Chapter 05
Clarissa made her way up the front walk slowly. The Black residence was massive – it was easily one of the biggest, ritziest houses in town. The landscaping was minimal but immaculate, and off to the left was a four car garage. Clarissa also had it on good authority that there was a massive swimming pool in the backyard.
It was a lifestyle the small town reporter would only ever be able to dream of.
“You are not a bad person,” Clarissa whispered to herself as she neared the front door. Her conscience had suddenly and rather inconveniently made her fear that what she was doing was completely inappropriate.
She knew she had a lot of nerve showing up at Bonnie Black’s mansion the day after her husband was murdered. It was a private time for mourning. Who was she turning up there uninvited? It wasn’t as though she was a friend or family member.
But on the other hand, there didn’t appear to be any other cars parked nearby. Clarissa had expected the house to be full of people there to offer their condolences. Maybe that was taking place elsewhere, she reasoned. Maybe Bonnie wasn’t even home.
She rang the doorbell, not really expecting an answer.
When no one came to the door, she set the pie down on the porch, intending to leave it there.
That was when the door flung open.
“You’re not the pizza guy!” a raspy female voice exclaimed in surprise.
Clarissa looked up to see Bonnie Black standing there. Though Clarissa didn’t know her personally, she had seen her standing dutifully by her husband’s side at press conferences countless times. But she barely even recognized the attractive forty-something year old woman.
Bonnie Black had always been the epitome of put together. She normally had her brunette hair swept back in a sophisticated chignon and her makeup was immaculate. And then there was her wardrobe! It was, simply put, to die for. In a way, Bonnie was sort of like a small town celebrity. She was glamorous and classy and never seemed to wear the same outfit twice.
But today she was unrecognizable.
Today Bonnie was wearing a long pink fuzzy housecoat. A cigarette hung out of the corner of her mouth and her eye makeup was smeared. She held an open bottle of red wine in one hand. She clearly hadn’t been expecting company and was in no state to entertain guests.
Actually, she seemed rather drunk.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to uh...bring you this,” Clarissa said, holding out the delicious smelling apple pie. “I wanted to, you know, offer my condolences. But I’m sure you’re busy and I’m interrupting,” she added hastily. “I should be going.”
“Do I look busy?” Bonnie slurred. “Come in,” she ordered.
And that was how Clarissa found herself standing in Bonnie Black’s magnificent home.
“This house is incredible!” Clarissa couldn’t help but exclaim. “Look at this kitchen!” she breathed, trying to take it all in. It was gigantic, with marble countertops and top of the line stainless steel appliances. There were no less than three ovens. It looked like a gourmet chef’s dream come true.
“You want to know the funny thing?” Bonnie asked, pausing to take a long swig of wine straight from the bottle. “Neither Jed nor I cooked. The kitchen was all for show. But maybe you knew that already. I never asked how you knew my husband,” she realized, eyeing the younger woman suspiciously.
“I didn’t really,” Clarissa admitted. “I just knew him as the mayor of Sugarcomb Lake.”
“Ah, good...good,” Bonnie murmured. “For a moment there I wondered if you were another one of his...well, never mind. Anyway, as I was saying, Jed insisted we have the best of the best – even if we didn’t use it. That’s how he was: he wanted to keep up appearances. But I suppose I shouldn’t speak poorly of the dead.”
Clarissa tried not to let her surprise show. Instead, in an attempt to be relatable, she said, “I’m not much of a cook either. And again, I am so sorry for your loss. It must be such a shock.”
Bonnie shrugged and finished off her wine. “People dropped by, all telling me how sorry they were. But I could hear them whispering behind my back. I could feel them watching me, judging me. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I asked them all to leave. I know what people are saying about me.”
“What are they saying?”
After looking her up and down, Bonnie asked, “You really don’t know? They say I was a gold digger. They say I was only with Jed for his money. In addition to being mayor, he was partner at a highly successful investment company based out of Green City, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Clarissa took a deep breath and then admitted, “I used to be a reporter.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Bonnie asked sharply. “To find out if I did it? I didn’t.”
“I never thought –”
Bonnie immediately interrupted. It seemed that in her drunken state, she was rather talkative.
“We may have had a strained relationship, Jed and I, but I didn’t kill him. Just because I’m not playing the part of grieving widow to everyone’s satisfaction doesn’t mean I’m guilty of murder! Why would I kill Jed? We co-existed. We were more like roommates than a married couple, but we had an understanding. It worked.”
“You had...an understanding?” Clarissa prodded gently.
“He kept up his image as a devoted husband and I...well, I got all this,” she said, gesturing to the house. “We had a pre-nuptial contract, so had I divorced him I would have been left penniless. Maybe the townspeople are right and I am materialistic. I like nice things. But that doesn’t make me a killer!”
“I should be going,” Clarissa said, unsure of what else to say. “I’ll show myself out.”
The doorbell rang as she was headed toward the front door.
“That’s the pizza!” Bonnie called from the kitchen. “Let the pizza guy in, would you?”
