A Sprinkle of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Alaine Allister

  “I know how busy you are. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” he asked.

  “Just my shower,” Clarissa told him. Then she winced. “Oh, I’m a mess, aren’t I? Hang on, I’m going to go put some makeup on and comb my hair.”

  “Okay, but you look great the way you are.”

  Clarissa beamed at that. How did Parker always know exactly what to say to make her feel good about herself? He was like her own personal Prince Charming, sent from a kingdom far, far away to gallantly fight her insecurities away.

  “Meow,” said the cat, making a beeline for Parker.

  The cat had been ignoring Clarissa all day. Any time she spoke to it, the little brat acted like it couldn’t hear her. Any time she tried to pet or play with it, the spoiled beast turned its back and acted like she didn’t exist. But the second Parker showed up, the cat acted desperate for attention.

  “You’re going to get cat hair all over your clothes,” Clarissa cautioned.

  “That’s okay,” Parker replied good-naturedly.

  Cat was purring so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear.

  “The cat likes you better than it likes me,” Clarissa grumbled.

  “Impossible,” Parker replied as he picked the fluffy feline up. “You’re the best.”

  “Tell that to the cat!”

  He grinned and sat down on the couch. The cat strutted around atop his knees, jumping from one to the other and then back again. Sometimes Clarissa wondered if Parker rolled around in catnip before he visited. The way the cat behaved, one would think that was the case!

  “How was your day?” Clarissa asked as she leaned forward, tipped her head and began to dry her hair with her towel.

  “Oh, you know…the usual. Every day at the office is about the same. I work, my father bursts in and lectures me, I work some more. But I’m here with you now, and that’s all that matters. Let’s talk about your day,” Parker suggested. “What did you do?”

  “I hired someone to help me with the newspaper,” Clarissa announced excitedly.

  Parker’s eyes lit up. “What? That’s awesome! Who is it?”

  “Her name is Sarah. My aunt recommended her – Sarah was a student at Green City University until recently,” Clarissa explained. “We didn’t have a chance to meet in person, but we talked on the phone for quite a while. I was impressed. So I hired her!”

  “Nice! When does she start?”

  “Soon,” Clarissa answered vaguely.

  “What does that mean, exactly?” Parker pressed.

  “She’s not from here,” Clarissa explained. “Right now she’s living in Green City, but that’s an awfully long commute. She needs time to find a suitable place to rent in Sugarcomb Lake. Then, once she’s moved and settled in, I’ll start training her.”

  “So it could still be a while before she starts?”

  “Yes, it could be,” Clarissa nodded. “But it’s better that way.”

  “Why do you say that?” Parker asked curiously.

  “Well I’m just so busy right now that I wouldn’t have time to train her anyway,” Clarissa explained. “I mean, I know I’m always busy, but this is different. I’m trying to find out who killed Al Moreno.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Parker teased. “As soon as I heard there was a suspicious death in Sugarcomb Lake, I knew you’d be all over it. You just love a good mystery, don’t you?” he asked affectionately.

  “I know what we can do tonight,” Clarissa giggled.

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re going to go pay a little visit to Barbara and Morris Norman. A little social call, if you will. I want to ask Norman some questions about his jeep. And you are going to chat with Barbara,” she cackled.

  “I feel like I should be scared.”

  “Come on,” Clarissa urged, shooing the cat off Parker’s lap. “Let’s go!”

  The cat glared daggers at Clarissa as she led Parker outside.

  It was her turn to ignore the furry little brat. Two could play that game.

  “Aren’t we taking my car?” Parker asked a moment later as they walked right past his fancy red sports car. He looked confused…and slightly apprehensive. Clarissa couldn’t blame him for that. The thought of having to interact with Barbara Norman didn’t excite her, either.

  “The Normans only live a few blocks away,” Clarissa replied. “We may as well walk.”

  “Okay. Refresh my memory,” Parker said as they began to walk. “Is this Barbara Norman the woman who demands you write articles about her prize-winning garden every other week?”

