A Sinister Sense Read online

  “Me? Why me? I’m a stranger, too.”

  “Yes, but you have…you know…” Stephanie paused, obviously mindful of her cousin’s adverse reaction whenever the Quinn Sense was mentioned.

  “Just because I get along with dogs doesn’t mean I want to adopt one,” Clara said firmly. “Besides, can you imagine what my mother would say if I brought a dog that size into the house? She’d have hysterics.”

  “Well, you keep saying you’re tired of living with Aunt Jessie and you want to find an apartment.”

  “I do, but so far my hunting for one has produced zero opportunities. Besides, an apartment manager is even less likely to view Tatters with a fond eye.”

  Stephanie giggled. “Tatters. What a ridiculous name.”

  Clara smiled. “Oddly enough, the name suits him.”

  “Oh, he sounds adorable. What a shame Rick can’t keep him. I feel so bad for him. I wish—” She broke off, raising her voice to yell at an unseen child. “Michael? Michael! What are you doing with that tennis racket? What? No! You may not use it as a sled. Stay away from the stairs. You hear me?”

  Clara held the phone away from her ear, well used to her cousin’s tirades. Stephanie had three kids, and while Ethan, the eldest, lived in front of his computer and was barely seen or heard, Olivia and Michael spent most of their time seeing who could get into the most trouble.

  “Sorry,” Stephanie muttered, when apparently peace was restored. “What was I saying? Oh, yes, about the dog. Surely there’s some way Rick could keep him? Can’t you talk to him? Persuade him to give Tatters a second chance?”

  It was time to end the conversation, Clara decided. Her cousin was making her feel guilty, which was ridiculous, of course. She had no good reason to feel guilt over what was Rick’s problem and Rick’s alone.

  After she hung up, she poured herself a cup of coffee and tried to relax, but the uncomfortable feeling still gnawed away at her stomach. She kept seeing the dog’s dark brown eyes staring hopefully into hers, his tail slowly swishing back and forth.

  There was nothing she could do, she reminded herself. Working full-time in the bookstore and living with her mom were two very good reasons she couldn’t devote her time to training a lovable but totally undisciplined dog. Especially one that was almost as tall as her when standing on his hind legs—no mean feat, since she was five feet ten without her shoes.

  Nope, Rick would just have to take care of his own problem. She just hoped he’d decide to keep the dog, so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore.

  That night she dreamed a monster dog was chasing her along the beach. Her feet kept sinking in the sand, and the dog was drawing closer as she fought to outrun him. Then, without warning, he vanished.

  She turned and saw him struggling in the ocean, being taken out to sea by massive waves. Horrified, she tried to jump into the water, only to be thrown back by the current. She woke up with a start, her heart beating rapidly, as if she’d actually been running.

  Annoyed with herself, she threw the tangled covers aside and leapt out of bed. She was beginning to wish she’d never set eyes on Tatters. It was easy enough to interpret her dream. She was still racked with guilt for what felt like her abandonment of the animal.

  She’d thought that her years in New York had toughened her up, but here she was, obsessing over a dog she’d known for all of ten minutes.

  It didn’t help her mood when her mother stuck a bowl of cereal in front of her covered in fresh raspberries, strawberries and kiwifruit. Jessica Quinn was on a health kick and obviously felt that her daughter should follow her example.

  “You don’t eat enough fruit and veggies,” Jessie said, wagging a finger at her. “How do you expect to stay healthy with a breakfast of toast and coffee?”

  Clara gently pushed the plate away. “It hasn’t killed me yet.”

  “You always used to eat a good breakfast, before you went to New York.” Jessie sat down to tackle her own bowl of fruit and cereal. “I don’t know what happened to you there, but whatever it was, it didn’t do you much good.”

  Clara bit down hard on her toast and nipped the inside of her lip. Eyes watering, she drank down the last of her coffee. She was getting really tired of her mother probing about her past. Ever since Clara’s father had died from a heart attack a few years earlier, Jessie had turned to her daughter, taking a vested interest in her life to the point of intrusion.