Clarissa opened the door expecting to see a pizza delivery guy there. Perhaps it would even be the very same one Mrs. Meddler had falsely accused of committing murder, Clarissa thought to herself with a wry grin.
But it wasn’t a pizza delivery guy who was standing there.
It was a police officer.
“Is Bonnie Black here?” he demanded, peering into the house.
“About time you got here with my pizza!” Bonnie called from behind Clarissa.
She came stumbling over, rather unsteady on her feet thanks to her overconsumption of wine. She belched loudly. Then, when she saw the police officer, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked him over.
“You’re not a stripper, are you?” she asked the retirement-age, somewhat portly police officer.
“A what?” he asked, looking stunned and more than a little uncomfortable. Then he recovered. “No ma’am. I’m a police officer. I’m here to inform you that you are under arrest for the murder of Jed Black.”
“What?” Bonnie asked in stunned disbelief.
She dropped the new bottle of wine she had opened. That right there was probably a hundred dollars down the drain, at least! Thankfully this time it was white wine – but Clarissa knew that stained hardwood was the least of Bonnie Black’s worries.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the officer informed Bonnie matter-of-factly. “I’ll tell you right now there are a lot of media people lined up outside the station. If you would like a moment to get dressed before we head over there, I’ll allow it.”
Bonnie glared at him. “This is absurd. I did not kill my husband!”
“Save it for your lawyer,” the cop told her with blatant disinterest. He waved his handcuffs around, seemingly a bit drunk on his own power. “Are you going to cooperate or do you want to come down to the station in these and your bathrobe?”
“I’m not coming down to the station at all!” Bonnie insisted shrilly. “I’m innocent!”
“The hard way it is, then,” the officer sighed.
As he read Bonnie her rights and wrestled her into ha
ndcuffs, the drunken widow looked over at Clarissa. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving dark streaks of mascara on her cheeks. It was hard not to feel sorry for her in that state.
“You believe me, don’t you?” Bonnie pleaded desperately. “You know I didn’t kill Jed, right?”
Clarissa didn’t know how to respond. So she went with the truth.
“Yes,” she said, surprising even herself. “I believe you.” Her gut said Bonnie was being honest.
“Please help me!” Bonnie wailed as the officer led her down the driveway to his police cruiser. “Please, you have to help me! I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill anyone! This is a terrible mistake. I’m innocent! I’m innocent!”
As she watched Bonnie get loaded into the back of the police car, Clarissa wasn’t sure what to do. Feeling helpless, she shut the front door. Then she went out to her car and followed Bonnie and the cop to the police station.
It was a short drive. Everything was a short drive in Sugarcomb Lake.
It was utter chaos down there at the police station.
Clearly someone had tipped off the press, because swarms of cameramen and reporters from Green City lined the streets. As Clarissa looked at the logos on the sides of the vehicles, she noted that every newspaper and TV station in Minnesota seemed to be represented.
She couldn’t help but feel sorry for Bonnie Black as she was paraded into the station while reporters shouted questions and camera crews filmed her in a rather unglamorous state.
In fact, Clarissa couldn’t even bring herself to whip out her phone and snap a few photos of Bonnie’s perp walk. She knew that was exactly what the police wanted. They wanted the whole state to know they had caught a killer less than 24 hours after the crime. They wanted a pat on the back and bragging rights.
But Clarissa refused to be manipulated like that.
She had a bad feeling about what was going on.
The knot in the pit of Clarissa’s stomach tightened when she saw Parker Tweed approach her vehicle. She looked away so they wouldn’t make eye contact. When he paused outside her car, she pretended to be rummaging around for something inside her purse. But when he tapped on the driver side window, she couldn’t really pretend to be oblivious to his presence any longer.
She rolled down the window a crack. “What do you want?”
“Hello to you too,” he replied. “How did you get here so fast?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Oh come on, you and I both know how it works. A source at the police station called all the big news agencies in the state to make sure we would be here. You know how these guys love a press conference that makes them look like heroes.”
Pursing her lips, Clarissa nodded. Parker was only confirming what she had suspected.
“What I don’t understand,” Parker continued, “is how you got here so fast.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, feigning ignorance.
“You were right behind Bonnie Black’s police car,” Parker pointed out. “How did you find out she was the killer? It was almost as if you knew she was going to be arrested. In fact, I think you must have known. Now I’m curious. Who’s your source?”
“First of all, I don’t have a source,” Clarissa said coldly. “I do my own legwork, unlike some people. And secondly, Bonnie Black didn’t murder her husband. So you’re going to look awfully foolish when you have to retract whatever you’re planning to print in the paper!”
Instead of replying, Parker slowly and methodically walked around to the passenger side of the car. Then, without an invitation, he opened the car door and climbed in right beside Clarissa.
“Hey!” she exclaimed in dismay, surprised by his nerve. “Get out of my car!”
“Not until you give me some answers,” he replied calmly.
“Why would I do that?”
“If what you’re saying is true, then you don’t want an innocent woman to get a life sentence,” Parker reasoned. “I don’t think you would be able to live with yourself. Besides,” he added, “I might be able to help you.”
“How can you help me?” she asked suspiciously.
