Molly slumped down on the couch. “You guys have all the fun.”
“It’s not exactly fun,” Clara said, getting up to put her mug down on the counter. “It could be dangerous.”
Stephanie took another swallow of coffee and put down her mug. “Don’t worry, Molly, we’ll probably need you before this is over. We have to run now, so if you wouldn’t mind washing the mugs for us, we’ll take off so we can be back before the rush.”
Molly sighed. “Okay…just be sure and tell me everything when you get back.”
Stephanie answered her with a wave, and Clara followed her up the aisle to the front door. “Who shall we hit first, the motel manager or Buzz Lamont?” Stephanie asked as they stepped outside.
“The motel, I think.” Clara started walking down the hill at a fast pace. “Let’s hope the manager’s not too busy to talk to us.”
They reached the parking lot and decided to take Clara’s car. Passing the harbor, she headed out along the coast road with the windows down to make the most of the clean, salty air. There were a lot of things she missed about New York, but the city smog wasn’t one of them.
Stephanie chattered on about her kids and George, and Clara was content just to listen, until Stephanie said quietly, “You’re worried about Rick, aren’t you.”
Clara sent her a startled look. “Of course I am. Aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but not in the way you are.” She paused, then added, “Are you finally getting fond of him?”
Clara let out a short laugh. “Only as a friend, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’m not worried. In fact, I’d worry less if you were getting interested in Rick. You’ve seemed so…sad ever since you moved back from New York.”
“Sad?” Clara shook her head. “I’m not sad. It’s taken me a while to get used to living back here, that’s all. I miss some of the things about my old life.”
“Including the guy who dumped you?”
“Ouch.” Clara took a deep breath. “No, he’s one of the things I definitely don’t miss.” It was true, she realized. She still thought of him now and then. After all, she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with Matt. But she didn’t miss him. Not anymore.
“Well, good. I thought maybe you were still hung up on the guy and that was stopping you from getting into a new relationship.”
Clara shot her another glance. “Why the interest in my love life all of a sudden?”
Stephanie shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re not getting any younger, and you get all twittery whenever Rick is around. I guess I was hoping you two would get together. Of course, now that he’s accused of murder, perhaps it’s just as well you’re not in love with him.”
Clara gripped the steering wheel. “If I were in love with him, that wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I’d know he was innocent, just like I know now.” With relief she glimpsed the sign for the Windrift Motel coming up on her left. “We’re here. Let’s hope the manager’s ready to talk to us.”
The young woman behind the reception desk in the motel’s lobby seemed reluctant to call the manager. “Mr. Tyler is in a meeting,” she explained when Clara asked to speak to him. “He won’t be out for another hour or so.”
“Tell him this is an emergency,” Clara said, grabbing Stephanie’s arm when she started walking away. “It’s very important that we speak to him.”
The woman hesitated. “Sam doesn’t like me disturbing him.”
Clara leaned over the counter and said softly, “It’s about the murder of one of his customers.”
The receptionist threw a scared look over her shoulder. “Are you from the police? Sam has already talked to Dan and Tim Rossi.”
Clara decided she needed to come on strong if she and Stephanie were going to get anywhere. “Just tell him we need to talk to him. Now.”
The woman jumped up from her chair. “All right, but don’t blame me if he’s pissed.” She disappeared through a door behind her.
Stephanie grabbed Clara’s arm. “What if he gets mad and throws us out?”
Clara didn’t want to admit her heart was thumping loud enough to be heard. Growing up had its disadvantages. When she and Stephanie were kids, they were both fearless, charging into adventures without a thought for the consequences. Now they were adults, with responsibilities, and dabbling with danger didn’t seem nearly as much fun as it had all those years ago.
“Don’t worry,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt, “We’ll charm him into telling us what we want to know.”
“What do we want to know?” Stephanie threw a fearful glance at the door behind the counter. “Have you thought about what to ask him?”
