Clarissa stared at her aunt blankly. “He did what?”
“Oh, see, I knew you were going to get upset. I didn’t know, okay? Victor didn’t tell me until it was already over and done with. I talk to him about you a lot, and I guess he thought it would be a good idea to have his relatives come and stay here.”
Clarissa swallowed hard. “These family members of your ghost…are they ghosts, too?”
“Well of course they’re ghosts,” Matilda replied as though that was a ridiculous question to ask. “What else would they be, silly?”
A chill went through Clarissa. “You’re telling me that not one but several ghosts descended on my house?” she demanded, feeling terror well up inside her. “That…that’s not okay, Matilda! That’s so not okay that I don’t even know what to say!”
“Relax,” her aunt replied, completely unbothered by the conversation. “You weren’t home.”
“Thank goodness,” Clarissa breathed.
That was when the cat emerged from beneath the couch. It glowered up at Matilda, its eyes flashing with anger. Then it began to growl in a tone Clarissa had never heard before. The yowls and stern meows went on and on for some time.
All the while, Matilda stood there motionlessly with her head cocked to the side.
It was almost as if she was listening intently to what the cat was saying.
Clarissa threw her hands up in the air. Why try to make sense of a crazy family member? Her kooky aunt was so off her rocker that she managed to make the cat look sane by comparison! Clarissa picked up her bowl of soup and took it into the kitchen to reheat it.
While she waited for the microwave to beep, she tried to tidy up. Her headache was slowly improving, but there was still a dull ache behind her eyes. She had learned her lesson about performing magic that was too advanced for her – for now, anyway.
Suddenly Clarissa heard a great commotion in the living room.
She raced in to find her aunt down on her hands and knees. She was face-to-face with the cat, and the two of them were yowling at each other. It looked like a cat fight was about to break out – except Matilda wasn’t a cat. So why was she acting like one?
“Matilda!” Clarissa yelled. “What’s going on now? Leave my cat alone!”
“The cat started it,” Matilda pouted, reluctantly standing up.
“It’s a cat!” Clarissa retorted in exasperation. What else was there to say?
The cat strolled over to the windowsill, hopped up and promptly knocked a potted plant onto the floor. Dirt went everywhere and worse yet, the act seemed very deliberate. Looking smug, the little demon then jumped down and sauntered away.
“Ugh, why does it always do that?” Clarissa moaned in disgust.
“Have you tried asking it to stop?” Matilda suggested.
“Only a million times – the cat doesn’t listen to a word I say.”
“Let me guess: you’ve asked in English.”
Clarissa gave her aunt a puzzled look. “Well of course I’ve asked in English. I don’t speak any other languages. And what are you talking about, anyway? It’s a stray. I doubt it found its way here from China or something, so it’s not like the cat only understands Chinese.”
“Hang on,” Matilda said.
Once again, she went off in search of the cat.
In the kitchen, the microwave beeped to signal that Clarissa’s soup was heated. She went to retrieve it. When she finally caught up with Matilda and Cat, they were once again engaged in a rather heated meow-off.
This wasn’t the first time Clarissa’s quirky aunt had acted like a lunatic, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. But enough was enough.
Tapping her foot impatiently, Clarissa said, “Matilda, for the last time would you please stop harassing my cat?”
Matilda stood up and looked at the cat pointedly. “Do it,” she ordered, waggling her index finger in the angry looking feline’s direction. “Stop being so stubborn and just do it already!”
“Fine,” Cat said in a heavy, almost French-sounding accent. “I will speak just this once, but I do not appreciate being backed into a corner like this. I also didn’t appreciate those stupid ghosts invading the house while my human was out. They got what they had coming.”
Clarissa’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.
For a moment she thought she must be sicker than she had realized.
She had to be hallucinating!
She looked at her aunt incredulously.
“Am I crazy or did...um, did the cat just talk?” she asked in utter disbelief.
