A Sprinkle of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 4) (13 page)

Clarissa felt like a nuisance.  Even the cat seemed to be embarrassed by her behavior. 

Max Daniels, the young handyman she had met at the coffee shop, had been doing odd jobs around her house for the past hour.  And she had been following him around like a lost puppy, trying desperately to strike up a conversation with him.

He had been right about one thing:  he was very good at what he did.  But when he worked, he became so focused on his task that he seemed unable concentrate on much else.  As a result, all of Clarissa’s attempts to chat had mostly been met with distracted murmurs and polite grunts.

“I think I’m all done here,” Max said, standing up.  “What do you think?”

“My door frames have never looked better!” Clarissa told him sincerely.  “Now I just need to figure out how to get the cat to stop scratching them up.”  Thinking fast, she said, “I’ve got some delicious cinnamon loaf a friend baked.  Would you like some?”

“No thanks,” Max replied.  “I should be going.”

“What about coffee?” Clarissa asked desperately.  “Or tea?  Do you like tea?  I have lemonade, too!  Sit down and I’ll get you some.  Ooh or cookies!  I’m pretty sure I have some chocolate chip cookies stashed away in the cupboard.  They’re store bought, not homemade.”

Max opened his mouth, presumably to decline the cookies.

Clarissa talked over him in an attempt to convince him to stay.

“Store bought is a good thing where my baking is concerned,” she assured him with a giggle.  “The cookies are delicious, I promise!  Let me get you some!”

Max looked extremely uncomfortable.  “Look,” he mumbled, averting his eyes and shuffling his feet.  “You’re very nice and very pretty and I’m totally flattered…but I have a girlfriend.”

“You…you think I’m trying to hit on you?” Clarissa asked, horrified. 

“Well…aren’t you?” Max asked, looking equally as horrified.

“No!” Clarissa exclaimed, her face turning red.  “I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to freak you out.  For the record, I have a boyfriend I’m completely crazy about.  I promise I’m not a weirdo who tries to hit on unsuspecting handymen!” 

“Oh!” Max replied.  He was obviously relieved.  “In that case, I’d love some lemonade.”

Clarissa motioned for Max to follow her into the kitchen.  As she retrieved the glass pitcher of lemonade from the fridge, she considered her options.  Then she decided to just go for it.  Since she apparently sucked at being subtle, why not just flat out ask Max what she wanted to know?

“I’m writing an article for the newspaper, Max.  I’d love to be able to recreate the scene at the donut shop the day Al Moreno was killed, and I’m hoping you can help me.  I know you were there that day.  Who else was around?”

“Uh, just Al and his daughter Josie,” Max replied.  “I left partway through the workday.”

“Yes, I heard you had a falling out with Jo?”

“Well, more with her father.  He was being a cheapskate,” Max explained.  “He was trying to rip me off, refusing to pay me for work I had already completed.  That’s why I walked out.  I wasn’t about to give him free labor.”

Clarissa poured glass of lemonade and handed it to Max.  “How did Jo react to all that?”

“She was annoyed with her father,” Max recalled.  “He came in and started giving orders.  He complained about the quality of my work – which was top notch, by the way.  Josie tried to defend me; she told her dad to butt out.  He told her it was his business and he called the shots.”

“I see.  I imagine it was pretty insulting to have your work criticized.”

“Well yeah,” Max agreed.  “I may be young but I take pride in my work.  And as I’m sure you know, in this town word of mouth is everything.  I didn’t
want
to walk out on my job.  That’s not professional, I know.  But what other choice did I have?  Al wasn’t going to pay me.”

“Mmhmm, that’s rough,” Clarissa murmured.  “Are you sure you won’t have a cookie?”

Even as she was acting hospitable, she was secretly sizing Max up.  He was clearly passionate about his job, and fiercely protective of his reputation.  Al Moreno had threatened that.  Had Max, in a fit of rage, driven his car at the unreasonable older man?

Clarissa couldn’t picture the talkative, unassuming young man killing anyone.  He struck her as an open book – and a somewhat dull one, at that.  If anything, he had a tendency to overshare.  He seemed way too forthcoming to be guarding a dark secret like being involved in a hit and run.

But Clarissa knew that sometimes appearances could be deceiving.  So could first impressions.  She wanted to keep the handyman talking.  Maybe he would slip up and incriminate himself.  So she waved a plate of cookies under his nose and hoped they would entice him to stay a bit longer.

“No cookies for me, thanks,” Max said.  “I really do have to go.”

