A Sinister Sense

by Allison Kingsley

  Roberta scowled at her. “The body was found in Rick’s truck, and the murder weapon came from his store. What more do you need to be convinced he’s guilty?”

  Clara could hold it in no longer. “A whole lot more. I should think you, of all people, would have some faith in him, considering you’ve been chasing after him all these months.”

  “Clara—” Stephanie began, but Roberta silenced her with a swift movement of her hand.

  Tossing her head, she advanced on Clara. “Trust me, darling, I have never, ever needed to chase after anybody. I’m usually the one running away. Rick and I have a special relationship, and until now I was under the impression that he was a decent, law-abiding citizen. Now that the police have arrested him for murder, I’ll have to reevaluate our friendship. If I were you, I’d do the same.”

  “Rick hasn’t been arrested.” The soft voice spoke from the doorway, startling them all. No one had noticed the sound of the doorbell, and all heads turned to stare at the newcomer.

  John Halloran stood in the doorway, smirking in his delight at causing a disturbance.

  Stephanie was the first one to recover. She rushed forward, rudely shoving Roberta aside. “Has something happened? What have you heard?”

  Obviously enjoying all the attention, John stepped forward and let the door close behind him. “I know,” he said, in a slow, deliberate tone, “because Rick is at this very minute across the street in the shop.”

  Four voices gasped, then all spoke at once.

  “When did they let him go?’

  “What happened?’

  “Thank heavens!”

  “Is he okay?” Clara grabbed John’s arm. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

  John’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses. “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

  Roberta fluffed her blonde hair back from her face. “Well, I’m going to wait for more news before I go see him.” She stalked over to the door. “If I were you, Clara, I’d think twice about associating with a murder suspect.”

  Clara ignored her and turned to Stephanie. Before she could say anything, Stephanie laid a hand on her arm.

  “Go ahead. I’ll hang on here until you get back.”

  Clara gave her a quick, grateful hug, then dashed out the door. Passing Roberta on the curb, she ran across the street to the hardware store.

  Inside the shop, she paused for a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the contrast from the dazzling sunlight outside. She could see Rick on his knees at the far end of the store, unpacking a large box of electric fans.

  She couldn’t see his expression, and uncertain of his mood, she approached him warily. He looked up as she reached him and, to her relief, gave her a wide smile.

  Getting to his feet, he said lazily, “Not afraid to visit the felon, then?”

  She uttered a snort of disgust. “Idiots. What on earth was Dan thinking, hauling you off to the station like that?”

  Rick shrugged. “Can’t say I blame him. Things have been going from bad to worse. Luckily I have a good lawyer.”

  “So you’re in the clear?”

  He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Not exactly. The cops didn’t have enough evidence to hold me, so Dan let me go with a warning not to leave town.”

  Clara winced. “Ouch. So what are you going to do now?”

  “Wait, I guess. And pray a lot.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She considered telling him that she and Stephanie were trying to find out who did kill Frank Tomeski, but decided that it was better not to say anything until they had something useful to offer him.

  “So, how is Tatters doing?” Rick picked up the empty box and headed for the counter.

  Following him, Clara said lightly, “He’s doing fine. I think he misses you, though.”

  Rick swung around to look at her. “Really? I thought he hated me. I was always yelling at him.”

  She smiled. “Dogs don’t hate you for yelling at them. They are the most forgiving of all creatures. I’ve been doing some yelling myself, but Tatters and I are best buddies.”

  “Has he been giving you a hard time?”

  Thinking about her sleepless night, she nevertheless shook her head. “He’s settling down very well. You should see him with my mother. He sleeps at her feet while she’s watching TV.”

  Rick grinned. “That I’ve got to see.”

  “Then why don’t you come over for dinner some night and witness it for yourself.”

  The words were out before she realized what she was saying. She waited nervously for his answer, wondering if she’d stepped over the line. To her relief, he replied with a laugh. “Maybe I will…sometime.”

  Deciding it was time to change the subject, she picked up a hammer from the display on his counter. “Is this like the one that was used in the murder?”

  His expression changed instantly, and again she could have bitten her tongue for saying the wrong thing. What was it about Rick Sanders that turned her mind to complete mush when she was around him?

  “Yes.” He took it from her. “I wish now I’d set up security cameras in the store. I might have seen who stole the murder weapon. I thought about it when I took over the business, but this is such a small town and everybody knows everybody. Putting up cameras to spy on my customers felt like I didn’t trust them or something. It just didn’t seem right.”

  “We do get a lot of tourists in the summer.”

  “True.” He put the hammer back in the display. “But not many who shop in a hardware store.”

  “I guess not.” Seeing the strain in his face unsettled her. “Well, it’s good to see you back here. We were all worried about you.”

  “I was pretty worried myself.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Especially when the cops found out I’d served Tomeski here in the store the day he died. They were so sure I’d lied about that to cover up the fact that I knew him. Jarvis, my lawyer, was able to convince Dan that I was too busy that day to remember him. At least enough for him to let me go for now.”

  “So if the murderer stole the hammer from you, both he and the victim have been here in the store.”