“You’re definitely crazy,” the cat replied matter-of-factly. “I see the way you sing into your hairbrush in the mornings when you’re getting ready to go out. Don’t quit your day job. Oh and you talk to yourself, too – don’t think I can’t hear it. You humans are so strange.”
Clarissa gulped. Then she stared at the cat in fascination. “Have you always been able to talk?”
“Have you?” the cat shot back.
“Why haven’t you ever spoken to me before?” Clarissa demanded.
“Are you kidding? I talk to you all the time,” Cat replied. “Why, just last night I sat outside your door serenading you. I thought you would appreciate it, since you weren’t feeling well. Instead you told me to be quiet,” the insulted feline said huffily.
“I’m…sorry?”
“Apology accepted,” the cat replied. “You should also thank me.”
“Thank you for what?” Clarissa asked in confusion.
“Well for being my wonderful self, of course. But more specifically, for guarding your house – and you,” Cat explained. “I chase spirits away on a regular basis. It’s an exhausting job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
“You didn’t have to be so rude to Victor’s family!” Matilda huffed.
“Please!” the cat sneered. “Victor’s family should have called ahead of time if they wanted to stay here. But no, instead they just showed up unannounced. And they let themselves in! They walked right through the wall – I saw it with my own eyes. They started snooping around, too. It’s no wonder Victor didn’t want them staying with him!”
“I – I didn’t know that,” Matilda admitted. “I’ll have a word with Victor.”
“You do that!” Cat said in a rather diva-like manner.
“Why haven’t you ever spoken to me in English before?” Clarissa asked the cat.
“Ugh, English,” the cat replied with disdain. “What an awful sounding language! I don’t care for the way it rolls off the tongue…or assaults the ears. Most of the time I tune you out – you spend most of your time trying to order me around anyway. Ha, as if that will ever work!”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Clarissa replied, unsure of how to proceed. “Uh, do you think you could be a little more careful with my houseplants, though? I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve knocked them over…not to mention used them as a litter box.”
“I do what I want,” Cat replied unapologetically. “And right now, I want some fresh air.”
The cat marched over to the door and sat there looking at Clarissa expectantly.
Unsure of what else to do, the stunned young woman walked over and opened the door.
The cat strutted out into the sunshine just as it had done a million times before…only this time it felt very different. Once she had shut the door, Clarissa spun around and looked at her aunt in wide-eyed disbelief.
“My cat can talk!” she gasped.
“Well yeah,” Matilda agreed, looking unimpressed. “Your cat has a lot of attitude.”
“I know. But Matilda, the cat can talk!”
The news was earth-shattering to Clarissa. But Matilda didn’t seem fazed. Actually, she seemed a bit distracted. She fiddled with her long red hair for a moment before finally meeting her niece’s gaze.
“I guess Victor didn’t give me the full story,” she admitted. “He shouldn’t have let his family impose on you the way they did. He was upset
that the cat chased them off, but I guess they did deserve it. The next time you come over I’ll make Victor apologize to you, if he’s home.”
Unsure of what else to do, Clarissa gave a nervous laugh. “Can you maybe just keep your ghost – and all his ghostly acquaintances – away from me? Please? It’s creepy. There aren’t any ghosts here right now, are there?” she asked worriedly.
“No, the cat was very hostile toward them. I hear things got intense. I heard through the grapevine that one particularly brazen spirit even tried to possess you last night,” Matilda said conversationally.
“What are you talking about?!” Clarissa sputtered.
“Relax. The ghost was only trying to take over your body long enough to put the cat out,” Matilda explained. “But don’t worry, it didn’t happen. The cat apparently slept on your head to make sure of it?”
“That’s why the cat was sleeping on my head last night? So I wouldn’t be possessed?”
“Well why else would the cat sleep on your head?” Matilda asked, looking amused.
“I – I don’t even know what to think anymore,” Clarissa muttered.