“Okay.  Thanks for doing such great work,” Clarissa said, grabbing her wallet.  “And sorry for any awkwardness I may have inadvertently caused!” she grinned sheepishly, still flustered by the uncomfortable misunderstanding. 

No sooner than Max was gone, Clarissa heard a familiar scratching noise in the hallway.

She raced over to find Cat sitting there.  The bratty feline was slowly and methodically dragging its claws over the freshly touched up wooden doorframe.  Clarissa was beside herself. 

“Stop it!” she hollered.

The cat ignored her.  It was extra infuriating because Clarissa knew now without a doubt that the cat understood her!  It was just deliberately choosing to ignore her.

“Stop it right now!  I mean it!” she tried again, raising her voice even louder.

The little brat kept scratching.

“You’re doing this just to spite me, aren’t you?  You
know
I just spent hard-earned money getting your scratch marks sanded down.  You are such a hateful little monster!  Do you think this is funny?  Or are you on some kind of stupid power trip?”

The cat acted like she didn’t even exist…and kept right on scratching.

Furious, Clarissa scooped the cat up.  Holding the struggling and now-growling creature under her arm, she jammed her feet into her ratty old comfortable sneakers.  Then she stormed outside toward Sugarcomb Forest.

“Put me down!” the cat demanded indignantly in heavily accented English.

“Oh sure,
now
you talk,” Clarissa retorted.  “You think I’m pretty stupid, don’t you?  You think you can just get away with all your terrible antics.  Well I have news for you!  You can’t destroy my house any longer because I won’t stand for it!  There are consequences for your actions!”

She stopped at a tall tree at the perimeter of the forest. 

There, she plunked the flabbergasted cat down on the ground. 

“You want to scratch?  Scratch to your heart’s content!” she said angrily, gesturing to the tree trunk.  “And don’t you dare even
think
of coming home until you’ve got all your scratching out of your system, understand?”

“But I don’t want to scratch anymore.  Right now I want a nap,” the cat replied.

“Then nap out here!”

“But I want to nap on the couch,” the spoiled little beast pouted, acting as entitled as ever.

“You know what?” Clarissa snapped.  “I don’t care what you want.  Learn some respect!”

Feeling rather proud of herself for finally taking a stand against the demanding, destructive little beast, Clarissa turned around and prepared to go back to the house sans cat.  That was when she saw a bright red jeep driving erratically down the road.

Shielding her eyes, she squinted against the setting sun. 

She was almost certain the jeep was the one that belonged to Morris Norman. 

She couldn’t be sure, but the driver didn’t appear to be Morris or his wife.  From where Clarissa stood, it looked like someone much shorter and thinner.  That was odd. 

Her intuition was screaming at her to get a better look.  Clarissa raced back to the house.  But she knew that based on how fast the jeep was traveling, there was no time to go inside and hunt for her car keys.  So she grabbed the broom that was propped up near the door.

Flying wasn’t as easy as the witches on TV made it look.  Clarissa still struggled with maintaining control over her broom – and she also grappled with her fear of heights.  But she was determined not to let the driver of the red jeep get away, so she mustered up all her courage.

Then she hopped onto her broom and soared up into the air.

Somehow, Clarissa managed to stay on her broom.

It was no small feat, either.  She had to be very careful as she flew through the air. 

Not only did she have to avoid treetops and light standards; she also had to avoid being seen.  The sight of a woman flying through the air on a broomstick would have been too much for sleepy Sugarcomb Lake to handle!

Thankfully it was dusk.  Clarissa used the cover of near-darkness to her advantage.  As she flew on her broomstick, she kept a close eye on the red jeep down below.  Unfortunately, that meant she
had
to look down!  Given her fear of heights, Clarissa did not appreciate that one bit!

When the red jeep turned onto the street where the Normans lived, Clarissa’s heart sank.

Had she been mistaken?  Was the driver of the red jeep actually Morris or Barbara?  It hadn’t looked like either one of them from a distance, but maybe Clarissa’s eyes had been playing tricks on her…

If she was up in the air scared half to death all for nothing, she would be so annoyed!

Clinging to her broom for dear life, Clarissa scanned her surroundings in search of a secluded place to land.  She settled on the alley behind the Norman house.  Her heart pounding in terror, Clarissa navigated her way down to earth. 

She made a shaky, less-than-graceful landing.  But the important part was that she landed!

Once her feet were back on solid ground, Clarissa propped her broom against a trash can.  Then she went running down the alley toward the street.  She made it around the corner right as she heard a car door slam.

