A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1) (6 page)

“Tell me what you know,” Parker urged.

“You first,” she insisted.  “And just for the record, we are
not
a team!  I work alone.”

“Of course you do,” he agreed, completely unfazed by her surly attitude.  “Well according to my source, Jed Black was shot once and the gun was left at the scene.  The gun belongs to William Babcock.  He’s Bonnie Black’s father.  I also understand she and Jed weren’t exactly on good terms.  According to their maid, they slept in separate bedrooms.”

“And because of that, the police jumped to the conclusion that Bonnie is the killer?”

“You have to admit, the evidence is kind of compelling,” Parker admitted.  “But if you know something I don’t, I’m all ears.  What makes you think Bonnie Black
isn’t
the killer?”

“Since when does The Green City Chronicle care about getting all the facts straight?” Clarissa asked.  “Back when I was working for the Gazette, your father’s paper had a bit of reputation.  Fact checking was more of a suggestion than a rule, if you get my drift.  No offence.”

“No offence,” Parker chortled.  “That’s rich coming from you, considering all you ever try to do is offend me!  But unfortunately, I know exactly what you’re talking about.  It doesn’t mean I approve.  I’m committed to ethical and accurate reporting.  When I take over the Chronicle next year I fully intend to repair its reputation.”

“You’re taking over the Chronicle?” Clarissa asked in surprise.

“Yes, my father plans to retire next fall.  Probably a good thing, if you ask me.  He’s – how can I say this?  He’s more interested in playing golf than in maintaining the integrity of his newspaper.  He’s not a bad guy, I swear.  He just delegated a bit too much…and to the wrong people.”

“If you say so,” Clarissa replied, unsure if she believed him.  Parker sounded awfully sincere, but maybe he was just a good liar.  She wished she had some way to read his mind and know for sure whether he was being truthful!

“It’s your turn.  Tell me what you know,” Parker urged.

“I know that Bonnie Black didn’t kill her husband,” Clarissa announced with conviction.

“Okay.  And how do you know that?”

She hesitated before reluctantly confessing, “I talked to her.”

“And...?”

Clarissa reddened and said nothing.

“Let me guess.  Bonnie Black told you she’s not the killer,” Parker surmised.  “So therefore she...isn’t?  Because no killer in history has ever lied, is that it?”

Scowling, Clarissa once again eyed that scarf and considered strangling Parker.  “It’s not like that,” she insisted.  “And I would appreciate it if you would quit implying I’m an idiot with no common sense.  If you don’t want to take me seriously then fine, but I believe Bonnie.  Call it intuition or...whatever.  I believe she’s innocent.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.  If I did, I wouldn’t be here.  So what’s your theory, then?”

“Maybe Bonnie is being framed because she’s an easy target.  There are whispers around town about her being a gold digger.  Considering there were already rumors floating around about the state of their marriage, she would be easy to implicate in the murder.”

“If she’s being framed then it would presumably be by someone local,” Parker concluded.

Surprised – and pleased – that he was entertaining her theory, Clarissa nodded.  “That’s right.”

“One problem though,” Parker said.  “The murder weapon belongs to Bonnie’s father.”

“Bonnie made a remark to me when I visited her,” Clarissa recalled.  “She asked me how I knew her husband.  Then she said she had wondered if I was...well, she didn’t finish the thought.  But the implication seemed pretty clear.  I got the impression maybe he wasn’t exactly faithful, you know?  Maybe her father found out.”

“You think he may have shot Jed in a rage?”

“Crazier things have happened, no?” Clarissa shrugged.

“True,” Parker agreed.  “But the murder weapon was left behind.  That’s awfully sloppy, no?”

“Maybe he’s a really bad criminal?  I don’t know.  Maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”

“Maybe we should
both
pay him a visit,” Parker suggested.

“That’s not necessary,” Clarissa replied quickly.  “Like I told you, I work alone.”

With a shrug, he didn’t pursue the matter.  Instead, he asked, “I don’t suppose you have any idea who Jed’s mistress or mistresses might have been, if he actually was cheating?”

