Trouble Vision

PRAISE FOR THE NATIONAL BESTSELLING RAVEN’S NEST BOOKSTORE MYSTERIES

A Sinister Sense

“The second Raven’s Nest Bookstore mystery throws Clara’s love interest, Rick Sanders, right in the middle of a murder. Clara’s personal interest in solving the crime adds to the plausibility of her actions, and characters and relationships are further fleshed out in this novel.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“An entertaining, amusing whodunit as the two cousins who are BFF ‘sisters’ land in one mess after another . . . Fans will enjoy this lighthearted, well-written mystery.”

—
Genre Go Round Reviews

Mind Over Murder

“A delightful read . . . [A] winning addition to the cozy paranormal mystery realm.”

—Yasmine Galenorn,
New York Times
bestselling author

“The breakout must-read mystery of the fall season. [It] is a definite contender for best new cozy series of 2011 . . . Kingsley’s inhabitants are a sensational cast of players with exhilarating and quirky personalities that vibrantly jump off the page, engaging the reader immediately.”

—
Seattle Post-Intelligencer

“A fun paranormal amateur sleuth . . . The story line is fast-paced throughout, regardless whether the plot focuses on the whodunit or the men wanting to date lofty Clara. It is a sure bet that fans will want to return to the Raven’s Nest Bookstore for more Quinn Sense sensational stories.”

—
Genre Go Round Reviews

“Fast-paced and a quick read. This is a puzzling cozy that will appeal to a wide audience.”

—
Once Upon a Romance

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Allison Kingsley

MIND OVER MURDER

A SINISTER SENSE

TROUBLE VISION

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.

TROUBLE VISION

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author.

Copyright © 2013 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

BERKLEY
^®
PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

ISBN: 978-0-425-25198-0

eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62381-7

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / June 2013

Cover illustration by Griesbach / Martucci.

Cover design by Laura K. Corless.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

To my husband,

Bill, for being my knight in shining armor.

Many thanks to my editor, Michelle Vega, for being such a joy to work with and for making me look good.

Thanks to my agent, Paige Wheeler, for knowing what I want before I know it myself.

Deepest thanks to my good friends Sam and Alan Willey, for all your help with the research and for all the wonderful stories that brighten my day.

And to Mr. Bill, my heartfelt thanks for watching over me and making me smile.

“Quiet!” The sound of a mallet pounding the podium accompanied Madison Cheswick’s shrill voice. The strident shouting of the crowd gradually faded away, until all that was heard was the shuffling of feet and a nervous cough or two.

Seated at the back of the conference room, Clara Quinn exchanged a meaningful glance with her cousin. On the way over to the town hall, she and Stephanie had speculated on how well the new mayor would handle the crowd, given the controversial subject of the meeting. So far, things had been somewhat rowdy.

Clara recognized several of the people sitting around her. Some of them were customers of the Raven’s Nest, the bookstore owned by Stephanie and run by the cousins, with the help of Molly, their young assistant. Normally, Clara would be working there until eight p.m., but this being a Tuesday, her day off, Molly was taking care of the bookstore.

Weary of the constant bickering on TV about the construction of a hotel resort at the edge of their coastal Maine town, Clara had been reluctant to go to the meeting. Stephanie had begged her to go, saying that as a local business owner the project affected her and she needed answers. As usual, Clara had found it hard to say no to her cousin.

Stephanie had recently changed everyone’s schedule, as business at the bookstore had shifted since they’d opened. If she’d still had Wednesdays off, Clara thought, as she tried to get comfortable on the hard chair, she would have had to work until eight tonight, giving her a good excuse not to come to the meeting. Then again, Stephanie would probably have asked Molly to fill in. Stephanie was used to getting her way.

Leaning back, Clara studied the new mayor. Madison Cheswick’s cheeks glowed in the harsh light from the stage. She’d swept her dark hair back from her face into a tight bun, which made her brown eyes seem enormous. In her mid-fifties, the mayor was still an attractive woman, with a slim figure and a flashy sense of style that only a confident professional could pull off.

In many ways, Madison reminded Clara of her mother. Jessica Quinn was about the same age, and just as fashionable and feisty. Jessie would have whipped this lot into shape before they’d even sat down. Clara waited with interest to see how the mayor would manage the restless crowd.

Now that she had silenced the room, Madison laid down her mallet and spoke quietly into the microphone. “As I was saying, the complaints from the owners of the construction site on the bluff are disturbing. I’ve had reports of sit-down protests, confrontations and on more than one occasion, an incident where blows were exchanged. I don’t have to tell you how this reflects on our community.”

