The guy made eye contact with Clarissa.
Feeling confident and beautiful, she shot the young man a winning smile.
A little harmless flirtation was no big deal. In fact, it was good practice for her next date with Parker! Recalling what the magazine had said about finding one’s best angle, Clarissa turned her head to the left and tucked her chin in.
“Ouch!” she gasped as she pulled a muscle in her neck.
“Are you okay?” the guy asked, trying not to laugh.
“I’m fine!” Clarissa hissed through clenched teeth. Beauty was pain!
“Can I ask you something?”
“I’m already taken,” Clarissa smiled as she tried to subtly rub her sore neck. “But I’m flattered!”
“Huh?” the young man asked in confusion. Then he shrugged and pointed to her pants. “Anyway, did you know your pants are ripped?” he asked her.
“Yes!” Clarissa informed him authoritatively. “It’s the latest style!”
“Um, okay but…I can see your underwear.”
Clarissa’s hands flew to her backside in horror. Sure enough, she confirmed that she had perhaps gotten a bit too overzealous with the scissors. Well, either that or the rips had somehow grown larger of their own accord. It felt like her entire rear end was hanging out!
Mortified, Clarissa scrambled to unlock her car. She pulled a sweatshirt out of the backseat, all while trying to preserve her modesty as best she could. She tied the sweatshirt around her waist as the young man watched, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold his laughter in.
Then Clarissa slunk away, feeling a bit less fierce.
***
“I can’t believe Professor Miller wants us to read five chapters this weekend!” a young woman grumbled as she stood in the hallway outside a lecture hall. “Does he think we have no lives? It’s so annoying!”
“Oh totally,” Clarissa piped up, pushing her way into the group of students. “I hate that!”
Everyone looked at her curiously.
“Um, do we know you?” one guy asked uncertainly.
“I’m new here,” Clarissa chirped. Technically that wasn’t a complete lie…
“I like your shoes,” the young woman who had been complaining said.
“Oh, thanks!”
Clarissa glanced down. Her shoes were the one thing she hadn’t altered in order to fit in. She was wearing her favorite black and white sneakers. They were simple, inexpensive and most definitely not featured in any trendy fashion magazines!
“Are you done your paper for Harrington’s class?” one of the guys asked the young woman.
“Not yet, but it only has to be ten pages, so it shouldn’t take too long,” she replied. “Harrington is pretty reasonable. Not like Miller, who would probably expect us to write a freaking novel over the course of a single weekend!”
Everyone began to laugh. Clarissa joined in, just so she wouldn’t look out of place. But the wheels in her head were turning. When the laughter died down, she took the opportunity to dig for some information.
“I’ve never taken a class from Cliff – I mean Professor Harrington,” she said. “What’s he like?”
“He’s alright,” one of the guys replied. “I had him last semester. I didn’t do very well.”
“That’s because you slept through every lecture and never did your homework!” his buddy chided him good-naturedly.
“What? That’s not true! Well okay, it’s kind of true,” the first guy laughed. “But Harrington isn’t a bad guy. His lectures can be a bit dry sometimes, but whatever. He’s fair.”
“Unlike Connor!” the guy’s buddy interjected. “At least in Harrington’s class, you don’t have to be a good looking woman to get a decent grade. I mean, I know Connor died and that’s sad and stuff, but that guy played favorites so bad.”
“Connor favored his female students?” Clarissa asked excitedly. She was eager to get the scoop.
“The pretty ones,” the first guy confirmed.
“He could be kind of creepy sometimes,” the young woman recalled, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I went to see him during office hours once and he sat way too close for comfort. It felt like he was flirting with me. In fact, I’m pretty sure he would have tried to kiss me if I hadn’t moved my chair.”
“Gross!” the guys exclaimed in unison.
“Yeah,” she nodded.
“I can’t believe Hannah went along with that,” one of the guys said. “I mean, I know she’s obsessed with her GPA, but come on. Old man Connor was like, old.”
“Are you talking about Hannah Woods?” Clarissa blurted out, unable to contain her excitement.
