Extra Sensory Deception

by Allison Kingsley

  Rick gave her fingers a grateful squeeze. “I ran into Tim and asked him about the murder. He told me Wes was at the station being questioned.”

  “Why do they think Wes killed that woman?”

  “They found Wes’s pigging string wrapped around her neck.”

  “His what string?”

  “Pigging string. It’s what the calf ropers use to tie down a calf after they’ve wrestled it to the ground. Some of them are distinctive. Wes’s was handmade—red, white and blue—the only one like it in the rodeo.”

  Clara shook her head. “Surely that can’t be enough to arrest him? Anyone could have taken it and used it.”

  “That’s what I told Tim, but he said that Wes couldn’t account for half an hour of his time last night. What’s more, a couple of the barrel racers said they heard him fighting with Lisa earlier that afternoon.”

  Anxious to take away his look of despair, Clara tried again. “Police need proof before they can bring charges. They’ll test DNA and—”

  “And Wes’s DNA will be all over the pigging string.”

  “So will that of whoever killed her.”

  “Maybe.” Rick looked unconvinced. “Anyway, I’d better get back to the store. Tyler’s waiting to go on a break.”

  She watched him go, wishing she could have said something to take that look off his face. Walking back to the stockroom, she thought about the tour Wes had given them. She’d liked the charismatic cowboy, and it was hard to visualize him as a ruthless killer.

  Still, she knew from past experience how dumb it was to judge a book by its cover. She’d been fooled before by a friendly face and a captivating manner. All she could hope was that Dan was wrong about Wes and the real killer would soon be caught.

  She opened the door to the stockroom and switched on the light. There was a small window at the back of the room, but it never gave enough illumination to read the labels on the boxes. Stephanie had stacked the ones she wanted opened in the middle of the room, and Clara walked over to the pile, curious to see the new books that had arrived that morning.

  Just as she reached for the first one, a soft sound made her pause. She lifted her head, listening intently. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard an odd sound in the stockroom, but she’d never been able to figure out where it was coming from.

  As always, the sound wasn’t repeated, and, shaking her head, she took her box cutter out of her pocket.

  The next instant she was out in the evening sun. Dusk was settling all around her, and a familiar smell hung in the air. Horses. She was at the rodeo, standing behind some kind of structure—the concert stage.

  Her nerves jumped as she saw a figure lying on the ground. The woman’s long, dark hair dragged in the dust, and someone in a red shirt and jeans stood over her, holding a thin, brightly colored rope.

  Clara blinked, trying to recognize the lean cowboy. He had his back to her, and his cowboy hat hid his head. One thing she did know. As far as she could remember, Wes was the only contestant wearing a red shirt that night. Things were not looking good for Rick’s high school buddy.

  —

  Later that afternoon, Tim Rossi wandered into the store and waved at Clara as he headed for the aisles. Tim rarely bought anything. He was more interested in whatever snacks were left over in the Reading Nook.

  This time, however, he returned to the counter carrying a book. “I never thought my mother would be interested in fantasy,” he said, as he handed Clara the book. “She’s really happy you recommended this series.”

  Clara smiled. “I’m glad she’s enjoying it. There’s a couple more on the shelves when she’s finished this one.”

  Tim swiped his credit card and put it back in his wallet. “Rick said you were at the rodeo last night. What did you think of it?”

  “I enjoyed it more than I thought I would.” She hesitated, wondering if she should bring up the subject of the murder. She needn’t have worried. Apparently Tim was only too eager to discuss it—a trait that had landed him in trouble with the police chief more than once.

  “Too bad someone had to ruin it,” he said, slipping his wallet into his jacket pocket. “I hope the murder won’t make people too anxious to go to the fairgrounds. If the rodeo doesn’t do well they won’t be back, and that would be a bummer.”

  “So you’re a big rodeo fan, then?”

  “Yeah. Saw a lot of them when I was out West.” He took the bagged book from her. “Guess I’ll be seeing a lot of this one. Dan and I have been questioning everyone, though I’m pretty sure we’ve got the perp.”

  Clara’s spirits sank. “You’ve got proof?”

  Tim grinned. “I keep forgetting you’re an amateur detective.”

  “Not really. Just interested in the law and how it works, that’s all.”

  “That’s not what Dan calls it. He calls it interfering with the law. You have to admit, you do seem to get involved with our local murder investigations.”

  “Dumb luck, I guess.” She met his gaze squarely. “So you’ve arrested Lisa Warren’s killer, then?”

  Tim sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you what I know, but only if you swear you won’t start running around questioning people.”

  Clara faked a look of hurt innocence. “Why would I do that if you’ve already arrested the killer?”

  Tim glanced over his shoulder, then, apparently satisfied, leaned over the counter. “We haven’t actually arrested him yet, but it’s only a matter of time. One of the barrel racers at the rodeo saw the victim heading toward the concert stage around eight fifteen. Our guy is a calf roper, but I figure you already know that, seeing as how he’s a friend of Rick’s and you’ve met him. Anyway, he was last seen in the stands about that time. No one saw him after that until he turned up at the chutes around ten minutes to nine. He said he was talking to fans, but no one can verify that.”

