Desperate people did desperate things.
Though Adam Burke hadn’t initially been on the list of suspects, that was about to change.
“Hey!” a shrill, raspy female voice called out, interrupting Clarissa’s thoughts.
She looked up to see Mrs. Meddler shuffling down the street. Unfortunately, the curmudgeon was staring right at her. It was too late to make a run for the house to avoid having to make idle chit chat – or more accurately, to avoid having to listen to Mrs. Meddler complain about everyone and everything.
With a sigh, Clarissa stood up and dutifully went over to the cranky old woman. Some days she had patience for this type of thing, but not today. Today, she simply wanted to be left alone with her thoughts while she worked. The last thing she needed was an interruption.
“It’s about time someone does something about this sorry excuse for a front yard,” Mrs. Meddler announced immediately. She stared at the younger woman accusingly, as if Clarissa herself had allowed it to become overgrown. “It’s an eyesore.”
“I’ve been hired to clean it up. I’m trying to make it less of an eyesore, Mrs. Meddler,” Clarissa said brightly. “Out for a walk, are you?” she added, desperately hoping to keep the conversation brief. “I shouldn’t keep you. Enjoy the sun!”
“The sun is too bright. It’s hard on the eyes,” Mrs. Meddler complained. Then she peered around the yard. “You cut those crooked,” she announced, pointing at the hedges Clarissa had just finished trimming. “Also, those trees over there make a terrible mess in the springtime. I don’t know why anyone would want them!”
“Well it’s a good thing it isn’t springtime then, isn’t it?” Clarissa chirped, smiling with gritted teeth. “I had better get back to work – as you can see I have a lot to do. Have a wonderful day Mrs. Meddler!”
“I need some work done,” the old woman said, ignoring her cue to leave. “Can you come now?”
“Um...no” Clarissa replied slowly. “I’m working here right now,” she explained, as if that wasn’t already completely obvious. Unfortunately, Irene Meddler Logic wasn’t exactly logical. The more run-ins Clarissa had with the old woman, the surer of that she became.
Mrs. Meddler made a cluck of disapproval, as though she was insulted that Clarissa wasn’t willing to drop everything to go do chores for her immediately. “Well come over tomorrow,” she ordered sternly.
Clarissa hesitated. The thought of working for Mrs. Meddler was terrifying. But it would be foolish to refuse a paying job when money was so tight. Pushing her reservations aside, Clarissa swallowed hard. Then she nodded.
“I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning,” she promised.
“Come at noon,” Mrs. Meddler replied. “I watch my stories in the morning.”
“Okay.”
If one was wise, one did not argue with Sugarcomb Lake’s grumpiest resident. No one wanted her as an enemy. Just look at that poor pizza guy who had trampled Mrs. Meddler’s flowers while making a delivery to the house next door. In retaliation, she had accused him of murder!
Oh, Mrs. Meddler...what a gem.
“You’re not going to trim my hedges like that,” Mrs. Meddler announced, even though the ones she was gesturing to appeared to be perfectly straight to Clarissa. “I expect better than that. See you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
With that, the old woman turned and shuffled away. She was on her way to go criticize and complain to somebody else, no doubt. Clarissa was just relieved to be rid of her.
Taming Adam Burke’s overgrown front yard was going to take hours. At least it provided ample opportunity to think long and hard about the new discoveries and what they might mean. That is, as long as Mrs. Meddler stayed away.
Speaking of the fussy old busybody, Clarissa hoped she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew. Working for Mrs. Meddler could very well be a recipe for disaster. The next afternoon couldn’t be over and done with soon enough.
Chapter 12
After a long day of gardening – and hypothesizing about who could be Jed Black’s killer – Clarissa was beat. Physically, she was so stiff and sore that she could barely move a muscle. Mentally, she was drained.
What she needed (in addition to chocolate chip cookies, of course) was a distraction.