“You said yourself that you don’t have a source. I do. I have a source but I don’t have insider knowledge about Sugarcomb Lake. You’re the expert on that, and people will be more willing to talk to you since they know you. We could make a good team, Clarissa Spencer. So you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. What do you say?”
“I say you shouldn’t use such a disgusting metaphor,” Clarissa shot back, wrinkling her nose in revulsion. “I wouldn’t touch your nasty, hairy back with a ten foot pole!”
Much to her surprise and annoyance, Parker burst out laughing at that. “Of all the things I thought you might say, I truly wasn’t expecting that,” he chuckled. “You’re really something else, you know that?”
Clarissa didn’t answer. Instead, she eyed his scarf out of the corner of his eye and fantasized about strangling him with it. Maybe that was a bit extreme of a reaction, true. But with his good looks, successful career and overconfidence, the guy really got under her skin!
“Tell me what you know,” Parker urged.
“You first,” she insisted. “And just for the record, we are not a team! I work alone.”
“Of course you do,” he agreed, completely unfazed by her surly attitude. “Well according to my source, Jed Black was shot once and the gun was left at the scene. The gun belongs to William Babcock. He’s Bonnie Black’s father. I also understand she and Jed weren’t exactly on good terms. According to their maid, they slept in separate bedrooms.”
“And because of that, the police jumped to the conclusion that Bonnie is the killer?”
“You have to admit, the evidence is kind of compelling,” Parker admitted. “But if you know something I don’t, I’m all ears. What makes you think Bonnie Black isn’t the killer?”
“Since when does The Green City Chronicle care about getting all the facts straight?” Clarissa asked. “Back when I was working for the Gazette, your father’s paper had a bit of reputation. Fact checking was more of a suggestion than a rule, if you get my drift. No offence.”
“No offence,” Parker chortled. “That’s rich coming from you, considering all you ever try to do is offend me! But unfortunately, I know exactly what you’re talking about. It doesn’t mean I approve. I’m committed to ethical and accurate reporting. When I take over the Chronicle next year I fully intend to repair its reputation.”
“You’re taking over the Chronicle?” Clarissa asked in surprise.
“Yes, my father plans to retire next fall. Probably a good thing, if you ask me. He’s – how can I say this? He’s more interested in playing golf than in maintaining the integrity of his newspaper. He’s not a bad guy, I swear. He just delegated a bit too much…and to the wrong people.”
“If you say so,” Clarissa replied, unsure if she believed him. Parker sounded awfully sincere, but maybe he was just a good liar. She wished she had some way to read his mind and know for sure whether he was being truthful!
“It’s your turn. Tell me what you know,” Parker urged.
“I know that Bonnie Black didn’t kill her husband,” Clarissa announced with conviction.
“Okay. And how do you know that?”
She hesitated before reluctantly confessing, “I talked to her.”
“And...?”
Clarissa reddened and said nothing.
“Let me guess. Bonnie Black told you she’s not the killer,” Parker surmised. “So therefore she...isn’t? Because no killer in history has ever lied, is that it?”
Scowling, Clarissa once again eyed that scarf and considered strangling Parker. “It’s not like that,” she insisted. “And I would appreciate it if you would quit implying I’m an idiot with no common sense. If you don’t want to take me seriously then fine, but I believe Bonnie. Call it intuition or...whatever. I believe she’s innocent.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot.
If I did, I wouldn’t be here. So what’s your theory, then?”
“Maybe Bonnie is being framed because she’s an easy target. There are whispers around town about her being a gold digger. Considering there were already rumors floating around about the state of their marriage, she would be easy to implicate in the murder.”
“If she’s being framed then it would presumably be by someone local,” Parker concluded.
Surprised – and pleased – that he was entertaining her theory, Clarissa nodded. “That’s right.”
“One problem though,” Parker said. “The murder weapon belongs to Bonnie’s father.”
“Bonnie made a remark to me when I visited her,” Clarissa recalled. “She asked me how I knew her husband. Then she said she had wondered if I was...well, she didn’t finish the thought. But the implication seemed pretty clear. I got the impression maybe he wasn’t exactly faithful, you know? Maybe her father found out.”
“You think he may have shot Jed in a rage?”
“Crazier things have happened, no?” Clarissa shrugged.
“True,” Parker agreed. “But the murder weapon was left behind. That’s awfully sloppy, no?”
“Maybe he’s a really bad criminal? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”
“Maybe we should both pay him a visit,” Parker suggested.
“That’s not necessary,” Clarissa replied quickly. “Like I told you, I work alone.”
With a shrug, he didn’t pursue the matter. Instead, he asked, “I don’t suppose you have any idea who Jed’s mistress or mistresses might have been, if he actually was cheating?”
The image of Jed Black’s secretary crying at the site of his murder immediately flashed into Clarissa’s head. He hadn’t had the best reputation, so she couldn’t imagine that he was simply a wonderful, beloved boss. And the secretary was young and pretty, not to mention someone he would have worked in close proximity to. She seemed like a safe bet.
“Let’s focus on one lead at a time,” Clarissa suggested, declining to answer the question.
A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 5