Mind Over Murder (13 page)

Her cousin answered, sounding frazzled. “The kids just got home from school,” she said, “and Olivia’s torn another new shirt. She was climbing a tree, of all things. Doesn’t she know she’s a girl?”

Despite her shattered nerves, Clara laughed. “She’ll grow out of it. Just wait until she starts getting interested in boys.”

“She’s interested in them now. Except she thinks she’s one of them. I don’t think she’ll ever appreciate her feminine side.”

“Yes, she will. We did. Eventually.”

Stephanie uttered a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, we were little tomboys, weren’t we?”

“Totally.”

“So what’s up?” Stephanie’s voice sharpened. “Not trouble at the store, is there?”

“Nope. It’s quiet here right now, which is why I’m calling.” Clara paused, wondering how best to phrase the question without influencing her cousin’s reaction.

“Okay.” Now Stephanie sounded curious. “So what’s up?”

“Do you remember Frannie asking for Wayne Lester’s new book?”

“Of course. A lot of people have been asking for it. He’s a popular author. Why?”

“When did you get his books in?”

Stephanie paused, apparently surprised by the question. “They came in on Friday. I unpacked them in the stockroom that afternoon, but I didn’t put them out on the shelves right away because I was concentrating on getting out the stock for the back-to-school sale, and then with all the upset of Ana’s murder, it was Monday before they ended up on the shelves.”

“Do you remember what Frannie said when she asked for the book?”

“Not exactly. Why?”

“She asked for the Wayne Lester book that had just come in.”

“She did? But—” She uttered a little gasp. “Oh, my.”

“Did you tell Frannie that the book had come in?”

“No, I didn’t. Oh, Clara. She couldn’t have known unless she was in the stockroom.”

Clara let out her breath in a rush. “Exactly.”

“We could be wrong, you know. You have to talk to her. Ask her how she knew.”

“Me? You know her better than I do. Why can’t you talk to her?”

“I’m the ideas person, remember? Besides, you’re better at getting stuff out of people than I am. I’m too blunt, and they clam up when I ask questions.”

“Like who?”

“Like Tony Manetas, for one. I asked him if he was interested in Aunt Jessie, and he turned beet red and walked away from me.”

Clara gasped. “You asked him if he was interested in my
mother
?”

“Well, she was in there the other night when I walked by, and he was leaning over her table, and there was just something in the way he was looking at her, and I thought it was so cute and romantic—”

“Enough! I don’t want to know.” Clara shook her head. “Back to the Frannie problem.”

“The only way we’re going to know for sure is to ask her.”

“She’s not exactly going to come out and say she was in the stockroom—” Clara broke off with a sigh. “Listen to us. We’re talking about Frannie, for heaven’s sake. She’s scared of everyone and everything.”

“I know. It seems ridiculous, but we have to find out for sure before we go to Dan.”

“All right.” Clara tightened her hold on the phone. “I’ll ask her. Somehow.”

“Good for you. Call me as soon as you know.”

“I can’t leave the store until closing. She might have left before then.”

“Can’t you call her?”

“Of course not. This has to sound casual, like I just thought of it.”

“Crap. Then I guess it’ll have to wait. Unless I can find someone to watch the kids while I come over there. Too bad Molly is sick; we could have asked her.”

Clara fought with her conscience a full five seconds before answering. “Well, don’t worry about it. If you can’t make it, I’ll keep an eye open for Frannie this evening.” It wasn’t up to her to rat on Molly, she decided. But she’d have a word with that young lady and make sure she didn’t goof off and lie about being sick again.

“There’s something else,” she added, before Stephanie could hang up. “John Halloran was in here.”

“Oh?” Stephanie’s voice rose a few notches. “Did something happen?”

“Well, not exactly.” Clara paused, wondering if once more she was overreacting.

“Tell me!”

“He said he was the last one to see Ana alive.”

“He probably was. He was in Jordan’s late that night. Frannie told me. They were taking inventory the night Ana was killed. Frannie didn’t leave until after nine. She said John came in just before she left.” Stephanie paused, then added soberly, “Ana must have been killed shortly after that.”