The cat was providing plenty of distractions, but unfortunately they weren’t the good kind. The four legged critter kept pestering Clarissa, first demanding to be pet and then yowling incessantly for food. It wouldn’t have been annoying had it not gone on and on.
Of course, the first two cans of cat food Clarissa opened weren’t up to the cat’s impossibly high standards. It was only after Clarissa offered the cat People Food that the yowling stopped and the gobbling began.
It was leftover rotisserie chicken from the local deli that finally got the cat to quiet down.
“That was supposed to be my dinner,” Clarissa grumbled as she watched Cat greedily wolf it down. “On the bright side, I guess that means I get to eat cookies for dinner,” she reasoned. “I can’t really complain about that, can I?”
The cat growled in response, somehow managing to do so while still gobbling. Now that the unwelcome houseguest had gotten its food, it no longer had any use for Clarissa. Oh, what a fickle little beast it was!
As Clarissa headed back to the couch, she spotted the book of potions her aunt had given her.
With all that was going on, Clarissa had all but forgotten about it. Even though she couldn’t explain how the package of cookies had levitated, she still found it hard to believe she possessed magical powers. Magic wasn’t real…was it?
Personally, she thought Matilda’s claims that they were both witches were delusional. Her poor aunt had taken a wrong turn on the way to Quirkyville and was headed straight for Crazytown. That much seemed clear.
But what harm could playing around with the recipes in The Weirdest Cookbook Ever do? It seemed like an amusing way to spend an evening. More importantly, it would be a good way to unwind.
The possibility that a recipe might actually turn out to be tasty was remote given Clarissa’s cooking skills – or lack thereof – but that was alright. That was what store-bought chocolate chip cookies were for.
Clarissa picked up the potion book and flipped through it.
“Time stopping spell,” she read out loud when she paused at a page toward the middle of the book. “Yeah right,” she grinned. “That would be awesome for when I’m running late but you know what they say: if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”
She flipped back a little further.
“A love potion!” she snorted. “Ha!”
“Meow,” Cat replied, walking over and giving Clarissa A Look.
“Not even a love potion could help you win me over, buddy,” Clarissa replied, reaching down to affectionately scratch behind the cat’s ears. But that wasn’t really true.
As much as she hated to admit it, the insufferable little beast was slowly but surely winning her over. She still spent the majority of her time wanting to strangle the cat, of course. And it still spent the majority of its time doing things that warranted strangulation. But there was something nice about no longer coming home to an empty house.
Cat chose that moment to jump up on the kitchen table and knock the centerpiece over. The ceramic vase tipped, spilling water and pretty red and orange autumnal flowers all over. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Cat nudged at the vase with its paw.
The vase fell to the floor and shattered.
“Darn it, Cat!” Clarissa exclaimed, unable to hide her annoyance. She tossed the potion book aside and grabbed a wad of paper towels. Then she quickly sopped up the spilt water before it could seep into the wood and ruin her kitchen table.
When she turned around, Cat was sitting squarely atop the potion book.
“Yeah, because I really want you dragging your butt all over that,” Clarissa muttered sarcastically. “Thanks for nothing.”
“Meow,” Cat replied m
atter-of-factly.
Clarissa reached down and carefully picked up the largest chunk of shattered ceramic vase.
“Ouch!” she hissed as a sharp edge caught her fingertip.
She dropped the vase fragment as a thin line of red appeared. Irritated, she ran her finger under the kitchen tap. Then, because the line of red didn’t appear to be going away anytime soon, she stuck her finger in her mouth. She tasted the distinct coppery flavor of blood and made a face.
“Meow,” Cat said without the slightest trace of remorse. It hopped off the book of potions. Then it sat there and stared up at Clarissa expectantly, unblinking. The tiny black animal had a strange sense of urgency about it.
“You’re so creepy,” Clarissa complained, glancing down at the book.
That was when she saw the page had been turned.
