Mind Over Murder (3 page)

Her cousin, however, knew her too well. “What’s the matter?” Stephanie frowned. “Am I being too bossy?”

That made Clara smile. “You’ve always been bossy, but it’s okay. You’re the boss. You’re entitled.” Before Stephanie could probe anymore, she took off down the aisle and headed for the stockroom.

The disturbing sensation she’d felt the day before came back to haunt her as she opened the door. It didn’t mean anything, she assured herself. She had moments like that all the time. Most of the time they went away without her ever knowing what was behind them. This was just one of those times. Even so, she braced herself as she pushed open the door and flipped on the light.

She had taken only two steps into the room when she saw the huddled figure on the floor. Shock slammed into her chest, making it hard to breathe. She tried to shout for Stephanie, but no sound would come out of her mouth.

She took a wobbly step or two forward and uttered a whimper of horror. The shattered pieces of Edgar Allan Poe’s bust were scattered on the floor. In the center of them, Ana Jordan lay face-up, a puddle of dark blood spreading out from under her head.

Less than ten minutes later, Finn’s Harbor’s police chief climbed out of his car in front of the Raven’s Nest. Clara recognized the stocky figure the moment she spotted him through the window.

Standing next to her behind the counter, Stephanie uttered a faint moan. “What are we going to do? We’re supposed to open in half an hour.”

“The customers will just have to wait until all this is over, that’s all.” Clara squeezed her cousin’s hand. It felt cold, and Stephanie’s face was drawn with shock.

Clara wasn’t feeling so hot herself. Her stomach felt so messed up she was sure she’d never be able to eat with enjoyment again. The doorbell jangled, frying her already shattered nerves as the big man in uniform walked in.

Chief Dan Petersen had the kind of round face that always seemed to be smiling, though his blue eyes were shrewd and piercing, and missed very little. He was a jovial man, but he kept a firm hand over the officers who worked under him, and Clara had always admired that.

She didn’t know the young officer who followed the chief, but Stephanie murmured a greeting to him as they paused in front of the counter. “Hi, Dan; hello, Tim. This is so horrible. I can’t believe it.”

Dan flicked a glance at Clara. “Guess you found the body, right?”

Clara swallowed, shut the memory out of her mind and nodded.

“Touch anything?”

“No, sir. I took one look and got out of there.”

Dan nudged the young man standing next to him. “Let’s take a look.”

Clara watched them disappear down the aisle, shuddering as she envisioned the scene that awaited them. “Who do you think could have done such a thing?”

Stephanie rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “I don’t know. Ana wasn’t well liked, and she was always causing trouble, but I don’t know anyone who would have wanted her dead.”

“Well, apparently someone did. That bust didn’t just fall on her head. What was she doing in your stockroom, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Molly made that bust. She’d left it in the stockroom to dry. We were going to put it in the window. She’ll be real upset that it’s broken.”

“Not to mention that it killed your neighbor,” Clara said dryly.

“Well, of course.” Stephanie opened the drawer beneath the counter and shut it again. “I didn’t mean . . .”

“You didn’t mean what?”

The gruff voice made them both jump. Clara gave the police chief a weak smile. He walked quietly for a big man. “She meant that Molly will be real upset about Ana.”

The chief gave her a long look. “Where is Molly?”

Stephanie glanced at the tall clock. “She should be here soon.”

The screeching of tires outside made them all turn to the window. An ambulance had pulled up, and two men in white coats jumped out and opened the back doors. They pulled out a gurney and wheeled it across the sidewalk as Dan strode to the door and opened it.

“Back room,” he said briefly, before they could speak. “Don’t touch anything until the doc gets here.”

The two men nodded and wheeled the squeaky stretcher down the aisle to the stockroom.

The door opened once more, and a breathless voice asked, “Who’s sick?” Molly bounded into the shop, purse slung over her shoulder, eyes wide and hair flying.

Stephanie hurried out from behind the counter and took hold of Molly’s hand. “There’s been an accident,” she said quietly. “It’s Ana Jordan. Molly, I’m afraid she’s dead.”

Molly’s eyebrows leapt up and down. “Dead?”