“Yeah, rumor has it she had a thing with the dean,” the young man explained. “He flirted with every attractive woman he saw, but Hannah didn’t exactly try to deter it. Apparently she flirted back to make sure she stayed on his good side. That girl is obsessed with getting good grades!”
His friends nodded in agreement. Clearly they had all heard the same rumor.
“Do you…do you think she had anything to do with the dean’s death?” Clarissa asked.
There was silence.
Then one of the young men shrugged. “Hannah’s a bit intense, but she’s not a psycho.”
His friends all started nodding and murmuring similar sentiments.
“Connor really shouldn’t have been dean,” one of the guys remarked, changing the subject.
“Harrington is a much better choice,” the young woman agreed. “He’ll do a good job and –”
“Wait…Cliff Harrington is the new dean?” Clarissa interrupted.
“Yeah, it was announced this morning.”
“Oh wow! I wonder if Matilda has heard yet…”
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Clarissa replied. “I’ve gotta go!”
Until five minutes ago, Clarissa had been focused on Nancy Donoghue as her primary suspect. And Daphne Connor was a close second. But now that she knew Hannah Woods had been a bit too friendly with the murdered dean…well, that could potentially change everything.
Chapter 15
“You’re doing that wrong!”
The words almost didn’t resonate with Clarissa. She was down on her hands and knees in her front yard trying to make her lawn look presentable. She had already spent a couple hours weeding and pruning rose bushes. Now she was edging the lawn.
It was easy, mindless work. That was good, because Clarissa was completely distracted. She was operating on autopilot as she beautified the yard. Her mind was a million miles away, going over everything she had learned about Miles Connor.
By all accounts, he had been a womanizer, a sleaze. That gave his wife, his ex-girlfriend and the student he had allegedly been involved with reason to want him dead. Sure, murder seemed like a bit of an overreaction! But who ever said killers were rational?
Daphne could have easily gained access to the building – it wouldn’t have been difficult to swipe a key card from her husband. Nancy had access because she worked there. And since she was so studious, Hannah likely had special permission to be inside the locked building. Clarissa still needed to confirm that last bit.
Any one of the three women could have killed Miles. All three had the motive and the means to do so; at least that was how it appeared. Now Clarissa had to figure out which woman had actually been responsible for the dean’s fatal fall. Piece of cake!
“You’re doing that wrong!” the disapproving, indignant voice screeched again.
Clarissa blinked and looked up.
Standing in front of her was the single most terrifying sight one could see: Mrs. Meddler.
The old woman was a bit of a legend in Sugarcomb Lake. Actually, she was more like an urban legend, the subject of scary stories that were told around campfires. Very few people liked Irene Meddler – and the feeling was mutual! Mrs. Meddler seemed to make a hobby out of having contempt for everyone and everything.
She was standing there with her
walker, glaring at Clarissa.
It was a jarring sight, mostly because Clarissa lived on the outskirts of town. Apparently Mrs. Meddler had gone for a very, very long stroll around town. But the old woman did love to snoop – and then criticize – so in a way it kind of made sense.
“Hello Mrs. Meddler,” Clarissa said, forcing a smile. “Beautiful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
“Humph,” the sour-faced old woman grunted. “It’s about time you do something with this yard of yours. It’s an eyesore,” she complained. “Young people these days are so lazy! Back in my day, all we knew was work!”
That was mildly insulting. Clarissa’s garden had become a bit overgrown, sure. But she had done a lot of work over the past couple of hours. Up until Mrs. Meddler had started criticizing, Clarissa had thought her front yard was looking pretty nice!
“Did you enjoy gardening back then?” Clarissa asked politely, hoping to change the subject.
“Enjoy? Enjoy?!” Mrs. Meddler huffed. “Back in my day we planted vegetable gardens! It wasn’t about enjoyment, it was about survival! Look at all these flowers,” she spat bitterly, gesturing to Clarissa’s lovely garden. “Perennials, annuals… Bah! What a waste!”
