Mind Over Murder

by Allison Kingsley

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  CHAPTER & HEARSE

  Booked for Murder

  “Those idiots at the police station are holding Molly for questioning in Ana’s murder.”

  “What?” For an instant Clara remembered the soft voice trying to tell her something when Molly was talking. Impatiently brushing the memory aside, she asked sharply, “Have they charged her?”

  “Not yet. She asked Tim to let me know she might not be at work tomorrow.” Stephanie sounded close to tears. “Oh, Clara, I know Molly didn’t kill Ana. I just know it. We’ve got to help her.”

  Clara blinked. “Us? How can we help her? We’re not lawyers.”

  “We have to find out who did kill Ana. Until we do, everyone will think Molly did it. Even if the cops can’t prove it. It will destroy her.”

  Clara gripped the phone, praying that Stephanie didn’t mean what she thought she meant. “Just how are we going to do that?”

  The dreaded words echoed in her ear like the sound of doom. “You can do it, Clara. You have to use the Quinn Sense and find out who killed Ana Jordan.”

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  MIND OVER MURDER

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / September 2011

  Copyright © 2011 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  All rights reserved.

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  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-54986-5

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To my husband, Bill,

  whose patience and understanding

  under the circumstances have been incredible.

  You are a joy and a blessing.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to my editor, Michelle Vega, for all your hard work, great ideas and infinite patience. Your efforts are truly appreciated.

  Grateful thanks to my agent, Paige Wheeler, for steering me in the right direction and for being there for me when I need you. You know what that means to me.

  To my good friends Sam Willey and Mr. Bill, for assisting me with my research and for all the wonderful pics of the Maine coast. They are invaluable.

  1

  “Stephanie Quinn Dowd, you’ve got to be kidding!” Clara Quinn stared at her cousin’s serious face and suppressed an urge to laugh. “I’ve never worked in a bookstore. Or any store for that matter. Why in the world would you want me to manage yours?”

  The other woman puffed a strand of fair hair out of her eyes and dumped a pile of books onto the counter in front of her.

  “Because you’re smart, you’re personable and you have a degree in literature. I need someone for the afternoon shift. Twelve till eight. I’ll be here most of the day. Besides, you need a job, and I desperately need help. Look at this!” She swept a hand around her in a wide arc.

  Clara gazed around at the rows of shelves loaded with books, the tables displaying classic titles, the posters on the walls and the cozy corner with its deep armchairs and large coffee urn.

  It didn’t look much different from the last time she’d seen it, shortly after Stephanie had opened the store three months ago. Except for the sinister-looking stuffed raven perched on a light fixture and the sparkling colored crystals slowly spinning from the ceiling on golden cords. Oh, and maybe the life-size figure of a fortune-teller hovering over a crystal ball. Clara grinned. “I didn’t know you still had Madam Sophia.”

  Stephanie’s laugh seemed to echo along the shelves. “Do you remember when we rescued her from that awful carnival?”

  “How could I forget? I was the one who climbed up that huge pile of trash to get to her.”

  “We were so excited. Then my mom saw us carrying it upstairs to my room and just about went berserk.”

  Clara shook her head. “Poor Madam Sophia. Relegated to a cold, drafty garage.”

  “We didn’t sleep all night worrying about her.”

  Clara joined in her cousin’s laughter. “Well, she looks healthy enough now.”

  Stephanie’s grin vanished as the sound of angry voices erupted on the street outside. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Sounds like someone’s upset about something.” Clara glanced at the old-fashioned grandfather clock by the door. “I’d better get going. I’m supposed to be looking for an apartment.”

  “Wait! Are you going to help me out or not?”

  Clara paused, reluctant to give an answer. It was true she needed a job. She just wasn’t sure this one would be a good idea. For a lot of reasons.

  “Please?” Stephanie looked worried. “Ever since I started serving coffee and snacks in the Reading Nook, we’ve been swamped with customers. Molly’s been doing the afternoon shift now that Jonathon has gone back to college, but I really need her here in the mornings, and I must have someone reliable to take over for her in the afternoons.”

  “Have you tried advertising the position?”

  “Of cours
e, but this is a small town, and it’s hard finding someone suitable for the job. My mom’s been taking care of the kids while I’m here, but once school starts next week she’ll be back at work, and I can’t rely on George; he has his own job to worry about. I’m pretty desperate, Clara.”

