Extra Sensory Deception (6 page)

“All right. The last time I saw Lisa, it was right around eight fifteen that night. I know that because we’d just gotten through with our event. Melosa and I were walking away from the arena to get ice cream and we saw Lisa heading toward the concert stage. I could tell by the way she was hurrying and looking around that she was afraid of being seen. I think she was going to meet someone and wanted to keep it a secret.”

“And could that have been Wes?”

Anger flared in Anita’s eyes. “No, it couldn’t. I know he had a major crush on her, but she didn’t want anything to do with him. In fact, she was mean to him. She told him once that he had no manners and he smelled bad. There’s no way she’d sneak out to meet him anywhere. If she was meeting someone, it wasn’t Wes Carlton.”

The woman’s thought came through loud and clear in Clara’s head. “But you think you know who it might have been.”

Again Anita hesitated, then slowly nodded her head. “You might want to talk to Paul Eastcott. He’s the production manager at the Hill Top Resort, and he’s in charge of the rodeo. Lisa was his assistant. She told me they were in love and that she was going to marry Paul. She said he was going to ask his wife for a divorce.” Anita uttered a scornful laugh. “Like that was going to happen. Diane has it all—looks, money—her family owns the Hill Top chain. She was responsible for the new resort being built here. She likes living here and she’s hoping Paul won’t travel so much now there’s a Hill Top in Finn’s Harbor. Paul’s living the good life right now, and he’d never have given up all that for Lisa. If he really was having an affair with her, he was just playing with her.”

Clara exchanged a meaningful look with her cousin. “Do you know where we can find him?”

Anita glanced at her watch. “He’s either at home or in his office at the resort. I did hear he was interviewing for another assistant, so I’d try the office first.”

“Thank you, Anita. You’ve been really helpful.”

“You’re welcome.” Anita grabbed her arm. “You swear you won’t tell him or anyone else what I told you? If word gets around that I bad-mouthed Paul, he might find a way to get back at me.”

“I swear.”

“Me, too,” Stephanie promised.

Anita’s fingers tightened on Clara’s arm. “You really think you can help Wes?”

“I hope so.” Clara smiled as the woman let go of her arm. “We’ll certainly do our best to clear his name.” She started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, do you happen to own a red shirt?”

Anita’s laugh sounded forced. “No way. Can you imagine how that would clash with my hair?”

“Oh, right.” Clara turned away again, while the voice in her head said over and over again,
She’s lying. She’s lying. She’s lying.

—

“So what was that red shirt thing all about?” Stephanie demanded as they walked back to the car.

“It was in one of my visions. I saw someone standing over Lisa’s body, and he was wearing a red shirt. It just occurred to me I only saw the back of him. It could have been a woman.”

“You think Anita killed Lisa?”

“Maybe. She had a motive. She’s obviously fond of Wes, and he was chasing after Lisa. Maybe she figured if she got rid of Lisa, she’d have more of a chance with him.”

Stephanie looked back at the corral, where Anita was talking to the other woman. “She looks tough enough to have done it, but if she’s in love with Wes, why would she try to pin the murder on him?”

“She might not have intended to implicate him. She could have just happened to have his rope with her when she met with Lisa. Maybe they argued, and it got out of control.”

“I don’t know.” Stephanie looked doubtful. “She just doesn’t seem like the murdering type.” Clara smiled. “You know what they say about a woman scorned. And, as you already pointed out, she’s definitely tough enough to have done it. On the other hand, she said she didn’t have a red shirt. If she’s telling the truth about that, she’s not the person in my vision.”

“I wonder if Wes has a red shirt.”

Clara reluctantly nodded. “He does. He was wearing it at the rodeo.”

“Oh crap.”

“He can’t be the only one who owns a red shirt.”

“No, of course not.” Stephanie brightened her voice. “All we have to do is find out who else has one.”

“And the proof to go with it. Nobody’s going to listen to me rambling on about my visions.”

Stephanie made a face. “You’re right about that.” She climbed into the car and slammed the door. “So where are we going now?”

“To talk to Paul Eastcott.”

“He’s not going to admit to you or anyone else that he was having an affair with a murdered woman.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve wanted to get a look at the new resort ever since it opened. This is a good excuse to get inside and check the place out.”

Behind her, Tatters yawned.
I gotta pee.

Clara sighed and opened her door again. “I’d better take Tatters for a quick walk. Do you want to come, or would you rather wait here for us?”

“I’ll wait here.” Stephanie fished her cell phone out of her purse. “I need to call Molly and see how things are going at the store.”

Leaving her cousin to make her call, Clara fastened Tatters’ leash and led him across the grass to the trees. The raucous sounds of the carnival faded as they followed a rough trail into the woods, until finally Tatters found the right spot to lift his leg.