“Dead,” echoed Dan, walking forward. “And it was no accident.”

Molly stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“She’s in the stockroom. Someone bashed her head in with a statue,” Dan said bluntly.

Molly seemed unable to speak for a moment, her mouth opening and shutting as if gasping for air. Then she turned to Stephanie, her eyes wide and pleading. “Is it true? This isn’t a joke?”

Stephanie sounded tearful when she answered. “It was your bust of Edgar, Molly. Someone used it to . . .” she choked, and put a hand over her mouth.

Clara rushed over to her. “We’re all upset right now. Come and sit down until you feel better.”

“I can’t sit down,” Stephanie wailed. “It’s Saturday. Everyone comes early on a Saturday. I have to open the store in fifteen minutes.”

“Nobody’s coming in here until we’ve finished the investigation.” Dan walked over to the door and twisted the lock. “Now, everybody calm down. I need to ask you all some questions.” He turned to Clara. “You first. Tell me exactly what you saw when you went into the stockroom this morning.”

Clara shakily described the scene as best she could, while behind her, Molly whispered something to Stephanie.

The chief listened gravely; then, when she was done, he looked at her cousin. “Any idea why Ana was in your stockroom last night?”

Stephanie shook her head. “I have absolutely no idea.” She turned to Molly. “Did you let Ana into the stockroom?”

Molly’s eyes widened. “Of course not! I don’t know how she got in there.”

Dan grunted something under his breath. “Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. The door was securely locked when you got here this morning?”

Stephanie sounded hoarse when she answered. “Yes, I unlocked it myself.”

“You locked up last night before you left?”

“Molly did. I left around three yesterday afternoon.”

The chief turned to Molly, who seemed to be having trouble looking him in the eye. “What about you? What time did
you
leave?”

Molly started to speak, paused some more, then blurted out, “About eight-thirty or so. I wanted to leave the place tidy for when Steph came in this morning. So I cleaned up before I left.”

“You locked both doors before you left?”

“The back door is always kept locked unless we have a delivery.” Molly glanced at Stephanie. “I locked the front door when I left.”

“Did Ana Jordan come in here last night?”

“I didn’t see her.”

“Did you see her at all yesterday?”

Molly exchanged a quick look with Stephanie. “Er . . . yesterday,” she said at last. “I . . . er . . . spoke to her outside the shop.”

“And you didn’t see her again before you left last night?”

“No, I didn’t. That reminds me.” She opened her purse and took out a key. Handing it to Stephanie she said, “Now that I’m back on the morning shift, you’ll need this back.”

Stephanie took the key and held it out to Clara. “You’ll need this to lock up at night. We really should get another one cut.”

“If you don’t mind,” Dan said, “I’m not done asking Molly questions.”

Molly looked guilty. “Oh, sorry.”

“Where did you go when you left here?”

Again she paused before answering. “Home, of course. I was starving.”

Clara curled her fingers into her palms. The voice had come from nowhere, as it always did. Faint, like a whisper, and hard to understand. Before the words became clear, she deliberately shut the voice down in her mind, focusing instead on Dan’s next words.

“Stephanie, you notice anything different when you came in this morning?”

Stephanie shook her head. “No, nothing. In fact, Clara and I were saying how nice everything looked.” She glanced at Molly. “You did a great job of cleaning up.”

“Can anyone—?” Dan broke off as a loud rattling of the door handle made them all turn their heads. He muttered something and unlocked the door to reveal a fraillooking man with gray hair and glasses.

Dr. Harold Weinberg had been the Quinn family’s doctor since before Clara was born, and now served as the medical examiner for the small town. He nodded at her as he stepped into the store. “Good to see you back in town, Clara. I heard it was for good this time.”

“I hope so.” Clara caught Stephanie’s sharp look and smiled at her.

“About time, Hal.” The chief clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “They’re waiting for us back there.” He looked at all three women in turn. “Don’t anyone leave. I’m not done yet.” Giving the doctor a hefty nudge, he followed him down the aisle to the stockroom.

Molly let out her breath in a rush of air. “What is it about talking to a policeman that always makes you feel guilty?” She uttered a shaky laugh. “I broke out in a sweat talking to Dan. Now I need to go home and take another shower.”

