A Sinister Sense (12 page)

“Yes.” He took it from her. “I wish now I’d set up security cameras in the store. I might have seen who stole the murder weapon. I thought about it when I took over the business, but this is such a small town and everybody knows everybody. Putting up cameras to spy on my customers felt like I didn’t trust them or something. It just didn’t seem right.”

“We do get a lot of tourists in the summer.”

“True.” He put the hammer back in the display. “But not many who shop in a hardware store.”

“I guess not.” Seeing the strain in his face unsettled her. “Well, it’s good to see you back here. We were all worried about you.”

“I was pretty worried myself.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Especially when the cops found out I’d served Tomeski here in the store the day he died. They were so sure I’d lied about that to cover up the fact that I knew him. Jarvis, my lawyer, was able to convince Dan that I was too busy that day to remember him. At least enough for him to let me go for now.”

“So if the murderer stole the hammer from you, both he and the victim have been here in the store.”

“I guess so.” Rick unfolded his arms and straightened up a pile of pamphlets on the counter. “Like I said, not many tourists come in here. It could have been one of the locals.”

“Well, I’m sure Dan will find out who killed Frank Tomeski soon, and then you’ll be off the hook.”

“I sure hope you’re right.” His worried frown made her ache with sympathy for him. “It’s not much fun being suspected of murder. I can feel everyone staring at me, wondering if I did it.”

“I’m sure you’re imagining things. Anyone who knows you has to know you couldn’t possibly have killed that man.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Roberta Prince thinks I did it.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Clara started for the door. “She’s just afraid it will ruin her image if she’s seen in your company. That’s all she cares about.”

“Well, if it keeps her from showing up at my door every five minutes, I’d say that’s a good thing.”

Clara paused at the door and looked back at him. “Don’t let this get to you. Your friends believe in you and we’ll stand by you. Hang in there.”

He raised his hand in farewell. “Thanks, Clara. That means a lot.”

Warmed by his smile, she left the shop and crossed the street to the bookstore. Somehow she would have to find out who had killed Frank Tomeski and clear Rick’s name. The sooner the better. “Come on, Sense,” she muttered as she reached the door of the Raven’s Nest. “Where are you when I need you?”

As if in answer a voice whispered in her ear.
Windrift.

Clara didn’t have a chance to talk to Stephanie when she returned to the bookstore. Her cousin rushed past her the moment she opened the door. “Can’t stop. Mom’s waiting for me. Talk to you later!” With a wave of her hand she was gone, darting to and fro down the crowded sidewalk.

Molly was busy serving a customer, and Clara walked over to the counter and sat down at the computer. With any luck there’d be no more customers to disturb her for a while. It took only a minute to look up the white pages directory. There were four Lamonts listed. Clara scribbled down the numbers on a pad and tucked the note in her pocket.

The doorbell jangled, announcing another customer. Looking up, Clara saw Roberta Prince heading for the
counter. Molly had disappeared down one of the aisles. There was no way of escaping another charming conversation with the woman.

Bracing herself, Clara waited for Roberta to speak first. She didn’t have to wait long. Roberta paused in front of the counter, leaned her hands on the surface and said, “Tell me everything.”

Pretending she had no idea what that meant, Clara raised her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

Roberta waved an impatient hand at the window. “Rick, of course. Tell me what happened.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“I don’t want to disturb him. I’m sure he’s got enough to worry about right now without having everyone on the street asking him questions.” Roberta straightened, drawing the back of her hand across her forehead. “Besides, I have a beastly headache. I think I need to lie down.”

Clara seized the opportunity to change the subject. “So, how’s the new assistant coming along?”

“Totally useless, of course.” Roberta tossed her head in disgust. “I’ve had to be behind her every step of the way. Unbelievable. It’s impossible to find anyone with any intelligence in this town.”

Clara nodded in sympathy, though it was evident to her that Roberta’s problem with assistants was in the way she treated them, rather than any flaws in their performance. So far, none that she had hired had stayed longer than a month or so. “Maybe she just needs more time,”
Clara said, feeling sorry for the timid young woman she’d met only briefly in the stationer’s.

Roberta uttered a mirthless laugh. “It will take more than time to make a decent assistant out of that one.” She glanced at the door. “I heard that Rick was planning on hiring an assistant to help out John. I guess he’ll have to put that on hold now.”

Clara kept her expression blank. “Why’s that?”

“Well, with everything going on over there.” Roberta frowned. “I wonder what he’ll do with the business if he goes to jail. Sell it, I suppose. John won’t be able to run it for him.”

“What makes you think he’s going to jail?”

Roberta gave her a sharp look. “The last I heard, he was the main suspect in a murder.”

“Obviously there’s some doubt about that, or he’d be in custody.”

Roberta sniffed. “You are entirely too trusting, Clara. When you’ve been around as many men as I have, you’ll learn that none of them can be trusted. No matter how decent or honest they may appear. Men are beasts. That will never change.”

Clara held her breath for a long moment before letting it out. Roberta’s words had hit home, and she wasn’t about to let the woman know that part of her agreed wholeheartedly. She was struggling with her own insecurities, but she had to believe that not all men were deceitful and insincere. There had to be some good ones out there.

To her relief, Roberta wandered off down an aisle, leaving her alone at the counter. She waited a moment or two to make sure no one else was heading toward her, then pulled the note from her pocket. Opening up her cell phone, she dialed the first number on the list.

The elderly female voice that answered assured her that no one named Buzz lived there. “I live alone,” the woman added. “I have never heard of Buzz Lamont. I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

Clara thanked her and dialed the second number. It was a male voice this time—a recorded message that informed her she had reached Philip Lamont, who was not at home. Clara dialed again, wondering if Buzz was Philip Lamont’s nickname.

