A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Alaine Allister

  The arrangement was mutually beneficial, so what motive would Bonnie have to kill Jed?

  Of course, Bonnie could be lying about the arrangement. She had every reason in the world to lie if she was, in fact, the murderer. She claimed to have known about her husband’s infidelity. She gave the impression she hadn’t minded because the marriage was for show only. Obviously it would be in Bonnie’s best interest to concoct a story if she had shot Jed.

  Maybe contrary to what she claimed, Bonnie had only recently discovered her husband cheating. Maybe she had shot him in a blind rage. That seemed to be what the police thought. And as far as motives went, the “scorned spouse” angle offered an easy explanation.

  But Clarissa’s gut was telling her loud and clear that the police had the wrong person in custody. It was true that Bonnie hadn’t seemed particularly distraught over her husband’s death. But there had been something raw and honest about her demeanor.

  It had seemed like Bonnie was being truthful about everything. At least that was the impression Clarissa had gotten. And it wasn’t often that her intuition screamed at her so deafeningly. Could she be wrong?

  Clarissa thought for a moment.

  “Nah,” she said, crossing Bonnie’s name off the list. “Bonnie didn’t kill her husband.”

  The cat let out a snort. Apparently it was dreaming...probably about ways to annoy Clarissa.

  Trying to ignore the cat’s antics, Clarissa moved down the list to the second suspect.

  “Suspect #2 is Bonnie’s dad, William Babcock,” Clarissa said out loud. “The murder weapon belonged to him, and he’s made no secret about the fact that he never liked his son-in-law. I’ve seen firsthand that he may have a tendency to be hotheaded, and he’s fiercely protective of his family. He had the motive and the means to kill Jed.”

  She paused for a moment to let the information sink in. Then she continued, “I admit it looks like William Babcock could be guilty. But he has an alibi. He was out of town at the time of the murder and has a gas station receipt to prove it. That rules him out, right Cat?”

  The cat was rolling around in its chair now even though it was still fast asleep. That little stinker was such a distraction, even while unconscious! It was also without a doubt getting fur all over everything. Clarissa scowled in its general direction and then forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

  “William Babcock…William Babcock…”

  The pencil she held hovered above the page for a moment as Clarissa contemplated whether to cross his name off the list of suspected killers. After some deliberation, she left it on there. Then she decided to move along, hoping she’d be able to cross some other names off more easily.

  “Suspect #3 is Nora,” Clarissa said. “She is arguably the most eccentric woman in town. And,” she recalled, “Nora had a beef with the mayor. In the weeks leading up to Jed’s death, he was pushing for some bylaws that would effectively prohibit panhandling in Sugarcomb Lake. Nora was furious about it!”

  Clarissa trailed off as she recalled what Parker had told her. Nora and the mayor had apparently had a loud confrontation over the proposed bylaws. For an out-of-towner from the city, Parker had done a rather admirable job of getting the scoop from the local gossip circuit. Come to think of it, Clarissa herself hadn’t even heard about the disagreement.

  Forcing herself to stop thinking about Parker, Clarissa eyed Nora’s name on the list of suspects.

  “Nora definitely had a motive to kill Jed,” she whispered.

  But there was more than that.

  “I know Nora was near the crime scene at the time of the murder. I ran into her that night.”

  A chill went up Clarissa’s spine as she recalled hearing the gunshot that night in the woods. And then there was also the strange encounter in the grocery store parking lot. It was difficult to say for sure whether the peculiar woman had been threatening Clarissa or simply being, well, weird. Either possibility was very likely.

  “Nora is...Nora is a big question mark,” Clarissa decided, frustrated that she wasn’t able to make a more definitive ruling. “She’s strange, but that doesn’t mean she’s a murderer. Then again, for all I know she might have killed Jed Black. I can’t say for sure. I need to look into it more.”

  It was time to move on to the other names on the list.

  “Suspect #4 is Liz, the secretary at Black & Burke.”

