Frowning, Clara laid the phone on her bedside table. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would track down this Annabelle and find out why she was calling George. Meanwhile, there was still the problem of what to do about Ray Hogan.
She sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down as Tatters leapt up beside her. She couldn’t come right out and accuse Ray of lying about shopping with his mother, and Thelma was obviously lying to protect her son. Then again, maybe Ray had given her some story about why he needed an alibi and she had no idea he’d robbed a bank.
Tatters pushed his nose into her palm and she patted his head. Maybe she could catch Thelma in her lie. The woman would surely be easier to deal with than her mean-looking son.
Reaching for the alarm clock, Clara set it two hours earlier than usual. She would pay Thelma an early visit before she started her shift at the bookstore. She picked up her cell phone and dialed Stephanie’s number. Her cousin would have to take some time off in the morning. At least she wouldn’t have to ask her to leave her family at dinnertime again.
Stephanie answered, and as she did so, the words she’d spoken that morning popped into Clara’s head. I need to stay home and keep an eye on my husband.
“Clara! Is everything okay?”
Clara swallowed the words she was going to say. “Everything’s fine. More than fine.”
“So what’s up?”
Unable to think of anything else, Clara said awkwardly, “I’ve got something to tell you.” Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell her cousin about Rick after all. It might even take Stephanie’s mind off her own troubles. Taking the plunge, she gave her cousin a brief rundown on what had happened between her and Rick the night before.
“Well, it’s about time,” Stephanie said, sounding pleased. “So what now?”
“Er . . . I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since. I haven’t really thought beyond that.”
“Well, you need to think about it. This could be the beginning of a lifetime change for you both.”
“I don’t know if we’re ready for that. We just want to take things slow and sort of see what happens.”
“Well, don’t wait too long. Remember, Roberta is waiting in the wings and she’s a lot pushier than you are.”
“You don’t have to keep reminding me of that.”
Stephanie paused, then lowered her voice. “I don’t suppose you’ve found out who Annabelle is?”
Feeling guilty for neglecting her cousin’s problem, Clara murmured, “Not so far, but I’m going all-out tomorrow.”
“Just don’t let her know that I suspect anything.” Stephanie paused again then added tearfully, “I can’t bear to think of George with another woman.”
“I’m as certain as I can be that he’s not having an affair.”
“Is that the Quinn Sense talking?”
“No, it’s my gut feeling. I promise, tomorrow I’ll have some answers.”
The next morning, Clara reached the waterfront and was dismayed to find Thelma’s street blocked by a police car and several orange-and-white-striped pylons. Catching sight of Tim, she beckoned him over. “What’s going on?”
Tim jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “One of the trucks headed for the construction site loaded with sand hit the curb while it was turning the corner. The jolt shook the flap open and the truck driver lost his load. It’s gonna take a while to clear this lot up.”
Clara glanced at her watch. “Wonderful. Guess I’ll have to go around a different way.”
Tim gave her a sly grin. “You could stay and talk to me while you’re waiting.”
She smiled back. “You know, normally I would, but I’ve got an important errand to take care of before I go to work. Rain check?”
“You got it.” He lifted his hand, then took a step away from her car to let her back up.
She got the car turned around and made it onto the next street. It was one she hadn’t used in years, and she drove slowly, marveling at the new stores that had sprung up in place of the houses that had once stood there.
Antiques stores, souvenirs and beach supplies, an ice cream parlor, a beauty parlor . . . Clara slammed on her brakes. Fortunately there was no one following behind her. Parking wasn’t allowed at the curb, and she had to pull into a side street, park and then walk back.
She turned the corner and started walking back toward the beauty parlor. Looking up at the sign over the door, she was satisfied that she hadn’t imagined things. The sign was decorated with red hearts and pink swirls around the name: “Annabelle.”
Clara pushed open the door, and bells chimed a jaunty tune until she closed it behind her. There were two customers seated in pink recliners, feet bare and hair wrapped in rose-colored towels. Two assistants hovered over the women, one bending over to examine fingernails while the other attended to the toes.
The shop was heavily scented, and elevator music played in the background. A woman with startling orange hair standing up in spikes hurried forward, her bright red lips split in a smile. “Welcome! Welcome to Annabelle’s! Are you here for the special? A full day of pampering, complete with delicious snacks? Nails, hair, body, the works?”
Having recognized the voice, Clara gulped. “Ah, not exactly.” Looking at Annabelle’s painted face, she was more certain than ever that George couldn’t possibly be having an affair. Not with this woman, at least. “I assume you’re Annabelle?”
The woman’s smile slipped. “Ah, yes, I am. How may I help you?”
“You know George Dowd?”
The smile returned. “Ah, George! Such a nice man. Lucky woman, that wife of his. He adores her, you know. Not many men would set foot in our pretty little parlor to book a day’s beauty treatment for his wife.”
Clara was beginning to understand. “George booked the special for Stephanie.”
“Ah, yes, I believe that’s her name.” The woman’s face crinkled with concern. “You won’t breathe a word to her, will you? It’s supposed to be a big, dark secret. It’s for their anniversary, you know. He has plans to take her out that night. Somewhere very special, he said, and he thought she’d enjoy getting gussied up for the occasion. He’s arranging everything and he doesn’t want her to know until that morning.”
