A Sinister Sense (15 page)

“Well, I guess a glass of beer on a hot night could be very refreshing.”

Clara grinned at her. “My thoughts exactly.”

“We could invite Molly along. You know what they say—there’s safety in numbers.”

Clara decided to ignore her doubts about including the young woman in their investigation. “All right. What about George? Will he mind if you go out again tonight?”

Stephanie made a face. “I’ll tell him we’re treating Molly to celebrate her birthday or something.” She sighed. “I do hate lying to him. He’d go berserk if he knew the truth, though.”

“Well, if we pay for Molly’s beer, it will only be a half lie.”

“I guess so.” Stephanie peered gloomily ahead at the road. “I just hope we can find out enough to prove Rick is innocent. Then maybe all this will be worth it.”

“Of course it will be worth it.” Clara nodded at the road. “There’s Belgrave Landscaping. Let’s hope Buzz Lamont is there.”

“Surrounded by a bunch of people.”

Clara had to agree with her. She pulled off the road onto a gravel parking lot, the tires crunching on the small stones as she drove up to the main brick building. All along one side of the parking lot, rows of glasshouses glinted in the sun. In front of the building, stacks of bedding plants sheltered under a canopy, from which hung rows of hanging planters brimming with purple, pink and white fuchsias and red nasturtiums.

“Oh, they’re so pretty!” Stephanie exclaimed, gazing at the planters as she climbed out of the car. “I have to take one home with me!”

“Good idea.” Clara locked the car and took her cousin’s arm as she headed for the door. “We can use it as an excuse to talk to someone.”

The aroma in the cool interior of the building was a strange mix of sweet-smelling blooms and pungent fertilizer. Clara marched up to the long counter, where a couple of young men wearing brown coats were serving customers.

Stephanie darted over to a display of hanging planters and rushed back a moment later carrying a large container of blooms. “This will look lovely on my front porch,” she said, dumping the planter on the counter.

One of the young men spotted her and came forward, smiling a welcome. “Can I help you?”

“I’ll take this one.” Stephanie fished in her fanny pack for her credit card and handed it over.

“Very nice,” the assistant said, giving Stephanie an obvious look of admiration.

While he rang up the charge, Clara leaned on the counter. “I think a friend of ours works here,” she said. “Buzz Lamont. Do you know him?”

The assistant barely looked at her, his gaze skimming past her to settle on Stephanie again. “Buzz? Sure I know him. He’s a great guy.”

“Is he here now? We’d love to say hello to him.”

“He’s out on a job.” He handed Stephanie the slip to sign.

Clara waited until her cousin had handed back the pen before nudging her with her elbow. Stephanie shot her a
puzzled glance, and Clara jerked her head at the assistant.

The young man handed Stephanie the receipt. “Hope you enjoy the flowers.”

“Oh, I will.” She buried her nose in the blooms, then smiled up at him. “I’d really like to see Buzz this morning. Would it be possible to stop by wherever he’s working?”

The assistant leaned his elbows on the counter. “What is it worth to you if I tell you where he is?”

Clara saw her cousin’s mouth tighten and quickly nudged her again.

Stephanie recovered her smile. “I could come see you again and buy some more flowers.”

The young man’s grin revealed a row of whitened teeth. “Deal. Hang on a minute.” He disappeared down an aisle and after a tense wait, returned, waving a piece of paper.

“Here’s where he’s at,” he said, handing it to Stephanie. “How about meeting me for a cup of coffee later to thank me?”

“I’ll ask my husband. I’m sure he’d love to come along.” Stephanie picked up the planter, turned her back on him and marched to the door.

Following her, Clara couldn’t help grinning. “You made quite a conquest back there,” she said, holding the car door open for her cousin.

“Idiot,” Stephanie muttered, heaving the heavy basket onto the backseat. “He had to be half my age.”

“Old enough to appreciate a gorgeous woman, obviously.”