  Clarissa glanced over at the cat. Then she informed the napping critter, “Liz is way too dumb to be the murderer – either that or she’s the best actress ever. My money is on dumb, though. But even Liz wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill her boss before he gave her the promotion he had promised her. I don’t think she’s killed anyone or anything except my faith in humanity.”

  Clarissa scratched Liz’s name off the list, although not as enthusiastically as she had scratched Bonnie’s name off. Also, she was using a pencil because pencils had erasers. And sometimes erasers were good for, well, fixing mistakes.

  “Okay, Suspect #5 is...well it’s that guy who went running past me in the woods the night of the murder. Unfortunately I have no idea who he was. All I know about him is that he’s male and he’s got a mouth that could make a sailor blush.”

  Clarissa wrote “Mystery Man?” on the page and circled it. She had no idea how to go about learning his identity, which was a frustrating realization. For now, she would have to concentrate on ruling out the other possibilities.

  “Well it wasn’t the pizza delivery man,” she said wryly, thinking of crazy old Mrs. Meddler. “And it wasn’t the old man in the nursing home who stood Mrs. Meddler up five hundred years ago. If you ask me, that dude dodged a bullet!”

  Twirling her pencil between two fingers, Clarissa forced herself to take a few slow, calming breaths. She stared unseeingly out the window again, lost in her own thoughts. Then she let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

  Solving crimes was hard. Why couldn’t everything be wrapped up in a pretty little bow in under an hour, just like in those detective shows on television? It was so unfair that real life didn’t work that way.

  With a sigh, Clarissa tossed her notebook aside. That was enough for now. Between starting her own newspaper and trying to find Jed Black’s killer, she was exhausted. And life was only going to get busier – tomorrow she started her first landscaping job, courtesy of Liana.

  Lately everything had been so crazy. It felt good to just flop down on the couch and take a breather. Clarissa needed to let off some steam and let her mind wander for a bit. Actually, what she really needed was chocolate chip cookies – a whole lot of them!

  The good news was that Clarissa had foreseen that she would want cookies. Of course she had. Some people always reached for cigarettes during times of stress...she reached for cookies. And wisely, she kept an emergency pack stashed away in the cupboard above the fridge.

  She had absentmindedly carried said package into the living room.

  There they were, right there on the coffee table. And that was the bad news.

  The cookies were close enough to see and obsess over, but slightly out of reach.

  “Oh, but I don’t want to get up,” Clarissa grumbled, feeling utterly lazy.

  She pouted for a moment, and then looked over at her furry houseguest.

  “Cat!” she called. “Hey! Do you know how to fetch?”

  The cat opened one eye and looked down its nose at her.

  “Good kitty! Such a good kitty! Go get me my cookies! Go get the cookies, Cat!” Clarissa coaxed, pointing toward the package of unopened, prepackaged baked goods.

  For a moment, Clarissa was foolishly optimistic. When she saw the cat stand up and stretch, she stupidly thought that maybe for once the little monster would actually cooperate. But of course that didn’t happen.

  What happened was the cat finished stretching and then leisurely sauntered out of the room.

  “Humph!” Clarissa muttered, though she wasn’t actually surprised.

  She looked
over at the cookies. She stuck out her arm and reached for them even though it was useless. It was as though she thought if she stretched enough, her arm would magically grow two feet. But of course, that would be absurd.

  So Clarissa tried another approach.

  “I command you to come to me!” Clarissa called to the cookies, feeling goofy. “Here, cookies!” she trilled in a high-pitched, playful voice. Just to be silly, she stared hard at them and envisioned them lifting up off the table and floating over to her. Wouldn’t it be awesome if that was actually possible? It would be a lazy person’s dream come true!

  Suddenly the package of cookies began to wobble. At first Clarissa thought she was imagining it. She blinked, thinking her eyes must be playing tricks on her. But then, before she could even comprehend what was happening, the package of cookies tumbled right off the table.

  “What on earth?” Clarissa gasped, bolting upright.

