Trouble Vision (4 page)

Clara laughed as she slid onto her seat. “It’s good for you. Cleans out your lungs,” she said when Stephanie climbed in next to her.

“My lungs can manage perfectly well without a gale blowing down them.” Stephanie pulled the scarf from her head, letting her fair hair billow around her face. “Where are we going first?”

“To the inn.” Clara started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. A half-dozen cars coasted down the street, and she followed them down toward the harbor. The row of souvenir shops and art galleries, which were so crowded in summer, were mostly deserted, with just a couple of brave souls wandering down the hill.

“You missed all the excitement this morning,” Stephanie said as they turned onto the coast road. “Molly caught a mouse in the stockroom.”

“So that’s what I heard yesterday.” Clara put some pressure on the gas pedal. “How did she catch it?”

“Well, it wasn’t planned, exactly. She was backing away from it and smacked into the table, which was loaded with books. Some of the books fell off and the mouse must have panicked. It ran right into them.”

“Ouch.” Clara tried not to visualize what happened after that. “I hope you got rid of it.”

“Wrapped it in a plastic bag and deposited it in the garbage.”

“Poor thing.”

“You wouldn’t have said that if it had run over your foot.”

Clara shuddered and concentrated on the road ahead. The inn lay farther up the coast road, a half mile or so before the construction site. On one side, the mountains, dotted with pines, rose stark against the sky. On the other side, the gray ocean churned up frothy waves to race onto smooth, empty beaches.

As Clara rounded the bend and saw the outline of Searock Inn in the distance, she muttered, “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Stephanie’s voice was sharp when she answered. “The Sense is telling you that?”

“No, my own instincts. I think.”

“Why? All we’re doing is asking a few questions.”

“About a murder. If Lionel Hampton is guilty, he’s not going to be too happy to have us nosing around.”

“In which case, you’ll know and we can sic Dan on him.”

Clara shot her a dark look. “You know it’s not that easy.”

Stephanie sighed. “I know, but I keep hoping the Sense will step in and tell you all we need to know so that we don’t have to go around ruffling people’s feathers.”

“If I remember correctly, this was your idea in the first place.”

“Maybe it was, but now that we’re actually doing it, I have to admit I’m having second thoughts.”

Clara gripped the wheel a little tighter. “We can always turn back. Let everyone think Scott’s death was an accident. Maybe it would be better if Karen didn’t know her husband was murdered.”

Stephanie was quiet for so long, Clara thought she might actually agree. She really wasn’t surprised, however, when her cousin said quietly, “You know we can’t do that.”

“Yes, I do.” As if to convince herself, Clara pressed her foot farther down on the accelerator. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

It took several minutes to track down the owner of the Searock Inn. The quiet-spoken woman behind the front desk seemed reluctant to notify him that someone wanted to speak with him. She kept smoothing back a lock of her straight blonde hair from her forehead, while her startling blue eyes looked everywhere but directly at the cousins. “I don’t know where he is,” she insisted when Clara again asked to see him. “He’s never in one place for very long.”

“I assume he has a cell,” Clara said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt. “Call him on that.”

The blonde’s gaze wandered up to the chandelier hanging over the entrance. “He doesn’t like salespeople. You’ll have to talk to the manager.”

“We’re not salespeople.” Clara exchanged a glance with a worried-looking Stephanie. “We’re here on personal business.”

The receptionist met Clara’s gaze for the first time. “You’re family?”

“Not exactly.” Clara hesitated. “Look, just tell him that a couple of sympathizers want to talk to him.”

Creases appeared in the young woman’s forehead. “Sympathizers?”

“He’ll know what that means.”

With doubt written all over her face, the receptionist picked up the phone and dialed. Seconds later, a sour-faced man with a partially bald head and a beer belly hanging over his belt barreled through a rear door and charged into the foyer.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he barked, sending Stephanie back a nervous step or two.

Clara was happy to note she was taller than Lionel Hampton by at least two inches. Sometimes earning the high school nickname of “Lofty” had its advantages. “We’d like a private word with you, sir,” she said, trying to sound forceful.

Lionel’s gaze darted from her to Stephanie and back again. “What it’s about?”

“It’s about the construction on the bluff.”

Clara’s heart thumped as Lionel’s brown eyes bore into hers. Finally, he nodded and beckoned as he turned away. “Come on.”

