A Sinister Sense (24 page)

“Thank you.”

“But I still don’t see how in the world we’re going to convince him he’s seeing Amy Tomeski’s ghost.”

Stephanie leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “That’s the interesting part. I looked up that article you mentioned on the Internet. Did you see the pic of Amy?”

“Yes, I did. She looks nothing like her brother.” Clara frowned. “Of course, her brother was dead when they took his picture, so—”

“Clara.” Stephanie pulled her hair back with both hands. “Did she remind you of anyone?”

“No.” Clara looked harder at her cousin. “Why?”

“She was short, blonde and”—Stephanie looked down at her stomach—“just a little overweight.”

Clara put down her mug. “Wait a minute.”

“No, listen.” Stephanie held up her hand. “We can find those huge black earrings like the ones she was wearing in the photo, in one of the souvenir shops. I’ll tie my hair up like this.” She bunched up her hair again and pulled it back. “Huh? What do you think?”

Clara studied her, doubts crowding her mind. “Well, maybe you do look a little like her but—”

“You know that black and white striped tank top she was wearing? Well, George has a golf shirt with the same kind of stripes. I can cut out the sleeves and collar, and wear jeans like she did, and I’ll look enough like her to fool Carson Dexter. After all, he hasn’t seen her in what…five years? Six?”

Clara’s pulse started racing, the way it did when she knew she was about to do something really stupid. “I suppose…if we’re in a dark place somewhere, but—”

“This is what we do.”

Stephanie was in full throttle now, and knowing there was no stopping her, Clara lapsed into silence.

“We call Carson Dexter from a pay phone and tell him that someone from his past wants to meet him at midnight in the community hall. George has a key to the hall, for when he coaches basketball there. We’ll turn off the main lights from the fuse box and just leave the stage lamps on. They’re on a different circuit.”

“How do you know all that?”

Stephanie made a face. “I’ve spent enough time messing around with that stuff while George was busy with the kids.

“What if he doesn’t come?”

“We make it sound like he’ll be in deep trouble if he doesn’t.”

“What if he brings Dan with him?”

“And risk being arrested for murder? I don’t think so.”

Clara struggled with her conscience for a moment longer. “It sounds all right on the surface, but—”

“If we stop and worry about what could go wrong, we’ll never get anywhere.” Stephanie picked up her mug again. “Don’t you want to clear Rick’s name?”

“Well, of course I do. But what if we’re wrong about Carson Dexter? What if he’s not the killer after all?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Clara swallowed too fast and choked. “Tonight?”

“We have to strike fast. Besides, today is your day off. It will give us time to get done what we need to do.”

“What about the store?”

“Molly can take care of it. We’re always slow at the beginning of the week.” Stephanie glanced at the clock. “I’d better get back and cut up George’s shirt. You see if you can find earrings that match the ones in the picture of Amy.” She got up and headed for the living room. “We’ll meet back here tonight. What time do you think we should call the mayor?”

“I don’t know.” Clara was getting more worried about the whole thing by the minute. “We have to give him enough time to get down to the community hall, and give us enough time to get there before him.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you back here at ten.”

Clara followed her across the room while Tatters hovered hopefully by the front door. “What about George?”

“What about him?” Stephanie paused in the act of opening the door. “I’m not going to tell him what we’re planning, if that’s what you think.”

“No, of course not. How are you going to explain, though, about going out at ten o’clock at night? Where will you tell him you’re going?”

Stephanie frowned. “I’ll think of something. You’d better think of something to tell Aunt Jessie.”

Clara shook her head. “I don’t know, Steffie. This all seems a bit risky. We could end up in a lot of trouble.”

Stephanie grinned. “Reminds you of the old days, doesn’t it?”

“Too much. Still, if it helps put Carson Dexter in jail instead of Rick, I guess it’s worth the risk.”

“That’s my cousin!” Stephanie gave her a sharp nudge
with her elbow. “I was beginning to think that New York had taken away all your spirit.”

“More like it taught me to use common sense.” Clara sighed. “Something tells me we’re going to regret this, but for what it’s worth, I’m in. With both feet.”

“Great.” Stephanie leapt down the steps. “See you tonight!”

Clara closed the door and leaned on it. What had she done? Got carried away by one of Stephanie’s wild schemes again, that’s what.

Tatters sat at her feet, looked up at her and whined.

“Good idea,” she muttered. “But first I have to shower, dress and eat.” She headed for the bathroom, trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong with their plan.
Best not think about it at all,
she told herself, as she turned on the faucet in the shower. Otherwise she’d be a basket case by the time her cousin got there that night. Judging from experience, this adventure could well end up in total disaster.

An hour or so later Clara fastened the leash to Tatters’ collar and the two of them took off down the street. This time she walked along the boardwalk, where tourists hovered in front of noisy arcades, souvenir shops and fast-food stands.

The aroma of pizza, hot dogs and lobster rolls mingled with the salty smell of seaweed and sand, and screeching children dodged in and out of the crowd. Tatters seemed unmoved by all the activity, content to sniff the air as he trotted ahead of his owner.

Pausing beneath a blue and white striped awning, Clara peered in the window of a quaint gift shop. An assortment of seashells and ships in bottles shared room with miniature lighthouses and delicate sculptures of seagulls and whales.

