A Sinister Sense (9 page)

Clara heard the words but was too concerned to pay attention to them. “What have you done to Tatters?” She dropped on her knees by the side of the dog. Tatters yawned and sat up.

Jessie glanced down at her. “What? Oh, nothing much. We had a nice talk, that’s all. He was a bit boisterous when I first let him out, but after I picked myself up off the floor, I gave him a lecture and he soon settled down.”

Clara let out her breath. Having been on the blunt end of her mother’s lectures, she could almost feel sorry for Tatters. She fondled the dog’s ears. “Did you have a nice afternoon, then, boy?”

Tatters whined and licked her nose.

“I do think you could have warned me,” Jessie said, getting up from the chair. “I was expecting a little puppy, not a full-grown Bigfoot. It was rather a shock to find myself on the floor with two huge hairy paws on my chest.”

“Sorry.” Clara got to her feet. “I knew you could handle him, though. You always were better with animals than people.”

Jessie looked offended. “What does that mean?”

Clara smiled. “Nothing. I just meant you have a way with animals, that’s all. It looks as if you’ve got Tatters totally under control.”

“Well, you never know. One has to keep a stern eye on animals. They can be difficult when they’re upset.”

Like some humans she knew, Clara thought, but resisted the temptation to say so. “Well then, I guess you
won’t mind keeping an eye on him this evening.” She glanced at the clock. “I just came home to change. I’m meeting Steffie at the bowling alley in a few minutes.”

Jessie stared at her in dismay. “What about dinner?”

“I’ll grab something out there.” Clara headed for the hallway.

“But I wanted to tell you about—”

Clara waved a hand at her. “It’ll have to wait. I’ll be late if I don’t get going.” She dashed down the hallway and into her room before her mother could argue.

Ten minutes later she was ready to leave. Her mother met her in the hallway, holding up her hand to prevent her passing.

“I just wanted to tell you that the murder victim has been identified.”

Clara paused in the act of opening the front door. Spinning around, she demanded, “Who is it?”

“I can’t remember his name. Something Polish, I think.” Jessie frowned. “He worked in construction or something in Portland. Apparently he was here on vacation and was staying at one of those dreadful motels on the coast road.”

“Who identified him?”

“The manager of the motel. He didn’t see a photo of the victim until late this afternoon when he saw the front page of the newspaper. Apparently he doesn’t watch much TV.”

“Do they know who killed him?”

Jessie gave her a pitying look. “They’re still saying
that they have no suspects in custody but that Rick Sanders is helping in their investigation. Carson Dexter was there again, demanding the police make an arrest. He more or less hinted that Rick should be arrested for the murder.”

Clara grunted in disgust. “Carson Dexter is an idiot.” She opened the door and stepped outside. “I won’t be late.”

Jessie moved forward to stand in the doorway. “Be careful, Clara. You have always been too trusting, you know.”

Clara’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Not anymore, Mother. Never again. Believe me.” Without waiting for an answer, she fled down the path to her car.

Stephanie had already arrived and was waiting in the doorway when Clara parked in front of the bowling alley. “We’re not really going to play, are we?” she asked anxiously as Clara led the way into the foyer. “I haven’t bowled since my teens and even then I was known as the gutter-ball queen.”

The clatter of falling pins and the thumping of a heavy metal band made it hard to hear her. “Let’s get something to eat.” Clara grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the bar. It was relatively quiet in there, and she chose a table in the far corner, away from the door.

“I’ve already eaten dinner,” Stephanie protested as Clara reached for the menu.

“Then just have a glass of wine.” Clara scanned the items and decided on a chicken Caesar wrap.

A young woman wearing jeans and a low-cut tank top
ambled up to the table and flipped over a page of her notepad. “What can I get you?”

Her tone of voice suggested she could care less, and Clara had a fleeting moment of nostalgia for the trendy New York bistro where she’d enjoyed so many delicious lunches. She ordered the wrap and two glasses of wine, then sat back to scan the bar.

Several men were seated at the long counter, and the two bartenders were busy filling beer glasses. Clara watched the man and woman behind the counter for a long moment, then leaned forward and spoke in a low voice just loud enough for Stephanie to hear. “I think we need to talk to one of the bartenders.”

