“What happened to her son?” Clara laid her fork down on her plate and reached for her water glass. “She got real defensive when I mentioned him.”
“Frannie’s son is what they refer to now as mentally challenged.”
Clara murmured her dismay. “How sad for her. She must have had a tough time raising him.”
“She did. Her husband, Norman, took off when Kevin was five. I think he got tired of taking second place to the child all the time.”
“That was terribly selfish of him.”
“Yes, it was.” Jessie absently fished a shrimp out of the salad left in the bowl and popped it in her mouth. “You know what was strange about that, though? When Kevin left high school, he went to live with his father. We never could understand why. Frannie wouldn’t talk about it, and nobody really knows what happened. Though I did hear that he’s working for his father in his construction business and doing really well.”
Clara frowned. “Maybe Frannie was too strict or something, and her son felt he had more freedom with his dad.”
“Maybe.” Jessie yawned behind her hand. “Whatever happened, I don’t think Frannie has seen much of Kevin since he left.”
“That’s what she said.” Clara drained her glass of water. “It’s so sad, though. Those years raising him alone must have been really hard for her. She must have sacrificed a lot for that kid, and that’s the thanks she got for it. No wonder she seems so depressed all the time.”
“Well, you know, if she’d kept up her appearance, she might have had a second chance at love. With all that long stringy hair and the shoddy clothes she wears, it’s no wonder she can’t get a man. You have to look hot if you want to snag a mate these days.”
Clara squirmed on her chair. Jessie’s words brought up the mental image of the pizza cook breathing down her mother’s cleavage. It was a little too much to swallow. “Well, I think I’ll do the dishes and go to bed.” She pushed her chair back and stood.
“Leave the dishes.” Jessie flapped purple fingernails at her. “I’ll do them. You go to bed. You look like death warmed up. A good night’s sleep will do you good. Take a couple of those Vicodin. I guarantee you won’t wake up until the morning.”
That was exactly what the doctor ordered, Clara thought, as she bent down to plant a kiss on her mother’s cheek. Now, if she could just stop worrying about whoever it was who wanted her dead, she might just get that good night’s sleep.
A few minutes later she shook a few pills from the bottle into her hand. Spotting a half pill, she picked it out and swallowed it down with a full glass of water.
She was about to climb into bed when she had second thoughts. Half a pill probably wasn’t going to do the trick. Maybe she should take the other half that was still in the bottle.
Much as she despised taking medications, she hated the idea of a sleepless night even more. Reluctantly, she trudged back to the bathroom, where she’d left the bottle of pills.
Shaking them into her hand once more, she looked for the half pill. It wasn’t in her palm, and she shook out the remaining pills. Still no sign of the half pill.
Frowning, she thought back over the day. She’d taken a half right after she’d got to the store, and broke another pill in half that afternoon. There should have been two halves in the bottle.
She turned the bottle upside down and shook it. Nothing fell out of it, and she stared at the pills still in her hand. Now that she was really looking at them, there didn’t seem to be that many.
She looked at the label. The doctor had prescribed twenty-five pills. She counted the ones in her hand. Eighteen. Plus the one and a half she’d already taken and the missing half. There were five and a half pills missing.
Her mind reeling, she walked back to her bed and sat down on the edge of it. The pills had been in her pocket all the time, except for the hour or so she’d left them on the table in the Nook. Someone must have taken the pills out of the bottle.
Her heart began to thump as she tried to remember who had been in the Nook that afternoon. Lots of people. Most of whom she didn’t know. As well as three people she did know. Molly, Frannie and John Halloran.
A sudden vision popped into her head, of Rick standing in the shadows, her bottle of pills in his hand.
No! It could have been anyone. Most likely someone alone in the Nook. Maybe Ana’s killer? Waiting for an opportunity to drop the pills into her coffee, perhaps?
Now she felt scared. First thing tomorrow she’d talk to Dan. Though short of locking her up in jail, she couldn’t see what he could do to help.
Maybe she should join forces with Frannie, since she seemed to be in danger, too. What about Stephanie? Could she be a target for the killer, as well? Then again, Stephanie had George to protect her.
She was feeling sleepy. Her mind felt fuzzy, and once more it hurt to think. Abruptly she got up from the bed, went back into the bathroom and swallowed another pill. Her head had barely touched the pillow before she was asleep.
She awoke the following morning with the same fuzzy feeling and staggered out of bed wishing fervently that she’d stuck with the half pill the night before.
It took three cups of strong black coffee to make her feel awake enough that she could safely drive the black monster parked in the driveway.
She left the house early, intending to stop by the police station on her way to the Raven’s Nest. She drove carefully, aware of the big car’s sloppy steering.
Arriving at the police station, she parked the car and walked across the parking lot to the front door. The offices were housed in what had once been a small theater. A golden arch adorned the redbrick front, upon which billboards had announced the shows. Inside the building, the sloping floor and ornate ceiling were all that was left of the original decor. The stage and seating had been torn out and partitioned off into cubicles.
A couple of small holding cells occupied what was once backstage, and a kitchen had been added onto the existing bathrooms.
Clara had been inside the police station only once before, on a grade-school tour.