  Clara frowned. “It doesn’t sound like much to go on. As a matter of fact, I was talking to Wes around eight. He gave us free tickets for the show.”

  “Yeah, I know. Rick told me. That still would have given Carlton plenty of time to get down to the stage and kill Lisa Warren. It was his rope that was wrapped around the victim’s neck, and it was no secret that he had the hots for her. Dan figures Lisa gave him the brush-off and he turned nasty. Some of these rodeo boys can be pretty hotheaded.”

  “Hi, Tim! You talking about the rodeo?”

  Tim turned his head as Molly came up behind him. Looking sheepish, he murmured, “Just chatting. Have you seen it yet?”

  “No, I’m going tonight.” Molly dumped a pile of books on the counter. “I can’t wait. It should be a blast.”

  “Well, guess I should be going.” Tim headed for the door. “Stay out of trouble.”

  Molly frowned as the door closed behind him. “Was he talking to you or me?”

  “Both of us, I guess.” Clara pointed at the books. “What are they?”

  Molly grinned. “Books.”

  “I can see that. Why are they on the counter?”

  “I can’t figure out if they should go in the sci-fi section or the fantasy section.”

  Clara picked up one of the books. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell. It helps if you remember that sci-fi is based on science and technology, and is usually related to what’s real, while fantasy is imaginary and related to stuff that doesn’t exist.”

  “Wow.” Molly looked impressed. “That’s major.” She chose another book from the pile. “I guess I should read the back blurbs.”

  “Well, usually either Stephanie or I stock the shelves, so you haven’t had much practice. If you do it often enough, after a while you’ll be able to spot which is which.” Clara placed the book back on the pile. “If in doubt, you can always check the reviews online.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.” Molly gave her a sly glance. “So are you and
Stephanie going to investigate the rodeo murder?”

  “No, we’re not.” Clara moved over to the computer. “This is one crime Dan will have to solve on his own.”

  “Too bad. It was fun helping you guys.” Molly picked up the books. “Guess I’ll take these down to the Reading Nook and try to figure out where they go.”

  “Okay, but keep an eye out for customers. I have to check the stockroom to see what we need for the high school’s required reading. Let me know if you need help.”

  “Will do!” Molly sailed out of sight.

  Alone in the stockroom, Clara tried not to think about the murder. Dwelling on crimes tended to trigger a vision, and she’d had enough of those in the past two days. It was up to Dan now to find out if Rick’s buddy was involved.

  Thinking about Rick was much more pleasant. As if she’d conjured him up, Molly opened the stockroom door a short time later and announced, “This is one customer you’ll want to take care of yourself.”

  Rick appeared behind Molly, peering over her shoulder. “There you are. I thought you might have gone home.” He edged around her and stepped inside.

  “Not until closing time.” Clara nodded at Molly, who closed the door with a lewd wink. “Did you need something?”

  “Just wanted to talk.” He glanced around at the boxes, packages and piles of books. “Looks like you’ll be keeping busy. Does all this stuff have to go out on the shelves?”

  “Not all of it. Some of it is returns. They have to be stripped and the covers sent back for refunds.”

  “Ouch.” He winced. “Destroying books seems like such a sacrilege.”

  “I know what you mean.” She studied his face. “You didn’t come here to discuss books, though.”

  “No, I didn’t.” He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Dan let Wes go.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad.” She hesitated, knowing from his expression that all was not well. “He’s cleared him?”

  “Not exactly.” He sighed. “They don’t have enough evidence to hold him, that’s all. Which means he’s still under suspicion. As you know, I’ve been there and I know only too well what that’s like. All those weird looks from people you thought were your friends. The feeling that nobody trusts you, or worse, that they’re afraid of you.” His shoulders slumped. “Wes said that even the guys in the rodeo are avoiding him. This could end his career.”

  Clara briefly laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Rick. I know you’re worried about him. Like I said, if he’s innocent, the truth will come out eventually.”

  “I know he didn’t do it.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I hate to ask this, because it could mean trouble for you, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “You want me to ask questions.”

  His mouth twitched in a wry smile. “You do seem to have a way of finding out stuff. People talk to you and tell you things they wouldn’t tell a cop. I’m not asking you to track down the killer. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger again. I just want to know the answer to a couple of questions, that’s all. Then maybe I can take it from there.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anita Beaumont. She’s a barrel racer. From what Wes told me, she knows more about Lisa than anyone. She didn’t have much to say to Tim when he questioned her, but maybe she’ll open up to another woman.”

  Clara hesitated. Her vision of a man in a red shirt standing over Lisa’s body was still fresh in her mind. What if she asked questions and got answers that incriminated Wes even further?

  The anguish in Rick’s eyes, however, was too painful to ignore. “All right. What do you want me to ask her?”

  Rick pulled her into his arms for a quick hug, then let her go. “Thank you. Just promise me you won’t go chasing after clues and stuff.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  “Good. Anita might know why Lisa went to the concert stage in the first place. She must have been meeting someone there. Wes swears it wasn’t him. So we need to know who it was.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask.”