The image of Jed Black’s secretary crying at the site of his murder immediately flashed into Clarissa’s head.  He hadn’t had the best reputation, so she couldn’t imagine that he was simply a wonderful, beloved boss.  And the secretary was young and pretty, not to mention someone he would have worked in close proximity to.  She seemed like a safe bet.

“Let’s focus on one lead at a time,” Clarissa suggested, declining to answer the question. 

She felt slightly guilty about withholding her hunch from Parker after all he had shared with her.  But to be fair, she
had
warned him they weren’t a team.  If he thought otherwise it really wasn’t her problem...right?

“You have it.”

Clarissa was caught off guard by the strange statement.  She took a step back, startled by the woman who had stepped out from the alley behind the grocery store.  Then she realized it was the eccentric panhandling woman she had encountered in the forest.

“Beg your pardon?” Clarissa replied, looking longingly over at the grocery store entrance.  She didn’t want to be standing at the edge of the parking lot having a bizarre conversation with an equally bizarre woman.  All she wanted was to go inside and buy some chocolate chip cookies!

“You have it,” the woman said again.

“Have what?” Clarissa asked, scrunching up her nose in confusion.  Then it dawned on her.  “Oh, you mean money?  I’m sorry, I don’t have any change.  I only have my bank card on me,” she said truthfully. 

The woman waved her hand dismissively.  “I don’t want your money,” she said.  Then, without offering any further explanation, she pointed to the bracelet on Clarissa’s wrist.  Apparently she was a woman of few words – and it was rather infuriating! 

Clarissa looked down at the bracelet.  She remembered the bratty black cat stealing it and carting it off into the woods never to be seen again.  Except after the lightning strike, the bracelet had inexplicably been back on her wrist.  She supposed she had pushed the strange occurrence from her mind until then because it had left her feeling uneasy.

“Did you return my bracelet to me?” she asked, trying to make sense of things.

“No, but I saw what happened that night.”

“What do you mean?” Clarissa asked, quickly growing frustrated by the woman’s vagueness.

“The black cat follows you,” the woman said.  “Do you know why?”

“Is it because it’s an insufferable little beast that delights in tormenting me?” Clarissa guessed wryly.  “In other words, is it because it’s a cat?”

The woman didn’t even crack a smile.  Instead she stared at Clarissa with frightening intensity, as though a fire burned inside her.  Her eyes seemed to be full of secrets, some of which she appeared to want to divulge. 

“It’s your animal guide,” she said, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say.

“It’s my
what
?” Clarissa asked, unsure of whether to laugh or walk away.  Was this woman crazy?  She seemed pretty crazy.  Maybe she was completely insane and talking nonsense.  But something in her eyes made Clarissa stay put
and
refrain from laughing.

“What happened in the woods that night changed you,” the woman said matter-of-factly.  “The lightning strike changed you.  I can see it in your aura.  I see auras,” she added matter-of-factly.  “Your aura has a touch of magic in it.”

“I uh...I have to go now,” Clarissa stuttered, completely shaken by the absurd suggestions.  Clearly this woman was off her rocker.  Even worse, her delusions seemed to be fixated on Clarissa after that night in the woods!  So creepy!

“You should be careful!” the woman called as Clarissa hurried away.

That was frightening.  Was it intended to be a threat?  Cookies were, shockingly, no longer Clarissa’s top priority.  All she wanted was to get away from the strange woman who had been lurking in the alleyway behind the grocery store. 

Walking quickly, Clarissa returned to her car.  She got in and locked the doors.  Eager for something to take her mind off the strange encounter, Clarissa turned her thoughts back to the murder that had rocked Sugarcomb Lake.

She felt a lot of pressure to get to the bottom of what had actually happened. 

She felt a sense of responsibility toward Bonnie Black, who her gut told her was innocent. 

She felt a sense of pride with regard to her own reputation as a reporter. 

And, as petty as it was, she wanted to one-up Parker Tweed and The Green City Chronicle.

Although she and the big city news reporter had shared some of what they knew with one another, it didn’t mean they were friends.  Clarissa was still wary of him and considered him her number one rival.  The Chronicle had snuffed out her job at the Gazette and a teensy tiny part of her really just wanted revenge.

