From farther down the counter, Frannie uttered a quiet whimper.
Roberta seemed not to hear her. Her gaze was locked on Clara’s face as she crumpled the papers in her hand. “Do you know who killed Ana?”
Clara shook her head and started backing up to the door. “No, not me. I don’t want to know. Let the police do their job, that’s what I say. I’m going home and plan to forget all about it until tomorrow, when Dan gets back.”
“What about the calendar?” Frannie called out.
“I’ll come in tomorrow. I’ll have more time to look then. I have to go back now and lock up.” With a quick wave of her hand, Clara was through the door and hurrying back to the bookstore.
Once inside, she looked around for Stephanie. Finding no sign of her, she figured her cousin was waiting for her in the stockroom. At least so far the plan seemed to be going along okay.
Now all they had to do was wait for the killer to show up. That was the part that Clara was nervous about. Still, she’d come this far, she might as well go through with the whole thing now.
Quickly she checked out the cash register, locked everything up securely, then made herself walk casually to the front door and step outside.
The keys rattled in her hand, and she had trouble fitting one of them into the lock, but finally she got it all locked up. The wind was stronger now, blowing her hair into her eyes as she zipped up her jacket and headed down the hill.
When she reached the corner of the block, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her, then darted around the corner and fled down the street to the wide alley that ran behind the stores.
Grabbing the handle of the back door to the Raven’s Nest, she gave it a sharp turn, but it refused to budge. Frowning, she rattled it. Stephanie must have forgotten to unlock it.
She rattled it again, waiting impatiently for her cousin to open the door. Where was Stephanie? She had to be in the bathroom or something. Again she rattled the handle. Still no response.
Something was wrong. The Sense was so strong, she could actually feel Stephanie’s fear. Surely the killer couldn’t have gone into the store and found her cousin while she was racing around the block?
Panic swept over her, and for an instant her mind blanked everything out. Stephanie’s in trouble. Get back inside the store.
Clara twisted around and ran back around the block to the front door. Feverishly she unlocked it, glancing over her shoulder at the windows of Jordan’s Stationer’s. As she looked, the lights went out.
Without turning on the lights in the bookstore, Clara slipped inside and quickly closed the door, locking it from the inside.
“Stephanie?” She hissed the name in a loud whisper. “Are you in here?”
Her heart thumping, she listened for an answer. Nothing.
A faint glow from the streetlamps outside threw dark shadows down the aisles. She could barely see to the end of them, and she crept along each one, fearing to see the limp body of her cousin lying somewhere on the floor.
Having satisfied herself that Stephanie was nowhere in the store, Clara moved slowly toward the stockroom. Stephanie had to be in there. If she was, there had to be a reason why she hadn’t opened the back door.
Clara swallowed hard. She wouldn’t think about the possible reasons. Stephanie had to be in that stockroom, alive and waiting for her. She just had to be.
The door handle twisted silently in her hand, and she eased the door open. As she did so, the beam of a flashlight swept across the floor.
Annoyed with her cousin for frightening her, Clara grunted and flipped on the stockroom light. “Stephanie! You scared me! Why on earth didn’t . . . you . . .” Her voice faded into silence.
Standing before her, flashlight in one hand, the chocolate box in the other, was Frannie.
Stephanie’s first thought when she saw her youngest son’s stricken face and Olivia lying in the hospital bed was that her daughter was dying. None of George’s assurances would convince her, and it wasn’t until Olivia sat up and asked for ice cream that she dared to think that the child would recover.
“It’s just a broken arm,” the doctor said, showing her the X-ray. “A clean break. A few weeks and she’ll forget it ever happened.”
“I won’t forget,” Stephanie said, glaring at George. “In fact, I’d like to know exactly how it happened.”
George looked uneasy. “Olivia was roughhousing with Michael and wouldn’t quit when I told her to, so I sent them both to their rooms.”
Olivia started to say something, but Stephanie hushed her with a sharp lift of her hand. “So then what happened?”
George looked up at the ceiling. “She wanted to go see you at the store. I told her she couldn’t.”
“Mom, I—” Olivia began, and again was shushed by her mother’s threatening hand.
“And . . . ?”
“She fell out the window,” Michael said.
“I didn’t fall out of the window,” Olivia said scornfully. “I climbed out. It was the tree I fell out of.”
Stephanie clutched her stomach. “Oh, my God. You are never to do that again, you hear me?”
Olivia nodded. “I won’t,” she promised. “It hurts when you fall out of a tree.”
“I meant you are never to climb out of your window again.” Stephanie shook her head. The memory of her and Clara climbing out of a bedroom window was all too clear in her head.
Clara. “Oh, crap!” She’d said it so loud two nurses frowned at her as they walked by.
“What now?” George said, alarm ringing in his voice.
Stephanie didn’t answer. She was too busy scrabbling for her cell phone.
16
Time seemed to freeze as Clara stared at Frannie’s frightened face. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of them presented themselves in words. All she could do was stand there, waiting for Frannie to say something—anything—that would break the tension holding them fast.
Finally Frannie lifted the box in her hand and shook it. “It’s empty.”
