A Hint of Magic (7 page)

Parker chuckled at that.  “I’m sure you wouldn’t be afraid to parent your kids,” he speculated.

“I wouldn’t!” she proclaimed.

He seemed satisfied with that.  But when he didn’t say anything else, Clarissa was left wondering what was going on inside that head of his.  She couldn’t take the suspense any longer, so she finally came right out and asked.

“What?” she demanded.

“I’m sure you’d make a great mom,” he said simply.

Taken aback, she scanned his tone of voice for sarcasm.  There was none.

It was difficult not to read things into that.

To keep from going crazy, Clarissa tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay, so we’ve talked to Mikey, Zack, Amy and Jenny,” she said, changing the subject.  “We still need to talk to Amy’s boyfriend Sam.  And in light of what Jenny told us, I think we ought to pay a visit to Greg’s mom.  Do you think it’s too soon?”

Parker looked as hesitant as Clarissa felt.  Finally he said, “I don’t think there’s
ever
a good time to drop in on someone whose son has been murdered.  We may as well get it over with because waiting isn’t going to make it any easier.  Let’s just try to keep it quick and be respectful, okay?”

“Definitely,” Clarissa agreed.  “I guess we’ll swing by the Klassen house after we talk to Sam.”

As much as she liked to work alone, it was kind of nice having Parker there.  It made even the most difficult things easier.  Maybe she wasn’t such a lone wolf after all.  Or maybe Parker was simply different from everyone else she knew.

“Excuse me!” Clarissa called when she spotted a young, dark haired man leaving an apartment building.  She bolted from her car, leaving the keys – and Parker – in it.  Then she practically sprinted across the parking lot.

The good looking man turned and looked at her.  “Yes?”

“Are you Sam Swanson?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah…I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Clarissa Spencer,” she said, extending her hand.  “I went to high school with Amy.”

“Oh,” he smiled, instantly relaxing.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he confirmed.

“Welcome!”

“Thank you.  Um, I was just about to head out to buy groceries,” Sam said, gesturing to his truck.  “Is there something I can help you with, Clarissa?”

“Actually, yes, there is.  I was wondering if I could talk to you about the Halloween party at Liana’s place.  She’s my best friend and we feel terrible about what happened,” Clarissa explained, talking fast.  “I’m actually investigating the murder and –”

“Wait a second,” Sam interrupted, holding up his hand.  “Are you a police officer?”

“No, I’m a reporter.”

“Oh.  Well with all due respect, I think you ought to let the police do their job.”

Clarissa thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully.  “Look, Sam, I know you’re new in town.  Because of that, you probably don’t know what the cops are like here,” she told him.  Lowering her voice conspiratorially, she informed him, “They have a reputation.”

“Oh?” he asked with great interest.  “And what might that reputation be?”

“They’re basically useless,” Clarissa told him with a shrug.  “Ask anyone.  Most of the police on the force are just in it for the paycheck and the pension plan.  They don’t care about actually serving and protecting.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” Clarissa said authoritatively.  “But I know you didn’t know that.”  She gave him a brilliant, charming smile.  “In light of the local police force’s incompetence, I guess you can understand why I need to step in and investigate.  Now, if I could just ask you a few questions…”

Sam had a funny look on his face.  “You don’t know much about me, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m getting ready to start a new job soon…a job at the Sugarcomb Lake Police Station.”  He looked at Clarissa pointedly.  “I’m a cop.”

She gulped.  “Oh,” she squeaked.  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He chuckled at that, though he seemed somewhat tense.  “You haven’t offended me,” he assured her.  “If anything, you’ve made me worry about what I’m getting myself into.  I guess if that’s how people here feel about cops, I’ll have my work cut out for me.”

“I –”

“Look Clarissa, I appreciate your honesty.  And I appreciate what you’re trying to do.  But surely you understand that I have to be careful about how I conduct myself right now.  I have a job to think about.  If you want to keep looking into things behind the scenes that’s your prerogative, but I think my official answer is going to be that you should let the police do their job.”

“If only they would,” she sighed.

“Well good luck,” Sam said before climbing into his truck. 

Clarissa stood there feeling dumb as Sam backed up and pulled away.

“How did it go?” Parker asked, walking over.

“Don’t ask,” Clarissa replied.

“So we didn’t find out anything useful?”

“He’s a cop,” Clarissa said.  “He starts a job here in town soon.”

“Oh,” Parker winced.  “So he’s not talking?”

“He’s not talking.”

They slowly made their way back to Clarissa’s car. 

