A Sinister Sense (13 page)

“Oh, right.” Stephanie paused, then added, “But you said it’s not reliable.”

“It’s not, but it’s the only shot we’ve got.”

There was an even longer pause before her cousin asked, “So, you think Buzz Lamont killed Tamaski…or whatever his name is?”

“Tomeski.” Clara took a moment to steady her voice. “I think it’s possible. We won’t know unless we talk to him.”

“All right. We’d better get started early, then.”

“Nine or so? I’ll meet you here at the bookstore.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Let’s just hope we’re not too busy.”

“Molly can handle it, and we’ll be back before the coffee crowd comes in.”

“I hope so. What did Rick have to say this morning?”

Clara repeated as much of the conversation as she could remember, and hung up. To keep her mind off things she busied herself restocking and tidying shelves in between customers until it was time to close up the shop.

The spicy aroma of cooking hung in the sultry evening air as she passed by the Pizza Parlor. The tables were crowded as usual, and she could see Tony Manetas, the owner, standing over a couple of young tourists, waving his pudgy hands in the air as he delivered one of his many stories of his long-lost youth.

Her mother had probably listened to a few of those stories herself, Clara thought as she made her way down
the hill to the parking lot. Jessie was certain Tony was infatuated with her, and went to great pains to perpetuate the situation at every opportunity.

Thinking of her mother quickened Clara’s step. She had almost forgotten about Tatters, and hoped the dog was still under her mother’s control

She arrived home shortly after to find Tatters shut in the utility room, loudly protesting. A note lay on the table from Jessie, explaining that she’d had an invitation she couldn’t refuse. Clara wondered if her mother had been in the Pizza Parlor when she’d passed by. Jessie was clearly doing her best to move on after the death of her husband.

Not that Clara could blame her. Jessie was still an attractive woman and looked years younger than her age. Still, she’d hoped her mother would find someone a little more civilized than the loud and somewhat crude Tony Manetas. Her father was a tough act to follow, and she would have thought Jessie would be a little more discriminating in her choice of companions.

Frowning, she opened the door of the utility room and was immediately flattened against the wall by massive paws on her stomach. Gasping for air, she managed to shove the enthusiastic Tatters to the floor and wagged a stern finger at him.
“Sit!”

He lowered his haunches halfway, then straightened again. Looking up at her, he uttered a soft whine.

“Did she even feed you before she left?” Clara looked in the utility room and saw only a bowl of water. Sighing,
she picked it up and carried it to the kitchen, followed by the big dog hot on her heels. After filling Tatters’ bowl with his dog food, she made herself a salad and sat down to watch TV.

Jessie still hadn’t arrived home when the news came on, and Clara was about to turn off the TV when the announcer introduced Mayor Carson Dexter. She paused long enough to hear the mayor loudly complaining about the release of the suspect in what had been dubbed “the bowling alley murder.”

“There is something wrong with our justice system,” the mayor declared, “if the authorities are unable to keep a murder suspect under lock and key until enough evidence has been found to convict him. I can only hope that our loved ones are not in danger with a killer loose on the streets of Finn’s Harbor.”

Clara rolled her eyes and switched off the TV. If she were Rick, she thought as she marched down the hallway to her room, she’d sue the mayor for defamation of character. Still fuming, she changed into sweats and sneakers and picked up Tatters’ leash. “Come on, boy. Let’s go let off some steam.”

Tatters beat her to the front door and pranced around until she opened it. The second there was a few inches of space, he was through it and bounding down the driveway in the dark. Clara yelled out to him as she closed the front door, then froze when she heard the awful sound of screeching brakes.

No! Not Tatters!
She spun around, her heart starting to beat again when she saw the big dog leaping up on the driver’s side of a red pickup.

A familiar voice called out to her, making her heart beat even faster.

“Rick?” She ran over to the pickup and grabbed Tatters’ collar. Snapping on the leash, she looked up into Rick’s face. She couldn’t tell anything from his expression; his features were too shadowed in the dim light of the streetlamp.