Parker had suggested going to visit Bonnie’s father together.  Obviously, Clarissa had shot that idea down.  She had always been very independent.  Perhaps some would even say she was a bit of a lone wolf.  And the last person she wanted to team up with was Parker.  He was a Tweed and Clarissa had found out the hard way that Tweeds couldn’t be trusted.

That was why she didn’t feel guilty about going behind his back.

Clarissa drove into Green City herself. 

She didn’t bother to let Parker know she was paying Bonnie’s father a visit.  She wasn’t at all interested in collaborating and she certainly wasn’t interested in helping Parker further his career.  That smug know-it-all with those perfect teeth and his dumb, fashionably draped scarf were the least of her worries.

She told herself she couldn’t call Parker anyway, as she didn’t know his phone number.  She deliberately chose to ignore the fact that it was probably in the phone book just as William Babcock’s home address had been.  It was easier to bask in ignorance than to admit that she was being kind of sneaky.

Clarissa found the Babcock residence with relative ease.  She only made three wrong turns and had two minor incidents of road rage which was pretty good for her.  And then she was there, pulling up in front of a small, modest bungalow on the outskirts of Green City.

If Clarissa was going to be a proper sleuth, she knew she needed to pay close attention to detail.  So rather than drive right up to the house with a screech, jump out of the car and make a beeline to the front door, she took her time.  In fact, she decided to drive right past the house and then circle back.

She drove slowly so that she wouldn’t miss a single detail.  In fact, she drove so slowly that she couldn’t help but imagine herself as a little old lady peering over the steering wheel of her gigantic, mile-long monster of a car.  It wasn’t in Clarissa’s nature to drive slowly.

The house itself was nothing special.  It looked tidy and well-maintained, but very small.  The neighborhood itself was no different.  It didn’t appear to be a high crime area.  There was no graffiti anywhere to be seen, there were no bars on windows and the streets were clean and devoid of litter. 

But it was plain to see it was a working class neighborhood – a far cry from the Black mansion.

If anything, it helped Clarissa understand Bonnie Black a little better. 

If this house was where she had grown up, then she had probably had a “rags to riches” experience when she’d married wealthy businessman Jed Black.  No wonder she had opted to stay in a loveless marriage rather than return to her humble beginnings.  It wasn’t a choice everyone would make, but it added some legitimacy to Bonnie’s version of events.

Trying to be thorough, Clarissa took note of the well cared for lawn, the neat little flowerbed by the house and the cheap but cute Halloween decorations in the front window.  It was a small, cozy house not unlike the one Clarissa herself had grown up in.

The one anomaly was the sleek, fancy red sports car parked in the driveway.

Clarissa didn’t know a lot about vehicles, but she knew the car she was looking at was very pricy.  By the looks of the Babcock home, the family wasn’t wealthy.  So why did they drive such an expensive looking, flashy car? 

“Maybe Bonnie gave it to them,” Clarissa mused aloud.  The thought was a jarring one.  Was it an overly generous gift from a daughter who lived a lifestyle most could only ever imagine?  Or was it payoff for, say, getting rid of Jed for her?

“No,” Clarissa said, sounding as crazy as the wild-haired, aura-seeing woman as she argued with herself.  “Bonnie didn’t have anything to do with her husband’s death.  I’m sure of it!”

But what if her father took it upon himself to kill Jed Black?

Hmm…that was a possibility.

Well, there was only one way to find out for sure.

Clarissa unbuckled her seatbelt and was just about to step out of her car when the front door of the Babcock residence opened.  Out walked none other than Parker Tweed!  And as Clarissa looked on in disbelief, he walked over to the flashy red sports car and got behind the wheel.

She was seeing red! 

Impulsively, Clarissa stormed over.  She stood there glowering at him through the window until he noticed her.  He went to roll the window down but she opened the door right up. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she demanded, practically breathing fire.

“I’ve heard of road rage but this is a bit excessive, don’t you think?  I’m not even moving yet!”