  Again Clara struggled with her conscience. “I’d like to, Stephanie, but I don’t really have the time.” Seeing her cousin’s face freeze, she hurried on. “I’m still getting settled in, I’m looking for an apartment and I have to find a teaching position—”

  Again the raised voices interrupted her. Glancing at the window, she puffed out her breath. From the day they were born, just two months apart, she and Stephanie had shared everything from baby formulas and childhood nightmares to adolescent dreams. Since neither of them had siblings, they’d turned to each other, forming a sisterhood that had lasted thirty years and would continue, Clara hoped, for as long as they lived. They trusted and relied on each other as only close family can.

  She would do almost anything for Stephanie, and now her cousin needed her. She just couldn’t see any way she could refuse without seeming selfish and heartless.

  Swallowing her reservations, she held up her hands. “All right. I’ll do it. On the condition that it’s only until you find someone permanent.”

  “Great!” Stephanie’s face glowed with excitement. “Can you start tomorrow? Perhaps come in a little early? I could use the extra help for the sale.”

  Clara gave her a reluctant nod. “Okay.”

  “Thanks. It’ll be fun; you’ll see.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Clara waved a hand at the shelves. “You know how I feel about all this magic and spiritual stuff.”

  “I know you used to love it as much as I do. Until you found out you have the Quinn Sense.”

  And there it was. Clara waited a full five seconds before answering. “We’ve talked about this before. That’s why I left Finn’s Harbor in the first place. To get away from all that.”

  “And now you’re back.” Stephanie came out from behind the counter and laid a hand on her cousin’s arm. “I don’t know why you’re so determined to ignore the fact that you have the gift. It’s a family heritage, and I’d give anything to have it.”

  “I’d give anything if you had it instead of me.”

  “I know. That’s what makes it so frustrating.” Stephanie dropped her hand and frowned at the window as the sound of angry voices outside intensified. “I’d better go and see what all that is about.”

  Heading for the door, she threw words over her shoulder. “Be a dear before you leave and go to the stockroom for me? I need the box marked “High School.” The books are required reading for the students, and I need to get the rest of these tables set up if we’re going to start our back-to-school event today.” She disappeared, leaving her cousin no chance to answer.

  Shaking her head, Clara set off down one of the aisles to the back of the store. Talk of the gift had unsettled her, as it always did. Most members of the Quinn family had some psychic ability, and she wasn’t happy about being included in that favored circle. In fact, it had become such a burden that she’d left Maine in the hopes that she could forget all about the family curse, as she called it, and feel less of a freak.

  At first, in the excitement of attending college in New York, she’d managed to ignore the odd moments when she could read people’s hidden thoughts or have a momentary glimpse into the future. For a while she’d almost felt normal.

  But life in New York was so different from the life she’d left behind in Finn’s Harbor. She missed her family and friends, and Stephanie most of all. Each time she’d visited, it had gotten harder to leave.

  There was a time when she’d resented the small-town community, where it seemed that everyone knew everybody’s business. She’d found out, however, that a big city could be incredibly lonely, and true friends were hard to make. In her need for companionship, she’d sometimes been too quick to trust, and it had backfired on her. Big time.

  Coming back to Finn’s Harbor, however, meant facing the same demons that had sent her away in the first place. Pushing open the stockroom door, Clara sighed. All she could hope was that she’d made the right decision to come back to her hometown. Only time would tell.

  Inside the crowded room, she gazed in awe at the piles of boxes stacked against the walls. It looked like she’d arrived in the nick of time. Stephanie sure had her hands full, now that the Raven’s Nest bookstore had become one of the most popular social centers in town.

  Catching sight of the bust of a man, she moved over to the table to inspect it more closely. The face looked vaguely familiar, and she studied it for a moment before bending closer to read the inscription. Of course. Edgar Allan Poe. She should have guessed. Stephanie crammed her shelves with anything remotely connected to the author.

  Gently, she laid a hand on the smooth surface of the head. So many nights when she and her cousin were kids, they’d spent sleepovers watching horror movies and pretending to be psychics.

  They’d filled hours reading each other’s palms and predicting wild, adventurous futures for themselves. They’d eagerly discussed how they would use the Quinn Sense once they developed it.