  She looked around in confusion, checking to see if she had accidentally left a window open. But to her dismay, she saw the windows were all closed. That meant a sudden breeze wasn’t responsible for the cookies tipping over. But if it wasn’t that, then what had caused it?

  Clarissa walked over to pick up the cookies and then paused.

  Her heart was pounding as she stared down at them.

  The cat chose that moment to casually stroll back into the living room.

  It looked over at Clarissa as though it thought she was the world’s biggest idiot for being afraid to pick up a package of cookies. Then it jumped back onto its chair and embarked on its seven hundredth snooze of the afternoon.

  How was it that a four-legged feline could manage to make her feel judged?

  Feeling foolish, Clarissa grabbed the cookies.

  “It must have been the house settling,” she said aloud, as if trying to convince herself and save face with the snooty, judgmental cat.

  Clarissa walked back over to the couch and sat down, feeling shaken. She opened the package of cookies, but suddenly she wasn’t feeling like snacking anymore. Instead she just sat there staring off into space.

  She must have dozed off at some point, because when the doorbell rang she nearly jumped out of her skin. Clarissa had no idea what time it was and for a second, she couldn’t even remember where she was. She wasn’t expecting company, so she had no idea who could be there.

  “Hmm, maybe it’s Liana. But it’s most likely just a salesman,” she murmured under her breath. She stood up and walked to the door. She was already psyching herself up to politely but firmly say ‘no, thank you’ to whatever the person happened to be selling.

  What she wasn’t prepared for, however, was to come face-to-face with Matilda Spencer.

  Chapter 10

  With her high cheekbones, perfectly arched eyebrows and lightly freckled nose, the family resemblance was immediately apparent. Had there been any doubt that the attractive woman standing on Clarissa’s doorstep was related to her, the blue-green eyes were a dead giveaway.

  In fact, Matilda Spencer could easily pass for Clarissa’s older sister. The woman hadn’t aged a day since she had last visited – oh, when was it again? Ten years ago? Fifteen years ago? It was hard to keep track.

  Technically speaking, Matilda was Clarissa’s aunt. She was the offbeat, slightly kooky younger sister of Clarissa’s mother. But she wasn’t the sort of aunt one visits during the holidays or goes on vacations with. Actually, she had been mostly-absent for much of Clarissa’s life.

  Matilda had always been the black sheep of the family. Over the years, she had grown more distant, visiting less and less frequently. These days Matilda didn’t have a particularly close relationship with anyone in the family. In fact, it had been years since Clarissa had seen her fiery-haired aunt.

  “Matilda? What are you doing here?” Clarissa demanded after opening the door a crack.

  “Is that any way to greet your favorite aunt?” Matilda demanded, pushing her way in.

  “You’re my only aunt,” Clarissa said pointedly, more than a bit baffled by the unannounced drop-in. “And I haven’t seen you in years. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” she wanted to know, instantly growing worried about her parents and sister.

  “You used it!” Matilda exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

  “Huh?”

  “You know – the magic! It’s about time you used it!”

  Matilda pushed passed Clarissa and marched into the house, practically dancing around the living room. She was talking a mile a minute, so ramped up that for a moment she reminded Clarissa of Liana after a cup or five of coffee.

  “When you were little I always thought it would be a matter of time until I got to teach you all about it. But then you got older and nothing happened. I was beginning to worry you’d just be ordinary forever. But you used it! And I’m here to help. Oh, this is going to be so exciting!”

  Clarissa stared at her aunt blankly. She knew Matilda ran in strange circles, hanging out with pretty peculiar folks. Her mother had always described Matilda as a ‘free spirit’ – which was probably a polite way of saying she was nuttier than a can of pistachios.

  “Have you been experimenting with those hallucinogenic drugs again?” Clarissa asked, struggling to make sense of her crazy aunt’s ramblings. Nora the panhandler’s reputation as the most eccentric woman in Sugarcomb Lake might be on the line now that Matilda was in town.