  “See if you can find out who else was interested in Lisa. According to Tim, she was pretty hot stuff. Wes wasn’t the only one who was chasing her.”

  “So Wes really was attracted to her?”

  “Yeah.” Rick looked uncomfortable. “He’s pretty broken up about the whole thing. It’s bad enough that he had to lose her that way, but to be accused of killing her is just about destroying him.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Right then she would have done anything to take away the misery on his face. “Where can I find Anita?”

  “She shares a trailer with another contestant, Melosa Sanchez. They’re parked in a field behind the fairgrounds. If you go over there in the morning you should be able to find her around somewhere. I’ll come with you if you like, but I figure she’ll talk more freely without me looking over your shoulder.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll take Stephanie with me.” Clara crossed her fingers that her cousin would go along. “She’s good at getting women to talk.”

  “Thanks.” He pulled her close again. “Just be careful, okay?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take Tatters along, too. He’ll protect us.”

  “Now I feel better.” He grinned. “How’s the monster doing, anyway? Still keeping your mom on her toes?”

  “That goes for both of us.” She tilted her head to one side. “Did you hear that?”

  Rick lifted his chin. “Hear what?”

  “I’m not sure.” She listened for a moment, then shook her head. “I might be imagining things, but I keep thinking I hear a noise. A sort of scuffling sound. But when I listen for it, I can never hear it.”

  “Could be a mouse. Or a rat.”

  Clara shivered. “Don’t think the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.”

  “You might want to get an exterminator in here.”

  “I’ll talk to Stephanie about it. I—” A loud rapping on the door interrupted her.

  Molly’s muffled voice declared, “I need help!”

  “Gotta go.” Clara darted to the door. “I’ll let you know what happens tomorrow.”

  He followed her out, then waved good-bye as he went out the front door.

  Clara was busy with customers for the rest of the day, and by the time she was ready to close up, her feet ached and all she could think about was getting home. Not that she’d get to rest, since Tatters would be dancing on toenails waiting to go for his walk. First, however, she had to eat something. Her stomach felt like a deflated balloon.

  Jessie wasn’t home, and had left a note with a reminder that she was at her book club. She’d also left a salad in the fridge, and Clara sat down to enjoy it, with Tatters lying at her feet, ears twitching with every sound she made.

  When she stood up to take her plate to the sink, he sat up. About time. Now we walk.

  “Yes, your majesty. Just as soon as I’ve cleaned up here.”

  Tatters stood, yawned, then strolled out of the kitchen.

  Shaking her head, Clara rinsed her plate and placed it in the dishwasher. Stopping by the fridge, she grabbed a bottle of water and took it out into the living room. The dog had disappeared—he was probably waiting for her at the front door.

  She grabbed the leash and her light jacket and walked out into the hallway. Sure enough, Tatters sat by the front door, muscles tensed to spring the minute she opened it. “Let’s go, buddy,” she said, as she fastened the leash to the dog’s collar. “I have to talk to Stephanie when we get back.” Tomorrow she faced the task of questioning a woman who so far had been uncooperative. She needed Stephanie by her side.

  Anxious to talk to her cousin, she cut Tatters’ run on the beach shorter than usual, much to his disgust. He showed his displeasure by dragging on the leash all the way home, stopping continually to sniff at tree trunks
, poles, water hydrants and anything else that looked vaguely interesting.

  Finally losing her patience, Clara yelled at him, “Quit this right now! Either you keep moving or there’s no bedtime treat.”

  Tatters sniffed, stuck his nose in the air and set off at a pace that kept her running the rest of the way.

  Once inside the house, she unhooked his leash and, breathing hard, headed for her bedroom. He followed close behind her and jumped up on the bed, scrabbling at the comforter to find the perfect spot. Ignoring him, she sat on the edge and tapped Stephanie’s number on her cell phone.

  Her cousin answered on the second ring. “Good timing. I just got the kids to bed. We can actually talk without interruption.”

  Clara smiled. “That’ll make a change.” Most of her conversations with Stephanie were punctuated by her cousin yelling at one of her three kids or begging her husband to take care of them. George had little control over his two youngest, who were as wild and unpredictable as their mother had been when she was their age.

  “So tell me how the date went with Rick. Did he kiss you good-night?”

  “He did, as a matter of fact, though it’s none of your business.”

  This went right over Stephanie’s head. “Was it a long, romantic kiss, or just a quick peck on the lips?”

  Clara sighed. “If you must know, it was short and sweet. We were both shaken up by the murder and in no mood for any romantic stuff.”

  “Oh, phooey. I was hoping for all the juicy details.”

  “Even if there had been juicy details, I wouldn’t be telling you about them. There are some things that are sacred.”

  “But—”

  “Speaking of the murder, I have a favor to ask you.”

  To Clara’s relief, her cousin abandoned her inquisition. Her voice brightened considerably when she answered, “Are we going to hunt down another killer?”

  “No!” Clara softened her tone. “At least, not directly. Rick just wants me to talk to one of the barrel racers tomorrow morning. I thought you might like to come along. That’s if Molly doesn’t mind holding down the fort again.”