A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1) (11 page)

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.

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 matter-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.

“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 command 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.

Ah well.  She was there to work, not to put on a fashion show! 

Climbing out of the car, Clarissa walked up to Mrs. Meddler’s front door.  She was extremely careful not to step on any flowers in the process.  Everyone in town knew that doing so would likely result in outrageous accusations from the old woman.  The last thing Clarissa needed was for Mrs. Meddler to spread a malicious rumor that
she
had killed Jed Black!

Clarissa rang the doorbell and waited.

After a moment Mrs. Meddler came to the door looking annoyed.  She looked Clarissa up and down, her lips pursed in disdain.  “What do you want?” she finally demanded.  “I’m not buying anything from you!” she added sternly.

“I’m, uh…I’m not selling anything,” Clarissa replied in bewilderment.  “You asked me to do some yard work for you today,” she reminded the old woman, wondering if Mrs. Meddler was starting to go senile. 

“Oh, right.  I don’t need you anymore,” Mrs. Meddler said abruptly.  “I have someone better.”

Just then a young man who looked like he had stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine appeared behind the old woman.  He had a glass of lemonade in one hand and a delicious looking gingerbread cookie in the other. 

“Have another cookie,” Mrs. Meddler told him.

“I’ve already had three, ma’am,” he laughed, setting his glass of lemonade down.  “I had better get to work,” he said.  Then he stepped outside and followed Clarissa down the front path. 

Clarissa couldn’t help but watch in annoyance as the young man began pruning a tree.  With his designer clothes and perfect posture he made yard work look like a breeze.  She didn’t think he was even sweating.  It was so unfair:  he had taken her job
and
her cookies right out from under her, plus he looked good doing it.

“Oh who am I kidding?” Clarissa whispered to herself.  “Mrs. Meddler wouldn’t have offered
me
any cookies anyway!” 

As she watched the young man with more than a little pang of jealousy, Clarissa realized she recognized him.  He was the same guy Mrs. Meddler had pointed out to her the day she had visited the site of Jed Black’s murder. 

He was the kid who had grown up right down the street and had, by some miracle, completely won the cranky old woman over.  He had shoveled her sidewalk, mowed her lawn and done odd jobs for her.  Or at least he had until he had gone away to college.

Clarissa felt a small, embarrassing twinge of satisfaction as she realized Mr. College-Educated was now, once again, doing yard work to earn a living.  Of course she herself was doing the exact same thing, so it didn’t exactly make sense to act all smug.  But thankfully if Clarissa was good at anything, it was applying logic very selectively.

She marched over to him.

“Hi,” she said, extending her hand.  “I don’t think we’ve met.  I’m Clarissa Spencer.”

He turned and looked at her.  “Chase Preston,” he replied.

“Sorry if this is weird, but I heard through the grapevine that you knew Jed Black.”

“I did,” Chase confirmed.  “Such a shame, what happened to him,” he added.

“Yes, it really is.  Hey listen, could I talk to you for a second?  Please?”

Chase raised an eyebrow.  He slowly, deliberately set the gardening shears down and looked Clarissa over.  “What did you say your name was, again?”

“Clarissa Spencer,” she reminded him.  “I used to work for the Gazette.  I’m a reporter,” she explained.  “I’m doing some independent research and I’d really appreciate being able to speak with someone who used to work with the mayor.”

“Well I’m not sure how much help I can be,” Chase cautioned. 

“You worked at the mayor’s office, right?”

“Yes, after I worked at Black & Burke.”

“Wait, you worked at the investment firm too?” Clarissa asked with great interest.

“Uh huh, but I mostly worked with Adam Burke.  I was his personal assistant,” Chase explained.  “Then later when the mayor’s office was looking for an intern, Adam pulled some strings and got me the job.”

“You were Adam Burke’s assistant?” Clarissa repeated, barely able to believe her good luck.

“Yeah,” Chase nodded.  “I did work directly with Jed Black in his capacity as mayor, but to be honest, my job wasn’t very glamorous.  I didn’t have a lot of direct contact with him – only with his staffers.”

“But you would have had direct contact with Adam Burke at the investment firm, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“How was he as a boss?” she asked, redirecting the conversation. 

“Adam was great,” Chase replied without hesitation.  “Being his assistant was a demanding job, but it was also rewarding.  And not to brag or anything, but I was pretty awesome at it. Adam – I mean Mr. Burke – joked that he almost didn’t want to get me an internship at the mayor’s office because he hated to lose me.”

“But he pulled strings for you to get the job?”

“Well…yeah.  He basically just recommended me for the position,” Chase shrugged. 

“You two must have been close,” Clarissa mused, noting that Chase kept calling Adam Burke by his first name and then correcting himself.  “I imagine he could really use your help now that he’s running the investment firm singlehandedly,” she added.

“That’s what I thought.  I offered to help,” Chase told her, confirming what Clarissa already knew.  “But I was told everything is under control down there.  It’s just as well, really.  My days of being Adam’s assistant are in the past.”

“Oh.  I had assumed you might be returning to work for Adam now that, er, your position with the mayor’s office is presumably gone.  Or will you be continuing your work with the new mayor?” Clarissa asked innocently. 

Chase reddened.  “Don’t get me wrong, I was really good at my job,” he said.  “I was really good at
both
of my jobs,” he corrected himself.  “I was an honors student,” he added proudly. 

“So was I,” Clarissa replied, hoping to establish some common ground.

“Cool.  But yeah, I’m beginning to think the business world isn’t for me.  I’m planning to take a year off to travel,” Chase admitted.  “Oldest cliché in the book, I know.  But I figure I should do it now while I’m still young…no offense.”

“I took a semester off to ‘find myself’ too,” Clarissa confided, ignoring the implication that she was no longer young.  “I went on a solo road trip through eight different states.  It was quite the adventure, or at least it felt like it back then when I was twenty.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you find yourself?”

Clarissa blinked.  “Oh.  No.  I had a summer fling with a lying cheating scumbag who broke my heart,” she confessed.  “For the record, I don’t recommend doing that.  I was a sniveling mess for a long time afterward.  No guy – or girl – is worth it.”