  “I guess so.” Rick unfolded his arms and straightened up a pile of pamphlets on the counter. “Like I said, not many tourists come in here. It could have been one of the locals.”

  “Well, I’m sure Dan will find out who killed Frank Tomeski soon, and then you’ll be off the hook.”

  “I sure hope you’re right.” His worried frown made her ache with sympathy for him. “It’s not much fun being suspected of murder. I can feel everyone staring at me, wondering if I did it.”

  “I’m sure you’re imagining things. Anyone who knows you has to know you couldn’t possibly have killed that man.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “Roberta Prince thinks I did it.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Clara started for the door. “She’s just afraid it will ruin her image if she’s seen in your company. That’s all she cares about.”

  “Well, if it keeps her from showing up at my door every five minutes, I’d say that’s a good thing.”

  Clara paused at the door and looked back at him. “Don’t let this get to you. Your friends believe in you and we’ll stand by you. Hang in there.”

  He raised his hand in farewell. “Thanks, Clara. That means a lot.”

  Warmed by his smile, she left the shop and crossed the street to the bookstore. Somehow she would have to find out who had killed Frank Tomeski and clear Rick’s name. The sooner the better. “Come on, Sense,” she muttered as she reached the door of the Raven’s Nest. “Where are you when I need you?”

  As if in answer a voice whispered in her ear. Windrift.

  Clara didn’t have a chance to talk to Stephanie when she returned to the bookstore. Her cousin rushed past her the moment she opened the door. “Can’t stop. Mom’s waiting for me. Talk to you later!” With a wave of her hand she was gone, darting to and fro down the crowded sidewalk.
<
br />   Molly was busy serving a customer, and Clara walked over to the counter and sat down at the computer. With any luck there’d be no more customers to disturb her for a while. It took only a minute to look up the white pages directory. There were four Lamonts listed. Clara scribbled down the numbers on a pad and tucked the note in her pocket.

  The doorbell jangled, announcing another customer. Looking up, Clara saw Roberta Prince heading for the counter. Molly had disappeared down one of the aisles. There was no way of escaping another charming conversation with the woman.

  Bracing herself, Clara waited for Roberta to speak first. She didn’t have to wait long. Roberta paused in front of the counter, leaned her hands on the surface and said, “Tell me everything.”

  Pretending she had no idea what that meant, Clara raised her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

  Roberta waved an impatient hand at the window. “Rick, of course. Tell me what happened.”

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

  “I don’t want to disturb him. I’m sure he’s got enough to worry about right now without having everyone on the street asking him questions.” Roberta straightened, drawing the back of her hand across her forehead. “Besides, I have a beastly headache. I think I need to lie down.”

  Clara seized the opportunity to change the subject. “So, how’s the new assistant coming along?”

  “Totally useless, of course.” Roberta tossed her head in disgust. “I’ve had to be behind her every step of the way. Unbelievable. It’s impossible to find anyone with any intelligence in this town.”

  Clara nodded in sympathy, though it was evident to her that Roberta’s problem with assistants was in the way she treated them, rather than any flaws in their performance. So far, none that she had hired had stayed longer than a month or so. “Maybe she just needs more time,” Clara said, feeling sorry for the timid young woman she’d met only briefly in the stationer’s.

  Roberta uttered a mirthless laugh. “It will take more than time to make a decent assistant out of that one.” She glanced at the door. “I heard that Rick was planning on hiring an assistant to help out John. I guess he’ll have to put that on hold now.”

  Clara kept her expression blank. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, with everything going on over there.” Roberta frowned. “I wonder what he’ll do with the business if he goes to jail. Sell it, I suppose. John won’t be able to run it for him.”

  “What makes you think he’s going to jail?”

  Roberta gave her a sharp look. “The last I heard, he was the main suspect in a murder.”

  “Obviously there’s some doubt about that, or he’d be in custody.”

  Roberta sniffed. “You are entirely too trusting, Clara. When you’ve been around as many men as I have, you’ll learn that none of them can be trusted. No matter how decent or honest they may appear. Men are beasts. That will never change.”

  Clara held her breath for a long moment before letting it out. Roberta’s words had hit home, and she wasn’t about to let the woman know that part of her agreed wholeheartedly. She was struggling with her own insecurities, but she had to believe that not all men were deceitful and insincere. There had to be some good ones out there.

  To her relief, Roberta wandered off down an aisle, leaving her alone at the counter. She waited a moment or two to make sure no one else was heading toward her, then pulled the note from her pocket. Opening up her cell phone, she dialed the first number on the list.

  The elderly female voice that answered assured her that no one named Buzz lived there. “I live alone,” the woman added. “I have never heard of Buzz Lamont. I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

  Clara thanked her and dialed the second number. It was a male voice this time—a recorded message that informed her she had reached Philip Lamont, who was not at home. Clara dialed again, wondering if Buzz was Philip Lamont’s nickname.

  A younger voice answered this time, and the woman sounded impatient. Once more Clara asked for Buzz Lamont and got a short answer in response. “Who’s this?”

  Pulse quickening, Clara thought fast. “I’m doing a survey on local politics and I would like to ask Mr. Lamont for his opinion.”