“Do you think we should talk to Greg’s mom today?” Parker asked, glancing at his watch.

“It’s getting late, isn’t it?  Why don’t we wait and do that tomorrow,” Clarissa suggested.  She had a feeling they were both chickening out but neither one wanted to admit it.  So using the time as an excuse worked.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up at your place in the morning.  Should we grab a bite?”

Clarissa hesitated.  She wanted to say yes but she had already spent most of her day chasing leads and asking questions.  “I have a cat at home that’s going to be very angry if I’m not there to feed it soon,” she said apologetically.  “When it gets angry, it destroys my house.”

Parker chuckled.  Apparently he thought she was joking.  “I can wait while you feed the cat.”

As tempted as she was to take him up on the offer, Clarissa knew she had other priorities.  “I have to finish the next issue of my paper,” she confessed.  “I’m way behind.  I’m afraid my evening is going to consist of catering to the cat and working.”

“I’d like to try to talk you into going out to eat with me, but I understand,” Parker said.  He looked at her with awe.  “How do you even do it?” he asked.

“Sometimes I don’t know.  Cats are so fickle,” she grumbled.

“Ha no, I meant how do you singlehandedly run a newspaper?  I have a whole team of staffers and even then we’re always running around like chickens with our heads cut off.  I can’t imagine the pressure you must be under,” Parker said.  “Your work ethic is really admirable.”

“Liana doesn’t think so.  She says I’m a workaholic.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Clarissa admitted.  “But right now I pretty much have to be.  The paper is new and just getting established.  This is a crucial time,” she said, hoping that Parker of all people would be able to relate.

“You’re right,” he agreed, much to her relief.  “I just hope for your sake that there’s an end in sight.  No one can work the long hours you’re working without burning out.  And I don’t want you to burn out.”

“You don’t?  It would eliminate the competition,” Clarissa pointed out.

“A little professional rivalry is good, right?  You keep me on my toes,” Parker winked.

Clarissa blushed and said nothing.

“Would you mind dropping me off at my car?” he asked.

“Well I
was
planning to make you walk,” she teased.  “But okay, come on.”

“Meow meow meow,” the cat said later that night as it paraded around on top of Clarissa’s head.

She sat up with a start, causing the furry beast to hiss and retreat to the couch.  She had fallen asleep at her desk yet again.  And, by the feel of it, she probably had the imprint of her arm on her face.  How lovely!

Clarissa glanced outside.  It was dark out. 

She yawned and stretched.

That was when she saw a shadow go past the living room window.

She gasped.  “Did you see that?” she whispered to the cat.  Was her mind playing tricks on her?

The cat was apparently upset that it hadn’t been permitted to prance around atop Clarissa’s head.  It stuck its nose in the air and ignored her.  The stupid thing was completely useless as far as security went.  It got freaked out by dust particles and imaginary predators, yet didn’t react at all when real live people were lurking around outside. 

Then again, maybe Clarissa had imagined the shadow.  She was overtired and overworked.  It wouldn’t be a stretch for her to see something that wasn’t actually there.  That was what exhausted, stressed out brains did, wasn’t it?

Suddenly there was an awful racket against the side of the house.

Clarissa jumped.

The cat dove under the couch.

Thinking fast, Clarissa grabbed a broom out of the entryway closet. 

She wasn’t sure what she intended to do with it, exactly.  Was she going to beat the intruder with it?  Probably not, but it made her feel somewhat more secure to have it.  It was better than going out there emptyhanded, anyway.

Rather than charge outside blindly, Clarissa took a more cautious approach.  She crept over to the door, opened it a crack and peered outside.  What she saw was enough to make her blood boil with rage.

None other than Zack Bishop stood out there.  He had a beer bottle tucked into the crook of his arm and a carton of eggs in his hand.  The big dumb oaf was egging her house! 

Enraged, Clarissa stormed outside.  “Are you kidding me?” she hollered at Zack, her voice ringing out loud and strong.  “You have
got
to be kidding me.  This is so pathetic.  We’re not in high school anymore.  Grow up, Zack!”

Zack looked startled to see her there.  Apparently he hadn’t planned on being caught in the act.  He looked around frantically as though hoping to take cover somewhere.  Then he apparently realized that it was no use, as she had already called him by name.

“I’m not Zack!” he called back in a high-pitched voice that sounded different than his own.

Clarissa rolled her eyes.  Did he really think that would fool her?  How stupid was he?

She took a step forward.  “I know it’s you, Zack.” 