Immediately, she saw that the driver of the jeep was most definitely
not
Barbara or Morris Norman.  It appeared to be a young boy of about thirteen or fourteen years old.  Feeling validated, Clarissa sprinted the rest of the way to the jeep. 

“Hey!” she called out breathlessly as the teenager began to skulk away. 

The boy glanced over his shoulder.  His eyes widened when he saw Clarissa headed toward him.  He broke into a run, trying his best to get away from her.  Unfortunately, he was a much faster runner than she was.

Clarissa may not have been an athlete, but she was cunning. 

“Wait!  You dropped your phone!” Clarissa hollered.

It was a little white lie, but it worked.  The boy stopped in his tracks and reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans.  He pulled out his phone – which had not been dropped – and looked at it in confusion.  During that time, Clarissa closed the distance between them.

“You tricked me!” the teenager exclaimed, as though he couldn’t quite believe it.

“I did,” Clarissa affirmed.  “Did the Normans give you permission to drive their jeep?”

“Yes.”  The boy said one thing, but his shifty eyes said something else entirely.

“Really?” Clarissa asked skeptically.

“They’re my neighbors,” the boy said, his voice cracking.  “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“How old are you?” Clarissa demanded.  “Thirteen?”

“Nearly fourteen,” he told her defensively. 

“Ha, I figured as much.  There’s no way the Normans gave you permission to drive their jeep, you liar.  You’re not even old enough to drive!”

The boy swallowed hard, appearing nervous.  His eyes darted around as though he was searching for an escape route.  He looked like he wanted to run, but Clarissa had cornered him.  There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide – and they both knew it.

“What’s your name?” Clarissa demanded.  “And don’t even think of telling another lie.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the boy replied, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

“No, you don’t have to tell me anything,” Clarissa agreed.  “Why don’t I just call the police and let
them
find out your name?” she suggested in a pleasant tone.  She didn’t actually have her cell phone with her, but she put on her poker face and hoped for the best.

“Don’t!” the boy pleaded.  “I’ll be grounded until I’m thirty!”

“Were you out joyriding?” Clarissa asked knowingly, hands on her hips.

“Yes,” the teen admitted, hanging his head guiltily.

“This wasn’t the first time, was it?” she pressed, hoping her hunch panned out.

“It isn’t the first time,” the boy confessed.  “But I always bring the jeep back!”

“What’s your name?” Clarissa asked again.

“Justin,” he told her in a near-whisper.

“And your last name?”

“Brown…Justin Brown.”

“I saw the red jeep parked downtown the other day,” Clarissa told him.  “It was the day of the hit and run – I’m sure you’ve heard about that.  You were joyriding that day, weren’t you?”

The boy nodded.

“Justin,” Clarissa said in a gentler tone, “I need you to be really honest with me.  What happened that day?  Did you lose control of the jeep and hit Mr. Moreno?” she asked, wondering if the whole thing had been some kind of bizarre freak accident rather than a murder.

“No!” Justin insisted adamantly.  “I’m a good driver!  I play tons of video games.”

“Hmm, okay,” Clarissa murmured.  “Well did you see anything unusual that day?”

He shook his head.  “I parked the car by the donut shop and went to the comic book store down the street.  You can ask anyone.  Ask the shop owner!” he exclaimed impassionedly.  “He’ll remember I was there for sure – he caught me trying to steal a comic book!”

Clarissa raised an eyebrow.  “I wouldn’t be so quick to brag about that if I were you.”

“Oops.  Yeah, you’re right,” the teenager admitted with a charismatic half-grin that suggested he would continue to pursue five finger discounts in the future.  “I shouldn’t have done that.  But the comic book store owner can totally vouch for me.”  He hesitated and then asked, “I guess you’re gonna call the cops now, huh?”

“No,” Clarissa replied. 

“You’re not?”

“Nope,” Clarissa said cheerfully.  She had a fate far worse than that in mind for the teenaged troublemaker.  “Come with me,” she ordered.

Clarissa marched Justin right up to Barbara and Morris Norman’s front door.  She rang the bell and waited patiently.  When Barbara came to the door, she announced, “Justin here has been borrowing your jeep to go joyriding.  Haven’t you, Justin?”

A couple minutes later, Clarissa strolled away from the Norman house feeling proud of the way she had handled things.  Behind her, she could still hear Barbara Norman lecturing Justin.  She was giving him the sternest of stern lectures! 

With a grin, Clarissa circled back to the alley to retrieve her discarded broomstick.

“I am awesome,” she whispered under her breath.

Unfortunately, Clarissa wasn’t able to retrieve her broom. 