  After a slight hesitation, the woman spoke again. “Buzz is at work. He won’t be home until early evening. I don’t think he could help you, anyway. He’s not too interested in politics.”

  “Ah, but this survey could actually be beneficial to him. What kind of work does he do?”

  Again the pause. Longer this time. Clara held her breath.

  “He’s a gardener. He works for Belgrave Landscaping.”

  Clara smiled. “Perfect. Perhaps I can catch him at work.”

  Now the woman sounded worried. “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t be a pest or anything. Thank you so much for your time.” Clara snapped her phone shut, well pleased with herself.

  “What are you grinning about?”

  Startled, Clara raised her chin and found Molly smiling at her. “I’ll tell you later,” she said, wary of mentioning anything about the investigation while Roberta Prince was in the store. “By the way, have you ever heard of the name Windrift? Does it mean anything to you?”

  Molly frowned. “It sounds familiar, though I don’t know why. Let me think about it. It might come to me.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you remember where you heard it.”

  Molly nodded, then turned as the doorbell jingled again. A young girl darted into the store, anxiously looking around. “I lost my copy of Huckleberry Finn and I can’t find it anywhere. I’m supposed to read it this summer. The library just checked out their last copy. Do you still have the required reading list for high school?”

  “We keep a supply of required reading books on these shelves,” Molly said, leading the anxious girl down an aisle. “Let’s see if we have it there.”

  Clara glanced at the clock. It was too soon to call Stephanie to tell her she’d found out where Buzz Lamont worked. It would have to wait until later that afternoon. She shoved the note in her pocket, and her fingers collided with another piece of paper. Drawing it out, she glanced at it, prepared to throw it away. The letters scribbled on the paper stopped her. It was the note she’d made of the letters in her vision. W-i-n-f-t-m-e-l.

  She stared at them, excitement building as she mentally added letters. Windrift. That had to be it. But what was the rest? She stared at the note some more, and then it dawned on her. Windrift Motel. Of course. Now she remembered seeing the sign swinging in the sea breeze. It was a motel on the coast road. She caught her breath, hearing her mother’s words again. Apparently he was here on vacation and was staying at one of those dreadful motels on the coast road.

  Frank Tomeski had been staying at the Windrift Motel. That’s what the Sense had been trying to tell her. Maybe if she talked to the motel manager, she might find out something useful. Now she could hardly wait to tell her cousin what she’d learned.

  It was much later that afternoon before Clara found herself alone in the Raven’s Nest. Molly had left for the day, and the usual late-afternoon lull had emptied out the store. Clara speed-dialed Stephanie’s number and prayed she’d answer.

  Her cousin sounded frazzled as usual. “I’ve just fished Michael out of the washing machine. Olivia was about to give him a ride. She’d told him it was a time machine that would send him to Disney World. She’s eight years old for heaven’s sake! When is she ever going to join the real world?”

  Clara grinned. “She sounds just like you when you were her age.”

  “I was never that irrational. She must take after George’s side of the family. His grandfather was a bomber pilot in World War Two. From what I’ve heard, he was totally insane.”

  “Well, I’m sure Olivia is just a normal little girl with a wild streak, that’s all. At least no one got hurt.”

  “This time,” Stephanie muttered. “Heaven knows what might happen if I didn’t keep a st
rict eye on her. And Michael is so gullible. I don’t know how he’s going to get along in first grade this fall. He believes everything he’s told.”

  “You worry far too much. Remember how our parents used to worry about us? They were always telling us about all the bad things that could happen to us if we didn’t mend our ways.”

  Stephanie’s sigh drifted clearly down the line. “That’s what worries me. When I remember some of the things we did when we were kids, I shudder to think what my kids could get into. The world is a very different place now.”

  Clara was inclined to agree. Hoping to take her cousin’s mind off her worries, she said quickly, “I deciphered the words on that note I gave you this morning.”

  Stephanie’s tone changed at once. “You did? What is it? Tell me!”

  “It’s the Windrift Motel. Which I believe just happens to be the motel where Frank Tomeski was staying. I thought we might go there and talk to the manager. Maybe he knows something that could help us figure out what really happened.”

  “Good idea. When do you want to go?”

  “How about tomorrow morning? Before I start my shift? Molly could watch things for a while on her own, right?”

  “I suppose so. I’ll call her and let her know.”

  “There’s something else. I found out where Buzz Lamont works. I thought we could talk to him as well.”

  Stephanie’s voice was full of doubt. “Are you sure that’s wise? What if he is the killer? He could figure we know too much and attack us or something.”

  “That’s why we’re going to talk to him where he works. He can’t very well do anything violent there.”

  “So where does he work?”

  “He’s a gardener with Belgrave Landscaping.”

  Her cousin’s voice grew quieter. “That doesn’t sound very safe. What if he’s alone in a big garden somewhere with pruning shears or something?” Her voice rose a notch or two. “I don’t like it at all. Maybe we should just tell the police what we know and let Dan question him.”

  “Maybe Dan’s already questioned him. In any case, it’s unlikely Mr. Lamont would admit to anything.”