“Oh relax. You’re overreacting,” Matilda said dismissively. “You just finished telling me how fantastic your date was tonight. If anything you should be thanking me, not getting mad at me! I did you a favor!”
“What? No. No, no, no. You did not do me a favor! Now I have no idea if Parker is being sincere when he acts sweet or if he’s just the victim of your stupid spell!” Clarissa exclaimed in indignation. “Undo the spell right now!” she demanded.
Matilda suddenly stopped looking so smug. “I can’t,” she said quietly.
“What do you mean you can’t?!”
“We have to wait for the spell to wear off,” Matilda explained.
“Well how long will that take?”
Matilda hesitated. “I’m not exactly sure,” she admitted, avoiding eye contact. “It’s only supposed to last for 24 hours, but I may have made it a little on the strong side. Well, a lot on the strong side,” she corrected herself.
“What does that mean?” Clarissa was panicking now.
With a shrug, Matilda confessed, “I don’t know. The spell might last a week or it might last a month. We’ll just have to wait and see. But it’s really not the big deal you’re making it out to be,” she insisted.
Clarissa was furious – and mortified. She should have known that introducing her boyfriend to her kooky aunt was a bad idea! Now Parker was under some sort of weird spell for an undetermined amount of time and there was nothing she could do about it!
Worse yet, now she was second-guessing everything he had said to her.
Did he actually care about her as much as he claimed to, or was it the spell talking?
“Oh, I nearly forgot why I came here!” Matilda exclaimed, switching gears like only she could. “I heard an interesting rumor from a janitor at the university.”
Clarissa wanted to be enraged.
She wanted to order her aunt to get out of her house and go find an anecdote to the love potion.
But she was also curious about the rumor. So instead of saying anything she may or may not regret, she retrieved a bag of chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen cupboard.
She shoved two cookies in her mouth at once. There, that would keep her from saying mean things. Clarissa stood there chewing and staring at her aunt expectantly, waiting to hear what the rumor was. It had better be good!
“There may have been trouble in paradise. Miles Connor wasn’t going home at night. Instead, he was sleeping on the couch in his office,” Matilda said. “The janitor said it had been going on for quite some time.”
“Hmm,” Clarissa mumbled through a mouthful of cookies.
“That’s big news, right?” Matilda asked hopefully. “It could break the whole case wide open!”
“Maybe,” Clarissa acknowledged. She swallowed and then popped another cookie into her mouth. “I’ll look into the dean’s personal life tomorrow,” she decided. “Hopefully that will give us the answers we’re looking for.”
***
The next morning, Clarissa found herself in Green City yet again. Well, she was in the suburbs just outside Green City, to be exact. With the help of her trusty GPS, she was headed for the Connor residence.
As a reporter, Clarissa always hated invading people’s privacy during trying times. Nothing made her feel as awkward or guilty as showing up at a grieving person’s house and asking a bunch of nosy questions. It was part of the job but even so, Clarissa always dreaded it.
She pulled up outside the well-kept two-storey brick home.
Idling across the street, she sat there in her car and looked things over.
The Connor residence was definitely nice, but it was nothing extravagant. The lawn was well-maintained and the dean’s black SUV was parked in the driveway. Clarissa could tell it was his because of the novelty license plate that read 4MILES.
“I guess I should go to the door,” Clarissa whispered to herself.
The last thing she wanted was to upset a grieving widow…if Daphne Connor was, in fact, grieving. So Clarissa sat there in her car hesitating, rehearsing in her head what she should say. She wished she had thought to bring a pie or casserole, just to be polite.
Suddenly a car sped into view. It pulled up at the end of the driveway and sat there.
Clarissa hunched down in her car and waited, watching. She could see the driver of the sporty two-seater yellow convertible. It was a young man about her age. He was heavily muscled and wearing a white t-shirt that showed off his tattoos.
Just then the front door of the Connor residence opened.
Out walked none other than Daphne Connor herself.