  At first Clara had made allowances, knowing that they were both working through the terrible grief of loss. But as time passed and Jessie’s meddling showed no signs of easing up, Clara’s tolerance was severely tested.

  When she’d made the decision to return to Finn’s Harbor, the scarcity of suitable apartments had made living with her mother the only viable option. Promising herself it was only temporary, Clara had put up with Jessie’s constant digs and questions, hoping that eventually her mother would grow tired of the inquisition.

  She certainly showed no signs of it that morning. “How much longer are you going to work in that bookstore?” she asked as Clara pushed her chair back from the table. “You have a college degree, for heaven’s sake. You should be teaching literature, not selling it.”

  “I’ve looked for teaching jobs,” Clara said, picking up her plate and mug. “You know that. I’d have to move to Portland, and there’s no guarantee I’d get one there. Besides, I moved back to Finn’s Harbor because I like living here.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” Jessie raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “This is such a dinky little town, it must feel like the back of beyond after living in a city like New York. I mean”—she waved a hand in the air—“what does Finn’s Harbor have to offer a woman like you? There are no eligible men to speak of…except for perhaps that good-looking charmer who owns the hardware store. Whatever happened to him, anyway? I thought you two were getting cozy.”

  Clara puffed out her breath. “I have no intention of getting cozy with anyone. I didn’t come back here to find a husband, if that’s what you think.”

  Jessie pouted. “I don’t know what to think. You’ve never told anyone why you left a glamorous, exciting life in one of the most stimulating cities in the world to hibernate in a town that’s invaded by strangers in the summer and pulls up the sidewalks in the winter.”

  Carrying her plate and mug, Clara headed for the kitchen. “I told you, I missed living here. I’m happy here, and that’s all that matters.”

  “Are you?” Jessie followed her into the kitchen. “You don’t seem all that happy to me. You’ve changed, Clara, and I wish I knew why.”

  Clara put her plate and mug in the dishwasher and turned to her mother. “I’m fine, Mom. You worry about me far too much. Why don’t you start living your own life again, instead of trying to live mine? You have friends. You could travel. Go on vacation somewhere.”

  Jessie sighed. “I’d rather go with you.”

  “I don’t have time. I’m busy helping Steffie at the store.” Clara leaned forward and planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Quit worrying about me. I’m fine.”

  “That’s what your father said the day he had his heart attack.”

  Clara rolled her eyes. “It is not the same thing and you know it. Now I have to go, or I’ll be late for work. I’ve got a ton of errands to run before I can go to the bookstore.” She rushed out the door before her mother could think of something else to say to upset her. Something told her this was not going to be her day.

  The feeling persisted all morning, growing even stronger as she finally drove to Main Street and parked the car halfway up the steep hill. Climbing out, she pulled in a deep breath. Clapboard storefronts lined the hillside street in a parade of pastel pink, blue and yellow. Below them, boats of all shapes and sizes crowded the harbor, while farther out white sails dipped and swayed across the deep blue water.

  Pausing for a moment, Clara watched the seagulls floating above the sands against the hazy smudge of mountains that g
uarded the bay. Before she’d left for college she’d taken the scenery for granted. Once in New York, however, she’d missed the ocean and the peaceful ambiance of her hometown. Now that she’d learned to appreciate the beauty of Finn’s Harbor, she took the time to drink in the view.

  Usually the fresh sea air helped to clear her mind, but today it failed to revive her. It was almost noon, and already the sticky heat of the day seemed overpowering. The climb to the top of the hill didn’t help, and by the time she reached the bookstore she was sweltering, out of breath and longing for a glass of iced tea.

  The feeling of anxiety that had bothered her ever since she’d fallen out of bed that morning was now a full-blown feeling of impending disaster. Hoping it wasn’t the Quinn Sense giving her a warning, she shoved open the door and stepped inside the cool, shadowed entrance of the Raven’s Nest.