They had just started back when the dog uttered a low growl and stopped, a tuft of hair rising on the back of his neck.

Startled, Clara peered up the trail and was surprised to see how far they had wandered. “What is it, boy?”

Tatters answered with another growl.

She could hear it now—the snapping of twigs as someone blundered through the trees somewhere on her right. There was something ominous in the sound, and she waited, holding tightly to Tatters’ leash, as whoever it was drew closer.

Tatters stood in fighting mode, feet planted firmly, ears pointed forward, hackles rising.

Clara felt a strong urge to run, and in the next instant chided herself for being so paranoid. Even so, she surged ahead, tugging on Tatters’ leash when he showed no signs of wanting to follow her.

“Come on, boy,” she said, giving him another tug. “Steffie’s waiting for us.”

Tatters growled again and this time leapt past her to stand in front of her. As he did so, a man stepped out from behind some shrubbery, making every nerve in Clara’s body spring to attention.

At first she didn’t recognize him, and fear formed a lump in her throat as he limped toward her, a grin widening his mouth.

“Clara, isn’t it? I thought I recognized that voice.”

The soft tone was familiar, and she frowned.

The man tilted his cowboy hat with his thumb. “Guess you don’t know me without my makeup.”

Clara’s brow cleared. Of course. Marty Pearce. He looked totally different from when she’d last seen him. He was older and thinner than she’d thought, with deep lines cutting into his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. His face looked drawn, but the dark eyes smiling at her were the eyes of the clown.

Letting out her breath in one big puff, Clara gave him a weak smile. “Hi, Marty.” Tatters was still bristling in front of her, and she gave a warning tug on his leash. “I was just taking my dog for a walk.”

“That’s one handsome dog.” Marty grinned at Tatters but made no move to approach him. “I thought I heard someone out here. I take a walk every morning to loosen up the muscles.” He waved a hand at the fairgrounds. “It’s not easy to get away from all that hubbub going on over there. It’s nice to find peace and quiet for a little while.” He tipped his head to one side. “So what are you doing out here, hon? Planning on joining the rodeo?”

Clara laughed, beginning to feel more at ease. “I don’t think I’d do very well. I’ve never been on the back of a horse.”

His eyes lit up. “No kidding. You don’t know what you’re missing. It would sure be a pleasure to give you a lesson or two.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I’m not really into horses.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Clara hesitated. Now was her chance to warn the clown of possible danger—but how to do it without sounding like a complete idiot? She began cautiously, trying to sound unconcerned. “I was so sorry to hear about the murder of Lisa Warren. That must have been such a shock to everyone.”

Marty’s smile vanished. “Yeah. She was a great gal. We’ll all miss her.”

“You knew her well, then?”

“Most of us regulars knew Lisa. She traveled on the circuit for a few years. Then she met Paul Eastcott. He sets up rodeos all over the country for the Hill Top chain. He was looking for an assistant, and Lisa took the job.”

He shook his head and continued. “What a waste. Bad for business, too. We were shut down last night, and who knows if we’ll make that up. People are gonna think twice about going someplace where someone’s just been murdered.”

“Well, perhaps the police will catch the killer and put everyone’s mind at rest.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t believe the cops arrested Wes. He’s got a bit of a temper, but murder?” He lifted his shoulders. “Just goes to show you can never really know people.”

Clara frowned. “The police let Wes go.”

Marty nodded. “Lack of evidence, so I heard. They’re still asking questions about him, though, so I guess they haven’t ruled him out.”

“Do you think he killed Lisa?”

Again the shrug. “Who knows? It could have been anyone, I guess. But the murder weapon belonged to Wes, and everyone knows he was chasing after Lisa.” His eyes hardened. “Lisa was always real blunt about the way she felt about people. Maybe she upset him once too often.”

Clara was about to answer when a cold wind seemed to blow up from nowhere. One minute she was standing on a woodland trail and the next she was in the darkened parking lot again. A pickup truck barreled toward her, barely missing her as it roared past. When the dust cleared she could see the clown lying on the ground, his black and white costume smeared in blood.

She cried out loud, and the scene vanished. Tatters whined, and she looked down to see the dog staring up at her.

“Are you okay?” Marty was staring at her too, concern written all over his face.

She patted her stomach. “Just a bout of indigestion. Guess I’d better get something to eat.”

Marty looked relieved. “I’ll walk with you if it’s okay with your guard dog.”

Clara laughed, though she didn’t feel at all amused. “Tatters is a sweetheart when you get to know him.”

The clown glanced down at the dog but still kept his distance. “I’ll take your word for it. I got bitten once, and ever since then I’ve been real careful around dogs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Clara paused a moment, then added, “I guess there are all kinds of danger in your job.”