“So it was you who called the house the other day.”
Annabelle gasped, one hand over her mouth. “Oh, goodness. Did I give everything away? I made such a silly mistake. George gave me two phone numbers and I called the wrong one. I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve spoiled his surprise.”
“You didn’t spoil it,” Clara assured her. “Stephanie has no idea.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Annabelle fanned her face. “Whew!” She laughed. “So what can I do for you, then?”
“Oh!” Clara backed toward the door. “I just stopped by to make sure everything was set for the big day. I’m Stephanie’s cousin.”
“Oh, how lovely to meet you. Yes, rest assured we will take care of your cousin. Mrs. Dowd will look and feel like a new woman when she leaves here.”
There was no way Clara would spend a day in that place with all that preening and fussing going on. Stephanie, on the other hand, would probably love every minute.
“Are you sure we can’t do something for you?” Annabelle pranced forward. “That hair, for instance. A trim? Just a touch of color?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Clara backed all the way out the door, then spun around and sped back to her car.
She could still smell the perfume on her clothes as she drove to Thelma’s house and parked at the curb. The good thing was that she was sure Stephanie’s husband wasn’t cheating on her. The bad thing was that she couldn’t tell her without spoiling the surprise.
She’d have to think of some way to calm Stephanie’s fears without spilling the beans about George’s anniversary gift. Meanwhile, she needed to concentrate on how to find out if Thelma had deliberately lied about going shopping with her son on the afternoon of the robbery.
Thelma answered t
he door, looking surprised to see her. “Of course I remember you. You’re Karen’s friend, right?” she said when Clara reminded her who she was.
“Right. I was there when you told Karen you were moving. I thought I’d stop by to see if you needed help with anything.”
Thelma seemed ill at ease, and she stared at Clara as if trying to figure out the meaning behind her words.
A quiver of apprehension ran down Clara’s back. Something—the Quinn Sense? Her own instincts?—was telling her this was a mistake
As if sensing her discomfort, Thelma’s face cleared. “That’s so sweet of you, hon, but I’ve got everything under control.” She put a hand up to her hair, and the sun glinted on her diamond ring. “I’ve got time for coffee, though, if you want to join me?”
“I’d like that. Thanks.”
Clara followed Thelma into the living room. A pile of boxes sat in a corner next to a table holding sheets of white wrapping paper, a box cutter and rolls of tape. Thelma moved an open box half full of books out of the way so that Clara could sit on an armchair.
“I hate packing,” Clara said, looking around. Across the room, leaning against the wall, was a large box with a picture of a flat-screen TV on the front. Next to it was a box apparently holding a desktop computer.
Thelma must have seen her looking at them, as she waved a hand at the boxes. “My son took me shopping. He’s a good man, my Ray. He knows how to take care of his mom.”
He was certainly doing a great job of it, Clara thought, considering he was unemployed. So he had taken his mom shopping after all. Had Thelma had the days mixed up when she told Dan it was the day of the robbery? “I think I saw him,” she said, smiling up at Thelma. “I think he was driving a brand-new red sports car. It looked expensive.”
Thelma had that odd look back on her face. “Oh, that!” Her laugh sounded forced. “No, that’s not Ray’s. He borrowed it from a friend when his own car wouldn’t start.” She shook her head. “He’s got to get that old clunker fixed, or buy a new one. It’s always letting him down.” She headed for a door on the other side of the room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make us some coffee, then you can tell me all about the bookstore.”
Clara watched her leave, struggling with indecision. Did Thelma suspect that Ray had robbed a bank, or was she simply a mom closing her mind against the possibility that her son could be involved in a crime?
Whichever it was, it seemed unlikely that she would admit anything. Clara’s only hope was to catch her out in a lie and right then she didn’t have the faintest idea how to do that.
Staring at the boxes again, Clara remembered her vision. Ray running out of the bank, ski mask pulled over his face, wearing the distinctive black shoes with the gold stars. Shoes that he hadn’t been wearing when she’d seen him in the diner.
What had he done with the shoes? Did he know that someone had seen them and would remember them? If so, he surely would have gotten rid of them. Or had he?
She felt a quiver of excitement. If she could find the shoes, she’d have the evidence she needed. Dan would have to believe her. She would have to tell Dan about the witness in the bank, but since she didn’t know her name, she couldn’t tell him who she was. Would it be enough? It was a chance worth taking to find out.
She got up from the chair and walked over to the kitchen door. Thelma was at the counter, pulling down mugs from a cabinet.
She looked up as Clara asked, “Could I use your bathroom?”
“Sure, hon. It’s down the hallway, third door on the right.”
“Thanks. I won’t be a minute.”
It took only a moment for her to figure out which bedroom was Ray’s. His clothes were all over the floor. A quick glance told her the shoes weren’t in plain sight.
Under the bed? She bent down to look. There were empty beer cans under there, one worn slipper and a half-full bag of potato chips, but no black sneakers.
Straightening, she headed for the closet. She had to rummage around in a pile of plastic bags, boxes and clothes before she found what she was looking for—one black sneaker with gold stars on the side.