A younger voice answered this time, and the woman sounded impatient. Once more Clara asked for Buzz Lamont and got a short answer in response. “Who’s this?”

Pulse quickening, Clara thought fast. “I’m doing a survey on local politics and I would like to ask Mr. Lamont for his opinion.”

After a slight hesitation, the woman spoke again. “Buzz is at work. He won’t be home until early evening. I don’t think he could help you, anyway. He’s not too interested in politics.”

“Ah, but this survey could actually be beneficial to him. What kind of work does he do?”

Again the pause. Longer this time. Clara held her breath.

“He’s a gardener. He works for Belgrave Landscaping.”

Clara smiled. “Perfect. Perhaps I can catch him at work.”

Now the woman sounded worried. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be a pest or anything. Thank you so much for your time.” Clara snapped her phone shut, well pleased with herself.

“What are you grinning about?”

Startled, Clara raised her chin and found Molly smiling at her. “I’ll tell you later,” she said, wary of mentioning anything about the investigation while Roberta Prince was in the store. “By the way, have you ever heard of the name
Windrift
? Does it mean anything to you?”

Molly frowned. “It sounds familiar, though I don’t know why. Let me think about it. It might come to me.”

“Okay. Let me know if you remember where you heard it.”

Molly nodded, then turned as the doorbell jingled again. A young girl darted into the store, anxiously looking around. “I lost my copy of
Huckleberry Finn
and I can’t find it anywhere. I’m supposed to read it this summer. The library just checked out their last copy. Do you still have the required reading list for high school?”

“We keep a supply of required reading books on these shelves,” Molly said, leading the anxious girl down an aisle. “Let’s see if we have it there.”

Clara glanced at the clock. It was too soon to call Stephanie to tell her she’d found out where Buzz Lamont
worked. It would have to wait until later that afternoon. She shoved the note in her pocket, and her fingers collided with another piece of paper. Drawing it out, she glanced at it, prepared to throw it away. The letters scribbled on the paper stopped her. It was the note she’d made of the letters in her vision.
W-i-n-f-t-m-e-l.

She stared at them, excitement building as she mentally added letters.
Windrift.
That had to be it. But what was the rest? She stared at the note some more, and then it dawned on her.
Windrift Motel.
Of course. Now she remembered seeing the sign swinging in the sea breeze. It was a motel on the coast road. She caught her breath, hearing her mother’s words again.
Apparently he was here on vacation and was staying at one of those dreadful motels on the coast road.

Frank Tomeski had been staying at the Windrift Motel. That’s what the Sense had been trying to tell her. Maybe if she talked to the motel manager, she might find out something useful. Now she could hardly wait to tell her cousin what she’d learned.

It was much later that afternoon before Clara found herself alone in the Raven’s Nest. Molly had left for the day, and the usual late-afternoon lull had emptied out the store. Clara speed-dialed Stephanie’s number and prayed she’d answer.

Her cousin sounded frazzled as usual. “I’ve just fished Michael out of the washing machine. Olivia was about to give him a ride. She’d told him it was a time machine that would send him to Disney World. She’s eight years
old for heaven’s sake! When is she ever going to join the real world?”

Clara grinned. “She sounds just like you when you were her age.”

“I was
never
that irrational. She must take after George’s side of the family. His grandfather was a bomber pilot in World War Two. From what I’ve heard, he was totally insane.”

“Well, I’m sure Olivia is just a normal little girl with a wild streak, that’s all. At least no one got hurt.”

“
This
time,” Stephanie muttered. “Heaven knows what might happen if I didn’t keep a strict eye on her. And Michael is so gullible. I don’t know how he’s going to get along in first grade this fall. He believes everything he’s told.”

“You worry far too much. Remember how our parents used to worry about us? They were always telling us about all the bad things that could happen to us if we didn’t mend our ways.”

Stephanie’s sigh drifted clearly down the line. “That’s what worries me. When I remember some of the things we did when we were kids, I shudder to think what my kids could get into. The world is a very different place now.”

Clara was inclined to agree. Hoping to take her cousin’s mind off her worries, she said quickly, “I deciphered the words on that note I gave you this morning.”

Stephanie’s tone changed at once. “You did? What is it? Tell me!”

“It’s the Windrift Motel. Which I believe just happens
to be the motel where Frank Tomeski was staying. I thought we might go there and talk to the manager. Maybe he knows something that could help us figure out what really happened.”

“Good idea. When do you want to go?”

“How about tomorrow morning? Before I start my shift? Molly could watch things for a while on her own, right?”

“I suppose so. I’ll call her and let her know.”

“There’s something else. I found out where Buzz Lamont works. I thought we could talk to him as well.”

Stephanie’s voice was full of doubt. “Are you sure that’s wise? What if he
is
the killer? He could figure we know too much and attack us or something.”

“That’s why we’re going to talk to him where he works. He can’t very well do anything violent there.”

“So where does he work?”

“He’s a gardener with Belgrave Landscaping.”

Her cousin’s voice grew quieter. “That doesn’t sound very safe. What if he’s alone in a big garden somewhere with pruning shears or something?” Her voice rose a notch or two. “I don’t like it at all. Maybe we should just tell the police what we know and let Dan question him.”

“Maybe Dan’s already questioned him. In any case, it’s unlikely Mr. Lamont would admit to anything.”

“So why would he tell us anything important, then?”

“He wouldn’t. But we have something Dan doesn’t.”

“What’s that?”

Clara puffed out her breath. “The Quinn Sense.”