“I witnessed a confrontation or two back in high school. They were always more interested in strutting around than in taking a fight too far. There would be bloody noses and bruises, sure, but they always stopped to brag before things got worse than that. Killing doesn’t seem like something they would do.”
“You said yourself that people can change,” Parker reminded her. “Greg did.”
“I guess,” Clarissa said uncertainly. “But I feel like we’re missing something. Besides, it sounds like the night of the party all Greg was interested in was getting Amy’s attention. He basically even abandoned his kid brother because he was so preoccupied.”
Clarissa’s head snapped up.
Parker met her gaze.
“Do you think it could be the brother?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“It could be,” Parker replied, apparently thinking the same thing she was.
“We know Shane was at the party – I saw him myself when I got there,” she recalled, her words tumbling out faster and faster the more excited she became. “He was standing outside by himself. He wasn’t wearing a costume, either.”
“Maybe he took it off.”
“Yes! He was out of his element. He’s younger than almost everyone who was at the party, so he probably didn’t have anyone to hang out with. He had tagged along with Greg, the brother he apparently idolized. But Greg ended up ditching him to pursue Amy. What if –”
“What if he was angry about being ignored?” Parker chimed in, speaking as rapidly as Clarissa was. “Maybe anger issues run in the family, or maybe he’d had one beer too many and was out of control. He rages silently for a while, the resentment at being ignored builds up –”
“And then he confronts Greg!” Clarissa exclaimed triumphantly.
“They argue and it turns physical. The next thing you know, Greg is dead.”
“But Shane isn’t exactly in good shape,” Clarissa pointed out apologetically, her enthusiasm dwindling. “He’s tall but he isn’t necessarily strong. Do you think he would have been able to overpower Greg? Shane is a videogame junkie, not a gym junkie.”
“Yeah, but maybe Greg started binge drinking after Amy ignored him. Or maybe Shane caught Greg off guard and managed to tie him up. If he got in a good hit from behind, then I can see how it may have been possible for Shane to gain the upper hand.”
“Good point. It would be a fluke of sorts, but I suppose I could see it happening.”
“Since you seem convinced Sam isn’t our guy, this theory seems the most plausible.”
Parker still didn’t seem entirely convince that Sam Swanson was innocent, but Clarissa was glad he seemed willing to trust her instincts. It was good to know he respected her opinion – and intuition – enough to do so.
“Do you still have a source at the police station?” Clarissa asked, hopeful that they might be able to rely on Parker’s news reporter connections. “I’d love to know if they did a post-mortem on Greg. If he was intoxicated, it supports our theory that Shane could have overpowered him.”
“Unfortunately, my source at the police station isn’t available right now,” Parker sighed. “But you and I did both see the tail end of the initial fight ourselves. I’ve seen belligerent drunks in action before. Greg’s coordination didn’t seem to be impaired.”
“That’s true,” Clarissa agreed. “So in all likelihood, the Greg-being-drunk scenario is wrong. So what actually happened, then? How did Shane manage to overpower Greg? Was it dumb luck or something else? We need more information. We have to talk to Shane again.”
“Should we head over there now?” Parker suggested.
She shook her head. “Today is the day of Greg’s funeral,” she informed him.
She knew because she had printed the announcement in her newspaper. And speaking of newspapers, hers needed attention. As usual, Clarissa was swamped. It seemed her work was never ending. The second she got caught up, another week had passed and another deadline was looming. It was exhausting, not to mention time-consuming.
“Well I guess I should go,” Parker announced.
“Oh. Okay.”
Clarissa had tons of work to do. But even so, she felt a pang of reluctance when Parker announced he was leaving. Having him in her house was nice. It was so much better than turning the TV up loud to drown out the deafening silence.
And unlike the cat, Parker actually paid attention to her when she spoke – in fact, he hung on her every word. He also refrained from unearthing her potted plants and using them as a litter box, which she appreciated.
She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Clarissa walked Parker to the door. Once he was there, he stopped and turned to face her. They stood there awkwardly in the entryway for what felt like a million years, staring into one another’s eyes.
Clarissa became convinced Parker was going to kiss her, and her heart began to pound.
“Well, bye,” Parker said, abruptly tearing his gaze away.
“Oh! Bye!” she barely managed to choke out. She felt flushed.
She locked the door behind Parker. Then she raced to the window to watch him get into his car. When he drove away, she felt a sudden twinge of sadness. It was weird. She had started out hating the guy and now she wanted nothing more than to spend all her time with him.
Clearly Parker was right: she must have experienced a mental break!
Chapter 15
No sooner than Clarissa sat down at her desk, the cat decided to distract her.
Clarissa kept several potted plants on her living room windowsill. She loved bringing the outdoors inside. It was especially nice to have flowers in bloom and greenery growing even when the weather was too chilly for gardening.
The cat, however, appeared to disagree.
Countless times now, the cat had decided to “garden” – which meant tipping the pots over and spreading the soil everywhere. On one horrific occasion, the cat had even used said soil as a makeshift litter box, of sorts.
The really infuriating thing was a perfectly clean litter box had been available.
