Where was her cat now?
What good was the little beast if it couldn’t even protect her against those who wished her harm?
As Clarissa listened to the strange noise, fear welled up within her. For a moment, she was tempted to dive under the covers. But that self-preservation tactic hadn’t really done much to reassure her since she was about six years old.
Besides, she was nearly thirty years old.
She should probably try to be a bit more adult about the situation.
Mustering up all her courage, Clarissa got out of bed as quietly as she could. She tiptoed to the door, grabbing a heavy lamp on the way. Then, taking a deep breath, she flung the door open. She was prepared to fight to the death if need be.
Cat looked up at her curiously.
Clarissa let out the breath she had been holding with a whoosh.
“You were the one making all that noise?” she demanded when she saw the scratch marks on the door frame. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. She wasn’t being stalked by an evil demon.
Well okay, she was kind of being stalked by an evil demon…an evil demon that was determined to destroy her sanity and her house, apparently.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Clarissa hissed at the cat. “And stop scratching!”
This time when Clarissa retreated to bed, she left her door open. The cat followed her and, uninvited, jumped onto the bed. The fluffy feline walked around in circles, kneading at the soft blankets. Then it sat right on top of Clarissa’s head, just as it had done to Parker.
“Hey!” she protested as she tried to shoo the stubborn cat off her forehead.
Then she realized the pressure actually felt sort of good. It made her head throb less.
The top of her head squished by Cat, Clarissa finally drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 14
“Ugh I feel terrible,” Clarissa groaned the next morning.
She opened one eye. She saw the cat perched on her chest, staring intently at her.
“Eek!” she gasped in alarm. She wasn’t used to waking up to that!
The cat jumped down and ran away.
Clarissa reached for the bottle of aspirin she had set by her bedside tablet the previous night. Unfortunately, it seemed she had taken the last pill. The bottle was empty.
Clutching her aching head, Clarissa stumbled out of bed and went into bathroom. She searched the medicine cabinet for painkillers, but she was all out. With a sigh, she dragged her brush through her tangled hair and tried to make herself look halfway presentable.
“I’m going to the drugstore,” she told Cat a few minutes later as she pulled on her sneakers. “I’ll be back soon. Please, please don’t destroy anything while I’m out! I know I say that every time and you never listen, but can’t you do me a favor just this once? I don’t have the energy to clean up after you today.”
The cat cocked its head to the side and looked at Clarissa thoughtfully. Then it turned and ran into the living room, where it promptly curled up on the couch. Of course, it sat beside the blanket Clarissa had laid out for it rather than on it. But still, that was something.
“Yes, good,” Clarissa praised the cat. “Nap until I get home. Good kitty!”
Though the drugstore was within walking distance, Clarissa opted to drive. She didn’t feel up to walking. She didn’t know why her head was killing her so much, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to talk to the pharmacist. Maybe he would be able to suggest something to help her.
Clarissa pulled up outside the drugstore and parked her car – crookedly. She got out and noted her car was sticking way out from the curb. But she would only be inside for a minute or two, she reasoned. So she left the car where it was and hurried inside.
The local drugstore was small but well-stocked. And it always seemed to be bustling with activity. Well, it was busy by Sugarcomb Lake standards, anyway. It made sense, because it was the only pharmacy in town.
Today the pharmacy was as busy as ever.
Clarissa immediately noticed a lineup at the pharmacist’s window. It wasn’t a huge lineup – it was only three deep, actually. But that still seemed like a lot! Maybe there was a nasty bug going around town or something, she reasoned.
She made her way to the aisle where the over-the-counter pain medication was. She stood there staring at the wall display in confusion. There had to be at least a dozen different types of painkillers there! She reached out and picked up the one nearest to her.
She was just about to read the back of the box when she saw a flash of white out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and spotted the pharmacist rushing past. He appeared to be on a mission; he was moving so fast that his long white coat practically looked like a superhero cape!
“Aaron! Hi!” Clarissa called out, stopping him in his tracks.
“Hey Clarissa,” he replied.
She had gone to high school with the sandy-haired, bespectacled young man. They had been casual acquaintances rather than close friends. But even to this day, they were still friendly. Best of all, Aaron knew stuff about painkillers!
If anyone in the pharmacy could help her get rid of her nasty headache, it was him.
“Can I ask you a question about these?” she began, holding up the box of painkillers.
“Absolutely,” Aaron replied. “I’m in the middle of helping another customer, so I’ll be back in a minute!” He began to hurry away. Then he stopped and retraced his steps. “It might be more than a minute,” he said quietly. “So if you have other errands, you might want to do those first.”
He practically ran from the aisle.
Curious, Clarissa stepped out and looked in the direction he had gone.
“What took you so long?!” an indignant, elderly female voice screeched.
She could hear poor Aaron quietly apologizing.
Ah. Aaron’s frenzied behavior made perfect sense. Clarissa would recognize that belligerent, shrill voice anywhere: Mrs. Meddler. No wonder Aaron was frazzled if he was waiting on the cranky old town meanie!