He clumsily lumbered into the woods that surrounded Clarissa’s quaint, cottage-like house.  Then he stood behind a tree.  He apparently thought he was
a lot
thinner than he actually was, because the tree did very little to conceal his rotund frame. 

It would have been comical had Clarissa not been so angry.  But she was livid.

She wasn’t afraid of Zack Bishop.

She charged toward him, broom in hand. 

That was when she felt something weird.  The broom felt funny in her grasp, almost as though it was trying to get away and float upwards.  It was a strange sensation that was difficult to explain.  It was almost as though there was a giant magnet in the sky that was trying to pull the broom toward it.

Clarissa stopped dead in her tracks.  She was vaguely aware of Zack not-so-quietly running away, but her attention was now focused on the broom.  She stared at it in disbelief, wondering how an inanimate object could possibly come to life.

Then again, Clarissa had made small objects levitate on occasion.  She was still working on summoning sweet treats with her mind – it took a lot of concentration to keep them from falling.  But she was getting there.  If
that
could happen, then it wasn’t completely outside the realm of possibility that a broom could come to life, right?

The broom was really trying to pull away from her now.  It was as though it was determined to fly up to the moon.  The whole thing was pretty spooky.  Clarissa let go of the broom, fully expecting it to shoot straight up into the air.

Instead it fell to the ground, a slave to gravity after all.

“Am I going crazy?” Clarissa asked herself.  “Hmm, well I
am
talking to myself,” she reasoned.  That probably wasn’t a good sign.  She was even answering herself.  That definitely wasn’t a good sign!

She left the broom where it was.  Then she hurried back to the house, pausing only momentarily to shake her head at the mess Zack had made.  She knew what she would be doing in the morning:  scraping eggs off the side of her house.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Clarissa. 

She raced inside and grabbed her potion book. 

It was essentially a recipe book for witches, gifted to her by her aunt.  The downside was that Clarissa didn’t cook and wasn’t particularly good at following instructions.  But she had messed around with the particular spell she had in mind before.  She knew it wasn’t too hard.

She quickly mixed up the ingredients she needed – salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and coriander.  She made a huge batch.  Then she grabbed a fistful and threw it at the clock in her kitchen.  She grabbed another fistful and did the same thing.  She continued doing it until she ran out of the fragrant concoction. 

To an outsider, she must have looked completely crazy.  There she was throwing spices at the wall!  Her kitchen floor was a mess and she seemed like she had totally lost it.  But there was a good explanation for her behavior.

Each fistful of the “potion” that was thrown at the clock turned it back sixty seconds.  Clarissa had effectively managed to turn time back.  She was proud of herself for remembering the spell. With any luck it meant she wouldn’t need to clean splattered egg off the side of her house in the morning.  She just hoped she had measured the proportions correctly.

She walked outside to check and was pleased to find her house devoid of egg.

Zack drove up in his pickup truck while she was out there, his headlights off.

He got out, eggs in one hand and an open beer in the other.

Clarissa turned on her porch light and stared him down.

His eyes widened.

“Can I help you, Zack?” she asked coolly.

“I uh…I…no,” he mumbled, obviously caught off guard.

Then without another word, he climbed back into his truck and drove away.

Clarissa went inside and called the police.  She provided a description of Zack’s truck and advised that he had a container of open alcohol in his vehicle.  She had no idea if the police would actually follow up, but it was worth a try.

She sat down, still thinking about the strange business with the broom.

She picked up her phone and then hesitated.  She really wanted to call her aunt, mostly to reassure herself that she wasn’t imagining things.  But it was early.  Actually, it was basically the middle of the night.  It would be rude to call and wake Matilda up, wouldn’t it?

Suddenly Clarissa’s phone rang.

She let out a shriek and dropped it on the floor.

The cat looked at her like she was a moron.  After all, that was what phones did:  they rang.

Clarissa gingerly picked the phone up and checked to see who was calling.  It was her aunt.  That was strange.  In fact, it was way too coincidental for comfort.  “Matilda?” she said in a trembling voice.  “Is everything alright?”

“You can call me day or night,” Matilda replied cheerfully.  “I don’t mind.”

“How did you…?”

“I’m a witch,” Matilda laughed.  “And I happen to be a witch with mild psychic abilities.  I might not be able to pick winning lottery numbers, but I’m
very
intuitive – especially when it comes to people I care about.  I could tell you were thinking about me.”

“That’s so creepy!” Clarissa exclaimed.

“When you were a kid you thought my powers were fun,” Matilda reminded her.