It was long before she’d left for New York, and she still remembered hearing voices and smelling the overpowering odor of tobacco and perfume.
It wasn’t until she’d mentioned it to Stephanie that she’d realized it was the Quinn Sense at work, and no one else had any inkling of what she could hear and smell.
Stepping inside the door now, she held her breath, waiting for the voices to disturb her again. Her shoulders sagged in relief when she could hear nothing but the ringing of a telephone and the tapping of computer keyboards. Even the smell had disappeared, leaving behind only the musty aroma of an old building.
She headed for Dan’s office and knocked on the door. He called out to her, and she went in, taking the chair he offered her.
Frowning, he took off his reading glasses. “I wondered when you’d show up. You got my message, then?”
She stared at him, wondering what she’d missed. “What message?”
“I called your home yesterday and asked you to stop in.”
“Oh.” Now she remembered the phone ringing as she’d left the house the day before. “Mom must have taken the message and forgot to tell me.” She sighed. “Though you’d think she’d remember something as important as a summons by the police.”
Dan smiled. “Not exactly a summons. I kind of made it sound like a casual invitation. That’s probably why your mom didn’t take too much notice of it. I didn’t want to send you all into a panic.”
Clara nodded ruefully as she took the seat he offered her. “I do tend to panic lately. Guess that goes with the territory when someone is trying to kill me.”
Dan’s expression sobered at once. “No laughing matter, that’s for sure. We’re still investigating but haven’t come up with anything concrete yet.” He paused, then opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small plastic bag. “Can you tell me where you had your car parked the night of the wreck?”
S
urprised, she answered a little sharply. “Where everyone parks their car. In the parking lot on Third and Main.”
He gave her one of his tired-cop looks. “I meant exactly where in the parking lot?”
“Oh.” Feeling foolish, she thought about it. “I was over by the bushes on the left side, opposite the exit.”
“Ah. I thought so.” He placed the bag on the desk in front of her. “We found some steel shavings in that area, along with this.”
Clara picked up the bag and peered at the tiny, glittering object inside it. “What is it?”
“It looks like a whale to me.”
She held the bag higher to the light from the window behind him. “Yes, it does. A tiny golden whale.”
“The thing is, it’s not so much what it is, but where it came from.”
She felt a jolt and dropped the bag on the desk. “You think whoever tampered with my brakes dropped it?”
“Could be.” Dan sat back on his chair. “I’m guessing it’s one of those lucky charms. You know, like on a bracelet or maybe a key chain.”
Clara caught her breath. “So all we have to do is find the bracelet or keychain—”
“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.” Dan picked up his glasses and perched them on his nose. “First off, we don’t know that this belongs to the suspect. Even if it does, it’ll be like hunting for a diamond in the sand. I just wanna know if you remember seeing anything like this on anyone in the past few days.”
“Oh.” Clara let out her breath on a sigh of disappointment.
She peered at the charm, fingering it through the plastic. You’ve seen this somewhere.
“I have?” she murmured. “Where?”
Dan sat up on his chair. “You have? You know who it belongs to?”
Clara jumped. She’d answered the voice out loud, forgetting where she was. “Oh, no, I mean . . . I think I’ve seen it somewhere before, but I don’t remember where. Maybe it will come to me later.”
Dan’s shoulders slumped. “Okay. It was a long shot, anyway. Just don’t go beating yourself over the head trying to remember.”
“If it belongs to whoever it was messing with my car,” Clara said grimly, “I’m going to move heaven and earth to remember.”
Dan looked alarmed. “Like I said, just because it was in the parking lot doesn’t mean it belongs to our suspect. Anyone could have dropped it there, so don’t go jumping to any wrong conclusions, okay?”
She nodded, her mind already working feverishly. Somewhere, sometime, she’d seen a bunch of gold charms. In a store window? If only she could remember. Maybe Stephanie would know.
Now she couldn’t wait to get to the bookstore. “I have to go. I’m late for work.”
“Okay, but just be careful out there, okay?”
“I will.” She jumped up and rushed for the door, leaving a startled police chief staring after her.
It wasn’t until she walked into the Raven’s Nest that she realized she’d forgotten to tell Dan about the missing pills.
Rick must have been right when he’d said a concussion makes someone forgetful.
It seemed as if everyone in town was in the store when she walked in.
“It’s Sunday,” Stephanie said, in answer to her cousin’s raised eyebrows. “We’re always busy on a Sunday.”
Clara joined Molly behind the counter, while Stephanie disappeared in the direction of the Nook.
John Halloran was waiting to be served, and he seemed to be in a hurry as Molly swiped his card and handed him the books he’d bought. He practically snatched them from her and rushed for the door, colliding with a customer on his way out.
Clara was hoping to get a glimpse of John’s key chain, but another customer kept her busy, and the last she saw of John, he was charging across the street toward the hardware store.
Clara hadn’t recognized Tim Rozzi without his uniform until he nodded at her as he walked past the counter. “Feeling better?”
“Much better, thanks.” She smiled at him, knowing it was a lie. She wasn’t going to feel better until the killer was behind bars and she could feel safe again.