  “Ugh, yes!” Clarissa groaned. “She’s relentless! One week she’s calling me up to come see a pumpkin the size of a small child. The next, it’s her rhubarb…or her squash…or her carrots. Do you know she once mailed me a photo of a carrot she claimed looked like Elvis Presley?”

  “Did it?” Parker asked immediately.

  “Did it what?”

  “Did it look like Elvis?” he clarified with a straight face.

  “No!” Clarissa laughed. “It looked like a carrot!”

  “That makes sense.” Parker stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  “She was livid when I told her the carrot photo wasn’t newsworthy. For a few weeks there, I was genuinely scared of her. I mean, I would cross the street when I saw her coming! It was that bad,” Clarissa confided.

  “Is she dangerous?”

  “No, no…her weapon is that mouth of hers. I was afraid she would start rumors about me to get revenge,” Clarissa explained. “I’m not sure she’s above doing that. She loves throwing people under the bus, so to speak.”

  “She sounds terrifying,” Parker concluded.

  “She can be. Try to stay on her good side,” Clarissa advised.

  “So you’re saying when we get there, I should compliment her on her garden.”

  “I’m saying when we get there, try not to let her corner you for too long,” Clarissa corrected him. “Barbara Norman is obsessed with two things: keeping up appearances and gossiping. She will try to drag information out of you!”

  “What kind of information could she possibly drag out of me?” Parker asked, genuinely curious.

  “She’ll probably ask you about me…about us,” Clarissa predicted, her face reddening. “She saw us kiss at the coffee shop not long ago, so she knows we’re together. I expect she will hound us relentlessly for any juicy tidbit of gossip she can get.”

  “She sounds like a lovely woman,” Parker deadpanned.

  “Ha!” Clarissa stopped outside a well-kept two-storey home. “Here we are.”

  “Here goes nothing,” Parker said, walking up and ringing the doorbell.

  Chapter 07

  Morris Norman answered the door.

  He was a quiet, balding, mild-mannered man who rarely seemed to show much emotion. Clarissa could only assume that opposites must attract, because his wife’s personality was the complete opposite.

  While the reporter could barely stomach Barbara, she didn’t mind Morris. She didn’t know him well, but her limited interactions with him had always been pleasant. Aside from his awful choice of a spouse, Clarissa had nothing against him.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “Yes! I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Clarissa Spencer. I write for the newspaper.”

  “I remember you,” Morris replied. “Come in,” he offered, opening the door wider. Clarissa hadn’t even told him why she was there and already he was asking her inside! If only everybody could be so cooperative and accommodating!

  Morris was making this very easy indeed.

  In fact, it was almost too easy. There had to be some sort of catch…

  Aha. There it was.

  Barbara came barrelling down the hall. She was wearing an obnoxious floral print blouse and a hat that could have been stolen from the Queen of England herself. She stopped dead in her tracks when she laid eyes on Clarissa.

  “Morris?” she screeched
belligerently. “What’s going on?”

  Morris looked from his wife to Clarissa and back again. Then he just shrugged.

  Swallowing hard, Clarissa took a step forward. “Hi Barba – I mean Mrs. Norman. I’m writing an article about the suspicious death that happened here. I understand a vehicle registered to your husband was present at the scene and I just wondered –”

  “I’m afraid we’re very busy,” Barbara interjected icily. Her demeanor was very different than usual. Instead of being all gossipy, she seemed reserved and completely unwilling to talk.

  “What are we busy with, dear?” Morris asked, apparently clueless.

  “Gardening,” Barbara replied sharply.

  “But that’s your good hat.”

  “I can dress up for my vegetables if I want to!” Barbara said shrilly.

  “Please excuse my wife,” Morris said with an apologetic smile. “I guess she needs to garden.”

  “And you’re going to help me!” Barbara informed him. “I need you to go out there and water before my tomatoes dry right up!” She turned her attention to Clarissa and Preston. “Goodbye!” she said, practically charging at them so they would back onto the porch. “Shoo!”