Stephanie’s face looked drawn as she followed her cousin behind the counter and through the rear door. Lionel led them down a narrow hallway and into an office stuffed with papers, files, books and an assortment of coffee mugs scattered about the room. A globe on a stand, covered in cobwebs, stood in one corner. Apparently Lionel didn’t have his office cleaned too often.

The owner grunted as he squeezed behind the desk in the corner and lowered himself onto a chair. “Now, what’s this all about? I’m a busy man, so make it short.”

Clara had rehearsed her speech the moment she’d climbed out of bed that morning. She’d learned from past experience that it helped to have her questions locked into her mind. That way, she could fire them off without giving the other person time to think too long about the answers.

“We’re doing a survey of people’s opinions,” she said, giving Lionel an expansive smile. “I understand you’re not in favor of the project.”

Lionel’s face was creased in suspicion. “So what?”

“We’d like to know your reasons.”

Scowling, Lionel leaned forward, his fingers gripped together in front of him. “My reasons are the same as everyone else’s in this town: we don’t need the traffic, the congestion, the destruction of our scenic highway, or the problems a dump like that will create.”

Clara widened her smile. “The resort can hardly be called a dump, Mr. Hampton. From what I hear, it will be a very upscale, expensive establishment, bringing lots of money into the town.”

Lionel’s dark brows drew together in a fierce line. “We don’t need that kind of money. Finn’s Harbor has always done well and will go on doing all right without some fancy new resort taking over everything.”

“Well, it seems that not everyone shares your views. The town council for one, and I’m sure the construction workers are happy they have a job in this economy.”

Lionel made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. “They’re a bunch of money-grabbing traitors, that’s what they are. All they care about is their take-home pay. They don’t care a damn about the damage they’re doing up there.”

“Is that why you had that argument with Scott Delwyn?”

Lionel stood up so suddenly, his chair crashed against the wall behind him. “What’s that got to do with anything? Who the hell are you? Are you a cop? If so, where’s your ID?”

Stephanie shot out of her chair and retreated to the door, while Clara got up more slowly. “I’m not the police, Mr. Hampton. I’m just a friend of Scott’s wife, wanting to know what happened to him.”

“He fell off the scaffolding, that’s what happened to him.” Lionel seemed to recover his former belligerence. “That’s all I know, and all I’m going to say. Except maybe he was asking for it, strutting around that construction site like he owned the place. I wasn’t the only one who got in his way. There were plenty of others.”

In the act of turning away, Clara paused. “Like who?”

“Never you mind.”

She held his gaze for a moment. “Are you suggesting that Scott’s death wasn’t an accident?”

“I never said no such thing.” Lionel waved his arm at her. “Now, get out of here before I bring charges against you. Pretending to be taking a survey while all the time nosing into other people’s business—that’s got to be illegal.”

Stephanie opened the door and darted out into the hallway.

Clara raised her chin. “I’m just a concerned citizen, trying to get at the truth.” She spun around and crossed the room to follow her cousin.

Just as she reached the door, Lionel called out, “If I were you, lady, I’d stay out of things that don’t concern you. People get hurt that way.”

Clara shut the door behind her with a little more force than necessary. Following Stephanie down the hallway, she muttered, “He’s a nasty piece of work. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to find out he killed Scott Delwyn.”

Once outside in the brisk salty air, she felt she could breathe again. Stephanie was already in the car when Clara reached it. She pulled open the door and climbed in next to her cousin.

“Boy,” Stephanie said, reaching for her seat belt. “I thought he was going to call Dan and complain about us.”

“He might still do that.” Clara started the engine. “On the other hand, if he’s got something to hide, he won’t want to go whining to the police about us.”

“How did you know he had an argument with Scott?”

“I didn’t. The mayor said there’d been some fighting up at the site, and since Lionel Hampton led a group of protestors, he’d be the logical one to confront Scott.”

“Do you think he killed him?”

Clara shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s right at the top of my list.”

“The Sense didn’t tell you anything back there?”

“Nope.” Clara pulled out onto the coast road. “Guess we’ll just have to rely on our own instincts.”

Stephanie sank back on her seat. “Crap. I was hoping we’d strike gold on the first try.”

“Well, maybe your teacher friend can tell us something helpful.”

“I don’t know him all that well.” Stephanie sounded worried again.