Stephanie glanced over at the counter. “Do you think they know something?”

“I don’t know. I’m just guessing it’s a good place to start.”

“Didn’t the Sense tell you where to start?”

Clara sighed. “No, it didn’t. All I know is that being here will help us find out something useful.”

“Okay.” Stephanie studied the hustling bartenders for a moment. “Which one? They both look busy.”

“Both of them. We’ll take one each.”

“What will we talk about?”

“The murder, of course. Just listen to anything they say and try to get as much out of them as possible.”

Now Stephanie looked worried. “I’m not good at this. You usually do all the talking and asking.”

Clara smiled. “I’m not good at it, either, but between us we should get something we can use.”

Her cousin was unconvinced. “We’re not very good detectives.”

“We’re not trying to be detectives. We’re just trying to help a friend, that’s all.”

Stephanie’s frown vanished. “Ah well, when you put it that way, I—”

She broke off as their server slapped two glasses of wine down between them. “Your wrap will be along in a minute,” she said, and sauntered off to the next table.

Stephanie dragged a paper napkin out of the holder and mopped up the spilt wine. “I should make her pay for that,” she muttered.

“I guess you heard that the murder victim has been identified?”

Stephanie nodded. “On the news. The mayor was on there, too. He made it sound like Rick was guilty.”

“So I heard.” Clara played with her wineglass, twisting it around so the light glimmered on the swirling liquid. “He’s just anxious to get an arrest. I read somewhere that he’s planning to run for governor in the next election.”

“So that’s why he’s making such a big fuss about the murder. He wants credit for getting it solved fast.” Stephanie took a sip of her wine and winced. “Ugh. This tastes like it’s been watered down.”

“It probably has.” Clara spotted the server strolling
toward them once more, carrying a plate. “Here comes my wrap.”

“I hope it’s better than the wine.”

They were both silent until the young woman had left, then Stephanie murmured, “So what do you think about the victim—Frank Toski or something? They said he was a construction worker here on vacation, but doesn’t it seem strange that he would be here by himself?”

Clara shrugged. “I dunno. There must be lots of people who go on vacation by themselves.”

“I suppose. He just didn’t look like the type who would want to spend a vacation alone in a town like Finn’s Harbor.”

Clara bit into her wrap and mulled over what her cousin had just said. “If you’re right,” she said, “then he must have come here for a reason.”

“Exactly.” Stephanie beamed. “So, if we could just find out why he was really here, then we might be able to find out who killed him.”

Clara raised her glass at her cousin. “I always said you were the brains in the family.”

“I’m the ideas person, remember?”

“How could I forget? Some of your ideas have had memorable consequences.”

Stephanie raised her chin. “Like what?”

“Like the time you thought it would be a good idea to teach old Nellie Hatcher’s cat to swim.”

“I wasn’t going to teach him to swim. I just wanted to be sure he could. Nellie had that big pond in her yard,
and the cat was always trying to catch the goldfish in it. I was worried he would drown if he fell in.”

“So you took him into the
ocean
to see if he could swim?”

Stephanie shrugged. “What did I know? I was only six. I meant to hold on to him in case he sank, but he jumped out of my arms when the first wave hit.”

Clara shook her head. “I remember. We both nearly drowned trying to rescue him.”

“He got back to the beach before we did.”

“Well, I guess you found out he could swim, and better than we could at the time.”

Stephanie grinned. “Our parents made us take swimming lessons after that, so something good came out of it. Not all of my ideas ended up in disaster.”

“Okay, so now come up with an idea of why our guy was here.”

Stephanie’s forehead creased in concentration. “Looking for a job? Construction work is in the pits everywhere. Maybe he decided to relocate here to find work.”

“In Finn’s Harbor? I haven’t heard of any construction projects going on around here. Have you?”

Stephanie shook her head. “Okay, he was meeting someone down here. A woman.”

Clara grinned. “Always the romantic.”

“It’s possible.”