  The door slammed in their faces. Then Clarissa heard the click of a deadbolt.

  “Did we just get shooed?” Parker whispered in amazement.

  “I told you she’s an odd duck,” Clarissa sighed. “But that was weird even for her.”

  “What now?” Parker asked.

  “I guess we go back to my place,” Clarissa told him dejectedly.

  Hand in hand, they began to make the short talk back to her house on the outskirts of town. They were only a few houses away from the Norman residence when they heard breathless wheezing behind them.

  “Excuse me!” Morris called out, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Excuse me!”

  Clarissa and Parker rushed over to him.

  “I can’t stay long,” Morris said once he had caught his breath. “I just wanted to apologize for my wife. She gets a bit…well, you know how she is,” he said, smiling wanly. “You said you’re investigating that suspicious death here in town?”

  “I’m just trying to follow up on every lead,” Clarissa explained. “I understand your red jeep was parked near the donut shop around the time its owner, Al Moreno, died. Would you mind telling me what it was doing there?”

  “I would if I could,” Morris replied, furrowing his brow.

  “What do you mean?” Parker asked.

  “Well, I didn’t drive it there,” he admitted.

  “Ah, your wife had it?” Clarissa asked.

  “No, she hates the jeep. She keeps hounding me to get rid of it, but I quite like it. My wife refuses to drive the jeep – she says it isn’t fancy enough for her liking. She has her own car,” Morris replied.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Clarissa said, struggling to follow.

  Morris sighed. “My wife won’t appreciate me telling you this. She’s embarrassed, because she thinks I should have known better. But you have to understand: I was born and raised in this town. And, well…I’ve always had a bad habit of leaving my keys in the car.”

  Clarissa’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you saying someone stole your car?”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it a theft,” Morris waffled. “Somebody borrowed my jeep, I suppose. I noticed it missing but didn’t think much of it – I figured whoever borrowed it would return it eventually.”

  Clarissa snuck a peek at Parker. He had an incredulous look on his face. Given that he was from Green City, he probably thought it was completely ludicrous to leave one’s keys in one’s vehicle. But having grown up in Sugarcomb Lake, Clarissa didn’t think it was all that absurd.

  “So somebody er…borrowed your car,” Clarissa recapped. “Then what happened?”

  “Then I was contacted by the police. They were wondering the same thing you are. They wanted to know what my jeep was doing parked by the donut shop. And I didn’t know what to tell them, because I wasn’t the one who parked it there!”

  “And you don’t have any idea who stole – er, borrowed – your vehicle?” Parker asked.

  Morris shook his head. “My wife was distraught. She’s afraid word is going to get out about this and everyone will think I’m foolish for leaving my keys in the ignition. Mostly, she’s afraid that she’s going to look foolish by association.”

  “I see. Well thank you very much for telling us all that,” Clarissa said earnestly.

  “I’d probably start keeping the keys someplace else if I were you,” Parker added.

  “Oh, my Barbara has been lecturing me about that nonstop,” Morris assured him. “Gosh, I thought I would never hear the end of it,” the mild-mannered man sighed, sounding exhausted.

  Then, as if right on cue, a shrill voice called out, “Morris? Morris! Where are you?! My prize-winning tomatoes won’t water themselves, you know! Morris! Get back here!”

  “I have to go,” Morris said. “Good luck with your investigation.”

  “Good luck with your wife – er, I mean life,” Clarissa replied.

  “My goodness, I pity that man,” Parker whispered as they watched Morris hurry home.

  “He must like it,” Clarissa mused. “Why else would he stay with that awful woman?”

  “How could he like it?” Parker asked, visibly shuddering.

  “What, you mean you wouldn’t like a wife who constantly nags you, lectures you and berates you? Clarissa teased. She gave her long dark hair a flip. “Doesn’t it sound like fun?”

  “Nope,” Parker replied. “The thought makes me queasy!”

  “Well I would never do that,” Clarissa said quickly, not wanting to give the wrong impression.