She hadn’t. She’d figured it would come to her when she was actually talking to the man. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit she’d been hoping the Sense would chime in and let her know what she should say. She made herself smile. “I’ll just ask him what he knows about Frank Tomeski.”
The door opened suddenly, making them both jump. A skinny man with bowed shoulders and a scraggly beard peered at them through rimless glasses. “What do you want?” he barked, still holding on to the door handle.
It wasn’t a very promising beginning, and Clara’s smile was somewhat wobbly. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Tyler. I promise we won’t keep you long.”
Tyler scowled at her. “Jenny says you’re asking about the murder. You reporters or something? Because if so, I don’t talk to no newspapers. Not without being paid, anyhow.”
“We’re not reporters.” Clara looked over her shoulder as the main door to the lobby swung open. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
The manager looked about to refuse, but just then Stephanie crept up to the counter and said in a voice reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe, “It’s a personal matter, sir. We’d be so grateful if you could help us.” She flashed him a smile and fluffed her hair with her fingers. “It would mean so very much to us.”
Tyler looked a little less threatening. He walked to the end of the counter and lifted the flap. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“Oh, thank you, sir,” Stephanie murmured as she slipped past him.
Clara followed her, trying not to roll her eyes.
Sam Tyler led them into a small office and sat down at a cluttered desk, waving them to a couple of beat-up kitchen chairs. Swiping a pile of papers aside, he leaned back in his chair and stared at Clara. “So, what’s this all about?”
Clara made herself meet his gaze. “It’s about the murder of Frank Tomeski. A personal friend of ours is involved, and we’re trying to find out what happened that night. We were hoping that you could help us.”
There was a long silence while Tyler studied her, his eyebrows raised. Unnerved by the scrutiny, Clara cleared her throat. “Anything you can tell us about Mr. Tomeski might be helpful.”
“You’re a friend of Rick Sanders?” Tyler said at last.
Clara nodded. “I work in the bookstore opposite his hardware store. My cousin owns the bookstore.”
“That’s me!” Stephanie piped up, then huddled back on her chair as Tyler’s sharp gaze sliced across her face.
“Anyway,” Clara said, after sending a warning glance at her cousin, “we know that Rick didn’t kill that man, and the police haven’t had any luck finding who did do it, so we thought we’d give it a shot.”
Tyler’s eyes swiveled in her direction again. “Does Dan know about this?”
“Er…we haven’t exactly discussed it with him.” Clara gave him another wavering smile. “We just thought we’d ask some questions, that’s all.”
The manager seemed to be thinking it over, while Clara sat listening to her heartbeat thudding in her ears. She was hoping to hear voices telling her what to say next, but as had happened so often in the past, the Sense seemed to have deserted her.
Finally Tyler spoke, making her jump again. “Never did think Rick was a killer. I’ll tell you wha
t I told Dan. There was a young gal came looking for Tomeski while he was staying here. I sent her over to the Laurel Street Tavern. I’d seen Tomeski in there earlier and figured he’d still be there. She seemed real anxious to see him, and judging from the way she spoke, I’d say she wasn’t planning on giving him a warm welcome when she saw him, if you know what I mean.”
Clara leaned forward. “She was mad at him?”
“Mad as a hornet.” Tyler sat up and reached for the phone on his desk. “Reckon she was ready to tell him a thing or two when she caught up with him. When I went in there the next night, I heard there’d been a big ruckus the night before, involving Tomeski and a bunch of other guys. I wouldn’t be surprised if his girlfriend started it.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
“Nope, and that’s all I’ve got to say on the subject.” He lifted the receiver. “Except this. Murder is a dangerous business. Especially for young women who don’t know what they’re doing. It’s best left to the cops. That’s their job, and I wouldn’t want to see you two getting hurt or worse. Now get out of here. I’ve got a call to make.”
Thanking him, Clara got to her feet and led Stephanie out to the foyer. The receptionist gave them a hard look as they walked briskly across the lobby to the main door.