“Was John still there after Frannie left?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.” Again the pause. “Even if he was, that doesn’t mean he killed Ana.”

“I know, but there’s just something in the way he says things.” Clara shivered. “He can be so weird at times.”

“He always was weird. Don’t you remember when we were kids, we thought he was an evil wizard?”

“That’s because he wouldn’t give us samples of candy.”

“Yes, but it was the way he wouldn’t give it to us. Like he was enjoying the power of denying us what we wanted.”

“Well, he told me something else that was kind of odd. He said that Ana was looking at property in Portland and that she was planning on moving there.”

“So she must have been planning on selling the store to Roberta anyway.”

“Perhaps.” Clara sighed. “The more we try to solve this thing, the more complicated it gets.”

“I know. No wonder Dan is having such a tough time. Though I do think he still believes Molly killed Ana and is waiting for her to confess.”

“By the way, you didn’t tell me Dan was in here yesterday. What did he have to say?”

“Not a lot. More questions, mostly asking Molly the same things over and over. I think he’s hoping to trip her up.”

“Did she tell him she was out with her boyfriend that night?”

“No, I don’t think so. I wish she would. I don’t like to think of her lying to the cops.”

She’d be even more upset if she knew Molly had lied to her, too, Clara thought. She considered, just for a moment, telling Stephanie what John had seen, then once more decided to say nothing. No sense in upsetting her cousin any further.

She hung up, resolving to talk to Molly at the first opportunity.

Stephanie arrived at the bookstore half an hour later, red in the face and obviously rattled. “Mom managed to get off work early,” she said, dumping a couple of loaded grocery sacks onto the counter. “I promised her I wouldn’t be long.”

Now that the moment was at hand, Clara wasn’t at all sure she wanted to go through with it. “Frannie’s going to be upset, no matter how I phrase the question,” she said, keeping her voice low so the customer studying the cookbooks couldn’t hear her.

“If she’s guilty,” Stephanie muttered, “she deserves to be upset. Just be careful. We don’t know how she’ll react.”

Somehow Clara just couldn’t imagine being afraid of Frannie. “I’ll be right back.” She let herself out the door and hurried up the sidewalk to Jordan’s front entrance.

Just as she reached the door, Roberta flew out of it, narrowly missing a collision as Clara skipped aside.

“Sorry!” Roberta flapped a hand at her and continued her mad dash across the road, pausing barely long enough to allow a bicyclist to pass before plunging on.

Curious, Clara watched the woman leap across the sidewalk and disappear into Parson’s Hardware. Whatever was the reason for her rush, evidently it had something to do with Rick Sanders.

With a let-down feeling washing over her, Clara walked into the spacious interior of Jordan’s.

Clara found Frannie at the back of the store, fiddling with a screwdriver in the back of a fax machine. She seemed absorbed in her task and jumped when Clara spoke to her.

“Sorry!” Frannie dropped the screwdriver on the counter. “I didn’t see you there. Can I get something for you?”

“Er . . .” Clara looked around and spotted an end display.

“Cartridges! That’s it! I was . . . ah . . . I wanted to look at . . . ah . . . print cartridges. For my printer.”
Of course, idiot
.

Frannie’s frown cleared. “Oh, right. They’re over there.” She nudged her head at the display. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Following the slender woman across the floor, Clara tried to imagine Frannie slugging Ana over the head with a bust of Poe. Just didn’t compute. Still, there was the significant question to be asked, and somehow she had to find a way to pose it.

She pretended to study the cartridges while she sought for a way to open the conversation. “You look pretty efficient with that screwdriver,” she said, hoping something significant would come to her.

Frannie’s face broke into a smile. “I do all right. When you live alone, you learn to do all kinds of things yourself.”

Clara nodded. “I know how that goes. It helps to pass the time. The good thing, though, about living alone is that it gives you plenty of time to read. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

Frannie’s face brightened. “Mine, too! I love to read. I have a whole roomful of books I haven’t even looked at yet, and still I buy more.”

