Extra Sensory Deception (17 page)

“I’m just surprised nobody else noticed that the clown wasn’t limping.” Jessie refilled her own glass with wine and passed the bottle to Clara.

“Marty did a good job of hiding his disability in the arena.” Rick grinned at Clara. “But even he couldn’t have done what Seth did that night without some sign of a limp. That was a great catch, Clara.”

“It was, darling.” Jessie smiled at her daughter. “I’m so proud of you. Did Marty say why he killed Lisa?”

“Dan didn’t tell me anything except that Marty had confessed.” Clara looked down at her plate. “He did congratulate me on figuring everything out.”

“That’s huge, coming from Dan.” Rick raised his glass. “Here’s to a job well done, detective!”

Jessie picked up her glass. “Good job, Clara, though I do wish you wouldn’t take such awful risks. Especially when you’re not getting paid to do it.”

Clara laughed. “That’s my mom. Practical as ever.”

Jessie turned to Rick. “I don’t suppose your friend knew why that dreadful man killed that poor woman?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. I guess Tim told him the whole story.”

Clara uttered a little squeak of protest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Rick grinned at her. “I haven’t had the chance until now.”

“So tell us!” Jessie leaned forward. “We’re both panting to know.”

“Apparently Marty was in love with Lisa. He made the mistake of telling her, and she laughed at him. I believe her actual words were something like, ‘Why on earth would you think I’d be interested in a freak?’”

Clara gasped. “No wonder he was furious with her.”

“Still,” Jessie said, putting down her glass, “that didn’t give him the right to kill her.”

Clara stared at her plate, remembering the clown’s words
. People think that because I’m a clown they can laugh at anything and everything I say or do. They don’t think I have feelings just like everybody else.
“That’s so sad. He lived to make people laugh, while inside he was miserable. That must have been so hard.”

“It doesn’t justify what he did,” Jessie said firmly.

“He must have been burning up with revenge.” Rick shook his head. “He’d heard the rumors about Lisa having an affair with Paul, so he forged a note from him to get Lisa to the concert stage. He said if he couldn’t have her he’d make sure no one else would. So he strangled her.”

Clara shuddered. “What about the pigging string? Where did he get that?”

“The what?” Jessie stared at her. “What on earth is that?”

“It’s a rope the cowboys use to tie down calves.” Clara looked at Rick. “Did he just happen to find it?”

“No, he stole it. He’d heard Wes fighting with Lisa about the way she’d treated him that afternoon, and he figured Wes would be blamed for the murder.”

Jessie made a sound of disgust. “And what about Seth? Where did he figure in all this?”

Rick took a sip of his wine and put down the glass. “Marty knew Seth from his days on the circuit. He told Seth he’d been hired to work a benefit at a local hospital and that he wanted to do it but he’d be breaking his contract. So he offered to pay Seth to take his place. Seth couldn’t resist getting back in the arena one more time.”

“And it cost him his life,” Clara said soberly.

Rick nodded. “Yeah, apparently Seth got suspicious when he heard about Lisa’s death. He went down to the pub that night to question Marty, and got run down for his troubles. Tim found traces of Seth’s blood on the fender of Marty’s truck.”

Jessie shivered. “How devious. He planned to murder that woman, and went to a lot of trouble to cover it up. Then he killed an innocent man to escape justice, and would have killed you, Clara, had this young man here not arrived in time to save you.”

“Yes,” Rick said, with a wicked wink at her. “You promised to thank me for that. Remember?”

Clara felt her cheeks warm as she caught her mother’s interested glance. “I have to thank Stephanie, too,” she said quickly. “If she hadn’t called you, you might never have seen that message on your phone until it was too late.”

“True.” Rick picked up his fork. “Your cousin said she had a feeling you were in danger. You two must be really close to tune in to each other like that. Though you do seem to have a knack for reading people’s minds.”

Clara froze. Had her mother told him about the Sense after all? She looked at Jessie and met her mother’s steady gaze.

