Clara exchanged a glance with her cousin. “Well, it’s not much to go on. I wonder if anyone else there knew what he was upset about.”
“Maybe Karen would know,” Stephanie said. “She could have been the one who sent him the text message.”
“There’s one way to find out.” Clara picked up her glass again. “I think it’s time we paid the widow a visit. How about tomorrow morning?”
Stephanie nodded. “Sure. That is, Molly, if you don’t mind holding down the fort again for an hour or so?”
“Of course I don’t mind.” Molly looked at Clara. “I can’t help feeling, though, that you could be wrong about Scott’s accident being murder.”
“I know it seems that way. I just have to ask you to trust me. Thanks for talking to the guys over there. You’ve been a big help so far.”
“Really?” Molly beamed. “Well, call on me any time. This is fun!”
Clara wasn’t sure how much fun it was going to be talking to Scott’s widow, but she held up her wine and touched glasses with Molly. “Here’s to finding out the truth, even if we do seem to be spending most of our time in bars.”
Stephanie lifted her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
“And here’s to finding out Scott’s death was an accident, after all,” Molly added. “Then we won’t have to worry about a killer lurking about in Finn’s Harbor.”
There was little hope of that, Clara thought, as she met Stephanie’s gaze. There was no doubt in her mind that Scott had been murdered. Proving it, however, was turning out to be even more difficult than she’d imagined.
9
“Now, what about Ryan Whittaker?” Stephanie asked, putting down her empty glass. “Aren’t we supposed to be talking to him?”
“You are?” Molly’s eyes widened. “What does he have to do with Scott’s death?”
“Nothing, as far as we know,” Clara said hastily. “We’re just hoping he might know something that could help.”
“Well, he’s over there with Brad if you want to talk to him.” Molly glanced over at the far table. “In fact, he just got up and went over to the bar.”
Clara followed her gaze. “Which one is he?”
“You don’t know him?”
Clara shook her head. “I know his brother works for Rick.”
Still looking puzzled, Molly got up. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Clara looked at Stephanie. “You coming?”
“I guess.” With obvious reluctance, Stephanie took another sip of wine and got to her feet. “Let’s do this.”
Molly led the way over to the bar and tapped the shoulder of a tall, dark-haired guy in a leather jacket. “Hey, Ryan, I have a couple of friends who want to meet you.”
Clara seemed to lose the use of her tongue as she looked into dark eyes that were blatantly checking her out from head to toe. She managed to mumble a greeting while Stephanie edged closer behind her.
Ryan Whittaker looked nothing like the man on the beach in her dream, which unsettled her. She’d been so sure the dream was a message, but now it seemed it was just a dream and nothing more. Ryan was even better looking than his brother, and had danger written all over him. Jessie would have a field day with this one. Clara was just a tad shorter than him and she instinctively stretched her back to try and reach his height.
He finally focused on her face and gave her a slow smile that must have taken years to perfect. “Hi, gorgeous. What’s your name?”
“Clara.” She felt behind her and found Stephanie’s arm. Dragging her cousin forward, she added, “This is my cousin, Stephanie. She owns the Raven’s Nest bookstore that’s right across the street from where your brother works.”
“Hi,” Stephanie said, sounding breathless. “I’m married.”
Clara gave her a startled look, while Ryan continued to stare into Clara’s face. “You don’t say,” he murmured.
Clara cleared her throat. “I met Tyler the other day,” she said, wishing she sounded a bit more confident. “He’s a very nice young man.”
Ryan’s smile was beginning to slip. “So?”
“I . . . er . . . we . . . were friends with Scott Delwyn. We were just wondering if you were there the night he died.”
The smile disappeared altogether and hostility crept into the black eyes. “What if I was?”
This was not going well. She should have rehearsed what she wanted to say. Anything she said now would sound like an accusation. She had misinterpreted her dream and it was obvious this man was not going to tell her anything.