“Rick…gosh, I’m so sorry. I should have had his leash on before I opened the door. I was thinking about something else and…” To her intense embarrassment, her voice broke, and she quickly cleared her throat.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Rick opened the door and climbed out, much to the delight of Tatters, who leapt up at him in an attempt to lick his face. Rick hugged the dog, his gaze still fixed on Clara’s face. “He’s done this to me plenty of times. I told you he was tough to handle.”

Clara gave him a wobbly smile. “If anything happened to him, I’d never forgive myself. I promise I’ll take better care of him from now on. I just wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.”

“I told you, it’s okay.” Rick pushed the dog down and moved closer to her. “Is everything all right? I mean, apart from this miserable hound’s suicidal behavior?”

“Yes…no…it’s just…” She swallowed, aware she was behaving like a complete idiot. With any luck, Rick hadn’t seen the interview with the mayor, and she wasn’t
about to tell him the nasty things Carson Dexter was saying about him or how deeply they seemed to affect her “Call it a bad day,” she finished, rather lamely.

If Rick realized she was being evasive, he gave no sign. He punched his key to lock the pickup, then took the leash from her hand. “I assume you were venturing out on a walk with this beast?”

She laughed. “That was the general idea.”

“Then let’s go. Between the two of us we should be able to keep him from committing hara-kiri.”

Feeling suddenly lighthearted, she set out at his side, with Tatters straining at the leash ahead of them.

“Feel like going to the harbor, or is that too far to walk?” Rick asked as they crossed the street.

“Sounds great.” Clara nodded at the dog. “Tatters would love that. I’ve been promising to take him on the beach, but so far I haven’t had time to walk him more than a couple of blocks.”

Rick sounded amused when he answered. “Don’t worry. He won’t know you broke a promise.”

He’d be surprised what Tatters understood, Clara thought. Not that she could tell Rick that. “Well, I know he’ll enjoy running on the sand without a leash.” She glanced at him. “I guess he can run without a leash, right?”

“Any time between eight p.m. and sunrise.”

“Oh good. I was hoping it would be okay.”

“Did you know that the beach areas in Maine all have different rules about dogs being on the beach?”

“No, I didn’t.” She quickened her step to keep up with him. “I thought they’d all be the same.”

“Nope. Some of them don’t allow dogs on there at all in the summer. Some don’t allow dogs off the leash, and those that do have different times when it’s okay. It can be pretty confusing if you’re traveling with a dog.”

“I can imagine.” She giggled. “I can’t imagine traveling with Tatters, though.”

“He’d need a trailer all to himself.”

They both laughed, and Clara felt a warm sense of contentment. This was nice—two friends enjoying a walk with the dog. She couldn’t ask for anything better than that.

By the time they’d reached the harbor, the sea breeze had cooled the night air, a welcome relief from the muggy heat of the day. A few people still strolled along the seafront, but the beach was practically deserted. Moonlight sparkled on the water and cast an eerie glow over the sand. Clara shivered. She’d never been fond of the beach at night, even as a teenager. Stephanie had dragged her to more than one bonfire on the beach, and she’d spent most of the time huddled by the leaping flames, reluctant to leave the safety of the light.

She watched Rick let Tatters off the leash, and the dog dashed off, heading straight for the water’s edge. She watched him anxiously as he plunged into the waves. “He won’t go too far out, will he?”

Rick laughed. “Watch him.”

She could just see the dark shape of the dog’s head in the water, his nose in the air as he paddled out for a few yards. Then a wave came in and he turned, riding it like a surfer toward the shore. When he could stand, he walked out of the water, shook himself, then bounded off into the darkness.

Before Clara could voice her concern again, Rick whistled, and a moment later a bark answered him. Staring into the darkness, Clara relaxed as the shaggy dog raced into view and chased in circles all around them until he finally got tired and flopped down on the sand.

“There’s only one problem with bringing him down here,” Rick said as he seated himself on a rock. “He takes half the beach back with him when he goes home.”

Clara groaned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Rick grinned and patted the space next to him. “Here. Take the weight off your feet for a few minutes. It’s a long walk back.”

There wasn’t a lot of room on the rock for both of them. Clara sat as near to the edge as she could get, but was still a little too close to him for comfort. She was intensely aware of his arm brushing hers, and did her best to ignore the twittery feeling, as Stephanie described it.