“Your cat has major attitude problems, but it’s very loyal to you,” Matilda advised. “Not all cats would inconvenience themselves like that. Lots of them completely ignore ghosts when they see them. But yours is very protective of you and this house. You’re lucky.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again,” Clarissa moaned in dismay.
She was freaking out. But despite her panic, her aunt’s words weren’t lost on her.
Sure, she and Cat had their differences from time to time. Well, actually they were at odds most of the time. But at the end of the day, Clarissa really did feel lucky to have the stealthy black creature in her life. Not only did it chase off ghosts – it also provided her with companionship.
She supposed the little brat wasn’t so bad after all.
Chapter 16
The next morning when Clarissa went for coffee, she was worn out. Her head was feeling better, but she hadn’t slept a wink. Not even the makeup she had put on could conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes.
“What’s with you?” Liana asked the second Clarissa sat down in their usual booth at the back. “You look like you haven’t slept in a year. Let me guess: you were up all night working on the newspaper again.”
“Actually, I wasn’t.”
Clarissa didn’t offer any more information than that.
How could she tell her best friend she had been up all night unsuccessfully trying to get her cat to talk? After Matilda had gone home and the cat had returned from its stroll, Clarissa had tried everything. She had begged, pleaded and threatened. The little stinker had refused to speak!
Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate.
When Cat had grown weary of Clarissa, it had hissed at her. That may not have been English, but the message had been loud and clear. Finally, Clarissa had thrown her hands up in frustration and given up. It was clear the cat wasn’t interested in conversing with her!
Now Clarissa was frustrated, exhausted and in desperate need of a pick-me-up.
But when she made her way up to the counter to order coffee and a cookie, she was immediately struck by how haggard Cathy looked. The transformation was rather alarming. If Clarissa looked tired, Cathy looked ten times worse!
The owner of the only coffee shop in town was usually chipper and upbeat, but today she was dragging her feet. There were bags under her eyes and she seemed incapable of smiling. She even seemed to have sprouted a few more gray hairs virtually overnight, though of course Clarissa could have been imagining that part.
“Good morning Cathy.”
“Is it good?” Cathy muttered. “What do you want?” she demanded. Apparently she wasn’t in the mood for small talk today. That, too, was different than usual. Normally Cathy was quite friendly and more than happy to chatter away.
“I’ll have my usual, please,” Clarissa replied. She hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Cathy, are you okay?”
The older woman seemed to be on the verge of tears. “The police keep coming in here,” she confided in a near-whisper. “The writing is pretty much on the wall, I’d say. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
“The police come in here every day for their coffee fix,” Clarissa pointed out.
“Yes, but it’s completely different now,” Cathy insisted. “The way they look at me is different. They look at me like they think I’m a criminal. They look at me like they think I’m a murderer,” she said, her voice trembling. “Patrons are starting to talk, too.”
Clarissa’s heart went out to Cathy. They had known each other for years, and the coffee shop owner was a nice woman. It was hard to believe she could have had anything to do with Al Moreno’s death.
Glancing over her shoulder, Clarissa noted there was no one in line behind her.
She motioned for Cathy to follow her to a more private part of the coffee shop.
Once they were in the storage area and out of earshot, Clarissa told Cathy, “I want to help you. It’s such a shame you were involved in a feud with Al Moreno right around the time he died. It’s an awful coincidence. Let me help you clear your name.”
“How are you going to do that?” Cathy asked skeptically.
“Easy,” Clarissa replied. “All you need to do is tell the police where you were around the time Al died. I know you weren’t at the coffee shop – I was here that day and one of your employees was working. Did you have an appointment or something?”
Cathy looked crestfallen. “No,” she admitted. “Honestly, the stress of the donut shop opening up right across the street was really getting to me. I was worried I’d lose customers – and my livelihood. I took a personal day to de-stress and stayed home.”