She looked at Stephanie for help, but just then Molly stepped forward. “We’re thinking of setting up a memorial fund for Karen,” she said, “and we’re trying to find out who were Scott’s friends on the construction site.”
Clara let out her breath as Ryan turned to look at her. “I’ve got no idea. I wasn’t one of them.” He frowned. “Why don’t you ask Brad?”
Molly beamed. “Good idea. I will.”
Clara added weakly, “Thank you, anyway.”
The seductive gleam was back in his eyes as he murmured, “Anytime, gorgeous.”
She could feel his gaze on her all the way back to the table.
“Wow,” Stephanie said, sinking onto her chair. “That one is just too hot to handle.”
Clara looked at her cousin. “What was all that about you being married?”
Stephanie shrugged. “I didn’t want him looking at me the way he was looking at you.”
Molly laughed. “It’s all talk. He’s no different than any of the other guys. He just puts on a better show.”
“You could have fooled me.” Stephanie eyed Clara with a sly grin. “He sure did a number on you.”
Clara could feel her cheeks growing warm. “Oh, quit it. I was scared he was going to get mad at us for suggesting he had anything to do with Scott’s death.” She turned to Molly. “That was quick thinking, Molly. Good job.”
Molly grinned. “Thanks, but I still don’t know why you thought he was involved.”
“Just a stupid hunch, that’s all.”
“Well, it turned out okay and that’s all that matters.” Stephanie gathered up her purse. “I have to run.” She got to her feet. “Are you coming?”
“I think I’m going to stick around for a while longer,” Clara murmured. “I haven’t finished my wine yet.”
“Me, too.” Molly leaned back on her chair.
“Okay, see you tomorrow.” Stephanie took off, rushing out the door without a backward look.
“Do you think she’s upset with us for staying?” Molly asked anxiously.
Clara laughed. “She’s probably upset she had to leave. Stephanie doesn’t like being left out of anything.”
“You know her really well.”
“We’ve been close almost from the day we were born.” Clara picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. “We grew up together. More like sisters, I guess.”
“It must be nice, having a cousin who’s also your best friend.” Molly sighed. “I would have loved to have a sister. Or even a cousin to hang around with.”
“You don’t have cousins?”
Molly shook her head. “My mother was an only child, and my father grew up in foster homes. I have one brother, but he lives on the West Coast.”
Clara nodded. “I’m an only child and so is Stephanie. I guess that’s why we spent so much time together. We were always at one another’s house, sleeping over most of the time.”
“That’s nice.”
Molly looked sad and Clara sought to change the subject. “How did you meet Brad?”
“I met him in Mittleford last week.” Molly smiled. “I’d been shopping and was loaded down with bags. I tried to open my car door and dropped a couple of them on the ground. Brad was getting out of his car in the next parking spot. He helped me load everything into the car and he was like, real friendly and cute, and we got to talking and he told me he worked at the resort project and mentioned this place. He said
if I came down here, he’d buy me a drink.”
“Ah, so when you heard that Stephanie and I wanted to talk to the construction guys . . .”
“I suggested we come here tonight so I could see Brad again.”
“Devious. Sounds like something I would do.”
Molly grinned. “I did get some information for you, though. Right?”
“Right.” She wasn’t exactly sure if it was going to be much help, but maybe their visit to Karen in the morning would turn up something. Catching sight of Molly staring across the room, she added, “Look, if you want to go and talk to Brad, go ahead. I have to get back home, anyway, and walk my dog. Just let me know if he tells you anything else about Scott.”
Molly jumped to her feet. “You’re sure? Cool! I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
She was gone before Clara had time to answer.
Walking to the door, Clara felt a stab of envy when she saw Molly sit down next to the rugged guy at the far table. Her friend’s face was flushed with excitement, and judging from the smile on the young man’s face, he was just as thrilled to be talking to her.
