An empty carton of chocolate ice cream sat on the table with a spoon sticking out of it. Clara made a face. “You might have saved me some.”
Stephanie only cried harder.
Clara spotted a box of tissues on the windowsill and carried it over to the table. “Here.” She sat down opposite her cousin and folded her arms. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
Stephanie grabbed a fistful of tissues and blew her nose. Dabbing at her eyes, she mumbled something Clara couldn’t understand.
“What?” Clara leaned closer. “Take a deep breath, then tell me. Is George hurt? Where is he?”
Stephanie howled.
Clara felt as if a hand of ice had clutched her heart. “He’s not . . . ?” No matter how she tried, she couldn’t say the word.
Stephanie blew her nose again. “He’s not dead, if that’s what you were going to say.”
“Thank God.” Clara slumped back on her chair. “Then for pity’s sake, tell me what’s going on.”
“I think he’s . . . cheating on me.” The tears started flowing again.
Clara stared at her, then burst out laughing.
Stephanie glared, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed. “It’s not a laughing matter. I thought you, of all people, would understand what—”
“Steffie.” Clara sat up, reached across the table and gripped her cousin’s hand. “Listen to me. Can you honestly see George having an affair? I mean, this is George we’re talking about. The father of your children.”
Stephanie looked annoyed. “Are you saying that my husband is not attractive to women?”
“No, I’m saying he’s not attracted to women. He adores you, Steffie. And his kids. He’d never risk losing all that.”
“Then tell me who Annabelle is and why she’s calling my husband.”
Clara stared at her. “Annabelle?”
“Yes, she called this morning. She asked for George, then got all squiggly when I said he wasn’t here. She thought she was calling his work number. She said she’d got the numbers mixed up. Why would a woman have George’s work number and his home phone number?”
“Any number of reasons. Why didn’t she call his cell if she wanted to talk to him privately?”
Stephanie’s jaw dropped. “I never thought of that. Maybe he didn’t want to give it to her in case she called him while he was here.”
Clara shook her head. “You’re determined to condemn him without giving him a chance to explain. Why don’t you just ask him who Annabelle is?”
Tears ran down Stephanie’s cheeks again. “I’m afraid he’ll tell me he’s . . . in love with . . . her and wants . . . a divorce! How can he do this to me? Less than a month away from our anniversary?” Once more, her voice soared to a wail.
Just then the back door opened and Michael walked in. Luckily he was in too much of a hurry to get to his room to notice his mother’s puffy face and wobbly voice. After calling out a hasty “Hi!” he threw his coat on a chair and disappeared down the hallway.
Stephanie buried her face in a handful of tissues, sniffed a few times, then wiped her eyes. “I have to act as if nothing has happened. For the kids’ sake.”
“Nothing has happened yet.” Clara leaned back. “I’m willing to bet everything I have that you’re wrong about George.”
“Then why has he been so distant lately? He’s been acting like he’s keeping a secret from me. I should have suspected something like this all along. I just never thought my George . . .” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat. “It’s my fault. I’ve been running around with you all over town, drinking in bars and stuff, while he’s been at home looking after the kids. It’s no wonder he’s turned to another woman.”
Clara tried not to feel offended. Stephanie was upset. She didn’t realize what she was saying. “Do you have this woman’s number?”
Stephanie nodded. “It’s on the ID pad. I called her back. That’s how I got her name. She didn’t want to tell me who she was.”
“What did she say when you talked to her?”
“I didn’t talk to her. I got a recording. On the phone she’d just used to call me. It was obvious she didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Well, give me her number.”
Stephanie gave her a suspicious look. “What for?”
“Well, obviously you can’t go snooping around to find out who she is. But I can.”
“Really?” Stephanie momentarily brightened. “Promise you’ll tell me the truth when you find out, no matter how bad it is?”
Convinced that George was innocent, Clara had no trouble giving her promise. “I’d better get going. Molly’s probably busy in the Nook by now.”
Stephanie jumped up. “I’ll get the number. Just don’t tell George we suspect anything. I want to find out all I can about this Annabelle woman before I confront him with it. In the meantime, I can’t go on any more escapades with you. I need to stay home and keep an eye on my husband.”
Clara followed her into the living room. “Please don’t say anything to George until I’ve checked this out.”
“I won’t.” Stephanie read the number out to her while Clara entered it in her address page. “But it will be hard.”
“Keep thinking positive.” Clara gave her a hug. “I know this is going to turn out all right.”
She left the house, worried about her cousin’s state of mind. Stephanie was impulsive, apt to jump to conclusions and sometimes acted without thinking.
Much as Clara wanted to believe that George wasn’t having an affair, she couldn’t help thinking about her own heartache, not so long ago. She couldn’t imagine Matt cheating on her, either, but he had. She prayed that her cousin was wrong about George. Stephanie would be devastated, and totally lost without him.
Anxious to clear up the mystery, she called the number while still parked in Stephanie’s driveway. She got the same message her cousin had heard, and put her phone away, discouraged and worried.
There were two customers waiting at the counter when she got back to the Raven’s Nest, and she dropped her coat behind it and apologized for the delay. After serving them, she walked down to the Nook, where Molly was cleaning up.