A pickup truck was parked in the back alley.  Two men were loading tree branches and armloads of weeds into the back of it.  Clarissa muttered angrily under her breath.  She had nothing against gardening or those who enjoyed it.  But the timing was rather inconvenient. 

She
could
have walked past the men to grab her broom, but she didn’t want to make them suspicious.  Besides, it wasn’t like she could hop on the broomstick and fly when there were witnesses!  So she had to wait.

Annoyed, Clarissa decided to take a brisk stroll around the neighborhood. 

The exercise would be good for her, and maybe it would help her clear her head.  With any luck, by the time she returned for her broom the two men in the back alley would be done loading up their pickup truck.

At first, Clarissa just wandered aimlessly.  She admired well-kept front yards and enjoyed the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.  But once her mind turned to Al Moreno’s murder, she decided to stop by to visit Jo. 

She arrived at the quaint little house with the red front door and stood outside uncertainly.

What was she going to say to Jo? 

Truthfully, Clarissa wanted to know more about Al.  Had he been as awful as people said, or had there been another softer, sweeter side to him?  Who better to answer that question than his own daughter? 

Then there was Al’s feud with Vinnie.  Clarissa desperately wanted to hear Jo’s opinion on that!

But how, exactly, was she supposed to broach the topic?

Saying “hello, I was just in the neighborhood and would love to dredge up the past” didn’t exactly cut it.  Times like this, Clarissa wished journalism school had taught her how to tactfully handle delicate situations.  But perhaps there was no way to be tactful about it.

Just as Clarissa was contemplating ringing the doorbell, a car pulled into the driveway.

She whirled around to see Jo getting out, a couple paper bags of groceries in her arms.

“Hi!” Clarissa exclaimed, rushing over.  “Let me help you with those!”

“Thanks,” Jo replied.  “What are you doing here?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Clarissa told her lamely.  “I know we’ve had a tough time connecting lately.  I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“That’s nice of you,” Jo said.  She looked tired.  “I’d invite you in, but unfortunately I have to rush out to another appointment,” she said.  “I’m just here to put the groceries in the fridge and then I’m off again.”

“Oh, I see.”  Clarissa had trouble hiding her disappointment – Jo was very difficult to catch at home!  She shifted the bag of Jo’s groceries she was holding to her other arm.  Then she observed, “It sounds like you’ve been keeping busy lately.”

“Yes, that’s an understatement.  But I really do have to go,” Jo said as they approached the front door.  “The realtor won’t be pleased with me if I’m late.  You can just set the bag down here,” she added.  “Thanks for the help.”

Jo had given Clarissa a hint that she ought to leave.  But Clarissa chose to ignore it. 

“Realtor…?  Are you moving?” she asked.

“I am,” Jo nodded.  “There’s nothing for me here in Sugarcomb Lake anymore – no offence.  I’m going to head back east.  This house and my father’s condo are both going on the market first thing tomorrow.  I’m not sure yet what’s happening with the donut shop.”

“Where is your father’s condo?” Clarissa asked eagerly.

Jo gave her a curious look.

“A friend of mine is in the market for a new place,” Clarissa fibbed.

“Ah.  It’s that new lakefront condo development,” Jo said, pausing to rub her bloodshot eyes.  “The name escapes me at the moment – I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” she explained apologetically. 

“No worries.  I know the one you’re talking about,” Clarissa replied.  “I’ll uh…I’ll be sure to mention it to my friend,” she said.  Immediately, she felt guilty.  She hadn’t meant to lie, and she certainly didn’t want to give Jo false hope about a non-existent prospective buyer!

“Take care,” Jo said.

“Maybe we can get together before you leave!” Clarissa began.  Then she trailed off.

It was too late.  Jo had already disappeared inside the house.

It was a shame Jo was leaving town, though Clarissa really couldn’t blame her.  It would have been nice to make a new friend.  It wasn’t often that young women Clarissa’s age moved to Sugarcomb Lake! 

“Oh well,” Clarissa whispered to herself as she headed off to retrieve her broom.  “It was still a good day.  I found out who’s been joyriding in Morris Norman’s jeep! 
And
I kept my broom in the air while I was doing it!”

Her spirits lifted, Clarissa continued walking with a bounce in her step.

When she reached the alley, she was pleased to find the two men from earlier were gone.

Clarissa hopped on her broom.  Then she flew off toward Al Moreno’s vacant condo, feeling like the best sleuth in the world. 

Well, maybe second best.  She had a feeling the best sleuth in the world would have found Al Moreno’s killer by now.  But she wasn’t about to give up.  She was determined to get to the bottom of things no matter what it took!