“This looks promising,” Clara murmured. She tied Tatters’ leash to a railing in front of the window and told him to stay. “You’ll get a cookie if you don’t move or make a sound,” she told him. Tatters looked worried but obediently sat, his ears flat against his head—a sure sign he wasn’t too happy.

“I won’t be long.” Clara gave him a final pat and hurried into the store. Walking rapidly along the shelves, she passed small stands of fridge ornaments and calendars with pictures of the shoreline. She knew she was getting warmer when she spotted a display of ornamental combs and barrettes. At the next counter she hit pay dirt: trays loaded with earrings of all shapes and sizes.

Large black ones had to be in fashion, as she found an assortment of them. None of them matched the ones Amy Tomeski was wearing in her photo, but Clara found ones that were close to the shape and size. She had just swiped her credit card when she heard an uproar outside. Someone was shouting amid the frantic barking of a dog.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the startled assistant, and rushed out of the store.

A little crowd had gathered outside, and Clara had to push her way through to see the source of all the commotion. Her stomach dropped when she saw Tatters, hair raised on his neck and barking furiously at the young man he had cornered against the window.

“Tatters! How could you!
Bad
boy!” She darted forward and grabbed the dog’s collar.

Tatters stopped barking and emitted low growls instead. His ears quivered with indignation and a long ridge of hair stood upright on his back.

“I’m so sorry,” Clara said as the scared-looking teen edged around them. “I don’t know why he’s behaving like this. I hope he didn’t hurt you.”

The young man didn’t answer. He just dipped his head, shoved his way through the crowd and disappeared.

“He tried to steal your dog,” a woman said as the rest of the people gradually wandered off. “He untied the leash, and the minute he tried to pull the dog away, it started barking and snapping at him.” She looked down at Tatters and smiled. “That’s a smart dog. He knew he didn’t want to go with that nasty man.”

Clara’s mouth felt dry as she realized how close she’d come to losing Tatters. “Thank you,” she told the woman. “I wonder if you’d do me a big favor? I have to go back into the store to get something. I hate to ask, but I don’t want to leave Tatters alone again—”

“Of course I’ll hold him.” The woman smiled and held out her hand for the leash. “I love dogs. We’ll get along just fine.”

“That’s so kind of you. I’ll be as quick as I can.” Clara handed over the leash and dashed back into the store. The assistant had the earrings in a bag all ready to go, and handed her the receipt. Clara smiled her thanks and ran out of the store again, half-afraid she’d find the woman had left and taken Tatters with her.

Her relief made her limp when she saw the dog where she’d left him, happily watching a group of children chase a kite down the beach.

With a smile, the woman handed the leash back to her. “You work in the Raven’s Nest, don’t you?” she said when Clara thanked her. “I remember seeing you in there the other day. I stopped in to buy my niece that latest vampire book that’s all the rage.”

Clara smiled. “Yes, I work there. My cousin owns the store.”

“Oh, you’re Stephanie’s cousin?” The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not a big reader. I don’t have much time to read, so I don’t go into the store that much.” She paused, then added, “You must know Rick Sanders, then? He owns Parson’s Hardware across the street.”

Clara felt her spine going rigid. Making an effort to keep the tension out of her voice, she said, “I know him well.”

“Such a shame.” The woman looked around, then leaned forward. “If you ask me, someone is framing him for that murder. Rick Sanders isn’t a killer. I just know it.”

Clara relaxed. “Thank you,” she said, feeling like hugging the woman. “I’m so happy to meet someone who feels the same way.”

“Oh, I do.” The woman shook her head. “I’m quite sure a lot of others think so, too. Carson Dexter should be ashamed of himself. He’s the one who kept insisting
Dan Petersen arrest Rick. I don’t think Rick would be in jail now if it weren’t for the mayor’s accusations.”

“Well, let’s hope the truth comes out eventually.” Clara gave Tatters a tug. “It was very nice talking to you.”

“You, too.” The woman smiled and patted Tatters’ head. “You take care of your mistress, that’s a good dog.” She looked up. “You never have to worry about anything as long as that dog is with you. He’ll take good care of you, I can tell.” With a wave she was gone, leaving Clara staring after her.

Smart woman.

Jolted once more by the dog’s thoughts echoing in her head, Clara shook her head at him.

Of course. She should have thought of it herself. She’d take Tatters along with her to the community hall that night. Carson Dexter would have a tough time doing them harm with the dog there to protect them.

Feeling a little better, she headed for the beach. Tatters deserved a good run after everything he’d been through that morning. Leaping ahead of her, Tatters apparently agreed.

Shortly before ten that evening, Clara announced to her mother that she was taking the dog for a long walk. Jessie answered with a sleepy, “Have fun. I’m going to bed.”

Clara led Tatters out to the street, hoping fervently that her mother would fall asleep immediately and wouldn’t notice that her daughter hadn’t arrived home by midnight.
The last thing she needed was a hysterical Jessie calling the cops to say her daughter was missing.

Hoping that she’d find Stephanie waiting for her, Clara set off for the library.

Stephanie glanced at the clock on her bedside table and winced. She was supposed to meet Clara in ten minutes and she still didn’t have George’s key to the community hall. She stuffed her husband’s mutilated golf shirt into the backpack on her bed and tugged on the zipper. Excitement made her fingers shake and she had trouble getting it closed.

Just then George’s voice called out from the hallway. “Steff? Are you in the bathroom?”

Crap.
Stephanie shoved the bag under the bed. “I’m in here. What’s wrong?”