“We had a rush on coffee and pastries,” she said when Clara hurried in to help her. “A whole bunch of people came in at the same time. I thought they were never going to leave.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been here, but I was worried about Stephanie.”
“No problem.” Molly carried some mugs over to the sink. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Just a little family upset, that’s all.”
“I don’t know how she does it. Taking care of a husband and three kids and working all week. It must be hard on her.”
“It is, but she loves it.” Clara stacked plates in a pile and took them over to the sink.
“Oh, I nearly forgot. Dan called. He wants you to call him.”
Her stab of excitement almost made her drop the plates. “Did he say why?”
“Nope. Just to call him.”
“I’ll go do it now.” Clara looked around. “Can you manage here?”
“Sure. I’m almost done, anyway.”
Deciding that the stockroom gave her the most privacy, Clara closed the door and flipped open her phone.
Dan answered on the first ring. “I talked to Ray Hogan,” he said in answer to her greeting.
Clara held her breath.
“He says he found the phone in a trash can. He figured someone had thrown it away and he fished it out.”
“And you believed him?”
“I had no reason not to.”
“What about the car, then?”
“I asked him about that. Seems that he borrowed it from a friend. He had an important appointment to keep and his own car wouldn’t start.”
“Yeah, right. He’s lying. I know he is. I think he’s the bank robber.”
“I thought you suspected him of killing Scott Delwyn.”
“I do. I keep telling you, Scot
t’s death is connected to the robbery.”
She could hear the impatience in his voice when he answered. “Well, Ray Hogan can’t be the bank robber. He was in Mittleford at the time of the robbery, taking his mother shopping. Thelma confirmed it, as well as the shop assistant who served them. Look, I know you think you’re helping Karen, but dragging all this up will only make things more miserable for her. Leave it be, Clara. We’ve got no reason at all to suspect Scott’s death was anything other than an accident. As for the bank robber, we’ll find him eventually. Let us do our job, and don’t give me a reason to get tough with you.”
Knowing when she was beaten, Clara hung up. She knew what Dan was thinking. Just because she and Stephanie had had some luck tracking down killers in the past, she was grasping at straws in the hopes of doing it again.
There didn’t seem any way to convince him otherwise, so the best thing she could do was keep looking for something—anything—that would make Dan realize she was telling him the truth.
The biggest blow was finding out Ray Hogan had an alibi. She was certain she’d seen Scott’s ghost in the back of the car Ray was driving and that Scott was trying to tell her that Ray was responsible for his death.
Then again, just because Ray hadn’t robbed a bank, it didn’t mean he hadn’t killed Scott. Ray Hogan was involved in this mess somehow, she was certain of that. She just had to prove it.
15
That night, Clara took Tatters down to the waterfront again. She needed time to think, away from distractions, and gazing at the ocean always helped to clear her mind. Seated on the wall, however, she found it hard to concentrate on her problems. She kept remembering Rick’s warm body next to her, and how it felt to be kissing him.
She still hadn’t told Stephanie what had happened. For one thing, it didn’t seem right to be sharing her big news when her cousin was so worried about her marriage. Not only that, it wasn’t as easy to share those moments with her cousin as it had been in the past. Maybe she was scared that if she talked about it, something would go wrong. Right now her relationship with Rick was so new and fragile, she didn’t want to take anything for granted.
She watched Tatters race along the edge of the waves, kicking up wet sand with his hind legs. How she wished she could be that carefree. Tatters didn’t need a lot to keep him happy. Just a warm bed and a full stomach. Next time around, she was coming back as a dog.
A gust of wind hit her in the back, and she hugged herself, wishing she’d worn a warmer jacket. She stood up and opened her mouth to yell for Tatters, but no sound came out. A familiar sensation swept over her, transporting her away from the ocean.
She was on Main Street, a little way down from the bank. It was spitting hailstones again, and they were bouncing off the sidewalk at her feet. A white mist swirled down the road and around the doors of the bank. Suddenly they opened, and a man ran out. A ski mask covered his face, and the collar of his jacket was pulled up at the back of his neck.
She looked down at his feet. He wore black sneakers, and three gold stars gleamed along the sides of them. As she watched, he started down the street toward a red sports car parked at the curb. He reached it and pulled off his mask. Just before he climbed into the car, he turned his head in her direction. She instantly recognized Ray Hogan.
Another man approached the red car from the opposite direction. He stood watching as Ray climbed into the car and drove away. Clara didn’t need to see his face clearly to know that it was Scott Delwyn.
She called out, but her words were no more than a whisper. Dan was wrong. Ray had robbed the bank. But Dan had said that Ray was in Mittleford when the robbery occurred. Then again, if Eddie could lie about his alibi, then why couldn’t Ray? But that would mean his mother and the shop assistant had lied, too.
She had to talk to Scott. Maybe he could tell her who killed him. As she started forward, the mist grew thicker, holding her back. She could feel rain now, hitting her face and dampening her hair. She heard a whine and looked around. Tatters? Where was he?