  “They weren’t drugs,” Matilda corrected her. “They were enlightenment potions.”

  “Uh huh,” Clarissa nodded. It wasn’t worth it to argue.

  Her aunt was a woman who marched to the beat of her own drum, no question about it. What she did on her own time was none of Clarissa’s business. But it would be nice to know why Matilda had randomly shown up after years of traveling in Peru or wherever it was she had been.

  “So?” Matilda asked expectantly, practically beaming. “How was it?”

  Clarissa raised an eyebrow. “How was what? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the magic, silly! I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to sense it after all these years. I hate that we’ve grown apart,” Matilda sighed. “But your parents thought it was for the best and, well, who was I to tell them how to raise you? But now! Now you’ve found your calling.”

  “Whoa, hold on,” Clarissa interrupted. “Slow down and spell this out for me. Explain it to me like I’m five years old. What on earth are you talking about? When I was six or seven you packed up and left to travel the world. I’ve seen you what, like maybe four times since then? And now you’ve just...randomly turned up on my doorstep. What is going on?”

  Matilda’s smile faltered. “You really don’t remember?” she asked, looking disappointed. “I know you were pretty young when I used to babysit you and your sister. But I had hoped you would remember...”

  “Remember what?” Clarissa asked, wracking her brain. “I remember you used to let me eat ice cream and stay up late watching movies. You were the best babysitter. We used to build pillow forts and sleep in the living room.”

  “Do you remember why?” Matilda prompted.

  “Um, because it was fun...?”

  “No. Your visitors used to keep you awake,” Matilda reminded her. “On the nights they – and you – were feeling particularly chatty, you would be up for hours. I slept on the floor in the living room with you because that way I could tell them to go away and let you rest.”

  “Um, Matilda, are you okay?”

  “You really don’t remember any of that?” Matilda asked.

  Clarissa shook her head. “I remember I had an overactive imagination,” she shrugged. “Lots of kids do at that age. I’d have strange dreams sometimes, and for a while I slept with a nightlight on. But that’s nothing out of the ordinary...it’s just a phase kids go through.”

  “No,” Matilda insisted. “Those weren’t dreams. It’s been well-documented that children are more sensitive to the presence of visitors. Personally,
I think it’s because they’re more open-minded – when you’re young, you haven’t yet learned to be a skeptic. Of course, not all children receive visitors. But you certainly did.”

  A shiver ran up Clarissa’s spine. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again.

  “I’m fine,” Matilda sighed. “I’m just a little sad you don’t remember anything. But that’s why I’m here,” she added, visibly brightening. “I’m here to jog your memory and help you get accustomed to your newfound powers.”

  “Powers...ha, I wish!” Clarissa scoffed. This was absurd. Matilda was clearly losing her mind.

  “I’m not losing my mind or anything,” Matilda suddenly – and very coincidentally – said. She sat down cross-legged on the floor. The cat immediately came running into the room and hopped into her lap, purring manically.

  “I don’t think you’re out of your mind,” Clarissa fibbed. “It’s good to see you again, Matilda. I missed you when you moved away. You were always really good to me when I was little – that I do remember.”

  “I loved babysitting you girls. But my leaving was for the best,” Matilda explained. “Your parents weren’t comfortable with me being around you. They said you were young and impressionable. They thought I was scaring you by putting ideas in your head.” She rolled her eyes to show what she thought of that. “Normal people just don’t get it.”

  “So does that mean you’re...not normal?” Clarissa asked, trying not to smirk.

  “Of course not,” Matilda replied, clearly not offended in the least. “Neither are you! So tell me what happened. It’s unusual for someone to discover their powers at your age. Usually if they’re not harnessed at childhood they just sort of...fade away.”

  “I don’t know what these powers you keep talking about are supposed to be.”

  “Yes you do,” Matilda insisted. “You used your powers to make something levitate, didn’t you? I felt it. I don’t always sense everything, but when I get a feeling about something I’m almost always right. So what was it?”