Stephanie straightened and climbed into the car. “Thanks a bunch, but right now I’m in no mood for flattery. I just hope that wherever Buzz Lamont is working, there are plenty of people around to keep him company.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out.” Clara started the engine again. “So what’s the address?”

Stephanie read it out to her. “I think it’s on the south side of town.” She let out a shaky sigh. “I’m beginning to have second thoughts about this.”

“Don’t worry.” Clara nosed the car across the gravel once more and onto the road. “If there’s the slightest chance that he could hurt us, we’ll find some other way to talk to him. Let’s just take a look and see where he is, okay?”

“Okay.” Stephanie settled down on her seat. “I should have brought the GPS with me. I don’t know why you don’t have one.”

“I don’t do that much driving.”

“You drive all over town looking at apartments. Or at least, you used to look at them. You haven’t done much of that lately.”

“I guess I’ve given up trying to find something I like and can afford.” Clara paused at a light. “Most of the rentals in town are vacation homes.”

“Can’t you use the Quinn Sense to find what you want?”

Clara sighed. “It doesn’t work that way. Even if it did, I wouldn’t use it.”

Several minutes later she turned down a street and peered at the house numbers. “It should be down here somewhere. Ah, here it is. Look, there’s one of Belgrave’s trucks parked in the driveway.”

Stephanie peered out the window as Clara parked the car. “It looks like a big house.”

“Yeah, it does.” Clara opened the door and climbed out. Two large wrought iron gates barred the entrance to the driveway, with tall shrubs on either side. A low brick wall ran across the front of the property and down each side, separating the yard from the houses on either side. The wide driveway curved up to an impressive front porch and verandah that circled the house. “Nice,” Clara murmured, staring through the bars of the gate. “Very nice. We can’t just walk in here. Not without a good excuse, anyway.”

Stephanie stepped closer to look through the gate. “I can’t see a gardener. Let’s take a look farther down.”

Clara followed close on her cousin’s heels as she made her way along the wall. Stephanie stopped every yard or so and jumped up in an attempt to see over it. Clara didn’t need to jump and for once was grateful for her height as she peered over the wall at an expanse of lawn with a water fountain in the middle of it. Shrubs lined the walls, but there was no sign of any gardeners.

“We have to get in the backyard,” Stephanie declared
as they reached the end of the wall. “Buzz must be back there.”

“How are we going to do that?” Clara gestured at the house. “We’d have to go up the driveway. Someone’s bound to see us.”

“We’ll have to come up with an excuse to be here. Like we’re Avon ladies or something.”

“Wait!” Clara went back to her car and leaned in to reach the glove compartment. She found what she was looking for—a notebook and pen—and carried them back to her cousin. “I used this as an excuse to find out where Buzz worked,” she said as Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “I told his wife I was conducting a survey.”

“What kind of survey?”

“I don’t know. Something about politics. I just told her it would be beneficial for him.”

“Oh, great.” Stephanie frowned. “He might think it odd that we tracked him down at work to ask him questions for a survey.”

“Not him, silly. I mean if the owner or someone else sees us. We can tell them that’s why we’re here.”

“Oh.” Stephanie considered it. “Might work, but you have to know what it’s about.” She frowned some more, then her face cleared. “Let’s say we’re asking people’s opinions about the economy. That always gets people talking.”

Clara wasn’t too sure about that but couldn’t think of a better idea. Carefully, she opened the gate and stepped
inside the yard. The muffled sound of deep barking made her pause. “There’s a dog around somewhere.”

Stephanie looked around. “I can’t see one. Just keep going.”

Clutching the pad to her chest, Clara walked up the driveway. The barking grew louder, though still muffled, and she thought it might be coming from inside the house. Quickening her step, she headed across the lawn to skirt the front windows.

She had just reached the far wall when a man in green coveralls stepped out in front of her. Startled, she dropped the pad and bent to retrieve it, while Stephanie came to a halt at her side. Straightening, Clara looked at the “Belgrave” badge sewn into the man’s uniform. She gave him a smile. “Would you happen to be Buzz Lamont?”

