Authors: Allison Kingsley
Tags: #General, #Women Sleuths, #Mystery & Detective, #Fiction
Clara let out her exasperation in an explosive grunt. “I’m going to bed. Good-night.” Stomping down the hallway to her bedroom, she tried to rationalize her ill-temper. Was she angry because Rick was being victimized without due cause? Or was she, perhaps, mad at her mother for suggesting that her interest in Rick went a little deeper than mere friendship?
If it was the latter, then she was in trouble. Because the only way that would make her mad was if there were some truth to the insinuation. And that was something she didn’t want to explore.
She awoke in the middle of the night, perspiration dampening her forehead. At first she thought she’d been dreaming, but now she was wide awake, and the vision was still clear in her mind.
She saw the shadow of a man, backing away from
another figure until he was stopped by the wall behind him. It was dark, but she could make out the two men, struggling for possession of something that glinted in the lights of a passing car. One of the men broke free and tried to run, but the other was on him, pounding him with the weapon in his hand until his victim fell to the ground.
She sat up, struggling to see the faces, but it was too dark and blurry to make them out. One thing she was certain of—neither man was Rick. One was too short, the other too chubby. Then the vision vanished, leaving her shivering in the cool draft of the air-conditioning.
The following morning she got up early and was ready to leave by the time her mother came down to breakfast. She was halfway out the door when Jessie called out to her, “If you bring that dog home, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
So did she, she told herself as she climbed into her car. She really hadn’t given the whole idea enough thought. It was one thing inviting a dog into her mother’s house. Quite another when that dog was the size of a small pony. She hoped Rick would have enough dog food to keep Tatters happy until she could get to the pet store, or wherever he bought the stuff. She couldn’t remember seeing a pet store in Finn’s Harbor.
By the time she’d parked her car and walked up to Parson’s Hardware, she was having second thoughts about the whole situation. What if her powers weren’t strong enough to control the dog? What if they weren’t there
when she needed them as had happened so often in the past? What if Tatters totally destroyed her mother’s home?
Closing her eyes, she made an effort to dismiss her fears. Other people had control of their dogs without the benefit of the Quinn Sense. So could she. All she needed was a little time to work with Tatters.
She reached the door of the hardware store just in time to see the big dog bounding across the shop floor, his tail sweeping a row of plastic flowerpots off the shelf. They rolled across the floor toward her as Tatters flew past her out the door.
John Halloran stumbled over to her, bellowing something she couldn’t understand. She didn’t wait to find out. Spinning around, she lunged after the dog. He darted across the street ahead of her and plunked his rear end down on the doorstep of Jordan’s Stationer’s.
Unfortunately Roberta Prince was just coming out the door. She tripped over Tatters, tottered on her high heels down the step, and ended up in a heap on the sidewalk. Her howl of outrage could be heard all the way down the hill to the harbor.
Clara reached her as she was climbing to her feet, one hand brushing dust from her pale lilac pants while shaking her fist at Tatters. “You disgusting animal! You should be locked up in a kennel. You’re a menace on the street.” She advanced on the dog. “Get off my doorstep.
Shoo!
”
Tatters sat panting, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth almost as if he were grinning at her.
Clara leapt forward and grabbed his collar. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”
“No, but it’s a miracle I’m not.” Roberta glared at the dog. “Get that beast off my property. If he comes back again, I swear I’ll call the pound and have him picked up.”
“He won’t be back.” Clara patted his silky head. “I’m taking him home with me.”
Roberta stared at her. “Does Rick know that?”
“Of course he does.” Clara glanced across the street. “We arranged it last night.”
“Last night?” Roberta’s face turned a light pink. “I didn’t know you were on
those
kind of terms with Rick.”
Clara rolled her eyes. Why was everyone so quick to link her with Rick Sanders? “I’m not on any terms with Rick. This is a business arrangement, that’s all.”
“Oh, he’s
paying
you to take care of the dog.”
