Mind Over Murder

by Allison Kingsley

  Stephanie shrugged. “I’ll tell George what he needs to know. Besides, you’ll have to do most of the legwork. I see myself as more on the idea side of things.

  “Gee, thanks.” Clara twisted her mouth in a wry smile. “Just like old times.”

  “Yeah, just like old times.” Stephanie put an arm around her cousin. “You used to be so good at using the Sense. Do you remember when you told me that George was going to dump Ana for me?”

  Clara sighed. “I remember. You refused to believe me and actually accused me of trying to stir up trouble between you and George.”

  “I know.” Stephanie rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “It just seemed so utterly impossible. George had never spoken a word to me. He was a huge basketball star, and in those days Ana was a real hottie. She knew all the tricks and I knew nothing.”

  “Ah, but the voices were telling me that George was getting tired of Ana’s antics and had his eye on you. It was just a matter of time before he made his move.”

  Stephanie clasped her hands in front of her throat. “And he did. The Quinn Sense never lies.”

  “No, it just disappears when you need it the most.”

  Stephanie’s smile faded. “You’ll get it all back. I know it.”

  Clara sincerely hoped not. “You’re determined to do this, then.”

  “With or without you. I just hope it’s with you. You know, two heads and all that.”

  “I’ll help on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  Clara turned back to the counter. “At the first sign of real danger, we call Dan.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And no more talk about the Quinn Sense.”

  “But—”

  Clara held up her hand. “No buts. Now let’s go tell Molly we’re going to try and clear her name.”

  Tears welled in Molly’s eyes when Stephanie told her they wanted to find the killer. “I’ll help,” she told them, hugging each of them in turn. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “Well, nothing for the moment,” Stephanie said, as the bell jangled on the door, signaling another customer. “But as soon as we get a break, we’ll sit down and discuss our strategy. Right now, though, someone has to clean up the mess in the stockroom. No one’s set foot in there since the police were here, and we need to get the new stock on the shelves.”

  Molly’s face lost its color, and she swallowed. “I’ll do it. I may puke, though.”

  Clara took a deep breath. “I’ll help. It won’t be so bad if we both do it.”

  Molly sent her a grateful look. “You two are the best friends anyone could ask for, and I hope you know how much this means to me.”

  “We’re doing what’s right,” Stephanie said, patting her on the shoulder. “We know you didn’t kill Ana, and that means someone else did. He’s not going to get away with it. We might not be able to arrest him or anything, but maybe if we find out enough about what happened, we can help Dan to go after him.”

  Molly twitched her eyebrows. “I just don’t know what you can really do if Dan wasn’t able to find anything.”

  “Exactly,” Clara murmured.

  Stephanie ignored her. “People are more likely to talk to us than Dan. Most people are afraid to say too much to the police, in case it gets them into trouble.”

  Molly nodded, her face brightening just a little. “You’re right. Besides, you can do things and go places the police can’t go without a warrant or something.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Okay, Clara. Let’s go tackle that stockroom.”

  It was almost at the end of Molly’s shift before things quieted down in the bookstore long enough for them all to sit down with a cup of coffee in the Reading Nook.

  Stephanie settled back in the comfy armchair with a long sigh. “It’s been a busy day. Everyone’s heard about what happened to Ana, and they’re coming in to satisfy their curiosity.”

  “I know.” Clara leaned forward to straighten the magazines on the low table. “They all want to talk about the murder. They get miffed when I tell them I don’t know any more than they do. Like I’m hiding something from them.”

  “They think you’re protecting me,” Molly said, staring down at her feet. “They’re all avoiding me. I feel like a leper. One of the untouchables.”

  “Don’t worry.” Stephanie leaned forward to touch her arm. “We’ll clear your name. Won’t we, Clara?”

  Clara caught her breath. “That reminds me, I might have a suspect.”

  “You do?”

  “Who is it?”

  They’d both spoken at once, and Clara looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone. “John Halloran. Well, I guess he’s not really a suspect, but he certainly had a motive. He had good reason to hate Ana.”

  Stephanie slumped her shoulders. “So did half the people in town.”

  “Ah, but half the people in town didn’t lose a business and a marriage because of Ana’s lies.”

  Molly sat up. “How did she manage to do all that?”

  Clara repeated a shortened version of what her mother had told her.

  “John’s a regular customer here,” Stephanie said. “He comes in all the time. I know he’s a little weird, but he seems like such a quiet man—not at all the kind of person who would kill someone.”

  “Few people do.” Clara stretched out her legs and wiggled her aching toes. “Everyone has his breaking point, though. John Halloran could have been harboring resentment all this time, and some little thing could easily have set him off.”

  “Like what?”

  Clara shrugged. “I don’t know. Something Ana said to him, or something he heard somewhere.”

  Stephanie considered that for a moment before answering. “Well, if that’s so, he’s not the only one. I know someone else who suffered because of Ana’s lies.”

  Molly’s eyes gleamed with hope. “Who?”

  “Rick Sanders.”

  Clara stared at her. “The guy across the street?”

  “Yep. He used to work for Ana’s father, Henry. That was before this store existed. This used to be part of Jordan’s Stationer’s, remember?”