The book of potions was now open to a page near the front. There, Clarissa saw something she had failed to notice before. The potion in question was simply titled, “Undo the Past.” The description promised that exactly sixty seconds of the past could be erased by following a few simple steps.
“Likely story,” Clarissa scoffed with a roll of her eyes.
Then she took a closer look at the list of ingredients the potion called for.
“Salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and coriander,” Clarissa read out loud. “Hmm what do you know, I think I actually have all those things.” She leaned in closer and squinted at the instructions on the page. “Mix the ingredients together in equal parts, recite the Lunar Spell printed below and toss the mixture at any working clock.”
“Meow,” Cat urged.
Clarissa looked up. “This is crazy, you know,” she informed her black-furred companion. But even as she spoke, she was already racing to the cupboard to find the necessary ingredients. What harm could it do?
In no time, Clarissa had pulled everything she needed from the cupboard. She set all the ingredients out and retrieved a bowl. Then she tossed everything together in the bowl haphazardly. She felt foolish for being excited, but a tiny part of her refused to let skepticism take over. Maybe this crazy plan would actually work.
Clarissa eyeballed the quantities instead of measuring because time was of the essence…and because she was lazy. She hated measuring stuff. Besides, weren’t recipes little more than suggestions? It wasn’t like the universe would implode if one added too much sugar to a cake.
“There,” Clarissa said when she had all her ingredients mixed together in the bowl.
She quickly recited the words on the page that comprised the Lunar Spell, whatever that was.
Then she tossed a fistful of the mixture at the clock that hung on the wall by the stove.
It was only then that Clarissa realized exactly how absurd this all was. She had just chucked a fistful of spices at the wall in an attempt to turn time back sixty seconds! The vase, she quickly confirmed, was still broken on the floor. And now she had a second mess to clean up! She must really be losing it.
“Are you happy now?” Clarissa asked Cat, who had watched the whole thing with great interest.
Cat stared back at her smugly.
“Be quiet,” Clarissa muttered, even though the infuriating animal hadn’t made a sound.
With a sigh, Clarissa grabbed the dustpan and broom out of the hallway closet. Then she set to work cleaning up while the cat sat there uselessly. It was apparently “supervising” while she did all the work. Who had died and appointed the cat Supreme Leader of Everything, anyway?
It was only after Clarissa had finished cleaning up that she noticed the cut on her finger was gone. It was as though it had never even been there at all.
Chapter 13
“I am not a witch. I am not a witch.”
Clarissa paced the length of her bedroom, agitated. After a long, sleepless night, she still didn’t have a reasonable explanation for what had happened. To be honest, the whole thing had her pretty freaked out. So she was pacing, mostly because she didn’t know what else to do.
The cat sat at the foot of her bed watching.
Clarissa wanted to believe the cat was looking on with an expression of sympathy on its whiskered little face, but that was probably a stretch. Realistically, it was probably a “stop pacing so I can nap and shed all over your bedspread while I do it” expression.
“I am not a witch! I am not a witch!”
What was Clarissa hoping – that if she said it enough times it would be true?
Witches were just like unicorns, dragons and local men who were boyfriend material: they were of fairytales. None of those things were real, obviously. And people like crazy, eccentric Aunt Matilda who swore otherwise were exactly that: crazy.
At least that was what Clarissa had thought until she had realized the potion had worked. At first she had thought her attempt to set the clock back sixty seconds had been unsuccessful. After all, the vase had remained shattered on the floor.
But when the cut on her finger had disappeared, she had known the truth.
Yes, the remnants of the vase had remained on the floor. But the potion only turned time back sixty seconds. She had taken too long to concoct the potion. That was all. And there was no denying that the cut on her finger, which had at one time been rather painful, was now very much non-existent.
“Ugh, this calls for cookies,” Clarissa decided, feeling overwhelmed by her realization.
She turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen. The cat followed, likely because it had been conditioned to expect food every time Clarissa so much as set foot in the kitchen. The one-time stray had certainly become quite the spoiled, entitled little brat!
