A Sinister Sense (14 page)

As she opened the front door, her inner voice spoke loud and clear.
Who are you kidding?

Clara arrived first at the Raven’s Nest the next morning. Catching sight of Rick stacking garden tools in a barrel across the street, she waved and received an answering wave back. She opened the front door, frowning at the memory of their conversation the night before.

Rick was worried, and had every right to be. People were inclined to believe whatever they read in the newspaper or saw on the news, and so far, everything seemed to be pointing to his guilt. The mayor’s comments definitely weren’t helping, and although Rick’s lawyer had managed to keep him out of custody so far, she had to wonder for how long. She and Stephanie needed to get down to business, and fast.

Molly arrived just as the coffee had finished perking.

“You must have smelled it,” Clara said as Molly joined her in the Reading Nook.

“All the way from the harbor.” Molly grinned as she accepted a steaming mug. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I’m meeting Stephanie. We’re going to run some errands.”

Molly nodded. “Oh, that’s right. She called me last night. She said you two had some stuff to take care of this morning. By the way, I remembered where I’d seen
Windrift
. It’s a motel on the coast road.”

“Thanks. I realized it myself last night.” Clara sipped her coffee.

“They mentioned it on the news this morning.” Molly wandered over to the couch and sat down. “It’s the motel where the murdered guy was staying.”

It was obvious Molly was curious, but Clara was still wary of telling her too many details. The less the young woman knew, the better. “Yes,” she said, “I thought it might be.”

Too bad they didn’t mention it before,
she thought. It would have saved her some headaches trying to decipher the letters in her vision. Then again, if she hadn’t had the vision, she might not have thought about questioning the motel manager.

Drat the Quinn Sense. She’d spent so many years trying to drum it out of her head; now it was even more elusive than ever.

“So, how’s the detective work going?”

Faced with the direct question, Clara found it difficult to be evasive. She’d agreed with Stephanie that Molly should be included in their investigation, or at least informed. Still, she would rather her cousin was there when Molly learned of their plans.

Fortunately, Stephanie appeared before Clara had to answer. Her cousin rushed into the Nook, breathless and apologetic. “George had to leave early this morning, and it took forever to get the kids ready to go to their grandma’s house.” She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Ethan wouldn’t get off the computer, Olivia decided the cat needed a shower and I had to rescue the poor thing, and Michael couldn’t find his video game. We finally found it stuffed under a cushion on the couch.” She plopped down on a chair. “Someone give me a cup of coffee before I totally wilt.”

Molly jumped up and poured coffee into a mug. Handing it to Stephanie, she said, “I want to help with the investigation.”

Stephanie pursed her lips. “You
are
helping. Taking care of the bookstore while we’re gone is a tremendous help. It leaves us free to do what we have to do. “

“But I want to be
doing
something. I want to go with you.”

Stephanie shook her head. “Not this time. We need you here.”

Molly slumped down on the couch. “You guys have all the fun.”

“It’s not exactly fun,” Clara said, getting up to put her mug down on the counter. “It could be dangerous.”

Stephanie took another swallow of coffee and put down her mug. “Don’t worry, Molly, we’ll probably need you before this is over. We have to run now, so if you wouldn’t mind washing the mugs for us, we’ll take off so we can be back before the rush.”

Molly sighed. “Okay…just be sure and tell me everything when you get back.”

Stephanie answered her with a wave, and Clara followed her up the aisle to the front door. “Who shall we hit first, the motel manager or Buzz Lamont?” Stephanie asked as they stepped outside.

“The motel, I think.” Clara started walking down the hill at a fast pace. “Let’s hope the manager’s not too busy to talk to us.”

They reached the parking lot and decided to take Clara’s car. Passing the harbor, she headed out along the coast road with the windows down to make the most of the clean, salty air. There were a lot of things she missed about New York, but the city smog wasn’t one of them.

Stephanie chattered on about her kids and George, and Clara was content just to listen, until Stephanie said quietly, “You’re worried about Rick, aren’t you.”

Clara sent her a startled look. “Of course I am. Aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but not in the way you are.” She paused, then added, “Are you finally getting fond of him?”

Clara let out a short laugh. “Only as a friend, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried. In fact, I’d worry less if you
were
getting interested in Rick. You’ve seemed so…sad ever since you moved back from New York.”

“Sad?” Clara shook her head. “I’m not sad. It’s taken me a while to get used to living back here, that’s all. I miss some of the things about my old life.”

“Including the guy who dumped you?”

“Ouch.” Clara took a deep breath. “No, he’s one of the things I definitely don’t miss.” It was true, she realized. She still thought of him now and then. After all, she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with Matt. But she didn’t miss him. Not anymore.

“Well, good. I thought maybe you were still hung up on the guy and that was stopping you from getting into a new relationship.”

Clara shot her another glance. “Why the interest in my love life all of a sudden?”

Stephanie shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re not getting any younger, and you get all twittery whenever Rick is around. I guess I was hoping you two would get together. Of course, now that he’s accused of murder, perhaps it’s just as well you’re not in love with him.”

Clara gripped the steering wheel. “If I were in love with him, that wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I’d know he was innocent, just like I know now.” With relief she glimpsed the sign for the Windrift Motel coming up on her left. “We’re here. Let’s hope the manager’s ready to talk to us.”

The young woman behind the reception desk in the motel’s lobby seemed reluctant to call the manager. “Mr.
Tyler is in a meeting,” she explained when Clara asked to speak to him. “He won’t be out for another hour or so.”

“Tell him this is an emergency,” Clara said, grabbing Stephanie’s arm when she started walking away. “It’s very important that we speak to him.”

The woman hesitated. “Sam doesn’t like me disturbing him.”

