.

  Dave also didn’t fight fair. That definitely gave him an advantage.

  “Parker, look out!” Clarissa screamed as Dave grabbed a large needle from a box of supplies.

  Parker narrowly avoided being stabbed in the forehead. He rolled to the side at the last second, dodging the attack. But Clarissa grimaced when she saw Parker’s face. It looked like Dave had already gotten a blow or two in with his fist – Parker’s nose was bleeding pretty badly.

  Clarissa knew she needed to do something, and fast.

  She looked up at the flickering lightbulb, struggling to understand what it meant. Or did it mean anything? Maybe she was grasping at straws, searching for meaning in the meaningless. So why did her attention keep going back to it?

  Suddenly an idea came to her.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Clarissa willed herself to focus. Then she stared up at the lightbulb, channeling all of her energy into it. The flickering stopped. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it was glowing brilliantly. It was like staring into the sun.

  Suddenly the lightbulb burst, sending shattered glass everywhere.

  The windowless storage room went dark.

  Relying on her sense of touch, Clarissa found her way to the door. She pulled it open, flooding the storage room with light. “Parker, come on!” she yelled, holding the door wide.

  Both men headed for the open door. Dave’s size gave him an advantage when it came to overpowering Parker. But the extra weight also slowed him down. The older man had barely made it halfway across the room when Parker sprinted to safety.

  Well, it was safety if they could keep Dave locked inside.

  “Help me hold the door shut!” Clarissa gasped, slamming it in Dave’s face.

  She and Parker both put their full body weight against it.

  “Um, like, what are you guys doing?” a young female voice asked from behind them. Her high-pitched, valley-girl voice was dripping with disdain. It was as though she could barely stand the sight of them, and their existence was somehow an inconvenience to her.

  Clarissa turned her head so she could see behind her.

  The teenaged cashier she had encountered earlier was standing there staring at them. She looked completely oblivious to what was going on. As a matter of fact, she appeared to still be on the phone. Even as she addressed Clarissa and Parker, she had her phone pressed to one ear.

  “Call the police!” Clarissa instructed. “Tell them they need to get here immediately!”

  She had already made a call to the police, but they were sure taking their time getting there. It was a small town, so Clarissa didn’t imagine they had several other, more pressing matters to deal with. She hoped a second call would light a fire under them.

  What she didn’t expect was that the self-absorbed cashier would refuse to call for help.

  “I’m like, in the middle of an important call,” the girl informed Clarissa snidely.

  “Well trust me, this is more important,” Clarissa retorted. “Hang up and call the police now!”

  There was a sudden pounding on the other side of the door, followed by a string of expletives. The young cashier’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. She hurriedly ended her phone call and then scrambled to dial 911.

  “Ow!” Parker hissed, his body arching in pain.

  “Your back is bothering?” Clarissa asked knowingly.

  He nodded. “I’ll live,” he assured her.

  He was clearly trying to put on a brave face despite his discomfort.

  Then his back appeared to go into a sudden spasm. Parker let out a yell as his face contorted in pain. Unable to stop himself, he stepped back from the door. Doubled over, he clutched at his lower back in agony.

  Unfortunately, at that very instant Dave tried once again to open the door.

  Now it was only Clarissa holding it shut. And her strength was no match for his.

  “Help me hold the door!” Clarissa pleaded with the young cashier.

  “No way,” the teenager replied fearfully. “This isn’t in my job description!”

  There was no time to argue, plead or threaten.

  The next thing Clarissa knew, Dave was bursting through the door. She tried to stop him, but it was no use. She couldn’t keep him confined on her own. She stumbled backward from the force of the door swinging open, temporarily knocked off balance.

  Dave took a swing at Clarissa, but thankfully missed. Then he took off running.

  “He’s getting away!” the teenaged cashier shrieked at an ear-shattering volume. Of course, she did nothing whatsoever to try to stop Dave from getting away. Obviously that wasn’t in her job description, either.

  The cashier was utterly useless, Parker was out of commission and the police were nowhere to be found. That meant it was up to Clarissa to catch Dave before he could escape. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she was determined.

  Clarissa raced after the cold-blooded killer as he dashed outside.

  Unfortunately, he had a head start.

  “Stop!” she yelled as she tried to catch up to Dave.

  Of course, he ignored her.

  With a groan of defeat, Clarissa stopped running. There was no sense in continuing on. There was no way she could catch up. She wasn’t a fast enough runner, and there was already too much distance between her and Dave.

  But she had to do something.

  Clarissa looked around. She scanned her surroundings for something – anything – that would be of use to her. Then she spotted a bright red fire hydrant at the end of the street. In that instant, an idea began to form.

  In approximately thirty seconds, Dave would run past the fire hydrant. That meant Clarissa had thirty seconds to make use of a spell she rarely used. She crossed her fingers and hoped her plan would work.

  Narrowing her eyes, Clarissa stared at the fire hydrant in concentration. Her lips moved ever so slightly as she quietly recited a spell she had stumbled upon while reading up on magic. Then, on pins and needles, she waited to see if she had gotten it right.

  Without warning, the fire hydrant burst open.

