A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1) by Alaine Allister Page B

conference that makes them look like heroes.”
    Pursing her lips, Clarissa nodded.  Parker was only confirming what she had suspected. 
    “What I don’t understand,” Parker continued, “is how you got here so fast.”
    “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning ignorance.
    “You were right behind Bonnie Black’s police car,” Parker pointed out.  “How did you find out she was the killer?  It was almost as if you knew she was going to be arrested.  In fact, I think you must have known.  Now I’m curious.  Who’s your source?”
    “First of all, I don’t have a source,” Clarissa said coldly.  “I do my own legwork, unlike some people.  And secondly, Bonnie Black didn’t murder her husband.  So you’re going to look awfully foolish when you have to retract whatever you’re planning to print in the paper!”
    Instead of replying, Parker slowly and methodically walked around to the passenger side of the car.  Then, without an invitation, he opened the car door and climbed in right beside Clarissa.
    “Hey!” she exclaimed in dismay, surprised by his nerve.  “Get out of my car!”
    “Not until you give me some answers,” he replied calmly.
    “Why would I do that?”
    “If what you’re saying is true, then you don’t want an innocent woman to get a life sentence,” Parker reasoned.  “I don’t think you would be able to live with yourself.  Besides,” he added, “I might be able to help you.”
    “How can you help me?” she asked suspiciously.
    “You said yourself that you don’t have a source.  I do.  I have a source but I don’t have insider knowledge about Sugarcomb Lake.  You’re the expert on that, and people will be more willing to talk to you since they know you.  We could make a good team, Clarissa Spencer.  So you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.  What do you say?”
    “I say you shouldn’t use such a disgusting metaphor,” Clarissa shot back, wrinkling her nose in revulsion.  “I wouldn’t touch your nasty, hairy back with a ten foot pole!”
    Much to her surprise and annoyance, Parker burst out laughing at that.  “Of all the things I thought you might say, I truly wasn’t expecting that,” he chuckled. “You’re really something else, you know that?”
    Clarissa didn’t answer.  Instead, she eyed his scarf out of the corner of his eye and fantasized about strangling him with it.  Maybe that was a bit extreme of a reaction, true.  But with his good looks, successful career and overconfidence, the guy really got under her skin!
    “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