It was such an anticlimax Clara felt an insane urge to laugh. “Frannie, what are you doing here?”
Frannie sent a hunted look around the room, as if seeking a way to escape. “Roberta sent me over here to get the box. I guess she wanted to know what was inside it.”
Clara felt the tension easing in her shoulders. “We both know that’s a lie, Frannie. In fact, you’ve been lying all along.”
Frannie shook her head. “No, I—”
Clara stepped forward. “You were in the stockroom the night Ana died. Molly didn’t tell you about Wayne Lester’s book. She couldn’t have. She left the bookstore a good half hour before you left Jordan’s that night. You saw the boxes of that book the night you killed Ana Jordan.”
For a long moment Frannie’s features were set in a stubborn frown, then in an instant her face was transformed. She seemed to crumple up and shrink, like Alice in Wonderland.
She dropped the box, her knees gave way and she sank to the floor, tears running down her face. “I didn’t mean to kill her,” she said, and started crying in a hopeless way that tore at Clara’s heart.
Okay, so Frannie had struck down a human being and taken a life. But right then, the woman seemed so utterly defenseless and alone, and Clara knew exactly how that felt.
She rushed forward and dropped to the floor by Frannie’s side. With one arm around her, she murmured, “I know you didn’t mean to, Frannie.”
“I d-didn’t mean to hurt you, either.” Frannie gulped, struggling to control her sobs. “I j-just wanted to frighten you, so you wouldn’t keep on looking for Ana’s killer.”
“You dropped Roberta’s charm by my car to make it look as if she had messed with my brakes.”
“I just wanted to confuse everybody, that’s all.”
“And you took Vicodin pills out of my bottle?”
“I wanted to scare you into giving up.”
�
�You know everyone thought Molly had killed Ana,” Clara said, with more than a hint of reproach.
Frannie nodded. “I’m sorry. I was hoping they’d all forget about it soon.” Her entire body shuddered. “I know I’ve done some dreadful things. I don’t know what came over me. It was as if all the lousy stuff Ana said and did over the years just all got bottled up until that night.” She flicked a glance at Clara through wet lashes. “Did you know that she was going to burn down the Raven’s Nest?”
Shock stole whatever words Clara had in her mind. She shook her head, grappling with the enormity of what it would have meant to Stephanie had Ana succeeded.
“She hated Stephanie, you know,” Frannie went on. “She was always telling me how Stephanie stole George away from her in high school and it ruined her life. She never married. I don’t think she ever got over losing George.”
Clara finally found her voice. “So what happened that night?”
Frannie was silent for a long time, obviously reliving it all. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and calm, as if reciting a poem. “It was all about my son, Kevin. He had . . . problems when he was growing up. He was a slow learner. Kids made fun of him. His dad left us, and it was hard, raising him on my own. When he finally graduated, I asked Ana if she would hire him. She refused.” Frannie drew a trembling breath. “She said she didn’t want that freak working in her store. I never liked her after that.”
Clara clenched her teeth. “I’m not surprised.”
“Kevin thought I was the one stopping him from working there. I couldn’t tell him what Ana had said. He was convinced I was ashamed of him and didn’t want him working in town. He never forgave me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Frannie appeared not to hear her. She seemed lost in her story, as if she were talking to herself. “Norman, my ex, was in Philadelphia, doing well in the construction business. He offered Kevin a job. So he went to live with his dad. I lost my son because Ana wouldn’t give him a job. I hated her.”
Clara jumped at the sudden venom in Frannie’s voice. “Why did you go on working for her?”
Frannie shook her head. “I don’t know. I’d worked there for so long, I guess I was afraid to look for another job. Or maybe I wasn’t going to let her force me out. Whatever it was, that night, it all came to a boil.”
She shivered, wrapping her arms across her chest. “Ana still had a key to this back door, from when it used to be part of Jordan’s. She told me she was going to get rid of the bookstore once and for all. She made me go with her, to keep watch and make sure no one saw her light the fire.”
Frannie looked up, tears spurting from her eyes again. “I couldn’t let her do that to Stephanie. Your cousin has always been so nice to me. She didn’t deserve to lose her store. We got in here, and I told Ana that if she set fire to the stockroom she’d burn down Jordan’s as well. She said she didn’t care. It wasn’t hers anymore. She’d sold the business to Roberta.”
Clara remembered what John Halloran had told her. Ana had been looking at property in Portland. Roberta had bought the business before Ana died. “So you knew Roberta was the legitimate owner?”
Frannie sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I didn’t tell you because I thought the more suspicious other people looked, the less likely it was that anyone would find out it was me. That’s why I said that I thought Roberta might have killed Ana to get the store.”
Clara puffed out her breath. Obviously the Quinn Sense still wasn’t reliable. In the old days she would have known at some point that Frannie was lying well before she interpreted her dream. “So then what happened?”
Frannie started rocking her thin body back and forth. “I told Ana that if she set fire to this place I’d tell the cops what she’d done. She said she’d tell them I did it. She said the cops would believe her because everyone knew I was retarded. Just like my son. That’s when I lost it. I saw the bust, I picked it up,” she raised her hands above her head, “and I smashed it as hard as I could on her head.” She swung her hands down, making Clara shudder.