“I thought you said he was Ethan’s teacher.”

“No, he teaches third grade. Ethan must have heard him talking about the environment at some point. I see Mr. Millstone now and then when I’m at the school, but I’ve never spoken to him.”

“Well, now’s your chance.”

“Me? You want me to question him?”

“Well, you’re the parent of kids who go to his school.” Clara squinted as a ray of sun broke through the clouds. “It’ll be easier for you to get in to see him.”

“I don’t see how. None of my kids have him for a teacher.”

Clara sighed. “All right, we’ll go in together and I’ll do the talking. It would help, though, if you backed me up now and then.”

“You always seem to manage fine without me. Besides, you’re the one with the Sense.”

Detecting an underlying resentment in her tone, Clara glanced at her cousin. Stephanie was gazing out the window, however, her expression bland. Deciding she must have imagined it, Clara concentrated on the task ahead.

She had questioned enough people over the past year or so that she was getting used to it. Still, she was fully aware that so far they’d been lucky. Although they’d met with hostility and suspicion now and then, they’d emerged without damage. That could end at any time, and she could only hope that wouldn’t be the case with Mr. Josh Millstone.

“We should make it in time for morning recess,” Clara said as she parked the car behind the school. “Otherwise we’ll have to wait until lunchtime, and that would make me late for my shift at the bookstore.”

“We won’t have to wait. There’s Mr. Millstone.” Stephanie nodded at the play area, where kids ran around yelling at each other, while others stood in little groups, absorbed in whatever they were doing.

The guy Clara had seen the night of the meeting stood by the fence, reading a sheet of paper that flapped in the wind. He’d tied his hair back into a short ponytail, and his shoulders were hunched against the cold.

Thankful she didn’t have to find an excuse to visit him inside the school, Clara approached the fence. When she spoke his name, Josh Millstone spun around, his eyes wide with surprise. He had dark freckles all over his face, and his eyebrows were so flimsy and fair they almost disappeared.

He looked at Clara as if she’d appeared out of the ground. “Can I help you?”

Clara dragged Stephanie closer to the fence. “This is my cousin, and her kids go to this school. Her eldest, Ethan Dowd, is a huge admirer of yours. He’s always talking about your fight to protect the wildlife.”

The teacher glanced across the playground, then at Stephanie. “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with his name.”

“Oh, he’s not in your class,” Stephanie said, looking flustered. “He just knows about your interest in the environment.”

Josh seemed pleasantly surprised. “Really? So how can I help you?”

Clara smiled. “We just wanted to ask you about your protests up at the construction site on the bluff.”

Now wariness crossed the teacher’s face. “What about it?”

“Did you know Scott Delwyn?”

He didn’t answer at first, but stared at Clara as if trying to figure out what she was getting at. Finally he said, “So that’s what this is about. You think my protest group had something to do with his death?”

Clara met his gaze. “Did it?”

For another long moment he seemed about to explode in anger, then to Clara’s surprise and relief, he laughed. “Nothing like coming straight to the point.”

She shrugged. “Just asking.”

“I thought Mr. Delwyn’s death was an accident.”

“We’re just making sure, that’s all.”

“Aren’t the cops supposed to do that?”

“Yes.” Clara smiled at him again. “But you know as well as I do that no matter how good the cops are, sometimes they miss things.”

His frown reappeared. “Are you saying it wasn’t an accident?”

“We’re not saying anything; just asking a few questions, that’s all.”

Josh nodded. “Well, okay. For what it’s worth, I can assure you that none of my people would resort to violence of any kind. We’ll protest, yes, and now and again we’ll try to disrupt things if it helps to emphasize our cause, but violence?” He shook his head. “Not on our agenda. I’ll vouch for everyone in the group on that. Besides, most of us were together the night Scott died. We all met in the diner before the meeting.”

She couldn’t be sure if he knew every one of his followers well enough to vouch for them, but he obviously thought he did. “I guess that’s good enough for me. Thank you, Mr. Millstone. We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.”

“Yes, thank you,” Stephanie added breathlessly, suddenly springing to life.

Josh raised his hand. “My pleasure. Say hi to your son.”

“I will.” Beaming, Stephanie stepped away from the fence.

Clara was about to follow her when Josh called out, “Oh, by the way. I don’t know if this means anything, but if you’re looking for someone with a grudge against Scott Delwyn, you might want to talk to Eddie Hatchett.”