  “I know,” Parker replied, slinging an arm around her shoulder. Then with a cheeky grin, he added, “I think that’s what all girlfriends say in the beginning, isn’t it? That’s how you reel us poor suckers in.”

  “Parker, that’s an awful thing to say!” Clarissa exclaimed in horror.

  “I was only kidding,” Parker assured her, giving her an affectionate squeeze. “I can’t think of anyone I would rather be reeled in by. You’re like the best prison sentence ever.”

  “Parker!” Clarissa exclaimed again.

  He began to laugh. “I thought you’d enjoy that.”

  “You’re in so much trouble,” she scowled.

  “So tell me, are you going to start wearing gigantic floppy hats with flowers on them?”

  Clarissa glared at him.

  “What about floral blouses?” he smirked.

  Clarissa gave him the dirtiest, most disproving look she could muster.

  “What I’m most interested in, though, is the vegetables. Will you grow Elvis carrots?”

  “If you’re not careful I’ll push you in the mud,” Clarissa threatened as they walked past a rather large, mucky puddle. “Maybe I understand now why Barbara speaks to her husband the way she does. Maybe he needs to be kept in line!”

  “I have no idea what you’re implying,” Parker replied, blatantly feigning ignorance.

  “Maybe I will get a big floppy hat with flowers on it,” Clarissa grinned.

  “Is that a threat?”

  She gave him a mischievous grin. “Look at the pretty sunset,” she said, changing the subject.

  “You’re prettier,” Parker replied.

  “Oh you smooth talker.”

  “I’m serious,” he insisted. “You’re prettier than a million sunsets.”

  Clarissa smiled and said nothing.

  She figured Parker was simply trying to atone for his bad behavior. But she couldn’t help but notice that the entire walk back to her place, he didn’t pay any attention to the sunset whatsoever. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, and he didn’t once take his eyes off her.

  Chapter 08

  “That bouquet is beautiful!” Liana gushed. “Are the flowers from your garden?�
��

  Clarissa nodded. “I guess I was growing a few things other than weeds after all. I hope Jo likes this,” she said, looking down at the bouquet critically. “Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen such bright colors,” she fretted. “Is it in poor taste to give a brightly-colored sympathy bouquet?”

  “It’s perfect just the way it is,” Liana said firmly. “And besides, it’s the thought that counts. I’m sure Jo will be grateful just to know she has people she can call friends here in Sugarcomb Lake. Are you ready to go?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Clarissa sighed. There was nothing comfortable or pleasant about dropping in on a grieving person to offer condolences. It was downright heartbreaking, really. But it was the courteous, kind thing to do.

  The two women walked out to Liana’s car, which she had parked on the street near Clarissa’s house. Liana’s parking job was flawless. She was the perfect distance from the curb, and her car was as straight as an arrow. Not even a driving instructor could have done as excellent a job.

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever parked straight in my life,” Clarissa remarked under her breath.

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Clarissa replied.

  “You’re so weird,” Liana teased.

  The second they got into the car, a tantalizing aroma made Clarissa’s mouth water.

  “What smells so good?” she asked.

  “Oh, that. I baked a cinnamon loaf for Jo,” Liana explained as she buckled her seatbelt. “I figured I should make her something half-way healthy, and it has raisons and stuff in it. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

  “It smells like your grandmother was a culinary goddess,” Clarissa replied. She twisted around and gazed longingly at the cinnamon loaf, which was sitting in the backseat. Her stomach rumbled. “I don’t suppose you made a second loaf?” she asked hopefully.

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Aww, that’s too bad. But I suppose this isn’t the time or place to whine about a sudden cinnamon loaf craving, is it?” Feeling guilty for thinking about food, Clarissa turned her attention back to the grim task at hand. “Did you find out where Jo lives?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I asked around at the coffee shop,” Liana replied. “I figured someone was bound to know something, and I was right. Patricia Porter was all too happy to fill me in – gosh, that woman loves to gossip! I could hardly get away from her.”