“It can be addictive.” She paused, then added casually, “Have you read Wayne Lester’s book yet?”

“Oh, yes.” Frannie looked positively radiant. “At least, most of it. I haven’t quite finished it yet, but it’s absolutely fascinating. Have you read his work?”

“No, I . . . haven’t. Not yet.” She’d been going to say that those kind of books were on the bottom of her reading list. Frannie would not appreciate that. “I’ll certainly take a look at it, though.”

“It’s really good. It’s like he knows me personally. He says there are great changes in my future. Quite exciting, really.”

Clara squared her shoulders. “That reminds me. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Yes?” Frannie’s eyes looked enormous behind her glasses.

“Well, I was just wondering . . . ah . . . when you came in to buy the book. How did you know it was there?”

Frannie looked at her as if she didn’t understand the question.

Clara tried again. “I was just wondering how you knew it was in the store. We’d only just put it out on the shelves. We were wondering if you’d seen it advertised somewhere . . . or something.”

It was weak, but Frannie seemed okay with it. “Oh, no. Someone told me Wayne’s book had come in.”

Clara felt goose bumps popping up on her arms. “Really? Who was that?”

Frowning now, Frannie shook her head. “Actually, I don’t remember. It was sometime over the weekend, and everyone was upset about Ana. Things are a bit of a blur.” Her bottom lip trembled, then she seemed to pull herself together. “It might have been John Halloran. I was in the hardware store Saturday evening, and we were talking about Ana and he said his stars had predicted a death. Then we got to talking about books on astrology. No, wait.”

She paused, her brows furrowed in concentration, while Clara resisted the urge to prod her. Finally, she murmured, “It could have been Rick who told me. He was talking with us, too.” She looked up at Clara. “I didn’t know he was interested in astrology.”

Clara’s stomach churned. Funny how Rick’s name was mentioned every time the subject of Ana’s death came up. The voices started whispering, agreeing with her, warning her. She shut them down.

Frannie peered at her. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve got the cramps or something.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. It’s just the heat.” Clara backed away. “I’d better get back to the shop and drink some water.”

“What about your cartridges?”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll get them another time.” All she wanted to do was get out of there, out into the open, where there were no walls threatening to crush her.

She was almost at the door when Frannie called out after her, “You know, it could have been Roberta who told me. She was there as well. I know it was one of them. Is it important? Was it supposed to be a secret or something?”

Clara shook her head, raised a hand in farewell and dashed out the door.

Stephanie looked up, her eyes wide with expectation as Clara burst into the Raven’s Nest. “What is it? Did she confess? What happened?”

Clara stood for a moment, collecting her thoughts. There was no way she was going to admit to Stephanie that she was upset at the mention of Roberta being in Rick’s store on Saturday night. After all, it was none of her business what went on between the two of them.

She walked over to the counter and leaned her back against it. Signaling with her eyes and raised eyebrows, she asked a silent question.

“No, there’s no customers. You can talk. What is it?” Stephanie rushed over to her. “Tell me!”

“Well, Frannie wasn’t in the stockroom I don’t think. It could have been John Halloran, though, or Roberta, or . . .”

“Or who?”

She had trouble getting the last name out. “Rick. One of those three told Frannie Saturday evening that the books had arrived. She just can’t remember who it was. She only remembers that sometime over the weekend someone told her.”

“Oh, my.” Stephanie sagged against the counter.

“We have to tell Dan, I suppose.”

“Tell Dan what?” Stephanie shook her head. “We don’t know any more than we did yesterday. We’ve suspected all three of them all along, and Dan has questioned them all already.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know about the book thing.”

Stephanie opened her mouth to answer, but just then the doorbell chimed, and Frannie hurried into the store. “I’ve just got a moment,” she said, her voice taut with anxiety, “but I remembered who told me about the book. It was Molly. She was leaving the store as I passed by on my way home Friday night, and she said the books had come in and would probably go out on the shelves on Monday.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t remember that in the first place. I must be getting old.”