Jessie gave an imperceptible shake of her head. “Clara has always been sensitive to people’s moods,” she said lightly.

Clara relaxed. She should have known her mother would keep quiet about something her daughter so desperately wanted to keep hidden. She felt reasonably secure in the knowledge that the Quinn Sense would remain a family secret—at least for now.

Smiling, she raised a glass. “Let’s drink a toast. To family and friends.”

Rick raised his glass, his gaze warm on her face. “To friendship and love.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jessie murmured.

Clara barely noticed. She was too busy staring into Rick’s eyes.

Clara Quinn was in the act of rearranging a display of cookbooks when she heard the ruckus. It sounded like a big dog in a tizzy. A
really
big dog. After trying for several moments to ignore the commotion, she walked over to the bookstore’s window to get a better look.

Outside, the afternoon heat shimmered on the cars passing by, dazzling her eyes. A group of summer visitors wandered along the storefronts, seeking the shade of the striped awnings as they hunted for souvenirs. Some of them paused to watch the cause of the disturbance—a shaggy black and gray dog leaping up and down, barking at a tall, blonde woman.

Clara winced. Roberta Prince, owner of the stationer’s next door, would not appreciate being pawed by a dog. Roberta never appeared in public without perfect makeup, an impeccable hairdo and an immaculate outfit.

One muddy paw print on that slim, white skirt or, worse, the coral silk shirt, and the image would be destroyed. Roberta’s day would be ruined, and everyone else around her would feel the repercussions.

As Clara watched, the irate woman backed off into the road. The dog advanced, apparently determined to knock her down. Roberta must have lost her nerve. She turned tail and dashed across to the nearest haven, which just happened to be the Raven’s Nest bookstore.

Unfortunately the door was on a strong spring. It didn’t close quite fast enough as Roberta charged through it, followed closely by her pursuer.

Roberta yelped and rushed toward the counter. The dog chased after her, its tail thrashing wildly. Colliding with the table, it sent Clara’s intricate display of cookbooks tumbling to the floor.

“Hey!” Clara flew over to the animal and grabbed its collar before it could do any more damage. The dog lunged forward, dragging her with it.

“Tatters!
Sit!
”

The loud bellow had come from the open doorway. In all the uproar, Clara hadn’t noticed Rick Sanders blocking out the sunlight. Rick owned the hardware store across the street and, by the looks of it, a very unruly animal.

Clara let go of the collar, allowing the big dog to trot around the counter, once more in pursuit of Roberta.

“Get that thing
away
from me!” Roberta flapped her hand at the dog, making it bark once more.

“Tatters!” Rick slammed the door shut behind him and strode forward, one hand raised in the air. “Here, boy.
Now!
”

Tatters ignored him and went on barking—loud, deep barks that seemed to reverberate throughout the shop.

Clara moved around the counter, leaned forward and laid a hand on the back of the dog’s neck. “It’s all right, Tatters. Just calm down, baby.”

Tatters whined and turned his head to look at her.

Cautiously, Roberta moved around the end of the counter. “You need to control that monster,” she hissed at Rick as she hurried to the door and hauled it open. “It’s a menace.”

Rick looked hurt. “He’s just a dog. He thought you had more cookies, that’s all.”

Roberta brushed imaginary hairs from her skirt and sent a disdainful glare at the offending animal. “That’s not a dog. It’s a . . . big . . . hairy . . .
horse
.” With that, she swept out of the shop and disappeared up the street.

Clara met Rick’s gaze and burst out laughing. “I guess she’s not a dog lover.”

Rick’s expression was grim. “I can’t really blame her. Look at him. He takes up more room than my truck. The thing
is
a menace.”

Clara patted the silky coat and received a moist lick on her hand in gratitude. “Oh, he’s not yours, then?”

“Not if I can help it.” Still scowling, Rick joined her behind the counter, where Tatters now sat panting, his tongue flopping out of his mouth.

Snapping the leash he held onto the dog’s collar, Rick glanced up at her. “You seem to have a way with dogs.”