Deciding to take refuge in conversation, she asked, “How did you happen to be outside my house tonight?”

“I was going to pay the monster a visit.” He nodded at the dog. “I was kind of worried he might be sabotaging your home and you didn’t want to tell me.”

“He’s been quite good, actually.” She smiled at Tatters, who seemed content just to lie on the sand with his nose in his paws. “My mother watches him while I’m at work.”

“And how’s that working out?”

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. When my mother’s annoyed, her voice takes on a tone that would stop a charging bull. I’m pretty sure she can keep Tatters under control. I haven’t heard any complaints, anyway.”

“I hope you know how much I appreciate you taking him off my hands.” Rick looked serious as he gazed out to sea. “I don’t know what I would have done with him if…”

He let his voice trail off, but Clara knew the end of that sentence. “You’re not going to jail,” she said firmly. “No matter what the mayor might say.”

Rick turned to her. “What’s he been saying?”

Clara inwardly cursed. As usual she’d spoken before she’d thought. Figuring that Rick would hear about it sooner or later, she tried to sound unconcerned. “Oh, he was on TV tonight, running off at the mouth as usual. I don’t take any notice of him anymore. I doubt anyone does.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Rick stared at the ocean again. “I haven’t had one customer in the store for the past two days. If this keeps up, I’ll be out of business before they solve this murder.”

“Oh, Rick, I’m so sorry.” Impulsively she laid a hand on his arm. “People can be so thickheaded. Maybe you should call and complain about the mayor’s comments.
After all, he’s condemning you in public without any just cause.”

He glanced down at her hand as if surprised to see it there, and feeling self-conscious, she pulled it back.

“I guess he’s convinced I did it.” Rick shook his head. “I’ve met him a couple of times at business meetings and he seems like an okay guy. I guess he’s worried about the tourist business. I can’t say I blame him. People are likely to give us a wide berth until the killer is caught.”

“He should be more worried about his false accusations. It’s so unfair to you.”

She could see the warmth in his eyes when he smiled at her. “You’re a good friend, Clara. I wish—”

Whatever he was going to say was lost in the uproar of Tatters’ barking. He’d spotted a potential enemy in a black lab that had the audacity to run too close to him. It took their combined efforts to finally catch up with him and put him back on the leash before peace was restored.

Walking back to the house, Clara kept the conversation on a mundane level. She didn’t want to ask what Rick had been about to say before he was interrupted. It was safer not to know. Even so, as she waved good-bye to him and watched his taillights disappear down the street, she couldn’t help wondering if the rest of that sentence would have been personal in nature and, if so, what her reaction might have been.

She had wishes, too. She wished that she’d never met her former fiancé. She wished that she could trust her heart again. Then again, perhaps it was just as well. She
had a feeling that if she ever let herself get too close to Rick Sanders, she’d fall hard, and that, as she well knew, could lead to unbearable heartbreak.

The thought triggered a memory she had fought so long and hard to forget.

It was the night before the wedding, and she’d spent the day rushing around dealing with the last-minute arrangements for the small, private ceremony. She was exhausted, but too excited to sleep. This would be the last night before she was married to Matt—the wonderful man of her dreams and the man she’d loved with all her heart for more than three years.

She had been about to run a bubble bath when the phone had rung. Surprised to hear Kyle, the best man, on the line, she’d asked him why he wasn’t at Matt’s bachelor party. Kyle had hesitated for so long she’d grown anxious, sensing something was wrong.

Finally he’d told her. Matt had changed his mind. There would be no wedding.

Devastated and confused, she’d demanded to know where Matt was, saying she needed to talk to him. Kyle had told her that Matt had left town that night, and nobody knew where he’d gone. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell her himself.

Days later she’d found out that Matt’s secretary had left town with him. Realizing that the man she’d loved and thought she knew didn’t exist, she’d vowed never to be that vulnerable again. She’d learned her lesson the hard way, and it was one she would never forget.

Much as she liked Rick, it was better to keep things the way they were—a nice, comfortable relationship with no complications.