Rick came into the store soon after that, giving her a brief nod before heading down to the Nook. She barely had time to acknowledge him while trying to answer the questions of the teenager at the counter.
Molly nudged her as Rick vanished down an aisle. “There’s your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, so don’t start that rumor going around. Please.”
Molly looked offended. “I didn’t start it. Someone told me you two were engaged. I figured it was something you wanted kept secret, since Stephanie didn’t say anything about it, but—”
Clara uttered a grunt of dismay. “Oh, no. I’d forgotten about that.”
“About what? That you’d promised to marry the guy?” Molly shook her head. “How could you forget that? Though I have to say, you didn’t waste any time. You’ve only known him a week, haven’t you? Or did you meet him—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Clara slammed a book on the counter, startling the young girl waiting to be served. “Who gets engaged after knowing someone one week? Of course we’re not engaged. Rick told the ambulance driver that so he could ride to the hospital with me, that’s all.” She scowled in the direction of the Nook. “He promised me he’d clear all that up.”
Molly grinned. “He conned a ride in the ambulance? Maybe there’s more to the story than you’re letting on.”
Clara bared her teeth as she towered over Molly. “Not . . . one . . . more . . . word. Okay?”
Molly threw her hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I was just asking, that’s all.”
Clara frowned. “Who told you that, anyway?”
Molly raised her chin and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Now, let me see . . .” She shook her head. “Sorry, can’t remember. It could have been the mailman. I was talking to him this morning. Or maybe it was Sheila at the bank.”
Clara groaned. First chance she got, she was going to have a word with Rick Sanders.
The customers kept coming, however, and Rick left the store without her having a moment to talk to him. In fact, she was so busy, it all went out of her head.
Things had just begun to slow down when she answered her cell phone later that afternoon. To her dismay, she heard her mother crying on the phone.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Clara deciphered the muffled words and silently cursed. Somehow her mother must have heard the news about her brakes being cut. “I didn’t want to worry you, Mom. Besides, we don’t know for sure. It could have been an accident.”
“An accident?” Her mother’s shocked voice seemed to echo in her ear. “Are you telling me you’re pregnant?”
Clara blinked. “Pregnant? No, of course not.”
Stephanie passed by at that moment and stopped short. “Who’s pregnant? Not you? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Clara tucked her phone against her chest and whispered fiercely, “I’m not pregnant!”
“You’re pregnant?” Molly halted behind Stephanie, her eyes wide. “So that’s why you’re in such a hurry to get married.”
Clara threw her head back and yelled, “For pity’s sake! For the last time, I’m not pregnant!”
“You’re getting married?” Stephanie took hold of her arm and shook it. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who’s the guy? Not the one in New York?”
Against her chest, Clara could hear her mother’s voice wailing. Quickly she raised the phone to her ear.
“No one tells me anything,” her mother sobbed. “My only daughter’s getting married. Why am I always the last to know?”
“Mom.” Clara briefly closed her eyes, then tried again. “Mom! I’m not getting married. I’m not pregnant. This is all a huge misunderstanding. The guy across the street told the ambulance driver that we were engaged because he didn’t want me traveling to the hospital alone, that’s all. He promised me he’d tell everyone what happened, but I
guess he didn’t get to it.”
“What guy across the street?” Jessie asked, sniffing.
Clara sighed. “Rick Sanders, the owner of the hardware store.”
“I know Rick.” Jessie’s voice brightened. “Are you two—”
“No! We’re not anything, Mom. I have no interest in Rick Sanders whatsoever.”
“Aw, and here I was planning the honeymoon.” The familiar voice had spoken from behind her, and she spun around.
Rick stood at the end of the aisle, one hand resting on the bookshelf, the other covering his eyes in mock despair.
Stephanie and Molly melted away, while Clara let out an explosive growl of frustration and charged over to the Nook. Relieved to find it unoccupied, she told her mother she was busy and snapped the phone shut.
To her immense dismay, Rick sauntered in behind her and headed for the coffeepot. “I was looking for a copy of this month’s auto magazine. Stephanie couldn’t find it this morning, and she said she’d look for it in the stockroom when she got time.”
Keeping her back turned to him, Clara muttered, “She’s been real busy. I’ll take a look in there if you like.”
“No rush. I can come back tomorrow.”
She heard him pouring coffee into a mug and decided it was time to leave. “I’d better get back to the counter.”
“Wait.”
She turned to face him, her heart jumping when she saw his serious expression.
He put the mug down on the table, and folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall. “I’m sorry about the rumors. I really didn’t think we were newsworthy enough to cause a sensation.”
Clara felt her mouth twitch in spite of herself. “You underestimate your popularity. I imagine quite a few young women are heartbroken at the idea of losing Finn’s Harbor’s most eligible bachelor.”
“Ouch.” He winced. “Do I detect a note of sarcasm in those dulcet tones?”
She laughed. “Dulcet? Isn’t that a little outdated?”
“Blame it on a fondness for Victorian novels.” He unfolded his arms. “No, really, I’m sorry. I did go to the library to talk to your mom, but she was in a meeting, and I couldn’t wait. I can come over to your house this evening and explain, if you like.”
Mind Over Murder Page 15