“Oh, I could have sworn you grow petunias in your front yard,” Clarissa couldn’t help but point out. Maybe it was petty of her, but she couldn’t resist calling the rude old woman out on her hypocrisy. There was something rather satisfying about it.
“Bah!” Mrs. Meddler raged indignantly. “That’s different!”
Clarissa didn’t dare ask for clarification. She knew better than to do that. Why engage with the town curmudgeon any longer than was necessary?
“I suppose you water these!” Mrs. Meddler scoffed, pointing to the flowers.
“Well…yes. They would shrivel up and die if I let them get too thirsty,” Clarissa replied.
“What a waste of water!” Mrs. Meddler crowed. “Young people these days are so wasteful! Back in my day, we didn’t have all these modern conveniences you take for granted. We didn’t have flower gardens,” she said contemptuously.
Clarissa strongly suspected that wasn’t true. But she wisely kept her mouth shut. “Flowers do look nice though,” she said pleasantly. “I’m especially fond of flowers that have big, bright, colorful blooms. There’s something so cheerful about them, don’t you think?”
“Humph!” Mrs. Meddler glowered.
“Maybe you would like a bouquet to take home?” Clarissa offered. She couldn’t stand the cranky old woman. Actually, she was kind of terrified of her. But she was going to take her mother’s advice and kill her with kindness.
“Flowers make me sneeze!” Mrs. Meddler scoffed with disdain.
“Oh, okay,” Clarissa nodded. “Allergies are the worst.” Then she turned back to her lawn.
She could feel Mrs. Meddler’s hateful glare burning through her. She glanced up to find the old woman scowling at her. “Well?” the town curmudgeon demanded impatiently. “I didn’t tell you not to get me a bouquet! Hurry up, I don’t have all day!”
“Yes, right away!” Clarissa agreed, resisting the urge to say something snarky.
As she went into the house to get scissors, all she could do was smile and shake her head. How did someone get to be as grouchy and mean as grumpy old Mrs. Meddler? That woman was a real piece of work!
She just hoped the highly critical old bag would go away once she got her bouquet. The last thing Clarissa felt like doing was standing around having a long conversation with her! The mere thought of it made her shudder.
When Clarissa went back outside, the cat followed her.
Mrs. Meddler, of course, barked orders at Clarissa. She didn’t want to bouquet to be too tall, too purple or too leafy. It seemed nothing Clarissa could do was right. The old woman was completely unappreciative and acted incredibly entitled. At least she was consistent.
“Here you go, Mrs. Meddler,” Clarissa said, handing her a beautiful bouquet. “Enjoy!”
“Humph,” the old woman grunted. She looked past Clarissa, clearly scrutinizing the yard for something else she could complain about. Then she raised her hand and pointed one long, bony finger at the porch. “That needs staining!”
“Yes, it probably does,” Clarissa agreed cheerfully. “I’ll have to add it to my to-do list.”
“Back in my day we didn’t have to-do lists,” Mrs. Meddler scoffed. “If something needed doing, we did it! Young people these days have no work ethic, no pride of ownership! Why, when I was a young woman I spent ten hours a day baking and tending to housework!”
“That sounds nice,” Clarissa said brightly. “I wish I had that kind of time to devote to chores! Then my house would be spotless and my garden would be pristine!”
Mrs. Meddler scowled. “You know what’s wrong with young people today?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me,” Clarissa murmured under her breath.
The old woman was on a real tirade now. She was huffing and puffing and getting all worked up as she spewed vitriol. She stuck her bony index finger in Clarissa’s face and shook it. “Young people these days are too –”
Suddenly Cat appeared out of nowhere and made a beeline for the old woman.
“Get that beast away from me!” Mrs. Meddler screeched. “Black cats are bad luck!”
The cat arched its back and hissed.
Mrs. Meddler threw her bouquet at the cat – thankfully, she missed. Then she grabbed her walker and shuffled away, muttering under her breath. The feisty feline kept growling until the insufferable old curmudgeon was out of sight.
