Mind Over Murder (2 page)

Inside the crowded room, she gazed in awe at the piles of boxes stacked against the walls. It looked like she’d arrived in the nick of time. Stephanie sure had her hands full, now that the Raven’s Nest bookstore had become one of the most popular social centers in town.

Catching sight of the bust of a man, she moved over to the table to inspect it more closely. The face looked vaguely familiar, and she studied it for a moment before bending closer to read the inscription. Of course. Edgar Allan Poe. She should have guessed. Stephanie crammed her shelves with anything remotely connected to the author.

Gently, she laid a hand on the smooth surface of the head. So many nights when she and her cousin were kids, they’d spent sleepovers watching horror movies and pretending to be psychics.

They’d filled hours reading each other’s palms and predicting wild, adventurous futures for themselves. They’d eagerly discussed how they would use the Quinn Sense once they developed it.

Even then she’d felt uneasy about it, though she’d never admitted as much to Stephanie. Her cousin had loved every creepy moment, while Clara had been scared they would conjure up some terrible evil spirit who would steal their souls.

At first, when she’d realized she had inherited the family’s psychic powers, it had seemed thrilling and even empowering, but as time went by, the voices she heard became an intrusion. It hadn’t helped matters to learn that somehow the gift had bypassed Stephanie.

Clara sighed and patted the bust. How ironic that she should be the one to inherit the Quinn Sense, as everyone called it, instead of her spook-happy cousin.

The sudden tingling in her hand took her by surprise. She snatched it back as a wave of darkness seemed to cloud her mind. Evil. She could sense it in the room, cold and menacing.

For a moment she felt rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. Then she forced her mind to clear, and everything settled back into place.

Heart still pounding, she quickly scanned the boxes until she found the one marked “High School” in uneven black letters. She grabbed it up and charged out the door, not even bothering to close it behind her.

She reached the counter just as Stephanie walked in through the front door, followed closely by a young woman with tangled red hair and flushed cheeks. Both of them stared as Clara came to a halt, breathless and shaking.

Her cousin was the first to speak. “Are you okay? You’re looking a bit weird.”

Clara gulped in air. Glancing out the window, she could see Ana Jordan, the owner of the stationer’s next door, glaring at the bookstore, her short, chubby body still in fighting mode with feet planted apart and hands on her hips. The furious woman threw her hands in the air, then ran them through her cropped bleached hair before turning and stomping back to her store.

“I’m fine.” Clara gestured at the window. I thought I heard someone yelling.”

“You did.” The redhead held out her hand. “I’m Molly Owens, Steph’s assistant. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All of it disgusting, I suppose.” Clara shook the firm fingers.

Molly grinned. “Let’s just say you two must have had a dynamite childhood.”

Clara gave her cousin a sharp glance. Stephanie had promised long ago not to tell anyone, including their own family, that her cousin had the gift. She was reassured by Stephanie’s firm shake of her head and answered Molly with a smile. “You’ve got that right.”

“Well, Steph told me you’ll be working here.” Molly tilted her head to one side, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have to say, it’ll be fab to have someone here tall enough to reach the top shelves.”

Stephanie laughed and walked over to the counter. “Just don’t ask her how tall she is. The kids in high school drove her nuts with that question.”

“Oh, bummer.” Molly paused. “So, how tall are you, then?”

“Tall enough to thump you on the head if you ask that question again.” Clara glanced at the window again. “So what was all the shouting about out there?”

“Oh, that was me.” Molly sighed. “I was screaming at that old bat next door. I tell you, that woman is nuts. You know her, don’t you?”

“Of course I know her.” Clara rolled her eyes at Stephanie. “Most of these shops have changed hands so often I don’t know anyone anymore, but Jordan’s has been here since we were kids. Is Ana still causing trouble for everyone?”

Stephanie shrugged. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

Molly made a guttural sound of disgust. “That woman should be run out of town. She hates Steph, she hates the bookstore, she hates the fact that we’re successful and she’d do anything to shut us down.”

Clara stared at her cousin. “Really? What’s her problem?”

“She says I’m poisoning young minds with my occult books and turning our children into demons.”

“Whoa, heavy stuff.” Clara nodded at the nearest table. “Those don’t look like occult books.”

“They’re not!” Molly’s cheeks turned red again as she gestured at the tables. “Look at the titles. They’re books the high school asked us to carry, and what about those?” She pointed to several rows of colorful hardbacks. “Craft books and cookbooks. There’s lots of choices, and it’s not like we’re forcing people to buy the occult stuff.”

“There’s a lot of interest in it right now, though,” Stephanie put in. “I’m not endangering anyone—I’m just supplying what the public wants.”

“Yeah, well, Ana doesn’t think you have any right to do that.” Molly jerked her hand at the window again. “She keeps putting up signs advertising Big Books, that new chain bookstore that opened up last year. She’s doing her best to put us out of business. I saw the poster and tore it down, and of course, she saw me do it. She came screaming out of the store, and she’s like, ‘I’ll have you arrested!’ and I’m like, ‘Just try it, you old witch, and I’ll burn your broomstick and you along with it.’”

“I told you just to ignore her.” Stephanie picked up a pile of books and hurried over to one of the tables.

“If you ignore her, she’ll get what she wants and shut you down. You have to
do
something about that woman.” Molly turned to Clara, green eyes pleading. “You tell her.”

“She has a point,” Clara said mildly.

“I know what I’d like to do,” Stephanie muttered, “but I can’t afford any trouble. Not today.” She carefully stood an opened book on top of the pile. “We have teenagers coming into this store today for our back-to-school sale. The last thing I need is a screaming match with Ana Jordan.”