“If that’s so, why hasn’t the woman come forward? Or anyone else, come to that. If he was here to meet someone, they must have seen his picture in the paper.”

“That’s a good point.” She thought about it for a moment. “I guess whoever he was going to meet didn’t want the cops to know about it.”

“Exactly.” Clara lifted her wineglass. “Since he was apparently killed in this parking lot, he was probably meeting that person here in the bowling alley.”

“They must have been up to some funny business, then.” She had a pained look on her face as she watched Clara swallow the wine. “Pretty bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s not good.” Clara set down her glass. “So, what we need to do is find out who he was meeting here that night. I’m hoping the bartenders can tell us that.”

Stephanie frowned. “Wouldn’t they have already told the police?”

“Maybe not. Or maybe they didn’t tell them everything. There’s only one way to find out.”

“So which one do you want to talk to?” Stephanie peered at the bartenders over the rim of her glass. “I don’t know either one of them. Do you?”

Clara laughed. “I’ve been gone for ten years. You know the people here better than I do.”

Stephanie shook her head. “A lot of people have left since you went away, and more people are moving in all the time. This bowling alley has only been open a couple of years. I’ve never been in here before.”

“Ah well, the good thing is, the bartenders won’t know who we are, either. It might make it easier to get answers.”

“Unless they’ve been in the bookstore.” Stephanie studied the man and woman behind the counter for a
few more seconds. “Nope. They don’t look like readers to me.”

“Then let’s get it over with. We’ll go over there, order a drink, and hope they’ve got time to talk.” Clara pushed her plate away and drained her glass. “Remember, don’t let on you know Rick personally. Just say you heard the news on the TV and you’re curious about it.”

“Won’t it seem odd to them that both of us are asking questions about the murder?”

Clara smiled. “Probably, but hopefully not before they’ve given us the answers we want.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Stephanie fluffed her fair hair back from her face, squared her shoulders and marched over to the bar.

Clara waited until she saw the woman take Stephanie’s order. She couldn’t hear what her cousin was saying, but apparently she’d caught the bartender’s attention, as the woman paused and said something over her shoulder before filling a glass with more of the tasteless wine.

Satisfied that Stephanie was handling her side of it, Clara headed for the opposite end of the bar, where the young bartender was joking with a couple of male customers. He left them immediately as Clara sat down at the counter.

“What can I get for you, sweetheart?”

He leered at her, and she had to fight the temptation to tell him she was not his sweetheart and to get lost. Instead, she ordered the chardonnay and waited for him to bring it back to her. She had mixed feelings when he
rested his elbow on the counter and gave her another sickly grin.

He shook his head when she offered him her credit card. “It’s on the house. We like to take care of our new customers.”

I bet,
she thought, managing to give him a smile. “Thanks!” She lifted the glass and took a sip, trying not to make a face.

“So, what brings you in here? I haven’t seen you around before. On vacation?”

She ignored the questions and gave him her sweetest smile. “This is a real nice bowling alley.”

“Yeah.” He glanced around. “We do all right. So, where’re you from?”

“New York.” It was only half a lie, and she felt justified in telling it.

“No kidding.” The bartender held out his hand. “I’m Jason, and I’m real happy to meet another New Yorker.”

She should have known from the accent. Bracing herself, she returned his strong handshake. “Clara. I heard someone was murdered out there in the parking lot the other night.” Her shudder was deliberately exaggerated. “Not something I expected to hear in a town like this.”

Jason nodded, his face sober. “Not good for business, I can tell you.”

“Did you know him?” She put down her glass. “The victim, I mean.”

“Nope. He was from out of town. Portland, I think.” Jason reluctantly left her to fill another customer’s order.

While she waited, Clara glanced down the counter. Stephanie sat at the far end of the bar with an unhappy look on her face. The bartender was farther up the counter, chatting and laughing with two young men. Apparently her cousin had struck out with the questions. So now it was up to her.

She kept an eye on Jason and smiled at him when he glanced her way. As she’d hoped, he took that as an invitation and strolled back to lean on the counter in front of her. “So, how long are you in town?”

“Awhile.” She looked deep into his eyes. “That’s if there aren’t any more murders going on around here.”