Another bout of muttering began, but the mayor shot her hand up in the air. “I understand,” she continued loudly, “your concerns about the new construction. A resort hotel and golf course is a huge project that will certainly bring some changes. I’ve seen the design plans, however, and I’m confident that the Cliff Top Resort will be a tasteful and beneficial asset to the town. The hotel buildings are charming and will blend in with the scenery along the coast road, while the golf course will be a half mile from the bluff and hidden by trees.”

A young man with straggly red hair and heavy stubble on his chin rose to his feet. “What about the wildlife? Who’s going to protect them?”

“Yeah,” an elderly woman echoed. “They’re using up all that land. Think of all those people tramping all over the bluff, not to mention the cars. The whole thing will be an ugly mess spoiling the view of the entire coast road.”

Several people murmured in agreement.

“I assure you,” Madison said, “that once the project is completed, you will be pleasantly surprised. Just try to think of the benefits. Finn’s Harbor relies a great deal on the tourist season, and the resort will bring in more money for the town. More money means better services for our citizens. It also means more funding for our schools, our local businesses and our recreational programs.”

A hoarse voice answered her, thick with anger. “That’s a load of bull! All that place will do is put money in the owner’s pockets. What about the extra traffic? Already we’ve got trucks rumbling through town every day. What about when the resort opens? We’ll be stuck in traffic all day. Before long, there’ll be drunks wandering around at night, and crime in the streets. You wait and see.” The burly gray-haired man shook his fist at the mayor. “I say shut down the project and give us back our safe and quiet town before it’s too late.”

The younger man next to him shot to his feet, his face red above his thick, scruffy beard. “My father’s right! Shut down the resort! We don’t need it.” He turned to wave an arm at the crowd and began chanting, “Shut down the resort. Shut down the resort!”

Clara and Stephanie exchanged uneasy glances again as a few halfhearted voices joined in.

Once more Madison raised a hand. “I think you’re overreacting—” she began, but was rudely shouted down by the elder of the two protestors.

“You don’t want the truth to come out! How much did those land-grabbers pay you to support them?”

“Yeah,” added his son. “What about what the people of this town want? Where’s your loyalty to your citizens, Mayor?”

The murmuring grew louder, and Madison’s pleas for quiet were drowned out by the continuous bellowing of the two men. Finally, much to Clara’s relief, Deputy Tim Rossi stepped in.

She couldn’t hear what Tim said to the men, but it must have been a stern warning, as they stomped out of the room, calling out a parting shot or two before the door closed behind them.

“Whew!” Stephanie wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. “I thought they were going to start a fight.”

“Me, too.” Clara frowned. “Those two seemed really belligerent. I think they’re just troublemakers.”

“You could be right.” Stephanie glanced at her watch. “I hope this meeting is over soon. George is probably going nuts by now trying to keep the kids under control.”

Clara had to sympathize with Stephanie’s husband. Knowing their father lacked the strong arm wielded by their mother, the three kids took advantage of him every chance they got, and invariably created havoc when Stephanie was away from home.

Fortunately, Madison took that moment to bring down the mallet one last time on the podium. “I think it’s time we adjourned. I’m asking all of you to think about this new project with an open mind. Trust in your town leaders. We have discussed this at length and we are all in agreement that the Cliff Top Resort will do nothing but good for the town. I must warn you, however, that disruptive and abusive behavior on the site will not be tolerated. Feel free to e-mail us with your concerns, and we will do our best to give you answers. Thank you for your time.”

Stephanie rose to her feet, yawning behind her hand. “Well, I’m not convinced. How about you?”

“I don’t know.” Clara scooped up her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder. “I don’t think anyone can be sure until the resort is built and in operation.”

“By that time, it will be too late.” Stephanie stepped out into the aisle and waited for her cousin to join her. “I just hope that the mayor is right and that the benefits will outweigh the problems. Otherwise I can see riots happening in the streets.”

“I sure hope it doesn’t come to that.” Clara stood and paused as a wave of darkness suddenly swirled around her. Voices began whispering urgently in her head, insistent and impossible to understand. It felt like a cold hand clutched the back of her neck while she fought off the sensation.
Evil.
It was all around her, and close by.

She grasped the back of the chair in front of her, and met Stephanie’s gaze. Her cousin’s eyes were wide open with expectation.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” she whispered.

Clara blinked, and the world returned to normal. “Let’s get out of here,” she muttered, and pushed past her cousin into the aisle.