The comment made Clara uncomfortable. She’d spent most of her life hiding the fact that the infamous sixth sense she’d inherited from her family gave her special insights into people’s minds. Not only people, it seemed, but animals as well. At least to the point where she could communicate with them in a way they understood. Some of the time, anyway.

The family called it the Quinn Sense. Not everyone inherited it, much to the disgust of Clara’s cousin, Stephanie, who owned the Raven’s Nest, loved all things paranormal and never got over the fact that the family curse, as Clara called it, had bypassed her.

Born just two months apart and more like sisters than cousins, she and Stephanie had grown up together, planned futures together, dreamed dreams together. They’d eagerly awaited the day when their powers would be fully developed. When they’d realized that Clara had the Quinn Sense and her cousin did not, it had caused an uneasy rift between the two of them. Unspoken, but there all the same.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Clara jumped, realizing that Rick was staring at her, no doubt confused with her silence. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about Roberta and wondering why Tatters chased her across the street.”

Rick made a sound of disgust in his throat. “She came into the store with a handful of cookies for the dog. I don’t know how she knew he was there. That woman doesn’t miss anything that goes on in Main Street. Or the whole of Finn’s Harbor, come to that.”

Clara grinned. “She does have an ear for gossip. People are calling her Maine’s main mole.”

A smile flicked across his face. “Cute. I like it.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

“So she gave Tatters the cookies?”

Rick nodded. “I warned her not to, but of course she didn’t listen. The dog wasn’t happy with what she gave him, so he started sniffing around her, looking for more. She backed off and he took it as a game. Before I could stop him, he’d chased her out of the store and across the street.”

Clara couldn’t resist another grin. “Yeah, I saw her.”

“I had a customer back there thinking about buying a very expensive lawn mower. There’s another guy asking where to find City Hall and someone else looking at garden tools. They’ve probably gone by now. Thanks to this brute.”

Clara leaned down to pat the dog’s head. “Oh, poor Tatters. You just wanted to play, didn’t you?” She looked up at Rick. “Tatters?”

Rick pulled a face at her as he led the dog over to the door. “My ex-wife called him Tatters because he looked a mess when we rescued him from the pound. Lisa fought tooth and nail to keep him after the divorce, and now, all of a sudden, she wants to dump him on me.” He hauled open the door, and Tatters made a leap for freedom, dragging Rick hard against the doorjamb.

He grunted with pain, and Clara screwed up her face in sympathy. Rick, it seemed, was not having a good day, what with the disobedient dog and the bandage she’d just noticed adorning the forefinger of his right hand.

Bracing his foot against the wall, Rick hauled on the leash. “She’s got a new boyfriend who hates dogs. To be more specific, he hates Tatters. So now I’m supposed to give him a home? What the heck does she think I’m going to do with him? I can’t leave him alone in the house. He’ll wreck the place the minute I’m gone.”

Clara wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. She’d known Rick just a few months, and they’d become friendly enough to talk about a few things on a personal level. This was the first time, however, that Rick had mentioned his ex-wife.

Of course, there were a lot of things she hadn’t told him, either, but somehow an ex-wife seemed a very significant part of his past, and the fact he hadn’t once spoken of her suggested a pretty bad split between them.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to work things out,” she said, mostly because Rick was looking at her as if he expected her to solve his problem. “He seems like a sweet dog and just needs a little attention, that’s all.”

“He needs a lot more than attention. He needs discipline. Look at him. He’s just waiting for the chance to break free again.” He waved a hand at Tatters, who now stood looking at him, tail wagging, waiting for his master’s next move.

Rick’s gray eyes were full of desperation when he looked back at her. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who could tame this tiger?”

She hesitated, eager to help but unsure what it would entail. She liked Rick. Really liked him. If things had been different, if she’d never met the man of her dreams in New York, only to find out he was a cheat and a liar, she might have encouraged Rick to take their relationship further.