“Excuse me?” a stout older woman Clarissa didn’t recognize asked. “Do you know where the anti-nausea medication is? Don’t worry, I’m not going to be sick right now,” she added quickly. “It’s for carsickness.”
“I think it’s over here somewhere,” Clarissa replied, leading the woman to the next aisle. She looked around for a moment. “Ah, here it is. Are you going on a trip?” she asked, mostly just to make conversation.
“Not exactly,” the woman replied. “I’m in town for my brother’s funeral. I had terrible carsickness on the drive here, so my husband insisted I find a drugstore and stock up on anti-nausea medication before we head home tomorrow!”
“Oh, I see. I hope it helps. You’re Mr. Moreno’s sister?” Clarissa asked.
The woman nodded.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Clarissa told her. “It must have been a terrible shock.”
“Thank you, dear,” the woman replied. “But to be honest, it wasn’t such a shock.”
“What do you mean?” Clarissa asked.
The woman hesitated. Then she admitted, “I wasn’t particularly close with my brother. No one was. He was….he was different. Nothing was more important to him than his money. He pushed a lot of people away over the years because of it, including me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Clarissa said.
She was surprised by how open the woman was being, but she wasn’t about to question it. She had noticed that sometimes her small town seemed to have that effect on big city folks. They were charmed by the quaint folksiness to the point where their defences went down and they spilled their guts. It was quite handy, really.
“It’s not a big surprise that somebody finally got angry enough at Al to hurt him,” the woman said. “He kind of made a habit of infuriating people. I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she added sheepishly. “I guess it’s because you have a kind face.”
Clarissa
smiled. “That’s very nice of you to say. How is the family holding up?”
“Oh, fine I think. Did you know Al?”
“No,” Clarissa admitted. “But I know his daughter…and his son.”
The woman’s face went pale. “Vinnie is in town?” she gasped. “I left him a voicemail about his father, just in case nobody else had the decency to tell him. But I never imagined he’d actually show up here! He’s really here?”
“Yes,” Clarissa replied. “I met him last night.”
Tears immediately sprang into the older woman’s eyes. “How is he?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Is he okay? Oh, I should have kept in touch. He started getting in trouble with the law and I just wrote him off. But it’s no wonder he acted out, growing up with my brother as his father!”
“Vinnie is fine, I think. He seemed upset that his sister didn’t involve him in the funeral.”
“Jo was always my brother’s favorite,” the woman sighed. “It was one of the reasons why Vinnie started getting into so much trouble, I think. All he ever wanted was to belong, to be accepted. But my brother was a tough man to get along with.”
“So I’ve heard. My name is Clarissa, by the way.”
“Cecily Amara,” the woman replied, reaching out to shake Clarissa’s hand.
Her grip was firm and her demeanor seemed sweet. She struck Clarissa as an unassuming, motherly sort of person. Maybe Cecily talked too much, but no reporter ever complained about that. If anything, it only made Clarissa take a liking to the older woman!
Clarissa decided it was time to come clean. “Cecily,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’m actually a newspaper reporter. And I’ve been investigating your brother’s death.”
“There you are!” a salt-and-pepper-haired man exclaimed as he strolled around the corner.
“Oh! Hi honey. Clarissa, this is my husband, Artie,” Cecily said.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Artie told Clarissa. His handshake was firm and his glasses were huge.
“Artie honey, Clarissa here is a reporter! She’s investigating Vinnie’s death.”
“You are?” Artie asked.
Clarissa nodded. “The circumstances of his death certainly seem suspicious. I’m not sure the police have many leads though. So I’m doing what I can to gather information and get to the bottom of what happened. I want to find your brother’s killer, Mrs. Amara.”
“Ha!” Artie snorted. “Good luck with that. My idiot brother-in-law had it coming. I bet there were dozens of people who would have loved to see him dead. He was a good for nothing, greedy piece of –”
“Artie, don’t say that!” Cecily interrupted.
“Well it’s true,” Artie insisted.
“It is true,” Cecily agreed. “But some things just shouldn’t be said, dear!”
“It’s okay,” Clarissa assured them, biting her lip so she wouldn’t grin. “My lips are sealed.”
“Good luck with your investigation,” Cecily said.
“Good luck with your trip home,” Clarissa replied. “I hope your anti-nausea pills work.”
“Me too,” Artie groaned, making a disgusted face.
Cecily looked at her husband with a flicker of hope in her eyes. “I think we might need to extend our stay, dear. Apparently Vinnie is in town! It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen him. I don’t even know what he’s up to these days. I’d really like to catch up with him.”
“Watch your purse if you do,” Artie grumbled.
He seemed like a real card. He was a gruff, tell-it-like-it-is kind of guy – Clarissa could see that plain as day. But she liked that about him. Plus his willingness to blurt out whatever came to mind made her job very easy! Both of the Amaras were fantastic in that respect.
“Shh don’t be rude,” Cecily shushed him. “Vinnie was a misguided youth. For all we know, he might have straightened up by now. Let’s give him a second chance, okay? Come on dear, let’s stop by all the hotels in the area and see if we can’t track him down.”
Intrigued, Clarissa stared after the older couple as they walked away.
Suddenly her phone started ringing.