“Well, you can’t leave yet.” Stephanie shot a nervous glance down the aisles. “Dan told us to stay here.”

“I was kidding.” Sounding more like herself, Molly leaned across the counter and squeezed Stephanie’s hand. “Don’t worry, Steph. You had nothing to do with all this. The cops will find out who did it, and then it will be all over. Look on the bright side. You won’t have to worry about Ana Jordan anymore.”

Stephanie gasped. “Molly! That’s a terrible thing to say! The poor woman is lying dead in our stockroom. How can you be so callous?”

Molly shrugged. “I’m sorry she’s dead, but no one liked her. I don’t know anyone who’ll shed any tears over her, except maybe Frannie. I guess she’ll be out of a job now. Unless whoever takes over the store keeps her on.”

“What I want to know,” Stephanie said, hugging herself again, “is why
was
Ana in our stockroom? How did she get in there? I have the only key to the back door, and there are only two keys to the front door. Mine and the one I gave you.”

“Don’t ask me.” Molly wandered over to the door and peered through the glass pane. “There’s a little crowd forming outside.”

Stephanie glanced at the clock. “Oh, crap. Look at the time. Our customers are starting to arrive. What are we going to tell them?”

“The truth, I guess.” Clara opened one of the books and stood it on top of the pile. “We can’t tell them anything anyway until Dan unlocks the door.”

“She’s right.” Molly marched back to the counter. “They will just have to wait until he’s done back there.”

“All I hope,” Stephanie said, “is that they find out who did this and soon. I don’t like the idea of a murderer hanging out in Finn’s Harbor.”

Molly shuddered. “Just the word murderer sends cold shivers down my spine.”

“Me, too.” Stephanie started as the door to the stockroom banged open, and they heard the squeaky wheels of the gurney.

Clara turned away from the sight of the mound under the white sheet. She hadn’t much liked Ana Jordan, either, but no one deserved to end her days in such a brutal way.

The medics caused a sensation among the small huddle of customers outside, but they refused to answer any questions.

Dan appeared a few minutes later, followed by Tim, and seemed in a hurry. “I’m gonna have to close you down for the day,” he said, as he paused at the door. “I’ll post a notice outside for your customers.”

Stephanie uttered a cry of dismay. “What about those people out there?”

“I’ll speak to them.” As the two stepped outside, a chorus of voices demanded an explanation, and Dan delivered a short speech about the death of Ana Jordan, then pinned a notice on the door before leaving.

“What do we do now?”

Stephanie looked bewildered, and Clara put an arm about her shoulders. “We’ve got everything set up for the sale, so why don’t we all go home? You both need a rest after the long day you had yesterday. Tomorrow we’ll come back and finish up the sale.”

“What about them?” Stephanie nodded her head at the small group of people out on the sidewalk. “They don’t look as if they’re ready to go home.”

“Once they see that we’ve left, they’ll leave as well.” Clara picked up her purse and hung it over her shoulder, then led the way out the door.

Outside people were talking about the murder, speculating on who had hated Ana enough to want her dead. Clara caught sight of a woman huddled against the wall as if she were afraid to move away from it. Her face was white and tear-stained, and she kept pushing stringy, graying hair out of her eyes.

Recognizing Francis Dearly, one of Ana’s employees, Clara realized that this woman was the only person who had shown any sorrow over Ana Jordan’s death.

Stephanie must have seen her, too. She hurried over to her and beckoned Clara to follow. “Frannie, you remember Clara, don’t you?” she said, as her cousin reached them.

The woman nodded at her. “You probably don’t remember me, but I used to babysit you two when you were little.”

A flash of memory gave Clara a vague vision of a painfully thin teenager with straggly brown hair and glasses. “Of course I remember you. It’s good to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

The woman’s face crumpled, and Stephanie awkwardly patted her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Frannie. It must have been a dreadful shock for you.”

Frannie nodded, then fished several tissues out of her pants pocket and blew her nose. “Please excuse me. I just can’t believe it. I was just talking to her last night, and now . . .” She drew a shuddering breath. “Now she’s
gone
!”