  When Stephanie had first asked her cousin to take the afternoon shift at the bookstore, Clara had agreed with the clear understanding it was only temporary—just until Stephanie found someone else to help out.

  Clara had returned home from New York with the firm intention of finding an apartment and a job. In a town as small as Finn’s Harbor, however, teaching positions were few and far between. The commute to Portland, the closest big city, was too long to be an option, and the one offer she’d been given closer to home had not appealed to her.

  Stephanie seemed in no hurry to replace her, and after working at the bookstore for several months, Clara had settled into a relaxing, if slightly mundane routine. She was in a comfortable place right now and didn’t seem to have the incentive to look for another job.

  Although she tended to avoid anything to do with magic and the occult, the bookstore had grown on her. The dangling beads and spinning crystals, the lifesize fortune-teller staring into her crystal ball and the stuffed raven keeping watch from its high perch appealed to the quirky side of her nature. Besides, Stephanie needed her, and it felt good to be helping her cousin make a success of the Raven’s Nest.

  As Clara walked over to the counter, Stephanie called out to her. Balanced on the rung of a ladder and half-hidden behind a stack of books, she peered out from one of the aisles. “Have you heard the news?”

  Clara paused. The sensation was back. She could hear them now—the voices, clamoring in her head. She struggled to banish them. “What news?”

  A face popped up from behind the counter, crowned with flyaway red hair. Molly Owens’s bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “We’ve been waiting for you to get here. You won’t believe what’s happened. There’s been a murder!”

  The voices were immediately silenced, leaving only a cold sick feeling behind. Clara’s lips felt dry as she answered Molly. “Where? Here in Finn’s Harbor?”

  Stephanie abandoned her books and hurried over to join her young assistant behind the counter. “We thought you might have heard it on the news.”

  Clara shook her head. “I was listening to a CD in my car. Who died? Not anyone we know, I hope.”

  Molly was practically jumping up and down. “No one knows who he is. The police found him this morning. Guess where!”

  You don’t want to know. Clara jumped. It was as if someone had spoken the words out loud in her ear. She looked at Stephanie for help.

  Her cousin’s face was a picture of discomfort. “I’m sorry, Clara. I know you like him, but…” She hesitated, and before Clara could absorb the words, Molly jumped in to finish for her.

  “They found the body in the back of Rick Sanders’s truck!”

  Clara kept staring at her cousin, waiting desperately for her to say that Molly was joking. Instead, Stephanie slowly nodded her head. “It’s true. Roberta was in here a little while ago. She heard it from John Halloran. He’s taking care of the store until Rick gets back.”

  Clara clutched the edge of the counter. “What happened?”

  Molly started to say something, but Stephanie cut her off. “Molly, go make a fresh pot of coffee, would you?”

  The young girl looked disappointed, but she wandered off to the Reading Nook, leaving the cousins alone.

  “We don’t know much,” Stephanie said, opening the cash drawer and closing it again. “Just that the body was found in Rick’s truck and he’s down at the station helping the police in their inquiries.”

  “Well, they can’t possibly think he killed someone.” Clara hurried behind the counter and stashed her purse on the shelf underneath. “Dan must know that.”

  Stephanie shrugged. “Dan Petersen’s the chief of police. I guess he has to question everyone.”

  “Yeah, I remember when he questioned Molly about Ana Jordan’s death. He was convinced Molly had killed her.”

  “Well, that turned out all right in the end, though, didn’t it?” Stephanie patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Clara. If Rick is innocent, I’m sure Dan will know it. He’s a good cop.”

  Clara turned on her. “If? There’s no if about it. Rick would never kill anyone.”

  Stephanie held up her hands. “Okay! If that’s so, then he has nothing to worry about.”

  Annoyed with herself for overreacting, Clara shrugged. “So who’s the victim, anyway?”

  “They don’t know his name yet. John said he thought the guy was from out of town.”

  “A tourist?”

  “I guess so.” Stephanie looked worried. “Clara, you’re not going to get involved in this, are you? Remember what happened the last time. You almost got yourself killed.”