With a little gasp of triumph, she picked up the shoe and backed out of the closet. Now all she had to do was get out of there with it.
Carefully she opened the bedroom door, then crept down to the bathroom and slipped inside. Trying not to think about where the shoe might have been, she stuck it in the waistband of her pants and pulled her sweater down over it.
Walking into the living room, she was surprised to find it empty. She’d expected to see Thelma sitting there waiting for her. She hesitated, wondering if she should wait for her to appear. It didn’t seem right just to walk out on her, especially if the poor woman was about to find out her only son was a bank robber and probably a murderer as well.
She could hear no sound from the kitchen, and quickly made up her mind. Maybe, after Ray was arrested, she’d come back and tell Thelma how sorry she was, and offer her help to get her moved.
With that settled in her mind, she started for the door. She was halfway across the room when a male voice spoke from behind her.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She froze, afraid to turn around. “I just came by to see if your mother needed help getting packed up to move.” She took a step toward the door. “She said she was okay so I’m leaving now. I have to go to work.”
“You’re not going anywhere, hon.”
Clara stared in horror as the front door opened to reveal Thelma barring her way.
Thelma looked past her to the man behind Clara. “I told you she was snooping around asking too many questions.”
“Well, now I have a question.” Ray came up behind her and spun her around with two hands biting into her shoulders. “What were you doing in my bedroom?”
Clara’s heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe. “N-nothing. I mistook it for the bathroom, that’s all.”
“Oh, yeah? You think I keep the can in my closet?”
“No, I . . .”
She gasped as Thelma came up behind her and pulled up her sweater. “Well, what do we have here?” She tugged the shoe out of Clara’s waistband. Glaring at her son she muttered, “I told you to get rid of these.”
“Well, I like ’em. I’ll be able to wear them when we get to Florida.”
“We won’t get to Florida if you don’t get rid of her.”
Clara barely recognized Thelma’s hardened face. All vestiges of the friendly, motherly neighbor had vanished, leaving behind a threatening, dangerous criminal. It all became clear now. “You were the second person,” she said, eying the distance between her and the door. If she made a dash for it, she might just make it outside. She was pretty sure she could outrun them both. “You helped your son throw Scott Delwyn off the scaffolding.”
Ray uttered a grunt of surprise. “How’d you know that? How’d you know about the shoes? Where are you getting your information?”
As if reading Clara’s mind, Thelma took hold of her arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Never mind how she knows. It’s enough that she does. That settles it. She’s gotta go.”
“But—” Ray began, but was silenced by a jerk of his mother’s hand.
“No buts. Tonight. When it’s dark. In the ocean.”
Clara’s spine froze. She tugged her arm, but Thelma’s fingers bit into her flesh, making her wince. “You can’t just murder me. You’ll never get away with it. I—” She was going to tell them that Stephanie knew where she was, until she remembered that her cousin had no idea she was in Thelma’s house. Besides, it probably wasn’t a good idea to drag Stephanie into this. These two monsters could go after her, too.
Thelma grabbed Clara’s other arm and twisted them behind her back, making her cry out. “Bring me that packaging tape over there,” she said, “and be quick about it. Our landlord will be here any minute to inspect the house.”
“What are we going to do with her until dark?” Ray a
sked as he crossed the room. “There’s nowhere to hide her here.”
“Put her in our storage unit.” Thelma tightened her grip as Clara struggled to free herself.
Desperate now, Clara blurted out, “I told Dan I knew Ray had robbed the bank.”
Pausing with the tape in his hand, Ray swore. “Why, you—”
“That’s enough! If Dan had believed her, he would have been here by now. Get over here and wrap her wrists with the tape.”
Terrified now, Clara fought as hard as she could, but she was helpless against the two of them. She was forced through the kitchen and out to the garage, where the red car sat in gleaming splendor. So much for the story about borrowing it.
Ray opened the back door of the car and Thelma shoved her prisoner inside. “Tape her ankles,” she ordered as Clara struggled to sit up. “Don’t give her any chance to escape.”
“You won’t get away with this—” Clara began, but Thelma thrust her face up close to hers.
“Of course we will. It will look like an accident. You went walking along the waterfront and fell in. Just like Scott Delwyn fell off the scaffolding.” She laughed, and the ominous sound seemed to rattle around in Clara’s head. “Without proof, hon, there’s nothing Dan can do.”
16
After binding Clara’s ankles with the tape, Ray climbed into the driver’s seat while Thelma stood holding the door.
“Aren’t you coming with me?” he said as she started to close the door.
“I can’t. I have to be here when the landlord comes to inspect the house. Just take her to the unit, lock her in and come back here. We’ll deal with her later, together.”
Ray didn’t look too convinced. “I don’t like this. How will I get her out of the car and into the unit?”
“She’ll walk, won’t you, hon?” Thelma leered at her. “Unless you’d like me to hit you over the head and have Ray carry you in there.”
Clara gritted her teeth. Right then she’d give anything to be able to punch that grinning face. “I’ll walk,” she muttered and leaned back on the seat.
Trouble Vision Page 19