“I was like, four.  I didn’t know any better.”

“You’re still every bit as feisty now as you were then, I see.  So what’s up?”

“Uh, my broom,” Clarissa replied.  “Tonight it seemed like it had a mind of its own.”

“It doesn’t,” Matilda replied calmly.  “You control the broom, just like you have the power to make objects levitate.  It’s all you, my dear.  But the level of concentration required to perform your magic varies considerably depending on the time.”

“Um…what does that mean?”

“When there’s a full moon, you’ll find the broom far easier and less taxing to maneuver.  The same goes for lunar eclipses – and if I’m not mistaken, there was a lunar eclipse tonight.”

“How can you talk about this stuff so nonchalantly?” Clarissa demanded.

“I live it every day,” Matilda replied, sounding unconcerned.  “To me, it’s normal.”

“So you’re telling me I can fly on a broom just like witches in the cartoons do?” Clarissa asked incredulously.  The thought was absurd.  Even though she had witnessed traces of magic here and there for herself, sometimes she still wondered if her eccentric aunt was completely insane.

“Well not exactly like the witches in cartoons.  Cartoons aren’t real, silly.”

“Witches aren’t supposed to be real either,” Clarissa couldn’t resist pointing out. 

“So I’m not real?  You’re not real?  Give me a break,” Matilda laughed.  “I really do have to be getting back to sleep.  I have an early morning class to teach at the college tomorrow.  Promise you’ll be careful with the flying broomstick, okay?  Don’t go too high until you get a feel for it.  And steer clear of power lines – I nearly made that mistake myself once!”

With that, Matilda hung up.

Clarissa stared at her phone in utter disbelief.  Her aunt had claimed she would guide Clarissa in her pursuit of magic, helping to ease her into the world of witchery.  Yet Matilda had a bad habit of neglecting to tell Clarissa Very Important Things. 

How did Matilda teach college courses for a living when she was so scatterbrained?

With a sigh, Clarissa stood up. 

She briefly contemplated going back to bed, but she couldn’t justify doing so when there was so much to be done.  Besides, the sudden and unexpected impact of eggs hitting her house had jolted her wide awake.  Trying to fall asleep would probably be an exercise in futility. 

After putting on a pot of coffee, Clarissa found herself pacing.  Her thoughts were all over the place, so the likelihood of her solving Greg’s murder right then and there was slim-to-none.  And the last thing she felt like doing was working on the newspaper.  A break was in order.

“Hmm, what should I do now?  Ooh, I know.  Here Cat!” Clarissa called, picking up the cardboard box the kitty favored over all its toys.  “Come here!  Let’s play!”  She stuck her hand inside the box and scratched against the side of it in an attempt to garner interest.

Though Clarissa hadn’t particularly wanted to be a cat owner, she was actually glad this one had barged into her life.  Besides, technically she wasn’t really a cat owner.  It was more like she was owned by the cat.  But at the moment, Clarissa’s owner seemed completely disinterested in playing hide-and-seek with the box.

“Why is it that cats only want to play when you’re busy?  Then they want nothing to do with you when you have time for them.  Are they doing it on purpose, just to mess with us humans?” Clarissa wondered aloud. 

Cats, she decided, were like the universe’s idea of some big cruel joke.  And worst of all they were too cute and fluffy to be called out on their obnoxious behavior.  It meant they could get away with pretty much anything.

She grabbed a cup of coffee and a whole fistful of baked goods.  After setting them on the coffee table, she flopped down on the couch dramatically.  “I wish
I
was cute and fluffy,” she told the cat jealously. 

The cat, of course, paid her no attention whatsoever.  It would most likely continue to deny her existence until deciding it wanted food.  Then, suddenly, it would do an about face and stalk Clarissa relentlessly until she catered to its every whim. 

Cat behavior was completely absurd, yet strangely effective. 

***

The next time Clarissa was jarred awake, it was by a knock on her door.  She sat up with a start.  Then she stumbled over to the door in a half-asleep haze.

Parker stood outside.  He was dressed in dark slacks and a sophisticated, masculine black trench.  One of his signature scarves was draped around his neck in a manner that was both fashionable yet effortless.  He looked very put together and professional, in a subdued sort of way.

He was holding a brown paper bag, the contents of which smelled like heaven.  Well, heaven and freshly baked blueberry muffins.  Yum! 

He held the bag up.  “Breakfast,” he said.

“How did you know that was the magic word?” she smiled, opening the door wider.  “Come in.”