“So you were at home when Al Moreno died?” Clarissa asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Can anyone back you up on that? Maybe a neighbor saw you taking out the trash or noticed your car parked in the driveway?” Clarissa suggested hopefully. She was eager to help Cathy clear her name once and for all!
“No,” Cathy said tearfully. “I was holed up inside in my pajamas, eating potato chips and watching soap operas on TV. My car was parked in the garage. Nobody can vouch for me being at home. I don’t know how to prove that’s where I was!”
“Oh,” Clarissa replied, trying not to show how crestfallen she was. It was unfortunate that Cathy didn’t have a strong alibi. That meant it would be harder for her to prove her innocence. “Well what about –?”
“Excuse me ladies?” a man’s voice interrupted. He poked his head around the corner, peering into the storage area. “I hate to interrupt but there’s a lineup out here. Any chance we can get some coffee?”
“I’ve got to get back to work,” Cathy sighed before returning to the front, sounding defeated.
Clarissa stood there staring after Cathy.
She wished there was something more she could do. But the facts weren’t exactly helpful.
Cathy had made no secret of her strong dislike for Al Moreno. She had displayed an uncharacteristically volatile temper around the time of the donut shop owner’s death. To an outsider, she certainly had a motive to kill Al. To make matters worse, she had no alibi.
Deep down, Clarissa was convinced Cathy was innocent. She had no basis for that belief other than her own gut feeling. But she couldn’t exactly help Cathy clear her name by citing “intuition” as proof of the older woman’s innocence.
The law said people were innocent until proven guilty. But in a small town, gossip could destroy a career in a heartbeat. If the Sugarcomb Lake locals decided Cathy was a cold-blooded killer, they may very well decide to boycott her coffee shop.
Clarissa needed to find Al’s real killer – and fast.
Feeling a sense of heaviness in the pit of her stomach, Clarissa returned to the booth where Liana was hunkered down. She sat down across from Liana and said nothing. Her best fr
iend was staring intently at her laptop, and Clarissa didn’t want to interrupt.
Finally, Liana looked up.
“How goes the new client hunt?” Clarissa asked.
“Ugh, don’t ask,” Liana groaned. “I had to cancel my cable subscription and switch over to a cheaper cell phone plan. And between you and me,” she said, lowering her voice, “I’m beginning to think I ought to brew my coffee at home instead of buying it here every morning.”
“Things are that bad, huh?” Clarissa asked sympathetically. “How can I help?”
“You can’t,” Liana said matter-of-factly.
“Maybe you could work for me on a temporary basis,” Clarissa suggested. “You know, until the new girl I hired moves to town. Just until you get back on your feet. And you are going to get back on your feet,” she said firmly, hoping to lift her best friend’s spirits.
Liana shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but you and I both know I’m not cut out for that. Some days I can barely spell my own name!” she joked. “And I’d feel terrible if I inadvertently hurt your business.”
“Okay, but the offer is there,” Clarissa told her.
Secretly, she was relieved that her best friend hadn’t accepted. Liana was a woman of many talents, but she had never really mastered the written word. Back in high school, she had struggled with English class as much as Clarissa had struggled with home economics!
“We still need to go visit Jo Moreno to offer our condolences,” Liana suddenly remembered. “Should we go over to her house this afternoon? Maybe right after lunch?”
“Yeah, that works for me,” Clarissa agreed. “I’ll make up a new bouquet.”
“I’ll bake some more cinnamon loaf.”
“Will you make an extra loaf for me?” Clarissa asked hopefully, her mouth watering at the thought. “I’ll pay you ten bucks!”
“Don’t you dare treat me like a charity case,” Liana said good-naturedly.
“I’m not,” Clarissa insisted. “I just really, really liked that cinnamon loaf!”
“Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Liana grinned. “I’m going to run to the grocery store to pick up ingredients right now, before I forget,” she said as she gathered up her things. “I’ll pick you up around one o’clock.”
A Sprinkle of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 9