  A torrent of water shot out and hit Dave right as he ran past. He immediately wiped out, tripping over his own feet before clumsily falling into the street. A car narrowly avoided hitting him as it approached the pharmacy.

  It took Clarissa a moment to realize it was a police car and its siren was blaring.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as a policeman jumped out of the car. She pointed to Dave, who was struggling to climb to his feet as a massive jet of water forcefully blasted him. The officer immediately ran over to him.

  Parker stumbled out of the pharmacy then, looking pained as he clutched his lower back. He looked around, his eyes skimming over the growing crowd. When he spotted Clarissa standing there unharmed, the relief on his face was evident.

  “You’re hurt!” she told him as she ran over. “Sit down.”

  “What happened?” Parker asked as he allowed Clarissa to gently ease him to the ground. Dave was now struggling with the police officer. A second one jumped out of the cruiser and raced over with handcuffs.

  “Dave fell,” Clarissa said matter-of-factly.

  “Well that’s convenient,” Parker remarked as they watched the police read Dave his rights.

  “Mmhmm,” she murmured in agreement.

  “Wait a sec…his clothes are soaked.”

  Parker squinted against the hot sun as he looked down the street at the fire hydrant. Delighted
children had already gathered around it. They were splashing in the puddles of water it had created with glee. A confused expression came over his face.

  “What happened to the fire hydrant?”

  Clarissa shrugged. “I’m no fire hydrant expert.” Then she glanced back toward the pharmacy. “What happened to the cashier?” she asked.

  Parker rolled his eyes. “As soon as you ran out, she got on her phone. I thought she was calling 911 to try to get the police here faster. You know, like a normal person might do? But I was wrong. She called a friend and started giggling about a boy.”

  Clarissa snorted. “Oh, to be sixteen again,” she joked.

  “Do you really wish you were sixteen again?” Parker asked.

  She thought about that for a moment, tempted by the prospect of going back in time. Then she shook her head. “I didn’t know you back then,” she told him with a grin. “Life is most definitely better now, even if I am starting to get a few grey hairs.”

  Parker tilted his head to the side and looked at Clarissa thoughtfully. “I think grey hair would suit you,” he told her earnestly. “Actually, I think you’d look amazing no matter what. You’re the only woman I know who looks beautiful even after chasing down a killer.”

  “Do you know many women who chase down killers?” Clarissa teased.

  “No. You’re the only one. And you’re incredible,” Parker said with a look of awe on his face.

  Clarissa had to pull her gaze away.

  The way her boyfriend was gazing at her with admiration was making her feel bashful.

  “Come on,” she said, helping him to his feet. “Let’s go see if we can find you a chiropractor.”

  Chapter 21

  “What are we doing, exactly?” Clarissa whispered.

  “Shh!” her mother hissed. Then she parted the neighbor’s hedges so Clarissa could see.

  The first thing Clarissa spotted was glitter, and a lot of it. It was a shiny lime green blazer covered in sequins, to be exact. The next thing Clarissa noticed was the hair. It was still blue, but this time it had purple streaks in it.

  “Betty dyed her hair purple?!” Clarissa gasped, trying to hold back a giggle.

  Constance furrowed her brow. “Well, she didn’t exactly intend to,” she explained. “She was going for a nice chestnut brown, but something went awry. Come to think of it, I’m not so sure I’m going to have her color my hair for me anymore…”

  “That’s probably for the best,” Clarissa said gently. Then she added, “I still don’t understand why we’re on your neighbor’s lawn peering at Betty through the hedges. If you wanted me to see her hair, why didn’t you just invite her over for tea?”

  “That’s not why we’re here!” her mother corrected her impatiently. “Look!”

  As Clarissa watched, Betty sauntered down the street. She stopped at the duplex down at the end and then waved excitedly. A moment later, Jack Walter emerged from his garden beaming from ear to ear. He set his gardening gloves down, tried to smooth his greying hair and began to chat.

  “Does Betty garden too?” Clarissa asked, figuring she was complimenting Jack’s roses.

  “No! Be quiet!” Constance shushed her. “I’m trying to hear what they’re saying!”

  “Then you should have picked a closer hiding spot,” Clarissa pointed out.

  Her mother shot her a dirty look.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet.” Clarissa peeked through the hedges again. Then she squinted and did a double take. “Is it just me or is Jack standing a little close to Betty? And is she…oh my!” Clarissa’s jaw dropped as Betty put her hand on Jack’s arm.

  Constance, meanwhile, was straining to hear what was being said.

  Betty threw back her head and let out a gale of laughter. “Oh, you’re so funny!” she exclaimed loudly. She took a step closer to Jack and gazed up at him, all the while batting her obviously false eyelashes. When she did, Jack’s smile grew even wider.

  “Is Betty flirting with Jack?” Clarissa gasped.

  “Well duh,” Constance replied with a roll of her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious, Clarissa? Honestly honey! Sometimes I wonder how you ever managed to get a boyfriend at all, let alone one as lovely as Parker.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Clarissa said wryly.

  “Look at those two lovebirds,” Constance gushed, turning her attention back to Jack and Betty. “I always thought they’d be good for one another. I’m glad Betty finally came around and gave him a chance. I think he’s been smitten with her for a long time, you know.”