The pain of her breakup, however, was still fresh in her mind. Even though it had been almost a year since she’d moved back to Finn’s Harbor, she was far from ready to trust her heart to anyone yet. No one, she’d vowed, was ever going to hurt her that badly again.

As far as Rick was concerned, she’d managed to keep things uncomplicated, and he seemed to be comfortable with that arrangement. She enjoyed his friendship and was careful not to get into situations that could jeopardize that by letting something more personal creep in.

She was still trying to figure out how she could work with the dog without spending too much time with his owner when Rick said quietly, “It’s okay. Forget I mentioned it. Maybe I’ll just try to find a home for him. Somewhere where he can run about without demolishing everything that he comes in contact with.”

He gave her a quick wave before being dragged across the street by the enthusiastic Tatters.

Watching them go, Clara suddenly noticed a tingling awareness washing over her. She knew the sensation well. She was about to hear voices in her head—voices that spoke in riddles and phrases she couldn’t understand. Voices that led her down paths she didn’t want to go, and put obstacles in her way to prevent her from following her instincts.

Her reaction was automatic and swift. Closing off her mind, she hurried down to the Reading Nook, where a comfortable couch and a pot of coffee awaited her.

Ever since she’d realized that she had the Quinn Sense and Stephanie didn’t, she’d felt isolated somehow. Although most of the family had some degree of psychic ability, she’d kept hers a secret. Far from being the empowering, exciting and liberating experience the cousins had imagined, being able to interpret dreams and occasionally read minds and foretell the future had made Clara feel like a freak.

Desperate to regain some sense of normalcy, she’d left Maine to attend college in New York, where no one knew her or her family. She’d soon discovered that, hard as she tried, she couldn’t escape the infamous legacy. The Quinn Sense continued to interfere with her life and mess up her mind.

Worse, it was unpredictable—never there when she needed it, and intruding when she least expected it. When the Sense had failed to prevent her from making the biggest mistake of her life, the betrayal was the last straw. On her thirtieth birthday she’d picked up the pieces and come home to Finn’s Harbor.

Her cell phone sang out just then, shattering her thoughts. Stephanie’s voice buzzed in her ear, full of tension and anxiety as usual.

“Clara! I just read in the
Chronicle
that the sales of e-books are taking over print versions. What are we going to do? I
knew
I shouldn’t have leased that store. What was I thinking? This is the absolute
worst
time to own a bookstore!”

Clara sighed. She’d had this conversation with her cousin more than once, and each time Stephanie had been certain she was headed for bankruptcy. “Calm down, Steffie. The world isn’t going to end just because a few misinformed fanatics go around waving placards saying it is. Books are going to be around for at least as long as you’ll want to sell them.”

“Yes, but if everyone is reading them on electronic readers, who’s going to buy print books?”

“Everyone who doesn’t like electronic readers. More than enough people to keep you in business for a long time, I promise you.”

Stephanie’s sigh echoed down the line. “I hope you’re right. George keeps telling me the same thing, but then husbands always tell their wives what they want to hear. I just can’t help feeling I should have opened a knitting shop instead.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “You’ve never knitted anything in your life.”

“What difference does that make?”

“You’ve spent your entire life immersed in magic and all things paranormal. With all the interest in it now, opening a bookstore specializing in the occult was a brilliant idea, and you are the perfect person to do it, so stop obsessing over things you can’t control. The Raven’s Nest is doing just fine. Especially since you opened the Reading Nook. Half the town comes here for the coffee and donuts.”

“I know you’re right.” Stephanie paused, then added in a rush, “I just wish I had the Sense, like you. It would have made planning things so much easier.”

Deciding this was the perfect time to change the subject, Clara launched into a detailed account of Roberta’s confrontation with Rick’s dog.

Stephanie laughed through most of it, until Clara mentioned that Rick was thinking of finding the dog a home. “Oh, you can’t let him do that!” Now her cousin sounded close to tears. “That poor dog has already lost one home. Think how awful it would be for him to go to strangers. Can’t you look after him?”