Sick to her stomach, she dropped her arm and sidled away from Frannie. It was so hard to believe that this quiet, inoffensive little woman had taken the life of someone and tried so hard to put the blame on someone else.
“I didn’t mean to kill her. I just wanted to shut her up,” Frannie said, beginning to cry again. “I knew she was dead and I didn’t know what to do. I thought about calling the cops, but then I got scared at what they might do to me. I got out of there and went home, and started thinking how I could confuse everyone so they wouldn’t find out it was me. I’m so s-sorry . . .”
Clara struggled for the right words to say, but before she could speak, a deep voice spoke from the doorway, startling them both.
“I guess that’s all I need.”
Clara scrambled to her feet as Tim walked into the room, one hand resting on his holster. “Frances Dearly, you are under arrest for the murder of Ana Jordan. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say . . .”
The rest of his words went over Clara’s head, for at that moment Rick appeared in the doorway behind the officer, his face a mask of apprehension.
He caught sight of her and strode over to her, grasping her upper arms to peer into her face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She looked from him to Tim and back again. “How did you—”
“I saw you go back into the store without putting the lights on. Then I saw Tim get out of his car and walk down the alley. I figured something was wrong and followed him.” He let go of her and glanced at Frannie, who was quietly crying as Tim put handcuffs on her. “She killed Ana?”
“Yes, but Tim—”
Tim held up his hand. “I’m taking her down to the station. You’re okay to lock up here?”
“Of course, but Tim—”
He gave her a quick shake of his head. “Not now.”
Clara watched him lead the sobbing woman out the door. She felt like crying herself.
“How did all that happen?” Rick asked, bending down to pick up Frannie’s flashlight.
Clara gave him a quick rundown of Stephanie’s plan and her part in it while Rick listened with raised eyebrows and an occasional groan.
“You took a sizable risk,” he said, when she stopped talking. “Did you ever consider that she might kill you?”
“No.” She hoped the Quinn Sense would have warned her had that been a real issue, but she could hardly tell him that. “I just feel so bad for Frannie. She suffered so much at Ana’s hands, and I know she didn’t mean to kill her. She’d just had more than she could take. I hope they go easy on her, that’s all.”
Rick uttered a soft sound of disbelief. “That woman tried to kill you, Clara!”
“No, she didn’t. She just wanted to frighten me so I’d stop trying to find out who killed Ana. She was scared, and I can understand that.”
Rick shook his head. “I don’t know if I could be that forgiving.”
“I just wish I knew what happened to Stephanie.” Clara flung a hand out at the empty room. “I left her to wait for me in here. And how did Tim know we were here?”
“It’s my guess Stephanie called him. She must have had a good reason to leave.”
Clara’s nerves snapped to attention again. Just a few minutes ago she’d felt a sense of disaster concerning her cousin. “You’re right,” she said, and headed for the door leading back into the store. “I’d better call her.”
“Guess I’d better get back to my store, too,” Rick said, following her out into the darkened aisles. “I left my sister sitting there waiting for me.”
Clara paused, looking back at him. “Your sister?”
“Yeah, she came down from Brooklyn for a visit. She’ll think I’m some kind of jerk for leaving her alone in an empty hardware store on her first night.”
In spite of her concern about Stephanie, Clara felt a little lift in her spirits.
&
nbsp; “You should meet Rachel,” Rick added, echoing her thoughts. “You two should have a lot in common.” He paused at the front door and turned on the lights. “I’ll set something up.”
The door closed behind him, and realizing she was grinning like a Cheshire cat, Clara wiped the smile off her face.
Stephanie answered on the first ring with a breathless, “Clara! Thank goodness. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. What happened to you?” Clara listened with growing dismay as Stephanie explained. “Is Olivia all right now?” she asked, when her cousin paused for breath.
“She will be. She’s hurting at the moment, but the doctor has given us meds for her. What about you? Did Roberta turn up? Did Tim get there? I called him as soon as I remembered. I feel so—”
“Steffie, I’m fine.” Clara told the story for the second time. “It all worked out, thanks to your plan.” She paused, then added, “For once.”
“Okay, okay,” Stephanie muttered. “I guess I don’t exactly have a good track record. How did you know it was Frannie, by the way?”
Clara told her about Frannie’s dream. “It was the whale, of course. The charm she’d left to implicate Roberta. In her dream Frannie felt helpless and alone, unable to deal with everything that had happened. She couldn’t protect me from the whale. That was her guilt for almost killing me in her attempt to blame Roberta for Ana’s murder.”
“It’s sad, really,” Stephanie murmured. “Still, we were lucky that it was Frannie and not some raving lunatic going after the chocolate box. You would have been in real trouble there all alone.”
“But I wasn’t, and I’m fine and Ana’s killer is in custody.” Clara let out a long sigh. “I’m just glad it’s over.”
“Me, too. It was kind of fun, though. Like old times.”
“Well, don’t get too excited about it. It’s not like we’ll be making a habit of it.”
“Maybe not,” Stephanie said, sounding wistful. “But I did like being called Steffie again.”
Mind Over Murder Page 18