She wasn’t in the mood for jokes.  She scowled at him.  “You came to visit without me.”

“And you came to visit without me!” he pointed out, ever reasonable.  “How can you get mad at me for doing the exact same thing you were about to do?  On what planet does that even make sense?  You’re just upset that I beat you to it.” 

That only infuriated Clarissa more.  Any guilt she had felt over withholding certain details from Parker was instantly alleviated.  Right now the only emotion she felt was anger.  How dare that vile man step on her toes
and
look so good doing it! 

She didn’t want to let him know how much he got under her skin.  That would give the smug jerk far too much satisfaction!  So she took a deep breath to calm herself.  Then in a sugary sweet tone she informed her arch nemesis, “I hope you got what you wanted.  Have a wonderful day.” 

With that, Clarissa she flipped her hair, stuck her nose in the air and sauntered over to the house as if Parker Tweed didn’t exist.  Then she knocked on the front door like a woman who meant business.

When she snuck a peek over her shoulder she saw that Parker’s eyes were still on her.  She couldn’t help but smile to herself.  He may have won the battle but she was winning the war.

The front door to the house suddenly opened, startling Clarissa.

“Yes?” a white haired gentleman clad in jeans and a camouflage jacket asked.

“Hi!” Clarissa said, wondering how she was going to talk her way inside.  Since she didn’t have a better idea, she opted to go with the truth.  “I’m an independent reporter from Sugarcomb Lake and I was wondering if –”

“I’m sorry,” the man interrupted her wearily.  “No comment.”

He began to shut the door. 

“Wait!” Clarissa cried out, sure Parker was still watching and not wanting to look stupid.  “I know Bonnie.  I was there when she was arrested and I think the whole thing is a complete farce.  I
am
a reporter, but I’m also dedicated to finding out the truth about what really happened.  Your daughter says she’s innocent and I believe her.  I want to help!”

The man who Clarissa suspected to be Bonnie’s father froze. 

He appeared to be mulling over her words, silently sizing her up and assessing her credibility. 

Then he opened the door up a crack.

“You really mean that?” he asked, as if he was afraid to even hope.  “Most of the reporters who have been coming around here are only interested in making Bonnie out to be a monster.  My little girl is no monster, and she’s no killer either.”

“I know,” Clarissa nodded.  “But I think the police have a different idea.”

The man’s face darkened.  “What did you say your name was, again?”

“Clarissa,” she said, sticking her hand out.  “Clarissa Spencer.  And you’re William Babcock?”

“Call me Will,” he replied, shaking her hand gratefully.  Then he opened the door right up.  “Come in,” he said, ushering her inside.

A little voice in the back of Clarissa’s head reminded her that William Babcock was a suspect.  He may very well be a cold blooded killer – and there she was about to walk into his house!  A teensy, tiny part of her was reluctantly grateful that she had run into Parker outside.  At least now someone knew where she was.

Steeling herself, Clarissa entered the house.

Upon looking around, she was immediately reminded of her own childhood.  The quarters were cramped but cozy.  Handmade quilts were everywhere – on the couch, the matching recliners and even on top of the coffee table.  The one on the coffee table was clearly a work-in-progress.

A tired looking woman glanced up from where she sat on the couch, hunched over the coffee table.  She had a spool of thread in one hand and a tape measure between her teeth.  She spit the latter out and looked from Will to Clarissa and back again.

“Dear, this is Clarissa Spencer,” Will said.  “She’s a reporter investigating Jed’s murder.”

Dismay flashed in the woman’s bloodshot eyes.  It was clear she had been crying a lot – and not sleeping much at all.  The bags under her eyes and the way her shoulders slumped made her a pitiful sight. 

“I thought we agreed, no more reporters,” she said quietly.

She was probably hoping if she kept her voice down, Clarissa wouldn’t hear her words.

But Clarissa did overhear.  She decided to speak up before she got booted out of the house. 

“I actually live in Sugarcomb Lake,” she said.  “I’ve lived there all my life, except for when I went away to college.  I know your daughter.  You
are
Mrs. Babcock, correct?”