  “Of course I do. I remember when Ana sold off this part of the building after her father died.”

  Stephanie uttered a soft gasp. “Maybe that’s how Ana got into the stockroom. If our two stores used to be all one building, and the locks were never changed, she could still have had keys to the Raven’s Nest.”

  Clara sat up. “So could anyone who has worked for her.”

  Both women stared at her as if she’d just announced the end of the world.

  “Oh, wow,” Molly whispered.

  Eyes gleaming, Stephanie nodded. “That does explain a few things. I remember George telling me that Ana’s father had left her a load of debt and she had to sell the annex to help keep the store afloat.”

  “Well, I’m glad she did,” Molly said, looking around. “I love the Raven’s Nest, and so do most of the people in this town.”

  “But what about Rick Sanders?” Clara leaned forward. “What lies did Ana tell about him?”

  “Well, according to George, who heard it from a couple of people, Ana fired Rick right after she took over the store. She more or less accused him of stealing from her father, which accounted for the bad debts. Rick swore he never took anything. He said she fired him because she was afraid he’d buy her out. Apparently, he had money from an inheritance, and he knew more about how that store was run than she did.”

  Molly gasped. “I can’t believe that no one ever took that woman to court.”

  Stephanie shrugged. “Well, I guess there was no way to prove it. George said that Ana was clever and never actually came right out and said anything specific. She just sort of hinted, and people took it from there. Anyway, it was her word against Rick’s, and Ana grew up in Finn’s Harbor. Everyone knew her. Rick was the stranger in town.”

  “Well, it didn’t stop him from eventually taking over his own store,
right across the street,” Molly said. “He’s doing pretty well with it, too, from what I hear.” She yawned and looked at her watch. “Only I don’t see what any of this has to do with Ana’s murder. Rick’s a nice guy. He doesn’t seem like a killer any more than John Halloran does.”

  “You can never tell what a person is really like unless you live with him.” Clara was unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Meeting Stephanie’s curious stare, she added quickly, “I guess there’s a lot of people in town who had a reason to hate Ana Jordan, and that just makes it all the harder to figure out who killed her.”

  “We have to start asking questions,” Stephanie said. “Like, who was on the street late Friday night and what were they doing there?”

  “Motive and opportunity.” Clara frowned. “What’s the third thing?”

  “Means!” Molly looked pleased with herself. “I read a lot of mysteries. It means the murder weapon.”

  “Good. I’m glad someone knows what she’s doing. Only in this case, anyone could have had the means bit. It wouldn’t have been that hard to lift the bust and hit Ana over the head with it.”

  Stephanie nodded her agreement. “It would help if we knew why or how Ana was in the stockroom in the first place.”

  “Good point. I guess it wouldn’t be that hard to lure her in there. It seems that just about everyone knew she wanted to shut down the bookstore. All the murderer would have to do is tell Ana there was something in the stockroom that would help her do that, and she’d follow him right in.” Clara turned her head as the bell jangled. “There’s a customer. I’d better get back to the counter.”

  Molly got up from her chair. “Well, I’m going home.” She looked down at Clara. “Sure you’ll be okay here on your own? I mean, you’re not nervous or anything?”

  “I think I know enough to manage.” Clara glanced at Stephanie. “I can always call my cousin if I’m not sure about anything, right?”

  Stephanie didn’t answer her. She was peering toward the front of the store, a strange expression on her face.

  Molly turned her head to see what she was looking at and drew a sharp breath. “It’s John Halloran,” she said, in a low whisper. “Now’s your chance to question our first suspect, Clara. Get what you can out of him.”

  Clara had a sudden urge to hide. “I have no idea what to ask him.”

  “Think fast.” Stephanie gave her a little push. “Use your talents. You’ll come up with something.” She ducked her head, avoiding Clara’s glare, and slipped past her. “I have to get home to my kids,” she said, following Molly, who was headed for the door. “Call me if you have any problems.”

  Clara watched them leave, the sinking feeling in her stomach growing worse by the minute. She’d been abandoned, left alone in the store with a possible murderer.

  Very slowly, she walked up to the counter, conscious of her heels clicking on the polished floorboards. John Halloran was nowhere to be seen, though she could hear shuffling footsteps at the lower end of one of the aisles. He was awfully near the stockroom. Was he waiting for a chance to slip inside there to make sure he’d left no incriminating evidence behind?

  Scolding herself, she moved behind the counter. She was being ridiculous. Even if the killer had left some kind of evidence behind, Dan would surely have found it by now. Even so, she strained her ears, listening for the possible closing of the stockroom door.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Clara.”

  The soft voice spoke from just a yard or so away, making her jump so violently her teeth clicked. She’d been so intent on listening, staring down at the counter, she hadn’t seen him emerge from the aisle.

  “Oh! Mr. Halloran!” Her voice sounded squeaky, and she coughed. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

  He walked toward her, carrying two books under his arm. “I heard that you were working for your cousin. How nice that the two of you can enjoy this together.” He waved a hand at the aisles. “Stephanie has done a good job with the store. Very impressive.”

  Clara cleared her throat. “Thank you. I’ll tell her you said that.”