The shrill sound of it felt like hot irons piercing her skull!
She scrambled to answer.
“Hello?”
“Oh hi,” her aunt said cheerfully. “What are you up to?”
“I’m just at the drugstore,” Clarissa replied. “I have a terrible headache. In fact, it’s so bad that I think I must be coming down with something. Maybe there’s a flu going around town.”
“It’s not the flu,” Matilda replied at once. “It’s a consequence of using the truth serum.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Oh I’m very serious,” Clarissa’s aunt told her matter-of-factly. “I told you not to do it. You weren’t ready. And for your information, loading yourself up full of medication probably isn’t going to make you feel better.”
“What will make me feel better?”
“No more magic,” Matilda replied. “You need to take a break.”
“For how long do I need to take a break?” Clarissa asked, dismayed.
“For as long as it takes,” Matilda replied in that infuriatingly vague manner of hers. “I’m not just talking about the advanced spells, either. No more making things levitate when you’re too lazy to get off the couch. No more turning time back sixty seconds when you miss your bus.”
“Sugarcomb Lake doesn’t have buses.”
“Well you know what I mean. You’re going to go on a magic detox. Once you’re feeling better, you can slowly ease yourself back into it. Now get back home and get to bed, young lady!”
“You sound like my mother,” Clarissa teased.
“Good. That’s what I was going for. I bet it’s tough being under the weather and not having her around to take care of you,” Matilda said, her tone more sympathetic now. “I never did understand why she and your father wanted to retire to Florida!”
“They thought the weather would be nicer,” Clarissa replied. “They love the sun.”
Matilda scoffed. “There’s nothing as nice as a crisp, cool autumn day if you ask me!”
“Okay, well I guess I’m going to head home now. Oh, did you need something?”
“What do you mean?” Matilda asked.
“Well….you called me,” Clarissa reminded her. “Did you need something?”
“Ah yes. Victor is very upset with you.”
“Um, pardon?”
“Victor, my ghost, is very upset with you! Well technically he’s upset with your cat.”
Clarissa furrowed her brow. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Oh never mind. You go home and get some rest. I’ll be by later to check on you.”
Chapter 15
“I’m here!”
Clarissa’s eyes popped open. There was someone standing in her bedroom!
She screamed.
Matilda screamed too, and dropped the container she was holding.
Chicken noodle soup splashed everywhere.
“Oops!”
Matilda quickly slipped her hand down the front of her dress. She rummaged around inside her bra and pulled out a container full of a powdery green substance. She sprinkled some into the palm of her hand and tossed it at Clarissa’s alarm clock.
Just like that, the clock went back sixty seconds – and the soup went back into the bowl.
“That’s better,” Matilda said. She set the soup down on Clarissa’s nightstand.
“You’re in my house!” Clarissa gasped, her heart still pounding furiously.
“The door was unlocked,” Matilda shrugged.
“But…but you’re in my bedroom!” Clarissa exclaimed in dismay.
“I brought you some chicken noodle soup,” Matilda replied. “By the way, you really ought to remember to lock your front door. Someone could just walk right in!” There was no irony in her voice. She was completely serious – and completel
y lacking in self-awareness.
“You brought me soup?” Clarissa asked, propping herself up in bed. “That was nice of you.”
“How are you feeling?”
“A little bit better, I think.” Clarissa picked up the bowl of soup and took a sniff. “Mmm,” she murmured, her mouth instantly watering. “It smells just like the stuff Mom used to make me when I was sick.”
“It’s your great-grandma’s recipe,” Matilda explained.
“How come I didn’t get the cooking gene?” Clarissa grumbled.
Just then, the cat strolled into the bedroom.
When it saw Matilda, its eyes widened. It hesitated in the doorway.
“Aha! There’s the cat!” Matilda exclaimed. “Come here, you! We need to talk!”
The cat turned around and made a hasty retreat.
When Matilda chased the cat down the hall, Clarissa really didn’t know what to think. Part of her wanted to stay in bed and eat her soup while it was still warm. But she was also curious. What was her crazy aunt up to now?
Clarissa shuffled into the living room, still holding her soup.
Her aunt was bent over the couch, trying to get the cat out from beneath it with a broom.
Clarissa only knew the cat was under there because every so often a furry black paw reached out from beneath the couch, trying to swat Matilda and her broom away. Oh, plus all that growling was a dead giveaway.
“What’s going on?” Clarissa demanded as she set the soup down on the coffee table. “Matilda, why are you harassing my cat?” Though the little monster drove Clarissa crazy on a fairly regular basis, she felt strangely protective of it.
“I just need to have a word with the cat,” Matilda explained, straightening up. “Victor is very upset. He won’t stop slamming doors and shutting lights off. It’s all very disruptive! I need to clear the air so he’ll settle down, okay?”
“Uh, you mentioned that your ghost friend was upset before but…should I even ask?”
“Some of Victor’s family members came to visit,” Matilda explained. “Victor didn’t want them staying with us. He said it was too crowded. But between you and me, I think he just doesn’t like some of them. So – and don’t get upset with me for this – he sent them to your place.”
A Sprinkle of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 8