Clarissa was ninety percent sure the cat’s antics were for the sole purpose of driving her crazy. And some days she was fairly certain the cat’s evil plot to make her insane for its own twisted amusement was working.
Today was one of those days the cat apparently felt like gardening.
One moment the furry feline was parading around atop the windowsill, daintily sidestepping plants while it scanned the front yard for birds to meow at. The next, a pot had tipped over. The loud crash it made was hard to miss.
“Hey!” Clarissa exclaimed in annoyance.
The cat didn’t seem at all upset by the mess or her disapproval. If anything, it seemed intrigued by the mess it had made. Maybe it was even a bit excited. It immediately jumped to the floor and began to investigate.
The good news was the flowerpot was plastic, so had remained in one piece when it hit the floor.
The bad news was that the cat was making the mess even bigger by flopping down and rolling around in the spilled soil.
“Don’t do that! Get away from there!” Clarissa ordered, shooing the cat away.
The cat arched its back and hissed at her defiantly, as if insinuating Clarissa was the one who was truly at fault. Then it turned and strolled out of the room as though nothing had happened. Its behavior would never cease to bewilder and exasperate!
Clarissa walked to the closet and retrieved her broom.
She was just about to start sweeping when she remembered she didn’t have to. Sometimes it still slipped her mind that she could perform magic. But she could. And she knew a handy little spell that would allow her to turn the clock back. How convenient!
Racing into the kitchen, Clarissa hurriedly whipped up her go-to solution for all spill, over-snoozed alarm clock and egged house related catastrophes. The potion to turn time back sixty seconds consisted of salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and coriander. It was simple, but effective. And it was so much better th
an having to clean!
With a fistful of the concoction, Clarissa walked over to the clock on the wall. She quickly recited the lunar spell her aunt had provided her with – by now, she knew it by heart. Then, when she was finished, she tossed the spices at the clock.
She did it a second time for good measure.
Just like that, the hands of the clock moved backwards.
When Clarissa checked, she saw that her potted plant was still on the windowsill, unharmed. The cat was still there too, so she promptly opened the fridge. That brought the cat running – and kept it from murdering yet another innocent plant.
Once the cat was greedily lapping up the cream Clarissa had poured for it, she retrieved her broom from where she had hastily discarded it. Then she did something she found herself doing on a regular basis – sweeping up the spices that were all over her floor beneath the clock.
“This is the only bad part of the spell. The cleanup kind of defeats the purpose of using the spell to avoid cleaning up, doesn’t it? But as Matilda would say, every spell is accompanied by a consequence. The bigger the spell, the bigger the consequence,” Clarissa informed the cat.
Well, basically she was talking to herself as the cat was too busy slurping to listen. It was practically inhaling the cream! But Clarissa liked to pretend the cat was paying attention. Talking to her troublesome housemate – even if it was a freeloading cat – made her feel slightly less crazy than she would feel had she been talking to herself.
Clarissa finished sweeping and then stared at the broom wistfully.
“I really wish I had been able to fly,” she sighed.
Truthfully, she didn’t even like heights. But still, it would have been pretty cool to be able to hop on a broomstick and fly. It would have been awfully helpful, too, to be able to get past the fence and get inside the holiday shop.
“Oh who am I kidding? I probably wouldn’t have found anything useful in there anyway,” Clarissa said, mostly to try to make herself feel better. “Unless there was an identical grim reaper costume sitting right there in the middle of the store, I’d have been wasting my time.”
“Meow,” said the cat before retreating to the living room to shed all over everything.
With thoughts of breaking and entering still on her mind, Clarissa’s attention turned back to Shane. Then her eyes widened. It was the day of the funeral! That meant the Klassen house would be empty while everyone attended the service!
She didn’t have much time, but she had a fantastic opportunity to do some sleuthing.
Well, some would call it illegally entering a home. But “sleuthing” sounded more pleasant.
Clarissa ran out to her car with nothing but her keys. Though she tried to stay calm, her hopes were high. She was about to do something terribly illegal, but with any luck, enormously helpful. She just hoped that searching the Klassen house would help her confirm whether Shane was, in fact, Greg’s killer.
The fastest way to get to the Klassen residence was to take Main Street. That meant driving past the bakery, the bookstore, the coffee shop and the library. And the holiday shop.
As luck would have it, the store owner was back from vacation. In fact, he was standing outside, affixing a gorgeous sparkly gold wreath to his front door.
On a whim, Clarissa pulled over with a screech. She was in a hurry, yes. But she could afford to spare a few seconds of her time thanks to her rather aggressive driving.
“Getting started early, huh?” she called out to the shop owner. “Halloween is barely over!”
“I know, but this is my busy season,” he called back. “Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas are so close together! I have a lot of inventory to set out. At this rate I’m going to be working late every night from now until Christmas Eve!”
“Well then I won’t take much of your time,” Clarissa said, relieved that he wouldn’t try to keep her there making idle chit chat. “I was just wondering if you could help me out with something. Did you by any chance sell grim reaper costumes this past Halloween?”