Molly muttered something under her breath. “If you won’t do anything, then I will. I love this job, and I’m not going to let a miserable old hag take it away from me.”

“Well, I appreciate you coming in early to help.” Stephanie hurried back to the counter for more books. “I’m going to need more boxes from the stockroom. I’m counting on this sale to buy school clothes for my children.”

Molly sighed. “I’m going. But don’t think I’m going to forget about it. Ana Jordan has a nasty shock coming her way, sooner or later.”

She rushed off toward the back of the store, leaving Stephanie to stare after her with a worried frown. “That girl is a good worker, but she’s got a temper that would curl the devil’s toes.”

Clara laughed. “I seem to have heard that somewhere before.”

“You know as well as I do that I’ve gotten a lot better at controlling my temper.” Stephanie carried more books over to the table. “Though my kids do know not to push me too far.”

“I bet they do. Well, I’d better get over to the rental agency.” Clara headed for the door. “They’ve probably rented that apartment by now.”

“You don’t like living with Aunt Jessie?”

Clara hesitated. “It’s okay, I guess. It’s just that I’m used to living on my own. So is my mother. She’s gotten a lot more independent since Dad died.”

“I know. It’s sad. They were so happy together. I miss Uncle David and his silly jokes.”

“We all miss him.” Clara pulled the door open, jingling the bell and letting in the warm sunshine.

“Clara? Did anything . . . weird happen in the stockroom?”

Clara paused, one hand on the door handle. “Weird?”

“You know.
Weird
.” Stephanie looked uncomfortable. “You had that odd look on your face you always used to get when—”

“Nothing happened.” Clara made an effort to soften her tone. “Good luck with the sale. I’ll see you in the morning.” She didn’t wait for an answer.

Once outside, she pulled in a deep breath of the fresh, salty air. Main Street stretched ahead of her for several blocks, sloping down toward the harbor.

In summertime, the town was always crowded with tourists, and today was no exception. On either side, people strolled along in front of the quaint shop windows, peering under the colorful striped awnings at souvenirs, antiques, artwork and beach supplies.

At the bottom of the hill, boats bobbed around in the bay, their white sails gleaming in the sun, while behind them a thin line of fluffy white clouds separated the pale blue sky from the deeper blue of the ocean.

Clara’s heart warmed at the sight. This was what she’d missed so much—this little town with its friendly people; its unique little shops and charming, narrow streets; the bustling activity of the picturesque bay. Here she could find peace and put all the problems of New York behind her. This was Finn’s Harbor, Maine, and this was where she belonged.

Glancing across the street, she saw a man standing in front of the hardware store, one hand shading his face as he gazed at something farther down the street.

He didn’t seem to be a tourist, and Clara stared hard for a long moment, trying to recognize the rugged features that were half hidden behind his hand.

Deciding that she didn’t know him, she was about to turn away when he twisted his head in her direction. He apparently realized she’d been staring at him, as he touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.

Embarrassed, she ducked her head and took off down the hill. Things had changed a lot since she’d left, twelve years ago. People had gone, and others moved in, and although she’d come back to visit several times every year, it wasn’t the same as living there. She felt like a stranger now in her own hometown.

She wondered if the man across the street was a stranger or if he had lived there long enough to become a familiar member of the community. Then, wondering why on earth she was still thinking about him, she headed for the rental agency.

The following morning, Clara arrived on the doorstep of the Raven’s Nest just as Stephanie was opening up the store. “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained, in answer to her cousin’s raised eyebrows. “I thought I might as well come down early and give you a hand.”

“Well, good. That will give me time to show you the ropes.” Stephanie walked in ahead of her. “It will be a long day, though, and you’ll probably regret coming in early by the time it’s over. Molly won’t be here for another hour. She stayed late last night to clean up, and I told her to sleep in. As you can see,” she said and flapped her hand at the neat tables, “she did a great job.”

“She sure did.” Clara studied the stack of books on the table closest to her. “You should have called me. I could have helped. I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Did you find an apartment?”

“Nope. The one I saw was too small and didn’t have a dishwasher. I’ve got to have some place to hide my dirty dishes.”

“You only saw one apartment?”

Clara made a face. “This is Finn’s Harbor. There’s not a lot of rentals to choose from.”

“Well, it’s not New York, I give you that.” Stephanie took a bunch of keys out of her purse and unlocked the cash register. “You’ll just have to be less fussy about where you live.”

“After looking at what’s available out there, my mother’s house is beginning to look a lot more comfortable. Even with her in it.”

Stephanie laughed. “You’ll be good for each other. Now come over here, and I’ll show you how to ring up purchases.”

Clara did her best to remember everything, jotting down notes as Stephanie explained her duties. The next half hour passed quickly, and by the time they were done, Clara felt reasonably confident she could handle anything, barring an unforeseen emergency.

“You can always call me if you’re in doubt,” Stephanie told her as she closed the file that held customers’ new-book reservations. “I can be down here in a few minutes if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Clara assured her. She looked around, smiling as her glance fell on Madame Sophia. “I think this will be fun.”

“I hope so. I want you to enjoy working here; then, maybe you’ll stay.” Stephanie grinned. “Now, I need you to go to the stockroom. The copies of Wayne Lester’s new astrology book came in yesterday, and we need to get them out on the shelves. A lot of customers are waiting for that book.”

At the mention of the stockroom, Clara felt a stab of uneasiness. She nodded, carefully keeping her expression blank.