Clara leaned over the counter and said softly, “It’s about the murder of one of his customers.”

The receptionist threw a scared look over her shoulder. “Are you from the police? Sam has already talked to Dan and Tim Rossi.”

Clara decided she needed to come on strong if she and Stephanie were going to get anywhere. “Just tell him we need to talk to him.
Now.
”

The woman jumped up from her chair. “All right, but don’t blame me if he’s pissed.” She disappeared through a door behind her.

Stephanie grabbed Clara’s arm. “What if he gets mad and throws us out?”

Clara didn’t want to admit her heart was thumping loud enough to be heard. Growing up had its disadvantages. When she and Stephanie were kids, they were both fearless, charging into adventures without a thought for the consequences. Now they were adults, with responsibilities, and dabbling with danger didn’t seem nearly as much fun as it had all those years ago.

“Don’t worry,” she said, trying to sound more confident
than she felt, “We’ll charm him into telling us what we want to know.”

“What
do
we want to know?” Stephanie threw a fearful glance at the door behind the counter. “Have you thought about what to ask him?”

She hadn’t. She’d figured it would come to her when she was actually talking to the man. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit she’d been hoping the Sense would chime in and let her know what she should say. She made herself smile. “I’ll just ask him what he knows about Frank Tomeski.”

The door opened suddenly, making them both jump. A skinny man with bowed shoulders and a scraggly beard peered at them through rimless glasses. “What do you want?” he barked, still holding on to the door handle.

It wasn’t a very promising beginning, and Clara’s smile was somewhat wobbly. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Tyler. I promise we won’t keep you long.”

Tyler scowled at her. “Jenny says you’re asking about the murder. You reporters or something? Because if so, I don’t talk to no newspapers. Not without being paid, anyhow.”

“We’re not reporters.” Clara looked over her shoulder as the main door to the lobby swung open. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

The manager looked about to refuse, but just then Stephanie crept up to the counter and said in a voice reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe, “It’s a personal matter, sir. We’d be
so
grateful if you could help us.” She flashed him
a smile and fluffed her hair with her fingers. “It would mean so very much to us.”

Tyler looked a little less threatening. He walked to the end of the counter and lifted the flap. “You’ve got five minutes.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Stephanie murmured as she slipped past him.

Clara followed her, trying not to roll her eyes.

Sam Tyler led them into a small office and sat down at a cluttered desk, waving them to a couple of beat-up kitchen chairs. Swiping a pile of papers aside, he leaned back in his chair and stared at Clara. “So, what’s this all about?”

Clara made herself meet his gaze. “It’s about the murder of Frank Tomeski. A personal friend of ours is involved, and we’re trying to find out what happened that night. We were hoping that you could help us.”

There was a long silence while Tyler studied her, his eyebrows raised. Unnerved by the scrutiny, Clara cleared her throat. “Anything you can tell us about Mr. Tomeski might be helpful.”

“You’re a friend of Rick Sanders?” Tyler said at last.

Clara nodded. “I work in the bookstore opposite his hardware store. My cousin owns the bookstore.”

“That’s me!” Stephanie piped up, then huddled back on her chair as Tyler’s sharp gaze sliced across her face.

“Anyway,” Clara said, after sending a warning glance at her cousin, “we know that Rick didn’t kill that man,
and the police haven’t had any luck finding who did do it, so we thought we’d give it a shot.”

Tyler’s eyes swiveled in her direction again. “Does Dan know about this?”

“Er…we haven’t exactly discussed it with him.” Clara gave him another wavering smile. “We just thought we’d ask some questions, that’s all.”

The manager seemed to be thinking it over, while Clara sat listening to her heartbeat thudding in her ears. She was hoping to hear voices telling her what to say next, but as had happened so often in the past, the Sense seemed to have deserted her.

Finally Tyler spoke, making her jump again. “Never did think Rick was a killer. I’ll tell you what I told Dan. There was a young gal came looking for Tomeski while he was staying here. I sent her over to the Laurel Street Tavern. I’d seen Tomeski in there earlier and figured he’d still be there. She seemed real anxious to see him, and judging from the way she spoke, I’d say she wasn’t planning on giving him a warm welcome when she saw him, if you know what I mean.”

Clara leaned forward. “She was mad at him?”

“Mad as a hornet.” Tyler sat up and reached for the phone on his desk. “Reckon she was ready to tell him a thing or two when she caught up with him. When I went in there the next night, I heard there’d been a big ruckus the night before, involving Tomeski and a bunch of other guys. I wouldn’t be surprised if his girlfriend started it.”

“Did she tell you her name?”

“Nope, and that’s all I’ve got to say on the subject.” He lifted the receiver. “Except this. Murder is a dangerous business. Especially for young women who don’t know what they’re doing. It’s best left to the cops. That’s their job, and I wouldn’t want to see you two getting hurt or worse. Now get out of here. I’ve got a call to make.”

Thanking him, Clara got to her feet and led Stephanie out to the foyer. The receptionist gave them a hard look as they walked briskly across the lobby to the main door.

Once outside, Clara let her shoulders relax. “Well, that was interesting,” she said as she unlocked her car. “I’d say we have another suspect in the case.”

Stephanie frowned. “She can’t be much of a suspect. That manager had already told Dan what he told us, so Dan must know about her.”

“He might know about her, but that doesn’t mean he knows who she is.” Clara slid into the car and waited for her cousin to get in.

Stephanie scrambled onto the seat and grabbed the seat belt. Clicking it into place, she said, “We don’t know who that woman is, either.”

“Not right now, we don’t.” Clara started the engine. “How would you like to spend an hour or so at the Laurel Street Tavern tonight?”