“Yes, I had three in stock,” the shop owner confirmed. “But I don’t have any left.”
“Do you happen to remember who bought them?” Clarissa asked hopefully.
“As a matter of fact, I do. I sold one to Joe Porter. His wife Patricia was with him and she was absolutely livid that he was planning to dress as the grim reaper. She said it was offensive. She was also trying to make him wear a costume that matched hers. He wasn’t having it.”
“I see,” Clarissa said. “And who else bought a grim reaper costume from you?”
“Um, let me think. One was the man who delivers my mail. I can’t think of his name. Is it John? James? Or is it Jamie? I’m quite sure it starts with a ‘J’ but it seems to have slipped my mind. As for the other one, it was the Klassen boy.”
Clarissa’s breath caught in her throat.
The shopkeeper sighed. “It’s such a shame about what happened to his brother, isn’t it?”
“It is. It really is. Thank you for your help. I have to go!”
She practically sprinted to her car as the befuddled shop owner looked on in confusion. He must have thought she was desperate to get her hands on one of those grim reaper costumes! But in actuality, she was frantic to prove that Shane Klassen had been wearing a grim reaper costume the night of Greg’s murder.
The evidence against him was piling up. He had been at the party the night Greg died, and he’d likely had a reason to be upset with his brother. And apparently he had purchased a grim reaper costume from the holiday shop.
Finally, a break in the case!
Now all Clarissa had to do was confirm her suspicions.
She raced over to the neighborhood where the Klassen family lived. The driveway was empty. That was a good sign. Clarissa checked her watch and confirmed that the funeral was underway at that very moment. The house was almost certainly empty.
But it didn’t hurt to double check.
Clarissa stopped her car right out front. Leaving it idling, she raced up to the front door and peeked in the window. There were no signs of life inside, nor could she hear any noises that would suggest the home was occupied.
She rang the doorbell.
No one answered.
To be on the safe side, she waited a moment and then knocked loudly.
Still, no one answered.
“Okay, good,” Clarissa whispered under her breath. “No one is home. It’s time to snoop!”
Clarissa returned to her car and drove around the corner. There was no sense in parking right out front for anyone and everyone to see her. That seemed like it would be asking for trouble. And it only took a second to move it – especially if she disregarded stop signs.
Once she had stashed her car out of sight, she got out and took a deep breath. Then she hurriedly approached the house via the back alley. That way no neighbors would see her prowling around and become suspicious.
When Clarissa found a gate leading into the backyard, she breathed a sigh of relief. She really hadn’t wanted to try to hop the fence, and even if she had brought her broom along it wasn’t as though she could actually fly on it. She had to be the worst witch in history, ugh.
Reaching as high as she could, Clarissa managed to unlock the gate. It swung open easily. Feeling like the world’s best detective Clarissa walked right into the back yard, easy as pie.
Once she was in the backyard, she looked around. She noted the brown, patchy lawn was covered in fallen leaves. Most people had raked their lawns long ago in anticipation of winter, but apparently the Klassen family was the exception.
The remnants of an overgrown garden also caught Clarissa’s attention. Dead plants stuck out of the cold, hard soil. Nothing had been pulled up at the end of the season. The gardener in Clarissa yearned to make that space beautiful again. She knew that a day or two of hard work could make a world of difference.
But she wasn’t there to landscape.
She was there to catch a
murderer.
Before she approached the house, Clarissa took note of the rest of the backyard. Off in one corner there was a small storage shed. Its door was open and swinging slightly in the breeze. In the middle of the yard was a rusty lawnmower that looked to be about a million years old.
“Maybe it wouldn’t have rusted so badly if they didn’t store it in the middle of the yard,” she mused. Most people stored their lawnmowers inside their sheds. Was the Klassen family’s shed too full to hold it?
It didn’t really matter.
Clarissa had much more important matters to concern herself with. And she didn’t have a lot of time to spare. She had to get in and out of the house in a hurry. She just hoped she would be able to get into the house easily. She already felt bad about snooping; the last thing she wanted was to have to break a window.
As it turned out, luck was on Clarissa’s side.
Sugarcomb Lake was the sort of small town where everyone left their doors unlocked. Or at least they had before the lakeside paradise had become the site of a murder. Most folks were probably a little more cautious these days. But even so, Clarissa knew that old habits die hard.
She crossed her fingers that this would be one of those times.
As luck would have it, it was.
Clarissa was delighted to find the back door unlocked. This was almost too easy!
She opened the door and walked inside. She was truly the world’s best detective! Well to be fair, she was probably the world’s luckiest detective. But the ease with which she was going about her business gave her a huge confidence boost.
The modest and somewhat dated kitchen looked the same as she remembered. The only real difference was that the bouquets on the table were beginning to wilt. She took a quick look around. When she didn’t notice anything of interest, she went off in search of the bedrooms.
The very first one she found had to be Shane’s.
It was a cluttered, dishevelled mess – what one would expect of a young single man in his early twenties. Movie posters were plastered on the walls and video games were strewn all over the floor. Judging by the amount of them, the kid was extremely passionate about his video games!
A Hint of Magic Page 13