Clarissa instantly recognized her from the handful of pictures she had seen online. The dark-haired widow was wearing a skin tight leopard print dress and her signature bright red lipstick. Her little white toy poodle was tucked under her arm, yipping obnoxiously.
Intrigued, Clarissa held her breath and waited to see what would happen next.
Daphne walked up to the passenger side of the bright yellow sports car. The muscular driver leaned across and opened the door for her. She bent down and handed her dog to him. Then she climbed into the front passenger side of the vehicle.
What happened next nearly made Clarissa’s jaw drop.
Once she was inside the car, Daphne leaned over and kissed the driver. It wasn’t a chaste, polite two-cheeked sort of greeting kiss, either. No, it was a full-on smooch, right on the lips. It was immediately evident to Clarissa that Daphne and the mystery man knew each other very well…intimately, even.
“Wow,” Clarissa breathed as the car sped away.
Had Daphne been cheating on her husband?
Maybe Matilda’s tip from the janitor had been spot on. Miles had been sleeping in his office rather than going home. Had his marriage with Daphne been troubled? Had he known his wife was seeing someone else? Had he been afraid to go home?
What if Daphne – or her lover – had been the one to kill Miles? Sure, the building he fell from had been locked. Access had been restricted to a select few people. But it was entirely possible that Daphne had somehow gotten ahold of a key card. So…had she been involved with her husband’s death?
At the moment, Clarissa had far more questions than answers.
The stunned small town reporter sat there for a moment, wondering what to do next.
Then she noticed Daphne’s next-door-neighbor walking out of his house in his bathrobe. The balding, middle aged man was taking the garbage out. That was lucky. It was a perfect opportunity to strike up an innocent little conversation!
Clarissa hopped out of her car and hurried over.
“Excuse me!” she called out, waving frantically. She probably looked like a lunatic.
The man set the garbage bag he was holding down and looked over at her. “Yes?”
Thinking fast, Clarissa asked, “I wondered if you could give me directions?”
“I can try. Where are you trying to go?”
“I’m uh...I’m looking for the Connor residence,” Clarissa said.
“Well that’s easy,” the man smiled. “It’s right next door.”
“Oh!” she laughed. “Silly me – I thought my GPS was acting up. Now I feel dumb.”
“No problem,” the man laughed as he took the lid off his metal garbage bin.
“Let me help you with that!” Clarissa offered, rushing to grab the overfilled black garbage bag. She really had no idea how the gigantic bag would fit in that little can. But offering to help out seemed like the nice thing to do – plus it gave her a chance to chat with the man some more.
After a lot of struggling with the bag, their attempts were successful. Somehow, they wrestled it into the trash can. Take that, laws of physics! But there was no time to strut around acting all smug and stuff. No, the young reporter’s objective now was to get information.
“It’s terrible, what happened to Miles Connor,” Clarissa remarked.
“Yeah,” the man agreed. “It’s a real shame.”
&nb
sp; “Were you close to him?”
“Nah, I hadn’t seen him in weeks – maybe longer. He wasn’t here much.”
“Oh. Did he and his wife travel a lot or something?” Clarissa asked innocently.
“No. I don’t think they were even together,” the neighbor replied. “There was an incident a while back in the middle of the night. I woke up to yelling and saw Daphne throwing Miles’ clothes out the window onto the front lawn.”
“Yikes!”
The neighbor nodded. “Miles got into his car and drove away. I didn’t see him much after that. I assumed he and his wife were going through a divorce, but I don’t really know. I try to mind my own business – life is less stressful that way, you know?”
“Hmm, I see.”
“Well, I should be getting back inside,” the man said. “Thanks for the help with the trash.”
“No problem.”
When Clarissa had decided to drive to the suburbs of Green City, she had hoped it would be worthwhile. But she had never expected to get such a juicy lead! The new information she had learned was making her rethink everything she thought she knew.
Her head was spinning. She needed to go home and mull everything over.