Clara blinked, trying to remember where she’d heard that name before. Then it dawned on her: he was the son of her mother’s electrician. One of the men escorted from the meeting hall the other night. “Yes, I know he’s upset about the project. Then again, so are a lot of people.”

“He’s more than upset.” Josh moved closer to the fence and lowered his voice. “He was working at the construction site when Scott fired him for turning up to work drunk. I was there when Eddie threatened Scott. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but it wasn’t pretty.”

Clara felt a stab of excitement. “Thanks! I’ll check into it.”

“Be careful. Guys like Eddie are usually all talk and no action, but you never know.”

“I’ll be careful.” She waved at him and chased after Stephanie. Her cousin had reached the car and stood with the passenger door open, looking in her direction.

Clara sprinted across the parking lot to join her.

“You don’t think he had anything to do with it?” Stephanie asked anxiously. “He seems like such a nice man. Ethan will be devastated if he turns out to be a killer.”

“No, I don’t think he’s a killer.” Once more, Clara slid in behind the wheel. “But he did give me a lead on someone else.” She told her cousin what Josh had said about Eddie Hatchett. “His father is an electrician,” she said, as she drove out into the street. “They were both in our house a month ago.”

Stephanie frowned. “Eddie Hatchett. I know that name, but I can’t think where I heard it.”

“He and his father were the two guys yelling at the meeting the other night.”

Stephanie seemed not to hear as she stared at the road ahead. “I know I heard it somewhere. Eddie Hatchett. I’m sure I know that name.”

“Maybe you hired his father. Have you had any electrical work done lately?”

Stephanie shook her head. “George does most of that stuff. It pays to marry a handyman.”

Clara grinned. “I bet it does.”

“Ah!” Stephanie bounced on her seat. “I know where I heard Eddie’s name.”

“Where?”

“He’s a good friend of Molly’s ex-boyfriend. You know, Jason, the one with the motorbike? When Molly was going out with him, she was always talking about Eddie, and how he was a troublemaker and she wished Jason wouldn’t hang out with him. Of course, Jason was no prize, either, but she couldn’t see that. Not until she caught him cheating on her, anyway. I think—”

“So Molly knows Eddie Hatchett?”

“Yes, she does, but—” Stephanie gasped. “You’re not thinking of asking her to question him, are you?”

“She just needs to talk to him and see if she can find out where he was on the night Scott died.”

“That would mean we’d have to tell her we think Scott was murdered.”

“Yep, I guess it does.” Clara glanced at her cousin. “She’s helped us before.”

“I know; it’s not that. I just wonder what reason we’re going to give her for thinking that.”

“Good question. I’ll think of something.”

“I don’t know if we should ask her to question Eddie. He could be a killer. What if he attacked her? I’d never forgive myself if something bad happened to her.”

“We’ll have to make sure she meets him in a public place. I could go with her and just stay out of sight while she talks to him.”

Stephanie made a face. “Like where and when?”

“I’ll work on it.”

Clara pulled up in front of the Raven’s Nest a few minutes later. “I’ll let you off here. I have to go shopping for dog food before I come back to work. I still have about an hour left. That should give me plenty of time to get done what I need to do.”

Stephanie opened the car door. “Promise me you won’t do anything risky on your own?”

Clara smiled. “I promise. I’m just going to do some shopping, that’s all.”

Stephanie nodded, then hurried into the bookstore without looking back.

Clara spent the next hour picking up food and treats for Tatters, and checking out the spring fashions in Finn’s Harbor’s one and only clothes store. She usually shopped in nearby Mittleford at the outlet center, but she rarely missed an opportunity to check out the latest styles at Jasmine’s Boutique, most of which she couldn’t afford.

She arrived back at the Raven’s nest just as Stephanie was leaving. “We’re busy in there,” she said as Clara passed her in the doorway. “Molly’s waiting for you.”

“I’ll call tonight.” Without waiting to talk further, Clara headed for the counter.

Molly was arguing with John Halloran, a somewhat crotchety individual who now and again helped Rick in the hardware store.

John had once owned a candy store called the Sweet Spot farther down the street, but had ended up losing his business and his wife in the same year. He had never been a really cheerful man. Clara remembered him from when she and Stephanie visited his store as kids. Her cousin had been convinced John was an evil wizard, just waiting for a chance to turn them into toads.