  “Oh, please do.” He turned his head to look up at the crystals, revealing a large bald patch in the center of his light brown hair. “Nice touch.”

  “We like them.” She kept staring at the bald patch, wondering how on earth she was going to find out where he was and what he was doing on the night of the murder. She couldn’t just come out and ask him.

  He turned toward her, and she quickly forced a smile. “I see you’ve found a couple of books. Can I ring those up for you?”

  “Sure.” Instead of handing them to her, however, he stared at her through the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses. “It must have been quite a shock for you young ladies to find Ana Jordan’s body like that.”

  Clara swallowed hard. “Yes, it was.” She could feel the pulse in her throat throbbing and swallowed again. “Quite a shock.”

  “Not the sort of thing you imagined coming home to find.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Do the police have any idea who did it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Someone said Dan was questioning Molly.”

  Clara raised her chin. “Dan questioned a lot of people. Molly had nothing to do with it.”

  John Halloran smiled. “Of course she didn’t.” He moved closer to lay the books on the counter, bringing with him the too-sweet scent of his cologne. “I wonder who did, though. Why in here? Unless whoever killed her wanted the police to think it was one of you. After all, Ana wanted to shut down the store, didn’t she? And we all know how good she was at getting her own way. Who else had such a strong reason to want her out of the way?”

  Clara curled her fingers into her palm. “Plenty of people, from what I hear.”

  His eyes narrowed just a bit. “Yes, I don’t suppose there’ll be too many mourners at her funeral.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Well, I’m sure Dan will find our killer soon enough. This is a small town. Not a lot of places to hide, right?”

  His laugh sent chills down her spine. Quickly she scanned the purchase and swiped his card. After handing him the sales slip, she dropped the books into a bag and pushed it toward him. “Thank you, Mr. Halloran.”

  “Oh, please, call me John. Everyone does.” He picked up the bag and tucked it under his arm. “Good day, Clara. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  It sounded more like a threat than a promise. She managed a weak smile, conscious of Molly’s words pounding in her head. Get what you can out of him. It was a lot easier to say it than to do it.

  He was almost at the door when she blurted out, “I don’t suppose you happened to see anything the night Ana was murdered?”

  He paused so long she dug a channel into her palms with her nails. Then he turned, his pale gray eyes gleaming behind the glasses. “See anything?”

  “Unusual, I mean. Something that could help us find out who did this awful thing.”

  “If I had,” John Halloran said in his soft voice, “I would have certainly told the police.”

  “Oh, of course.” Clara nodded her head at him, and then couldn’t seem to stop nodding. “I was only wondering, that’s all.”

  “We’re all wondering.” He turned back to the door and opened it. “All except the murderer, of course.” He started chuckling as he went out the door, and it closed behind him.

  Clara let out all the breath she’d been holding in one big gasp and propped her elbows on the counter. So much for this detective work. It was a lot harder than she’d thought.

  At least she hadn’t heard voices in her head while she was talking to him. Just for a moment she almost wished she had. She might have learned something useful. As far as she could tell, John Halloran hadn’t actually lied, though now that she thought about it, he hadn’t said much at all.

  Stephanie and Molly would probably be disappointed in her, though she couldn’t see what more she could hav
e done, other than ask him outright if he’d killed Ana. Not that he was likely to admit it, of course, but the voices might have been able to tell her if he’d lied.

  There she went again. Darn the Quinn Sense. It was nothing but trouble when it was there, and it was never there when she could use it. Her biggest fear about coming back to Finn’s Harbor was that she’d get it back full strength, and thinking about it all the time didn’t help.

  Annoyed with herself, she charged out from behind the counter and headed for the Reading Nook. Maybe a spurt of cleaning up would help take her mind off things. If there was one thing she didn’t need, it was the Quinn Sense coming back to haunt her.

  5

  Stephanie called just as Clara was putting away the coffee cups. “So? What did you find out about John Halloran?” she demanded, when Clara picked up the phone.

  “Not much.” Clara told her what she remembered of the conversation. “I tried to find out where he was on Friday night, but he wasn’t too helpful.”

  “Maybe you didn’t ask the right questions.”

  “I’m not a cop, Stephanie. There are some things I can’t ask without seeming nosy, or just plain accusing.”

  “I suppose.” There was a pause, then Stephanie added, “Well, did he act suspicious at all? Did he seem nervous when you asked questions?”

  Clara thought about it. “He was kind of creepy,” she said at last. “The truth is, he made me nervous. I can’t say that’s incriminating, though. He really didn’t say anything specific.”

  “Crap. We’ll have to think of another way to find out this stuff.”

  “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

  “Come on, Clara. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Ten years in New York. That’s what happened to it.”

  She hadn’t meant to sound so caustic, and Stephanie caught on right away. “What’s that supposed to mean? What happened to you in New York, Clara? Why won’t you tell me?”

  Clara attempted a light laugh. “Nothing happened to me. I just grew up, that’s all.”

  Stephanie was silent for so long Clara thought she’d hung up. Then she said in a small voice, “That’s a shame, Clara. That’s a real shame. I’ll see you tomorrow.”