The man’s thin features stiffened with suspicion. “Who’s asking?”

Stephanie eased back a step, unsettling Clara. Maybe they were taking too much of a chance confronting a possible killer. It was too late now, however. They were face-to-face with Buzz Lamont, and the chain saw in his hand was a formidable lethal weapon.

Clara pulled in a deep breath. “My name is Clara Quinn,” she said quickly, “and I’m a friend of Rick Sanders.”

The man’s frown intensified. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Clara felt Stephanie’s fingers stabbing her in the back. Ignoring her she answered, “He’s the man accused of killing Frank Tomeski.”

The gardener’s expression grew hostile. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“I believe you were acquainted with Mr. Tomeski.”

“Who told you that?”

Clara lifted her chin. “Never mind who told me. Is it true?”

“Are you a cop?”

Clara shook her head. “No, Mr. Lamont. I told you,
I’m just a friend of Rick Sanders. I’m trying to find out what I can about Frank Tomeski, because I don’t believe Rick killed him. I’d be very grateful if you could tell me what, if anything, you know about him.”

The gardener tilted his head to one side and studied her for a minute, then looked at Stephanie. “What about her?”

“She’s my cousin. We work together in her bookstore. She’s helping me find out what happened the night Frank Tomeski was killed.”

Stephanie stepped forward, holding out a hand that wasn’t quite steady. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Lamont stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “What do you want to know?”

Clara moved closer to the wall to get out of the sun’s searing glare. The barking had stopped. She hoped that meant the dog had settled down again and wasn’t roaming around the yard looking for them. Stephanie scuttled over to join her, watched closely by the gardener.

“When did you last see Frank Tomeski?”

“About five years ago.” Lamont shifted his position so he had his back to the sun. His skin had been burned to leather, and his light blue eyes seemed like twin laser beams as they raked Clara’s face.

“Was he coming here to see you?” Clara watched him closely, hoping to read something in his face that would tell her if he was lying, since it seemed the Sense was absent as usual.

For a long moment she was afraid he wasn’t going
to answer, then he seemed to make up his mind about something and shook his head. “I didn’t even know Frank was in town until I saw his face on TV. I’d been at the shooting range for a couple of hours, and I went over to the bowling alley for a beer or two. That’s when Frank turned up on the news. Believe me, that was some kind of shock.”

“It must have been a bigger shock to realize you were in the bowling alley the night he was killed.”

Buzz narrowed his eyes. “You been talking to Jason? He needs his mouth sewn up with catgut.”

Clara hurried on. “Do you remember anything about that night that might have seemed unusual? Like someone acting weird?”

“The only thing I remember about that night is nearly being run over by a black SUV. If I hadn’t stepped out the way pretty quick, I would have ended up next to Frank in the morgue.”

“How well did you know Frank?”

Buzz shrugged. “Not that well. We used to do business together when I lived in Portland.”

“What kind of business?”

The gardener pursed his lips. “Personal business.”

Clara let that go. “Did you keep in touch with him after you left Portland?”

“Now and then. Not a lot. We’d exchange e-mails once in a while. Frank didn’t have many friends.”

“So you have no idea who he might have been meeting when he came here.”

Buzz uttered a short laugh. “I can guess. I reckon he was here meeting some bimbo he picked up online. He was always chatting with women on the Internet. Sent me a pic now and then. I always figured he’d get into trouble one day over some woman. If you ask me, I’d say a jealous boyfriend or husband whacked him.”

Clara let out her breath. “Why didn’t you tell all this to the police? You must have seen their announcements on TV asking if anyone knew the victim.”

Buzz stuck his hands in his pockets. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t call the cops because I’ve got a record. The cops are quick to jump on ex-cons. I’ve been straight for six years now. I’ve got a good job, and a wife and family. If news got out about my past, I could kiss all that good-bye.” He took a step toward Clara, making Stephanie scrunch up closer to the wall. “If you so much as breathe one word of this to anyone else, I’ll make you sorry you ever set eyes on me.”