Her demeaning tone set Clara’s teeth on edge. Deciding to let it go, she muttered, “I have to get him back to the store.” She tugged the dog’s collar. “Come on, Tatters. Good boy.”
I’m not going back there.
Clara jerked her hand from the collar. She’d never felt comfortable on the rare occasion she’d read someone’s thoughts, and although she’d suspected for some time that dogs understood what she said, this was the first time that she’d ever read a dog’s mind. She glanced at Roberta, but the other woman was gazing down the street with her usual bored expression.
Clara scowled at Tatters. Just great. Now the dog was speaking in her head. That’s all she needed. She took hold of the collar again. “You’re going back there whether you like it or not.”
Tatters yawned, and stayed where he was.
“I suppose Rick had to do something about that beast,” Roberta said, “now that he won’t be around to take care of things himself.”
Still shaken by what had just happened, Clara stared at her. “What do you mean by that?”
Roberta shrugged. “It’s all over the news. He’s been arrested.” She started down the street calling over her shoulder, “I thought you would have known that, considering your
business
arrangement.”
Clara didn’t even bother to answer her. She laid her hand on the back of Tatters’ neck. “Let’s go,” she said firmly.
“Now.”
Tatters shifted away from her, turned his head and licked her hand.
Clara bent down and looked him in the eye. “Listen, Buster, if you don’t come with me this instant, I will take you to the pound. Do you know what happens to dogs who are left at the pound?”
Tatters whined, got up and started across the street.
If she hadn’t been so anxious about Rick, she would have been pleased with her small victory. Rushing behind Tatters into the store, she almost collided with John, who had apparently been watching her from the doorway.
“Thank God,” he muttered as the dog fled past him.
“Rick would have killed me if anything had happened to that stupid animal.”
Clara glared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me Rick had been arrested?”
“You didn’t exactly give me time. Besides, he hasn’t been arrested. He’s being held for questioning. It was all on the news. I thought you would have heard it by now.”
Clara made a mental note to change the channel on her car radio. “What happened? Why now?”
John dropped his gaze and straightened his glasses. “I recognized the photo of the murder victim. I told Dan he was here in the store the morning he was killed and that Rick had served him.” He shook his head. “How was I to know that Rick had sworn he’d never seen the guy before? Dan and Deputy Tim Rossi got here soon after Rick opened this morning and took him down to the station. Rick called me to come in, and now I’m stuck here taking care of the store until he either shuts it down or gets someone in here to help.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I know. I don’t have time to work all day in here.”
“No, I mean about taking him down to the station. He probably just didn’t recognize the guy, that’s all. I don’t remember every stranger that comes into the bookstore.” Clara briefly closed her eyes as the vision she’d had that morning popped into her mind.
If only I could see their faces. Maybe if I really concentrated…
When she opened her eyes again, John was staring at her as if she’d said something shocking. “What?”
John shook his head. “I dunno. You had that weird look on your face, like you know something no one else does.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Maybe I do.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d be mighty careful about sharing it.” His eyes gleamed at her through his glasses. “You could end up getting into serious trouble.”
She frowned, wondering what he was insinuating. Just then Tatters barked, snatching her attention away from John. The dog sat by the counter, his tail sweeping the floor as he clenched a plastic garden frog between his teeth.
John let out a howl of protest and rushed over to him. Taking hold of the frog, he tried to drag it out of Tatters’ mouth. Tatters growled, making John let go and jump back into the shelves behind him.
Clara closed her eyes as hammers, chisels and screwdrivers crashed to the floor. Tatters whined and fled behind the counter. John swore, and began picking up the fallen tools, muttering something under his breath that mercifully Clara couldn’t hear.
“Er…do you know if Rick brought any dog supplies with him this morning?” she said, edging toward the end of the counter.
“In the back room,” John grunted. He stood up and packed some screwdrivers back on the shelf. “He said to take what you need.”
“Thanks.” Clara darted through the door that led to the back room. She saw the huge bag of dry dog food and
hauled it into her arms. Spotting a paper sack on a nearby chair, she peeked inside. There were two dog bowls, a leash, a couple of packages of treats, a chewed-up tennis ball and a large rawhide bone. Everything a dog could want.