Watching him now, Clara had to admit the elderly man did look a little forbidding, with his bowed shoulders, balding head and thick black-rimmed glasses. Years of disappointment and resentment had etched deep furrows in his forehead, and his cheeks sagged on either side of thin lips and a stubbly chin.

“We keep a file of everyone’s orders on the computer,” Molly said, raising her voice. “We put them in as soon as the customer gives it to us, so I couldn’t have forgotten to order your book. You must have forgotten to ask for it.”

“I did not forget,” John said, his voice gruff with annoyance. “You young people today don’t know how to run a store. In my day—”

Clara decided it was time to butt in. “Can I help you, John?”

He turned, pale eyes glaring through the smudged lenses of his glasses. “This girl doesn’t know what she’s doing. I ordered Paul Wiley’s latest book two months ago and now she’s telling me I didn’t order it.” He glared at Molly again. “But I
did
.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find you a copy,” Clara began, but he interrupted her with a swift flap of his hand.

“No, you can’t. It’s all sold out, which is precisely why I ordered it in the first place.” He sent another glowering glance at Molly. “It
always
sells out.”

Clara walked behind the counter and pulled up the file on the computer. “I see we’ve ordered more copies. They should be here by the beginning of next week. I’ll make sure we have a copy for you.” She smiled at him. “I’ll even give you a call when it comes in. I’m sorry you have to wait for it.”

“Not your fault.” John tugged up the collar of his coat to cover the back of his neck. “It’s
her
fault. I distinctly remember asking her to put in an order for me.” With a parting lethal glance at Molly, he turned and stomped out of the store.

“I know I would have put the order in if he’d asked me,” Molly said, sounding close to tears.

“Don’t worry. John’s getting old. He gets confused a lot.” Clara finished making a note to hold a copy of the Wiley book for John and closed out the file. “He’s a good customer, though, which is why we put up with him.”

“I know. The customer’s always right.” Molly heaved a noisy sigh. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that.”

Clara grinned. “Why don’t you go grab a mug of coffee? I can handle things for a bit.”

Molly’s frown disappeared. “Thanks. I could use one right now.” She took off, disappearing down the center aisle.

Clara spared a brief thought to how she would approach the subject of Molly’s help, then had to forget it as customers began lining up at the counter.

It was an hour or so before the store emptied out and Clara finally had a few moments to take a break. She found Molly in the Reading Nook, tidying up a stack of magazines that had been scattered all over the tables.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Clara said casually, “How would you like to help Stephanie and me catch another killer?”

Molly paused, a magazine dangling from her fingers. “Really? Cool!” Then her expression changed. “Wait a minute. Who got killed?”

“Scott Delwyn.”

“But I thought that was an accident.”

“Officially it is, which is why we have to be careful.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “You think someone killed him?”

“I think it’s possible. Stephanie and I want to look into it, just in case.”

To Clara’s relief, Molly was so thrilled to be included in the investigation, she didn’t ask for details. “You two should open up a detective agency,” she said as Clara carried her coffee over to an armchair and sat down.

Clara laughed. “Thanks, but that’d be a little too much excitement for me. I don’t know why we keep getting caught up in this stuff, anyway. It always seems like a good idea at the time.”

“Because you and Stephanie are great at it.” Molly dropped the magazines on a table and sank onto the adjacent armchair. “That’s why you should open up an agency.”

“I think we’ve got our hands full enough with the bookstore.” Clara took a sip of her coffee and set the mug down on a side table.

“So what do you want me to do?”

Clara hesitated, then decided that as long as she accompanied Molly, their assistant would be safe enough. “You know Eddie Hatchett, right?”

Molly raised her eyebrows. “Eddie? Yes, I know him. He’s a buddy of Jason’s.” She gasped. “You think he killed Scott? I’m not really surprised. I never liked him. He’s a mean dude. He’s always, like, arguing with someone over something. I could never understand why Jason hung out with him.”

“We don’t know, yet, if anyone killed Scott,” Clara said quickly. “We’re just asking questions, that’s all. Finding out where people were that night and what they were doing. Eddie is just a name on a long list of suspects. There are an awful lot of people who hate the construction on the bluff and any one of them could have let their temper get out of control.”