Once outside, Clara let her shoulders relax. “Well, that was interesting,” she said as she unlocked her car. “I’d say we have another suspect in the case.”
Stephanie frowned. “She can’t be much of a suspect. That manager had already told Dan what he told us, so Dan must know about her.”
“He might know about her, but that doesn’t mean he knows who she is.” Clara slid into the car and waited for her cousin to get in.
Stephanie scrambled onto the seat and grabbed the seat belt. Clicking it into place, she said, “We don’t know who that woman is, either.”
“Not right now, we don’t.” Clara started the engine. “How would you like to spend an hour or so at the Laurel Street Tavern tonight?”
“Well, I guess a glass of beer on a hot night could be very refreshing.”
Clara grinned at her. “My thoughts exactly.”
“We could invite Molly along. You know what they say—there’s safety in numbers.”
Clara decided to ignore her doubts about including the young woman in their investigation. “All right. What about George? Will he mind if you go out again tonight?”
Stephanie made a face. “I’ll tell him we’re treating Molly to celebrate her birthday or something.” She sighed. “I do hate lying to him. He’d go berserk if he knew the truth, though.”
“Well, if we pay for Molly’s beer, it will only be a half lie.”
“I guess so.” Stephanie peered gloomily ahead at the road. “I just hope we can find out enough to prove Rick is innocent. Then maybe all this will be worth it.”
“Of course it will be worth it.” Clara nodded at the road. “There’s Belgrave Landscaping. Let’s hope Buzz Lamont is there.”
“Surrounded by a bunch of people.”
Clara had to agree with her. She pulled off the road onto a gravel parking lot, the tires crunching on the small stones as she drove up to the main brick building. All along one side of the parking lot, rows of glasshouses glinted in the sun. In front of the building, stacks of bedding plants sheltered under a canopy, from which hung rows of hanging planters brimming with purple, pink and white fuchsias and red nasturtiums.
“Oh, they’re so pretty!” Stephanie exclaimed, gazing at the planters as she climbed out of the car. “I have to take one home with me!”
“Good idea.” Clara locked the car and took her cousin’s arm as she headed for the door. “We can use it as an excuse to talk to someone.”
The aroma in the cool interior of the building was a strange mix of sweet-smelling blooms and pungent fertilizer. Clara marched up to the long counter, where a couple of young men wearing brown coats were serving customers.
Stephanie darted over to a display of hanging planters and rushed back a moment later carrying a large container of blooms. “This will look lovely on my front porch,” she said, dumping the planter on the counter.
One of the young men spotted her and came forward, smiling a welcome. “Can I help you?”
“I’ll take this one.” Stephanie fished in her fanny pack for her credit card and handed it over.
“Very nice,” the assistant said, giving Stephanie an obvious look of admiration.
While he rang up the charge, Clara leaned on the counter. “I think a friend of ours works here,” she said. “Buzz Lamont. Do you know him?”
The assistant barely looked at her, his gaze skimming past her to settle on Stephanie again. “Buzz? Sure I know him. He’s a great guy.”
“Is he here now? We’d love to say hello to him.”
“He’s out on a job.” He handed Stephanie the slip to sign.
Clara waited until her cousin had handed back the pen before nudging her with her elbow. Stephanie shot her a puzzled glance, and Clara jerked her head at the assistant.
The young man handed Stephanie the receipt. “Hope you enjoy the flowers.”
“Oh, I will.” She buried her nose in the blooms, then smiled up at him. “I’d really like to see Buzz this morning. Would it be possible to stop by wherever he’s working?”
The assistant leaned his elbows on the counter. “What is it worth to you if I tell you where he is?”
Clara saw her cousin’s mouth tighten and quickly nudged her again.
Stephanie recovered her smile. “I could come see you again and buy some more flowers.”
The young man’s grin revealed a row of whitened teeth. “Deal. Hang on a minute.” He disappeared down an aisle and after a tense wait, returned, waving a piece of paper.