Once outside in the darkness, she stood on the steps of the town hall and filled her lungs with cold, salty ocean air. People streamed by them, some arguing, some with heads down, apparently deep in thought. Stephanie paused two steps above her cousin so that their faces were level.

“You had another vision. Right?”

Clara hesitated, reluctant to admit that the infamous Quinn Sense had struck again.

She and Stephanie had been born two months apart, and had grown up together closer than most sisters. They’d shared everything from toys to clothes to hair-raising adventures that had terrified their respective parents.

One of the things they hadn’t shared, much to Stephanie’s intense disappointment, was the family inheritance of a sixth sense. Most women in the family possessed it to a certain degree, while one or two men had admitted to having it. The cousins had eagerly waited for the day when they would be able to predict the future and read minds.

It hadn’t turned out that way. Clara had inherited a certain amount of the Quinn Sense, though it was unpredictable and unreliable. It usually appeared when she least expected it, and rarely when she needed it. Worse, it made her feel like a freak, to the extent that she had left Finn’s Harbor to live in New York, hoping to escape the wretched curse, as she called it.

Stephanie had never quite forgiven her cousin for deserting her, and never got over the fact that Clara had the Sense while she did not. When a personal heartbreak had brought Clara back to Finn’s Harbor, the cousins had renewed their close relationship, though the subject of the Quinn Sense was still a source of controversy at times.

Clara did her best to ignore it, while Stephanie fervently watched for any sign of its appearance. Right now, she was staring at Clara with a giddiness usually reserved for small children on Christmas morning. “You did, didn’t you?”

Clara sighed. “Okay, but it wasn’t a vision.” She hesitated. “More of a feeling, that’s all.”

“What kind of feeling?”

Clara glanced over her shoulder. Below her, a small group of people surrounded the long-haired young man who had seemed so concerned about the habitats of wildlife on the bluff. He was talking earnestly, waving his arm about to emphasize his words. Whatever he was saying was obviously what the crowd wanted to hear, as there were several cries of “Right on!” and “Let’s do it!”

Clara stared at them for a moment, but felt nothing except an uneasiness that could easily have been brought on by the belligerence of the protestors. “It was a nasty feeling,” she said, turning back to her cousin. “Like something bad is going to happen, but I don’t know what. It’s gone now.”

Stephanie pouted. “You never seem to get to the good part. Are you sure you don’t know, or are you keeping stuff from me?”

They’d had this argument before. More than once. Clara crossed her arms. “Stephanie Quinn Dowd, for the last time, I’m not keeping things from you. As I’ve told you numerous times, the Sense comes and goes, and I don’t have any control over it.”

She started down the steps, trying to control her irritation. She was not a lover of the family curse. If she could, she’d give it to Stephanie in a heartbeat and be rid of it once and for all. It had let her down when she’d needed it the most, and she hadn’t trusted it since.

“Wait!” Stephanie flew down the steps behind her, catching up with her just as Clara passed by the group of protestors.

“So when do you want us to meet, Josh?” someone asked, while someone else added, “Yeah, let’s do it soon.”

The redheaded man put his arm around the pretty blonde next to him and drew her close. “How about tomorrow?”

There were choruses of enthusiastic agreement from the crowd.

Clara kept walking, with Stephanie bouncing along by her side.

“Sounds as if they’re planning another protest,” Stephanie said, sounding out of breath.

Clara slowed her steps. “I don’t know what good it will do. They can protest all they like; it’s not going to stop the construction.”

“I just hope nobody gets hurt,” Stephanie murmured.

They were walking across the parking lot now, to where Clara had parked her car. As they reached it, the dark cloud wrapped around her again. The sensation of danger was so intense, she shuddered and gripped the handle of the car door.

Luckily Stephanie had walked around to the passenger side, and by the time they were both settled in their seats, Clara’s mind had cleared again. Still, remnants of the premonition lingered, and she was thankful when they reached Stephanie’s house and she could park the car.

“Are you coming in?” Stephanie paused in the act of climbing out. “The kids would love to see you.”

Clara shook her head. “Not tonight. I still have to take Tatters for a walk and I promised my mother I’d help her with her tax return. She’s expecting a refund and wants to get it in early.”

Stephanie wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, taxes. We always put them off until the last minute. Anyway, we still have two months to worry about it.” She opened the door wider, and shivered. “I hope it’s not going to snow. We just got rid of the last lot.”

Clara smiled. “That would slow down the resort project again.”

“At least the protestors would be happy.” Stephanie waved good-bye and slammed the car door.