The dog whined again and the mist evaporated. She was still sitting on the wall, and Tatters sat in front of her, his head to one side as if trying to figure out what she was doing.
“Come here, boy.” She held out her hand and he shoved his nose into her palm. She patted him for a moment, then fastened his leash around his neck. “Let’s go home. I have some thinking to do.”
He turned at once, and led her at a fast pace back to the house. Once inside, she went straight to her room, taking the dog with her. Moments later, Jessie tapped on the door. “Clara? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Mother. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
There was a long pause, then Jessie said quietly, “Well, all right. Have a good night’s sleep.”
Seated on her bed, Clara waited while seconds ticked by without any more sound from the door. Jessie must have given up and gone to bed.
Tatters made an odd noise and she looked at him. He was staring at her, with what she could swear was disapproval in his eyes. She raised her chin. “What are you looking at?”
As if you didn’t know.
She sat up straighter. “I just didn’t feel like talking to her, that’s all.”
Tatters went on staring at her.
“Oh, all right.” She got off the bed. “But if she starts cross-examining me again, I’m going to blame you for putting me in a lousy mood.”
With Tatters at her heels, she walked down the hallway to the living room.
Jessie was folding up the newspaper, and looked surprised when Clara walked in. “I thought you were going to sleep.”
“I thought I’d have a glass of wine first. It will help relax me.”
Jessie frowned at her. “Clara, what’s going on? You’re not in some sort of trouble, are you?”
Clara laughed. “No, Mother, I’m not in any trouble.” She walked over to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “You want some wine?”
“I could use a glass. Thank you.”
Clara poured two glasses and carried them back to the living room. She gave one to her mother and took the other one over to the couch. Sitting down with it, she balanced it on the arm. “How are things at the library?”
“Fine. How are things at the bookstore?”
“Fine.” Clara took a sip of wine.
Jessie moved over to the couch and sat down next to her. “How are things with you and that nice hardware store man?”
Clara felt her nerves tensing and made an effort to relax. “Okay, I guess.”
Tatters sneezed and she looked at him, expecting to hear some scathing comment. He just lay down, however, and rested his jaw on his paws.
“You seem unhappy.” Jessie said, raising her glass to her lips.
“I’m not unhappy.” She made herself smile at her mother. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.”
“Maybe you should get a check-up. You haven’t had one since you got back from New York. Doctor Wills is a lovely doctor. I know you’d like her.”
Clara simply nodded. How she wished she could tell Jessie what was really bothering her. That she knew a murder had been committed, and that she knew the identity of the bank robber, and that she couldn’t do anything about it because everything she knew came from the Quinn Sense. That she was frustrated, and afraid that Ray Hogan was going to get away with everything.
Of course, Jessie would understand about the Quinn Sense. She’d known about it ever since she’d married Clara’s father. He’d warned her that some members of the Quinn family had inherited the Sense and that there might be times when they could read her mind.
Jessie had been skeptical at first, until Clara’s uncle—a confirmed bachelor with no intention of ever settling for one woman—told Jessie that that she was carrying a baby girl before Jessie had any idea she was pregnant.
He’d also told Jessie that her disapproval of his lifestyle could backfire on her when her daughter grew up following in h
is footsteps. Clara had smiled at that when she’d first heard it, yet here she was, closing in on her thirty-second birthday with no marriage prospects in sight.
An image of Rick popped into her mind and she quickly suppressed it. It was far too early to be thinking along those lines.
The reason she had kept her inheritance of the family gift to herself was because it made her feel different. A freak of nature. She’d always hated that, and had vowed long ago that no one—except Stephanie, the only person in the world she could trust with her secret—would know.
Much as Jessie might understand and even sympathize, sooner or later she would feel compelled to tell someone, and then everyone would know. Even Rick. That was something she couldn’t allow to happen.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking, or are you going to sit there in silence all night?”
Clara started and looked up to find Jessie staring at her, her forehead creased in a frown. Clara felt bad, knowing her mother was genuinely concerned about her. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m preoccupied.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Stephanie, is there?”
Clara’s eyes widened. With everything going on, she’d totally forgotten her promise to her cousin. “Not that I know of.” That was something else she couldn’t tell her mother. All these secrets were beginning to wear her down. “I’m sorry, Mother. Really I am. I’ll get some sleep and I’ll be fine in the morning. I promise.” She got up, went over to her mother and planted a swift kiss on her cheek. “Please don’t worry about me. I swear to you, I’m okay.”
Jessie caught her hand as she straightened. “You know I’m always willing to listen if you need to talk.”
Clara smiled. “I know. I appreciate that.” She looked down at Tatters, who appeared to be sleeping. “Come on, boy. Time for bed.”
Tatters got up, stretched his legs one at a time then strolled over to the door.
Jessie shook her head. “I swear that dog knows every word we say.”
“Of course he does.” Clara laughed. “Good night, Mother.”
“Good night, dear.”
Clara put her empty wineglass in the sink and led the dog down the hallway to her room. Once inside, she closed the door and flipped open her cell phone. After dialing the number Stephanie had given her, she waited. The recorded female voice answered her.
Trouble Vision Page 18