Chapter 11
“How was your day?” Clarissa said to the cat when she got home.
Cat glanced up at her. The little black fur ball was curled up on the couch, looking all sweet and innocent. Clarissa hoped that meant her mooch of a housemate had managed to stay out of trouble. However, when she stepped into the living room she saw that wasn’t the case.
“Aw, really?” she demanded. “You’re such a brat!”
The cat had apparently decided to engage in a bit of gardening. The potted plants Clarissa kept on the windowsill were all tipped over. In some cases, the flowers themselves had been pulled right out of the soil. Dirt was strewn everywhere.
And to add insult to injury, the cat had used some of that dirt as a makeshift litter box.
“Eww,” Clarissa grimaced. “Why do you have to be such a troublemaker?”
The cat yawned in response, apparently bored with the conversation.
After Clarissa cleaned up, she sat down right next to the now-sleeping cat. That startled the little beast from its slumber, but she didn’t care. After the mess it had made, the least it could do was listen to her think things through.
“Okay,” Clarissa said to the cat. “The first and most obvious suspect is Hannah Woods. Based on what I know about her, she likely had access to the locked building. She’s a model student; at least she was. She got a bad grade, complained to the dean about it and then blew up at him when he refused to intervene.”
The cat was licking itself now, completely ignoring Clarissa. But she didn’t let that deter her. It helped her to voice her thoughts, so it didn’t really matter if the cat was actually listening.
“The Green City police think Hannah is the most likely suspect. Matilda, on the other hand, swears Hannah can’t be guilty of murder. But between you and me, I don’t always find Aunt Matilda to be all that credible.”
The cat sneezed in response.
“I wonder why Hannah started struggling with her coursework all of a sudden,” Clarissa mused. “By all accounts she’s very smart and used to be a real overachiever. So why was she suddenly failing? That doesn’t make sense. I’d love to talk to her and try to get some answers.”
“Meow,” said the cat, sounding bored.
“Okay, I’ll move on,” Clarissa agreed. “The second suspect is Daphne Connor. It sounds like she and Miles had a rocky marriage. Maybe they were even separated. And it looks like she has a boyfriend! Maybe she or the boyfriend had something to do with Miles’ death.”
The cat looked up at her, seemingly interested now.
“It wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened,” Clarissa insisted. “People kill their lovers’ spouses all the time. Well, maybe not all the time, but you know what I mean. It’s definitely a motive.”
Clarissa thought back to her encounter with the campus guidance counselor.
“Nancy Donoghue is the third suspect,” she decided. “I have no idea what her motive would be, but she was nearby when the dean was killed. She knew him - she worked in the same office building as him. And she acted really strangely when I tried to talk to her about his death.”
She paused as she recalled the way the woman had gotten all nervous and jittery.
“I don’t mean to jump to conclusions, but Nancy acted like she was guilty of something.”
Without warning, the cat jumped off the couch and charged across the room. It leapt through the air, back arched and tail all fluffy. It would have been cute had it not been for what Matilda had said. Clarissa’s aunt had sworn the cat was chasing off bad spirits when it acted like that.
True or not, the thought was creepy.
A chill ran up Clarissa’s spine and she decided she wanted out of the house.
She grabbed her broom and went out on the front porch to practice flying. This time, however, she steered clear of the thorny rose bushes. Her day had been eventful enough already without adding in an injury.
Even though she was only able to get the broom a few inches off the ground, it was still pretty exciting. Clarissa was so completely engrossed in her task that she lost track of the time. Before she knew it, Parker was pulling into her driveway. He was there for their dinner date.
“You’re out here sweeping again?” he called as he made his way up the front walk with a bag of Chinese takeout tucked under his arm. “You’re going to have the cleanest front porch in town,” he teased playfully.
“The porch will be the only part of my house that’s clean,” Clarissa joked.
“Aww, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Parker assured her. “And even if it is, I’ll pretend not to notice,” he added with a wink that made her heart skip a beat.