  Even then she’d felt uneasy about it, though she’d never admitted as much to Stephanie. Her cousin had loved every creepy moment, while Clara had been scared they would conjure up some terrible evil spirit who would steal their souls.

  At first, when she’d realized she had inherited the family’s psychic powers, it had seemed thrilling and even empowering, but as time went by, the voices she heard became an intrusion. It hadn’t helped matters to learn that somehow the gift had bypassed Stephanie.

  Clara sighed and patted the bust. How ironic that she should be the one to inherit the Quinn Sense, as everyone called it, instead of her spook-happy cousin.

  The sudden tingling in her hand took her by surprise. She snatched it back as a wave of darkness seemed to cloud her mind. Evil. She could sense it in the room, cold and menacing.

  For a moment she felt rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. Then she forced her mind to clear, and everything settled back into place.

  Heart still pounding, she quickly scanned the boxes until she found the one marked “High School” in uneven black letters. She grabbed it up and charged out the door, not even bothering to close it behind her.

  She reached the counter just as Stephanie walked in through the front door, followed closely by a young woman with tangled red hair and flushed cheeks. Both of them stared as Clara came to a halt, breathless and shaking.

  Her cousin was the first to speak. “Are you okay? You’re looking a bit weird.”

  Clara gulped in air. Glancing out the window, she could see Ana Jordan, the owner of the stationer’s next door, glaring at the bookstore, her short, chubby body still in fighting mode with feet planted apart and hands on her hips. The furious woman threw her hands in the air, then ran them through her cropped bleached hair before turning and stomping back to her store.

  “I’m fine.” Clara gestured at the window. I thought I heard someone yelling.”

  “You did.” The redhead held out her hand. “I’m Molly Owens, Steph’s assistant. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “All of it disgusting, I suppose.” Clara shook the firm fingers.

  Molly grinned. “Let’s just say you two must have had a dynamite childhood.”

  Clara gave her cousin a sharp glance. Stephanie had promised long ago not to tell anyone, including their own family, that her cousin had the gift. She was reassured by Stephanie’s firm shake of her head and answered Molly with a smile. “You’ve got that right.”

  “Well, Steph told me you’ll be working here.” Molly tilted her head to one side, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have to say, it’ll be fab to have someone here tall enough to reach the top shelves.”

  Stephanie laughed and walked over to the counter. “Just don’t ask her how tall she is
. The kids in high school drove her nuts with that question.”

  “Oh, bummer.” Molly paused. “So, how tall are you, then?”

  “Tall enough to thump you on the head if you ask that question again.” Clara glanced at the window again. “So what was all the shouting about out there?”

  “Oh, that was me.” Molly sighed. “I was screaming at that old bat next door. I tell you, that woman is nuts. You know her, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know her.” Clara rolled her eyes at Stephanie. “Most of these shops have changed hands so often I don’t know anyone anymore, but Jordan’s has been here since we were kids. Is Ana still causing trouble for everyone?”

  Stephanie shrugged. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  Molly made a guttural sound of disgust. “That woman should be run out of town. She hates Steph, she hates the bookstore, she hates the fact that we’re successful and she’d do anything to shut us down.”

  Clara stared at her cousin. “Really? What’s her problem?”

  “She says I’m poisoning young minds with my occult books and turning our children into demons.”

  “Whoa, heavy stuff.” Clara nodded at the nearest table. “Those don’t look like occult books.”

  “They’re not!” Molly’s cheeks turned red again as she gestured at the tables. “Look at the titles. They’re books the high school asked us to carry, and what about those?” She pointed to several rows of colorful hardbacks. “Craft books and cookbooks. There’s lots of choices, and it’s not like we’re forcing people to buy the occult stuff.”

  “There’s a lot of interest in it right now, though,” Stephanie put in. “I’m not endangering anyone—I’m just supplying what the public wants.”

  “Yeah, well, Ana doesn’t think you have any right to do that.” Molly jerked her hand at the window again. “She keeps putting up signs advertising Big Books, that new chain bookstore that opened up last year. She’s doing her best to put us out of business. I saw the poster and tore it down, and of course, she saw me do it. She came screaming out of the store, and she’s like, ‘I’ll have you arrested!’ and I’m like, ‘Just try it, you old witch, and I’ll burn your broomstick and you along with it.’”