  “Of course I’m not getting involved. Besides, if I remember correctly, you were the one who begged me to look into Ana’s murder.”

  “That’s because everyone thought Molly had killed her. Rick Sanders can take care of himself.”

  Clara glanced at the clock. “Isn’t it time you left to pick up your kids? Aunt Paula will be wondering where you are.”

  Stephanie followed her gaze and ran a hand through her fair hair. “Oh crap. Mom will kill me. She’s got a dentist appointment this afternoon.” She snatched up a large tapestry purse and tucked it under her arm. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

  “Do that.”

  Stephanie paused at the door and looked back. “You will talk to me before you do anything…rash, won’t you?”

  “I’m not going to do anything rash. Besides, I’m sure Rick will be back in the store this afternoon, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  Stephanie looked unconvinced. “I hope so. Let me know if you hear anything.” The door closed behind her, and Clara slumped against the counter, wishing she felt as positive as she’d sounded.

  Shreds of her dream kept wafting through her mind. What was happening to Tatters while Rick was detained? Was the dog alone in the house, tearing it apart? Was he in the hardware store, creating havoc?

  Fortunately, she didn’t have time to worry about it as a little rush of customers took her mind off things.

  Shortly before Molly was due to leave, Clara caught sight of Rick entering his store across the street. She waited until Molly had finished serving her customer, and hurried over to her.

  “I’m going to the hardware store to see if everything’s all right over there,” she said as Molly finished entering the purchase on the computer. “Rick’s back, so at least he wasn’t arrested.”

  Molly gave her a grin. “All right! Go ahead, I’ll wait.”

  “I won’t be long.” Clara was out of the door before the words had left her mouth.

  The sun scorched her head as she waited on the curb for the line of slow-moving cars to pass. Losing patience, she darted in between a pickup pulling a fifth wheel, and a black SUV piloted by a white-haired man who gestured at her as she flashed by him.

  Rick had his back to her when she rushed into the shop. He stood talking to John Halloran, his sometimes assistant, who kept nodding his head and looking sympathetic.

  Clara wasn’t sure how she felt about John. He’d owned a candy store farther down the street when she and
Stephanie were kids. They’d been convinced he was an evil wizard. There was something in the way he’d talked to them that had freaked them out, and even now Clara felt uneasy whenever he was around.

  John saw her coming and gave her a brief nod of his head.

  Rick turned around, his taut features breaking into a smile at the sight of her.

  “I heard the news,” Clara blurted out before he could say anything. “I’m so sorry, Rick. Is there anything I can do? I mean…I hope…” She let her voice trail off, not sure quite what to say.

  “It’s okay,” Rick assured her. “I wasn’t arrested or anything.”

  He was still smiling, but she could see the worry in his eyes. “What did Dan say? Do they know who did it?”

  “Nope.” Rick looked back at John. “You can run along now, buddy. I can take it from here.”

  “You sure?” John gave Clara a long look that somehow made her feel she was intruding, then ambled out the door and disappeared.

  Rick gazed after him, a frown creasing his brow. “I’ve got to get a permanent assistant. John’s been good about helping out now and then, but I need someone here to take over full-time when I’m away.”

  Clara looked at him in alarm. “Are you saying you’re expecting to be arrested?”

  He turned away before she could see his expression. “No, of course not. Still, you never know what might happen. If I’m sick, for instance, or have to go out of town for something, I have to rely on John being free to take over. With a permanent assistant I wouldn’t have that worry.”

  “True.” Clara ran her fingers along the edge of the counter. “So, did Dan tell you anything about the murder?”

  He looked at her then, his head tilted to one side. “You’re not thinking of hunting down a killer again, are you?”

  Clara laughed. “Not on your life. I had all the excitement I needed with the last one.”

  He looked relieved. “Good. Messing with police business is dangerous stuff.”

  She wondered for a moment if he was warning her off for a reason, then dismissed it. “I heard that the cops don’t know the victim’s identity.”