She propped her broom against the side of the house. Then she turned around to invite Parker inside, but he was already right behind her. She nearly bumped into him. Startled, she jumped back…and backed right into the screen door.
“Hi,” Parker grinned, leaning in close. He smelled good, like expensive yet subtle cologne. “I’ve been looking forward to our date all day. I missed you today,” he murmured. Then he moved to kiss Clarissa hello.
At first she was thrilled.
Then she remembered her aunt’s stupid love potion.
Was this really Parker, or was he under the influence of the dumb spell?
Feeling insecure, Clarissa turned her head at the last moment. Parker’s kiss landed on her cheek instead of her lips. He seemed surprised, but was undeterred. His fingers found their way to her chin and he tried to turn her head back toward him.
She resisted. In fact, she pulled away, opened the screen door and went inside.
“Is everything okay?” Parker asked as he took off his shoes in the entryway.
“Yes. How was your day?”
“Long and frustrating,” he replied with a grimace. “My father graced me with his presence again. But let’s not talk about that. I’m here with you now, and that’s all that matters. Also, I’m famished and the Chinese food smells amazing. What do you say we eat?” he suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” she agreed.
Clarissa’s kitchen table was covered in clean laundry. Freshly washed t-shirts, jeans and socks covered the entire surface. It wasn’t a good look. It certainly wasn’t like a page ripped out of a home and lifestyle magazine!
She had meant to fold all the laundry and put it away before date night with Parker. Unfortunately, she had lost track of the time. She had a bad habit of doing that. Maybe her aunt’s scatterbrained tendencies were an inherited trait.
Clarissa noticed Parker glance at the cluttered table. She inwardly cringed. But to his credit, he didn’t say a word about it. Instead, he set the Chinese food out on her living room coffee table like nothing was out of the ordinary.
&nbs
p; After Clarissa had retrieved plates from the cupboard, she and Parker dished up the food. It looked and smelled absolutely mouth-watering. Unfortunately, Clarissa wasn’t very good at using chopsticks.
“I think I’m just going to get a fork,” she grumbled after dropping a chicken ball for the third time. Why was it that the harder she tried to have good table manners (well, couch manners), the more of a mess she made?
“No, chopsticks are half the fun of ordering Chinese takeout!” Parker insisted. He, of course, used his chopsticks expertly. Was there anything that man wasn’t good at? It would be infuriating if he wasn’t such an amazing, modest, gorgeous guy.
“How do you make it look so easy?” Clarissa asked in awe.
“It is easy,” Parker told her. “Here, I’ll teach you.”
He leaned over and repositioned Clarissa’s chopsticks in her hand. When his fingers touched hers, she felt butterflies in her stomach. Once Parker was satisfied that she was holding the chopsticks correctly, he motioned for her to try again.
She picked up the chicken ball for the fourth time.
She almost got it to her mouth, too. Then at the last minute, she must have squeezed the chopsticks a bit too hard. The chicken ball went shooting across the room, splattering against the wall before rolling across the floor.
“Well,” Parker said, trying not to laugh, “I have to say, I’m impressed. Look how far it went!”
“Oh no,” Clarissa giggled, utterly embarrassed. “Trust me to do something like that.”
She set her plate down on the coffee table. Then she began to hoist herself up off the couch so she could go clean up the runaway chicken ball. But before she had even stood up, the cat had raced into the room and begun to chow down.
“Looks like someone’s happy,” Parker remarked. “See? It all worked out in the end.”
“Glad to see the cat is good for something,” Clarissa said wryly.
When the chicken-ball-loving feline was done eating, it circled back around to the couch. Then it weaved its body around Parker’s legs, head-butting his shins and purring loudly.
“I think the cat likes you,” Clarissa observed.
“Aw, it’s probably just because I’m the bringer of Chinese food,” he predicted as he reached down to scratch behind Cat’s ears.
A Drop of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 6
