A Taste of Magic (A Sugarcomb Lake Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

sign up on the bulletin board before the women noticed and gave her disapproving looks.
    “You’re local,” a man’s voice said.
    Clarissa turned to see a tall guy around her age standing there. 
    With his button up tweed coat and carefully arranged scarf, he looked very professional.  He also looked completely out of place.  Clarissa had lived in Sugarcomb Lake her entire life, aside from her college years.  If she had laid eyes on this guy before, she would have remembered it.  He had one of those unforgettable faces.
    “You’re not from around here,” she shot back.
    “Guilty as charged,” he grinned, showing that he had very nice, very straight white teeth.  “I drove in from the city to find out more about the murder that took place here last night.  My name is Parker,” he said, extending his hand.  “I’m a journalist.”
    Clarissa’s breath caught in her throat. 
    She knew his type. 
    Those big shot pretentious reporters from the city had always treated her with disdain, as though her work wasn’t to be taken seriously just because she was from a small town.  She had never met this guy in particular – she would have remembered those brilliant blue eyes.  But still, journalists from the city were all unbearable.  Of that she was certain.
    “Who do you work for?” she asked cautiously.  In her experience, some big city reporters were worse than others.  The freelancers tended to be the most pleasant, while the ones employed by big name media agencies were usually the most conceited. 
    Clarissa hoped this guy was a freelancer.
    “I’m with The Green City Chronicle,” he told her.
    “You work for The Green City Chronicle?” she asked in dismay, hoping it wasn’t true.
    “Yes,” he nodded, looking pleased.  “So you’ve heard of it.”
    “Heard of it?  I wrote for The Sugarcomb Gazette,” she said pointedly.
    “Oh.  Oh ,” he said when the implication became clear.  “The paper closure was a shame.”
    “What did you say your name was, again?” Clarissa asked Parker suspiciously.
    “Parker,” he replied.
    “And your last name?”
    “What is this, an interrogation?” he teased.  “I’m Parker Tweed.”
    Her breath caught in her throat.  “Your father is Elwood Tweed.”
    “He is.”
    Her heart sank.  “He’s the owner of The Green City Chronicle.” 
    “Yes, that’s right,” Parker confirmed.
    Immediately, Clarissa recoiled.  That was so, so much worse than Parker simply being a journalist for some random Green City newspaper.  He was with the arch nemesis of The Sugarcomb Gazette...back before the Gazette had met its untimely demise, that is. 
    Parker was the son of the awful man who had put her out of a job!  He was, in a roundabout way, the very reason she was struggling to afford her next mortgage payment!  That settled it:  she had no interest in talking to the man standing in front of her.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Parker said, unaware that he had just made an enemy.
    “I didn’t tell you my name.”
    “Ah, right.  Well are you going to tell me?”
    “No.  I don’t have to tell you anything.”
    “You’re a difficult woman, aren’t you Clarissa?”
    “How do you know my name?” she demanded.
    He looked over at the sign she had hung on the bulletin board.  “Clean, quiet roommate wanted,” he read.  “Serious inquiries only – for further information, please call Clarissa Spencer at –”
    “Okay okay, so you can read,” Clarissa interrupted, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. 
    “Yes, being able to read comes in handy when you’re a journalist.  But you know that.  I bet folks here will really miss having a local newspaper given what happened last night.  But hopefully I can fill that void,” he said, flashing a million dollar smile.
    “You can’t,” Clarissa said flatly, insulted that he would suggest such a thing.
    “I beg your pardon?” Parker sputtered, clearly taken aback.
    “You