“Huh, you’re good for something other than shedding all over the furniture after all. Nice work!” Clarissa whispered, reaching down to rub the cat’s head. “I’m cooking you a big fat juicy steak for dinner tonight.”
Then she gathered up the flowers Mrs. Meddler had discarded and took them into the house. They would make a beautiful centerpiece.
***
Clarissa was seated in a booth at the very back of a quiet café. She was watching the door like a hawk. When it finally opened and a young woman walked in, Clarissa knew at once that it had to be Hannah Woods.
The twenty-two year old had straight brown hair that skimmed her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel and darting around anxiously. Her clothes were simple and modest – a button-up mauve blouse and a pair of khakis. She was pretty in a conventional, dime-a-dozen sort of way.
“Hannah?” Clarissa asked.
The young woman nodded and sat down in the booth across from her. “Hi,” she said.
“Hey,” Clarissa smiled, hoping to disarm the nervous young woman. “Thanks for coming.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Hannah admitted. “But you said you’re Matilda’s niece?”
“I am,” Clarissa confirmed. “My aunt thinks very highly of you. And she’s convinced you couldn’t have had anything to do with Miles Connor’s death. She asked me to get to the bottom of what really happened. Like I told you on the phone, I want to help.”
“Okay. Good. I can use all the help I can get,” Hannah said, smiling tensely. Clarissa noticed the dark circles under the young woman’s eyes. It appeared she hadn’t slept in days. It was understandable, given all the police scrutiny she had been under lately.
“I’m not just Matilda’s niece. I’m also a reporter. I’ve been asking a lot of questions about the dean’s death,” Clarissa explained. “Everyone I’ve talked to says you couldn’t have killed him. They say you wouldn’t have killed him.”
“I didn’t!” Hannah exclaimed passionately. “I had nothing to do with it!”
“I believe you,” Clarissa assured her. “But Hannah, I’m having trouble making sense of some things. That’s where I’m hoping you can help me out. If you could just clear up a few minor details for me, I would really appreciate it.”
“What do you want to know?” Hannah asked cautiously. She was wringing her hands.
“Since I started investigating, I l
earned a thing or two about you,” Clarissa said, keeping her tone light. “You’re a great student, Hannah. You made the dean’s list every single semester…except this past one. Why is that?”
Hannah made a face. “I was living off campus, renting an apartment in Green City. It was an old building, not the nicest neighborhood…but the rent was cheap. Then the building became infested with bedbugs.”
“Ew,” Clarissa grimaced, immediately feeling itchy.
“Yeah,” Hannah nodded. “The landlord was kind of a scumbag. He ignored the problem until it got out of hand. Long story short, I had to move in the middle of the semester. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find an affordable place to live in the city mid-semester?”
“I imagine it isn’t easy.”
“It’s impossible,” Hannah sighed. “I had to move outside of the city. I ended up renting a room right here in Sugarcomb Lake, actually. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a beautiful little town. But the daily commute to campus was exhausting. Pretty soon, my grades started to slip.”
“That’s understandable,” Clarissa said sympathetically.
“It may be understandable, but it isn’t acceptable,” Hannah replied. “I want to go to graduate school, but I won’t be able to afford it without a scholarship. And if I want to get a scholarship, I need a high GPA.”
“You’re under a lot of pressure, aren’t you?”
Hannah nodded.
“I heard there was a confrontation between you and Dean Connor,” Clarissa said, treading carefully. “People overheard you screaming at him in the hallway, Hannah. I’m sure you know that – that’s why the police are suspicious of you. Can you tell me what happened that day?”
To Clarissa’s surprise, Hannah became emotional. In fact, she started to tear up.
The reporter scrambled to hand her a tissue.
“I’m not proud of this,” Hannah said after blowing her nose. “Dean Connor had a reputation. He was sort of a ladies’ man, you know? He liked to flirt. And…I kind of flirted back. I figured I had to stay on his good side for the sake of my academic career, you know?”
A Drop of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 8