“Here’s where he’s at,” he said, handing it to Stephanie. “How about meeting me for a cup of coffee later to thank me?”
“I’ll ask my husband. I’m sure he’d love to come along.” Stephanie picked up the planter, turned her back on him and marched to the door.
Following her, Clara couldn’t help grinning. “You made quite a conquest back there,” she said, holding the car door open for her cousin.
“Idiot,” Stephanie muttered, heaving the heavy basket onto the backseat. “He had to be half my age.”
“Old enough to appreciate a gorgeous woman, obviously.”
Stephanie straightened and climbed into the car. “Thanks a bunch, but right now I’m in no mood for flattery. I just hope that wherever Buzz Lamont is working, there are plenty of people around to keep him company.”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out.” Clara started the engine again. “So what’s the address?”
Stephanie read it out to her. “I think it’s on the south side of town.” She let out a shaky sigh. “I’m beginning to have second thoughts about this.”
“Don’t worry.” Clara nosed the car across the gravel once more and onto the road. “If there’s the slightest chance that he could hurt us, we’ll find some other way to talk to him. Let’s just take a look and see where he is, okay?”
“Okay.” Stephanie settled down on her seat. “I should have brought the GPS with me. I don’t know why you don’t have one.”
“I don’t do that much driving.”
“You drive all over town looking at apartments. Or at least, you used to look at them. You haven’t done much of that lately.”
“I guess I’ve given up trying to find something I like and can afford.” Clara paused at a light. “Most of the rentals in town are vacation homes.”
“Can’t you use the Quinn Sense to find what you want?”
Clara sighed. “It doesn’t work that way. Even if it did, I wouldn’t use it.”
Several minutes later she turned down a street and peered at the house numbers. “It should be down here somewhere. Ah, here it is. Look, there’s one of Belgrave’s trucks parked in the driveway.”
Stephanie peered out the window
as Clara parked the car. “It looks like a big house.”
“Yeah, it does.” Clara opened the door and climbed out. Two large wrought iron gates barred the entrance to the driveway, with tall shrubs on either side. A low brick wall ran across the front of the property and down each side, separating the yard from the houses on either side. The wide driveway curved up to an impressive front porch and verandah that circled the house. “Nice,” Clara murmured, staring through the bars of the gate. “Very nice. We can’t just walk in here. Not without a good excuse, anyway.”
Stephanie stepped closer to look through the gate. “I can’t see a gardener. Let’s take a look farther down.”
Clara followed close on her cousin’s heels as she made her way along the wall. Stephanie stopped every yard or so and jumped up in an attempt to see over it. Clara didn’t need to jump and for once was grateful for her height as she peered over the wall at an expanse of lawn with a water fountain in the middle of it. Shrubs lined the walls, but there was no sign of any gardeners.
“We have to get in the backyard,” Stephanie declared as they reached the end of the wall. “Buzz must be back there.”
“How are we going to do that?” Clara gestured at the house. “We’d have to go up the driveway. Someone’s bound to see us.”
“We’ll have to come up with an excuse to be here. Like we’re Avon ladies or something.”
“Wait!” Clara went back to her car and leaned in to reach the glove compartment. She found what she was looking for—a notebook and pen—and carried them back to her cousin. “I used this as an excuse to find out where Buzz worked,” she said as Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “I told his wife I was conducting a survey.”
“What kind of survey?”
“I don’t know. Something about politics. I just told her it would be beneficial for him.”
“Oh, great.” Stephanie frowned. “He might think it odd that we tracked him down at work to ask him questions for a survey.”
“Not him, silly. I mean if the owner or someone else sees us. We can tell them that’s why we’re here.”
“Oh.” Stephanie considered it. “Might work, but you have to know what it’s about.” She frowned some more, then her face cleared. “Let’s say we’re asking people’s opinions about the economy. That always gets people talking.”
A Sinister Sense Page 11