After carrying everything to the front door, she called out to John, who was still picking up and sorting the tools on the shelf. “I’m going to get my car and park it in the loading zone.”
He answered her with a wave, and she dashed out the door and down the hill. She still had an hour or so before she was due at the bookstore. Enough time to get Tatters home and settled before she had to leave him.
It occurred to her that she should have waited until her next day off before bringing the dog into his new home. It was too late now, however. Besides, if Rick did end up in jail after his questioning, there’d be no one to look after Tatters.
He doesn’t belong in jail.
Startled, she closed her mind to the voices. She didn’t need them to tell her that. Rick was innocent, and somehow she had to help him.
Right then, however, her first priority was to get Tatters home and settled. Then she’d tackle the problem of Rick’s possible arrest.
John grudgingly helped her haul the dog food and supplies into the trunk of her car, and even located the leash that Rick had shoved under the counter. Tatters seemed excited about the prospect of a car ride and bounded onto the backseat, where he sat with his nose
pressed to the window while Clara started the engine and pulled away from the store.
To her huge relief, the dog sat on his haunches all the way home, though the minute she parked the car at the curb he jumped up and started barking—little short yelps that Clara recognized as anxiety as she opened the door.
He would have leapt past her had she not grabbed his collar and hung on with all her strength while she talked to him in soothing tones. “It’s all right, big boy. You’re home. You’re gonna be all right now.”
It took a while but gradually Tatters stopped quivering and yelping and allowed her to lead him out of the car and up the path to the front door.
It took her another hour to get him fed and settled down. After removing everything breakable in her room, she coaxed him onto her bed. Leaning down to look him in the eye, she said firmly, “You are to stay here, on this bed, until Mom gets home.”
She waited, anxiously holding her breath in case she heard his voice in her head again. To her relief, he merely whined, and moved his tail slowly back and forth. Feeling reassured, she added, “She will let you out in the yard when she gets home and she’ll feed you. You are to be on your best behavior, is that understood?”
Tatters lifted his head and licked her nose.
Satisfied, Clara rubbed his ears and patted his head. After turning on her small TV, she left the room and closed the door. She waited just long enough to reassure
herself he wasn’t going berserk in there, and then called her mother.
Jessie sounded worried when she answered. “They’ve arrested Rick Sanders for that murder,” she said. “I don’t think you should be having anything to do with him. I hope you haven’t brought that dog home. I won’t have a murderer’s dog in my home. I wouldn’t feel safe.”
Clara took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering her. “Rick is not a murderer, and he hasn’t been arrested. He’s just being questioned, that’s all. Someone has to take care of Tatters while he’s at the station. The dog is in my room.” She gave her mother brief instructions to let Tatters out in the yard and feed him.
“Does he have to stay in the yard until you get home?” Jessie asked doubtfully. “Won’t he be lonely out there, poor little thing?”
Clara felt guilty. Her mother had no idea she’d be dealing with a large dog. Better she didn’t know until she actually met Tatters. Hopefully the dog would win over Jessie. Clara closed her eyes and prayed that Tatters would behave until she got home. If not, she’d have more than a hysterical mother to deal with.
Feeling decidedly uneasy, she drove back to Main Street and parked the car. The slight breeze from the ocean did nothing to cool her face as she trudged up the hill for the second time that day. She already felt as if she’d worked a full day, and she hadn’t even started her shift at the bookstore yet.
Stephanie was behind the counter when Clara walked in, followed by a couple of giggling teenagers who promptly disappeared down one of the aisles.
“I suppose you heard the news,” she said as Clara tucked her purse on the shelf under the counter. “Rick’s been arrested.”
“He has
not
been arrested! Why is everyone so darn quick to convict him?”
She’d spoken more sharply than she’d intended, and Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “
Sor
-ry! Roberta said he’d been arrested. I didn’t know she had it wrong.”