“Meow,” said the cat.
“I just fed you twenty minutes ago,” Clarissa reminded her four-footed companion.
“Meow,” the cat replied.
“Okay fine, I’ll get you a snack,” Clarissa conceded. She pulled a package of cat treats out of the cupboard and shook a few out onto the floor. Then she got her own snack.
“Meow!” the cat informed Clarissa, staring up at the package of cookies in her hand.
“No, you can’t have my cookies,” Clarissa explained, unsure of why she felt the need to explain such a thing to a feline. “They’re People Food and, contrary to what you seem to think, you’re not a people. Go on, eat your cat treats.”
If Clarissa didn’t know better, she could have sworn the cat scowled at her.
She took two cookies out and then set the package down on the kitchen counter. She made a cup of instant decaf coffee – which would have horrified Liana – and then sat at the kitchen table. She glanced over at the clock and then quickly looked away.
“Witches aren’t real,” Clarissa told herself sternly, even though she now had her doubts.
“Meow,” said the cat, hopping up on her lap. It almost managed to steal her cookies.
“Ha!” Clarissa exclaimed as she victoriously shoved both chocolate chip cookies in her mouth at once. “You might be a cat, but I have catlike reflexes when it comes to protecting my cookies!” she bragged through a mouthful of chocolatey goodness. “I win. Go eat your treats.”
The cat jumped off Clarissa’s lap, but not before diggings its claws into her thighs a little. If she didn’t know better, Clarissa could have sworn it was deliberate.
“Who was I kidding? Two cookies barely even count as a snack. I should have brought the whole package over to the table with me,” Clarissa murmured absentmindedly as she stared over at the counter. First world problems indeed!
Suddenly the package of cookies she had left over there rose up into the air. It moved toward her jerkily, reminding her of a remote control helicopter being operated by a novice pilot. Clarissa stared in fascination for a moment before the craziness of what she was witnessing sunk in.
“Whoa,” she breathed once she realized how insane it was to see the cookies levitating.
As soon as her concentration broke, the package of cookies fell from the air. It was as though she had lost her comm
and over them and gravity had suddenly taken over. The package fell onto the floor and, because Clarissa had left it undone, cookies spilled everywhere.
Cat was there in a flash, ready to gobble them all up.
“Hey!” Clarissa protested, jumping to her feet and preparing to shoo the critter away.
Then she realized she was trying to fight the cat to eat cookies off the floor. Sure, she had given the kitchen floor a thorough cleaning the previous night but even so, that was just sad. So she allowed the cat one cookie and put the rest in a plastic bag for later.
As much as she abhorred that exasperating little animal, she didn’t want it getting sick.
Clarissa glanced over at the clock again. Then her eyes widened.
“I’m supposed to be at Mrs. Meddler’s house in ten minutes!” she remembered in horror.
Clarissa sprang into action. She was moving so fast that the cat glanced up from its half-eaten cookie with an expression of awe on its face. But Clarissa barely even noticed Cat’s quiet admiration. Mrs. Meddler was waiting! The last thing she wanted was to get a lecture from the cranky old woman about punctuality, so she really had to get moving!
She was dressed – albeit not nicely – and out the door in under three minutes. Then she proceeded to drive like a madwoman until she pulled up outside Mrs. Meddler’s house with a screech. She was impressed to discover she had made it there with one whole minute to spare. She was also grateful she hadn’t gotten a speeding ticket on the way, as one certainly would have been deserved.
“I bet I’m going to get a lecture about my appearance,” Clarissa predicted wryly as she checked herself out in the rear view mirror of her car. What stared back at her was not a pretty sight.
Her long dark hair was uncombed and completely wild looking. Her makeup-free face looked rather haggard considering she hadn’t slept a wink the previous night. And her work clothes looked like…well, they looked like work clothes. Her faded jeans were torn at the knees and her flannel button-up shirt was all but ready for the trash bin.
A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 11