It had been a long time since she’d felt that way, Clara thought, as she opened her car door and climbed inside. Though she had to admit, she’d come close a time or two when she’d been with Rick.
Thinking of Rick stirred up all her insecurities. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with how she felt about him. She’d been burned once, badly, and even now she wasn’t sure she could completely trust her heart to someone else.
If only she knew how he really felt about her. Maybe then she could let go of all the doubts and just enjoy being with him.
She arrived home a short time later to find Tatters alone in the utility room and a note from her mother telling her not to wait up. Tatters, as usual, was ecstatic to see her, and without Jessie’s stern voice telling him to heel, leapt up to smother Clara’s face with his furry kisses.
She managed to calm him down enough to get a leash on him and then braved the cold once more. Their walk took them down to the harbor, but the wind cut through her coat like blades of ice and she gave up the idea of walking on the beach.
Even Tatters seemed content to trot along the seafront, and she returned to the house, grateful for the warmth of the living room. There was a casserole sitting in the oven and after heating it up she ate at the kitchen table, too tired to be bothered listening to the TV.
She fell asleep before Jessie returned home, and woke up to the sound of the wind rattling tree branches outside her window.
Jessie was in the kitchen, dressed for work and finishing up her usual mug of coffee. She gave Clara a searching look when she walked in, but said nothing until Clara had poured herself some coffee and sat down at the table.
“You look a bit peaky. Are you not sleeping well?”
Clara looked up with a start. “What? Yes, I’m sleeping okay.”
“Well, you don’t have any color in your cheeks.”
“It’s the middle of winter. No one has any color in their cheeks.”
“You know what I mean.” Jessie got up and walked over to the sink, carrying her mug. “I think it’s that dog keeping you awake. He should be sleeping in the utility room.”
Having heard that comment more times than she cared to remember, Clara didn’t answer.
“Or is there something else keeping you awake?”
Clara sighed. “No, Mother, there’s nothing going on. I’m sleeping perfectly fine, thank you.”
Jessie came back to the table and sat down. “Are you happy, Clara?”
Taken aback, Clara stared at her mother. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. You don’t seem to have any friends—except for Stephanie, of course. Then again, she’s your cousin. You have to be friends with her.”
Clara decided to let that one go.
“What about that nice man at the hardware store? I thought you two were getting into something interesting.”
Clara raised her eyebrows. “Whatever that means.”
“You know perfectly well what I mean.” Jessie sighed and got up. “There’s just no talking to you these days. You’ve changed, Clara, and I’m not at all sure it’s for the better.” She walked over to the door and looked back. “You have to live life to the fullest. You never know when it might end. I’ll see you tonight.”
Clara buried her face in her hands until she heard the front door close behind her mother. Jessie meant well, she reminded herself. Her mother worried about her. She wished she wouldn’t.
Still, Jessie’s last words remained with Clara as she showered and dressed. You never know when it might end. It had ended for Scott Delwyn far too soon. She frowned, thinking about the comments Molly’s friend had made the night before.
Scott had received some kind of text message that had apparently upset him. A few short hours later he was dead. Coincidence? It seemed there were too many coincidences concerning his death,.
She stared at her image in the mirror. Come on, Quinn Sense. Where are you when I need you? Her hair could use a trim, she decided. It was almost to her shoulders. She brushed a handful of it back from her face. She’d often wondered what she’d look like with short, blonde hair instead of her heavy, dark brown mane. Thinking of blonde hair made her think of Roberta Prince, and thinking of Roberta made her think of Rick. Why did everything always bring her back to Rick Sanders?
Inpatient with herself, she dragged a brush through her hair, dashed on some lipstick and eyeliner and headed for the bedroom. After settling Tatters down on her bed, she was about to leave when it occurred to her she ought to call Karen Delwyn to ask if she and Stephanie could stop by.
She had to call Stephanie at the store first to get the number from the customer list, and promised to pick her up in fifteen minutes.