  “I see.”

  “Oh, I just love love!” Constance exclaimed happily. Then she ducked behind the hedge, pulling Clarissa down with her. “Jack was looking this way!” she hissed, motioning for Clarissa to keep her voice down.

  “Constance? Is that you?” Jack called. He and Betty were already walking over.

  “Hi!” Constance said brightly, standing up and flashing a big smile.

  When he saw Clarissa, Jack nodded hello. “What are you two doing?” he asked curiously.

  “We were just, er…admiring this hedge,” Constance stuttered. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Betty glanced down and raised one painted on eyebrow. “It’s a hedge,” she said, unimpressed. “And besides, I know you’ve been back there this entire time.”

  “No we haven’t. We just got here,” Constance replied rather unconvincingly. Then her shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?” she asked, red-faced.

  Betty pointed to something just behind the two women.

  Clarissa turned around and saw Cat sitting primly on the sidewalk right next to the hedge.

  “Your cat has been sitting there the entire time,” Betty explained. “It seemed odd, so I took a closer look. That was when I noticed two sets of eyes peering out from behind the hedges.” She smirked, looking rather pleased with herself.

  “Sorry,” Constance said, clearly flustered. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just so excited to think that you two were finally going to go on a real, proper date. I shouldn’t have snooped, but Betty, when you said you were going to go ask Jack out I wanted to see for myself.”

  “I don’t blame you one bit,” Jack chuckled. “And for the record, I’m pretty excited too.”

  “Ooh, maybe we can double date!” Betty exclaimed suddenly. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “We absolutely should!” Constance agreed immediately.

  “How about bowling?” Jack suggested.

  “Yes!” Constance agreed with enthusiasm.

  “Let’s go tell Ed the good news!” Betty suggested.

  Clarissa grimaced as she watched her mother lead the happy new couple into the house. “Dad isn’t going to be impressed,” she murmured under her breath. “He can barely stand Betty at the best of times.”

  “Why is she so sparkly?” Cat asked.

  “It’s a sequined jacket,” Clarissa explained.

  “Well she looks like a crazy person. Or a disco ball with legs.”

  “Why were you sitting in the middle of the sidewalk?” Clarissa asked suspiciously.

  “Why were you and your mother hiding behind the hedge?” Cat shot back.

  “You were deliberately trying to give our hiding spot away!” Clarissa exclaimed. “Why?”

  “Because I could,” Cat replied matter-of-factly. Then the fluffy-tailed feline paused. “What’s with your face?” it asked, rather tactlessly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a wart.”

  “I do not!” Clarissa retorted in indignation. But even as she protested, her hands flew to her face. She felt a lump on her chin that most definitely hadn’t been there before. Her eyes widened. “It must be a pimple.”

  “It’s a wart,” Cat said again.

  “It is not!”

  “Don’t believe me? Call your aunt,” Cat said. Then with a dismissive flick of its tail, it sauntered off down the street to snoop in neighbors’ open garages and tear open their trash b
ags.

  Clarissa whipped out her phone and frantically dialed her aunt.

  “You’ve been performing spells again,” Matilda said as soon as she picked up.

  “Hello to you, too – wait, how did you know?” Clarissa asked. Then she quickly asked, “I uh, there’s no truth to the stereotype that witches have warts on their faces, right? I’m not going to turn into the sort of green-skinned hag you see masquerading around on Halloween, am I?”

  There was silence on the other end.

  Clarissa began to laugh uncomfortably. “What am I even talking about? Of course that isn’t going to happen! I mean, you’re a witch and you don’t have warts. What was I thinking? Never mind. Sorry for bothering you. I’ll talk to you when I’m back in Sugarcomb Lake, okay?”

  “It starts with warts,” Matilda said.

  Immediately, Clarissa’s heart sank. “What does?”

  “Most witches look like everyone else. But an unlucky few have allergies to magic,” Matilda explained. “Those with the most severe allergies sometimes see physical changes to their appearances. Usually it begins with warts.”

  Clarissa swallowed hard.

  “You’re calling because you’ve developed a wart,” Matilda said knowingly.

  There was no point in trying to deny it. Matilda was, after all, mildly psychic. And besides, Clarissa wasn’t always the most convincing liar. So she decided to face her fear head on. “Is there anything I can do to stop it? What if I quit casting spells?” she asked hopefully.

  “It’s probably too late,” Matilda replied apologetically.

  “What? Why didn’t you warn me about this earlier?” Clarissa demanded as she became tearful. “If I’d known I was going to turn into some haggard looking old monster, I’d have never started dabbling in magic in the first place!”

  “I’ll take you to a witch doctor as soon as you get back to Minnesota,” Matilda promised. “Maybe there’s something that can be done for you. There might be spells I don’t know about or a brew we can make. Try not to worry.”

  Parker drove up in his sporty rental car then. Judging from the grin on his face, his appointment with the chiropractor had been a success. He gave Clarissa a big wave before parking the car in front of her parents’ place. Then he practically jumped out of the vehicle, all spry and energetic.