The woman stood up, grimacing and rubbing her knee as she did so.  “Yes, I’m Helen.  You’re a friend of Bonnie’s?” she asked, her demeanor changing as she began to let her guard down.  “Sit, please.  Can I get you some tea?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Clarissa said politely as she sat on the couch.  Then, in an effort to put the couple at ease – and hopefully get them to open up to her – she added, “These quilts are really beautiful.  Did you make them all yourself, Mrs. Babcock?”

“Oh, those...yes, quilting is a hobby of mine.  Right now it takes my mind off of things,” Helen sighed.  “As I’m sure you can imagine, I haven’t had a lot of sleep lately.  I need something to keep my brain occupied or I’ll go crazy.  I’ve been beside myself ever since we got the horrible news.  What’s happened to Bonnie isn’t right.  It’s a travesty!”

Though Clarissa was there to investigate, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the older woman.  Helen Babcock looked absolutely awful.  Her face was drawn and haggard-looking and the way she carried herself suggested she was utterly exhausted.  Clarissa found herself wishing with all her being that the poor woman could finally get some much-needed rest.

“What’s really the travesty is the shoddy police work!” Will raged, pacing around the living room like a caged lion.  “Those lazy sons of guns want an open-and-shut case!  They don’t care about finding the truth.  They just want a conviction, and my daughter is the perfect scapegoat!”

“Will, please try to calm down,” Helen pleaded, wringing her hands in distress.  “You know what the doctor said about your blood pressure.  I know this is stressful, but you have to try not to get so heated, dear.”

So, Bonnie’s dad had a temper.  Good to know.

“If those good for nothing cops would have heard us out –” Will hollered, his face turning red.

“I’m here to hear you out,” Clarissa interrupted in what she hoped was a soothing voice.  She wanted to placate Will before he turned his anger on her and kicked her out of the house.  So she tried to refocus his attention.  “Please, anything you can tell me will help immensely with my investigation.” 

What she didn’t add was that hotheaded, gun-owning father-in-law William Babcock was on her list of suspects.  It wouldn’t have been polite to bring that up while a guest in his home.

Will grumbled but said nothing.  Instead he stomped over to the window and stared outside, silently seething.  Unsure of how to handle him, Clarissa turned her attention back to his mild mannered wife.

“What can you tell me?  Anything at all,” Clarissa urged gently. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Helen said, shaking her head sadly.  “I still have trouble believing this is even happening.  It feels like a bad nightmare,” she said, her shoulders beginning to tremble.  She put her face in her hands and began to sob.

Will was at his wife’s side in a flash.  He had stopped huffing and puffing and no longer gave the impression that he was a volcano on the verge of erupting.  Now he was, in his macho, gruff way, trying his best to console Helen.

“It’s okay, dear,” he murmured with surprising tenderness.  “Why don’t you go rest?”

She nodded and leaned against him as he helped her to her feet.

Will looked over at Clarissa.  “Maybe this isn’t the best time,” he began apologetically.

“No,” Helen insisted, immediately shutting that idea down.  “You talk to her, dear.  Answer all of her questions.  Tell her everything.  Maybe she can help Bonnie – and goodness knows our poor girl needs all the help she can get!”

Clarissa waited patiently as Will helped Helen to bed.  She could hear them talking in low voices and though she couldn’t hear what was being said, it sounded as though Will was trying to soothe his distraught wife.  He seemed brusque but it was clear he had a soft spot for his family. 

What that meant, exactly, wasn’t yet clear.

Clarissa was grateful to be left alone for a moment.  It allowed her to take in her surroundings without any distractions.  She took the opportunity to walk around the small living room and study the various family photos hanging on the walls.  There were a lot of them!

There were photos of Will and Helen together with Bonnie.  There was another woman in some of the photos, a brunette with a pixie cut and a pleasant smile.  She bore a striking resemblance to Bonnie.  It had to be a sister. 

There was also a photo of that same woman wearing a wedding dress, gazing lovingly into her beaming groom’s eyes.  Bonnie could be seen in the background, holding a bouquet of roses and wearing a lilac colored bridesmaid dress.