Karen’s phone rang four times before she answered. Clara was on the point of hanging up when she heard the other woman’s tired voice. She seemed pleased when Clara told her she and her cousin were thinking of paying her a visit.
“Come on over,” she said, sounding brighter. “I made chocolate chip cookies for the girls this morning. If there’s any left over by the time you get here, you can have some.”
Clara felt guilty as she closed her phone. Karen had sounded so desperate for company, and here they were going over there to ask questions about her dead husband. She’d make a point of visiting her again, Clara promised herself as she walked down the path to her car. When she had more time to sit and talk.
Stephanie had her coat on when Clara got to the Raven’s Nest. “We’re just starting to get busy,” she said as she scrambled into Clara’s car. “We can’t stay long at Karen’s.”
Clara felt the stab of guilt again. “We have to at least stay and eat some of the cookies she baked.”
“Cookies?” Stephanie sat up. “What kind of cookies?”
“Chocolate chip.”
“Well, maybe we can spare an hour or so.” Stephanie settled back on her seat with a look of gleeful anticipation.
Karen greeted them at the door, looking a little more at ease than when they’d last seen her. She showed them into the living room and left them there while she went to get the cookies.
Clara’s stomach took a nosedive when she saw a photo of Scott, Karen and the two girls on the mantel above the fireplace. They looked so happy and carefree, never dreaming that in such a short time their lives would be shattered.
The anger rose up in her again, and with it the vow to find out who was responsible for taking the life of this man.
Karen came back with a tray of cookies and three cups of steaming-hot tea. Putting the tray down on the coffee table, she said, “I’ve had so many people stop by this week. I didn’t realize we had so many friends.” Her voice wobbled and she quickly placed a cup and saucer in front of Clara. “Help yourself to the cookies.”
Stephanie leaned forward and took one. “Thanks. These look good.”
“They’re the girls’ favorites.” Karen glanced at the photo on the mantel. “Scott loved them, too. I always put a couple in his lunch box when I made them.”
Clara looked at Stephanie, who gave her a slight nod. “He must have really loved that lunch box to go back for it that night,” she said, smiling at Karen.
The widow looked puzzled. “His lunch box?”
“Yes.” Now that she’d started the conversation, she wished she didn’t have to finish it. Apparently Karen hadn’t heard why her husband had gone back to the scaffolding on the night he died. “I . . . er . . . we heard that your daughter had given Scott a lunch box and he went back for it because he knew she’d be upset if he came home without it.”
Karen was looking at her as if she’d gone out of her mind. “My daughter never gave her father a lunch box. Scott bought one for himself from Rick’s hardware store when he got the job at the resort project.”
Stephanie made an odd sound, her mouth full of cookie. Clara sent her a warning look and loudly cleared her throat. “Someone must have got it wrong,” she said, reaching for her tea. “You know how these rumors start. Someone says something and someone else hears it differently. Like that telephone game we played when we were kids.” Uncomfortable with the pained expression on Karen’s face, she swallowed her tea too fast and choked. Somehow she managed to put the cup down without spilling anything.
“I’m so sorry,” Stephanie said, having apparently emptied her mouth. “Scott was such a nice man. He didn’t deserve to die in such a stupid accident.”
Karen looked as if she were about to cry. “I haven’t said anything about this before, but I’m getting to the point that if I don’t tell someone soon I’ll go totally out of my mind.” She looked at both cousins in turn. “I hope I can trust you not to repeat anything I tell you.”
“Of course you can.”
“Absolutely.”
They’d both spoken at once, and Karen seemed satisfied with that. “The truth is, Scott was acting really weird the last couple of days before he died. I think he was struggling with some kind of problem.” She picked up her tea, her hand shaking enough to rattle the cup in the saucer. “It must have been huge for him not to tell me what it was. I kept asking him, but he wouldn’t admit he was worried. He said I was imagining things.”
Trouble Vision Page 11