“Danger?” He seemed taken aback by the suggestion. “It used to be dangerous when I was messing with the bulls, I guess, but I don’t do that anymore. I let one of the brutes get the better of me.” He patted his knee. “That’s how I got this bum leg. Had to replace the knee joint, but the shin bone got pretty messed up. It never did heal right. I can’t run anymore, so fighting bulls is out for me.”

“I’m so sorry.” She felt genuine pity for the man. It must have been hard for him to lose his career like that. “But you must enjoy entertaining the crowds. Especially the kids. They adore you.”

His smile brightened his whole face. “When I hear those little kids’ laughter, it makes up for everything. I can feel their love while I’m out there.” He gave her a knowing wink. “Everyone needs love in their lives, right, hon?”

“Right.” She was feeling frustrated. Somehow she had to warn him. Maybe she should just come out and say it. “Still, with all that tumbling around that you do, you must worry about getting hurt again.”

He shrugged again. “What’s a few bruises here and there, when you can make a little kid happy?”

“Just be careful, okay?”

He gave her a startled look. “Don’t you worry. I will.”

“I’d hate to see something really bad happen to you.”

Now he was frowning. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

She felt awkward, aware that she was getting into deep water. “It’s just intuition. What you do seems dangerous to me and I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

His frown disappeared. “You’re a sweet lady, hon. That young man of yours is real lucky. You can tell him that from me.”

She laughed. “Thanks. Maybe I will.” She had done her best, she assured herself. There wasn’t much more she could say without sounding paranoid.

They had reached the clearing where Stephanie waited in the car. Glancing over at the group of trailers, Clara noticed a handful of pickup trucks alongside. She wished she’d been able to see more clearly the truck in her vision. It had been too dark to see what color it was, or make out any distinguishable marks on it.

“I hope the show goes well tonight,” she said, as Tatters strained on the leash.

“It should, considering everyone had a night’s rest. I just hope we get the crowds in to watch it.” He lifted his hand in a salute. “Thanks for the company. I enjoyed talking to you.”

“You, too.” She watched him limp off, while Tatters pulled impatiently on the leash again.

The sound of her car’s horn made her jump. Opening the rear door, she waited for the dog to jump into the backseat.

Stephanie twisted around in her seat to glare at her. “You sure took your sweet time. How far does that dog need to go to pee?”

“Sorry. I was talking to Marty.”

“That was the clown?” Stephanie peered through the windshield at the figure disappearing into the crowd. “He sure doesn’t look all that creepy. I would have liked to meet him.”

“Maybe another time.” Clara started the engine. “Right now we have to get up to the resort and talk to Paul Eastcott if I’m to make it back to the bookstore in time for my shift. How is Molly doing, anyway?”

“She’s okay. She says it’s pretty quiet for a Friday.”

Noticing her cousin’s frown, Clara nudged her arm. “Cheer up. By this afternoon the shop will be full of tourists.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear.”

Clara shifted the gear stick and took her foot off the brake. The next instant she slammed the brake down again as a figure appeared in front of her.

Recognizing Anita’s companion from the corral, Clara shut off the engine and rolled down her window.

“I’m Melosa,” the woman said, peering through the window with a worried frown. “I just wanted a quick word with you.”

“Sure.” Clara waited, but Melosa backed away, making it obvious she wanted her to get out of the car.

Clara opened the door. “I won’t be a minute,” she muttered, and stepped out.

Melosa backed up another step or two, looking as if she might turn tail and run any minute. “I—I heard you talking to Anita, and . . .” She glanced at the car, then lowered her voice. “I don’t want to get anyone into trouble, but . . .” Her words trailed off and she clutched her throat.

“It’s okay,” Clara said, feeling sorry for the woman. It was obvious she was upset about something. “No one’s going to get into trouble without good reason. What did you want to tell me?”

Melosa looked over her shoulder. “Promise me you won’t tell Anita I talked to you?”

Clara held up her hand. “I swear.”

The woman lowered her voice even more. “I wasn’t with her when she said she saw Lisa. She made me tell the police that, so she’d have an alibi. She said we’d both need an alibi or we’d be suspects in the murder. I was frightened what she might do if I didn’t say what she wanted, but now I’m scared the cops will find out I lied and arrest me.”

Clara smiled. “I don’t think they’ll do that if you tell them what you told me.”

Melosa shook her head so violently her long, black hair swished in front of her face. Brushing the heavy strands aside, she muttered, “I can’t talk to the police. That’s why I’m telling
you.
I just felt I had to tell someone, and when I heard you talking to Anita about Lisa, I thought you should know. Please don’t tell the cops what I told you.”

“All right.” Clara opened the car door again. “Try not to worry. I’m sure the police will find out who killed Lisa and then all this will be over.”

Melosa stepped closer. “I hope it wasn’t Wes. It would break Anita’s heart. She’s loco about him—even though he had eyes for no one but Lisa. Anita even stole things that belonged to him. She said it made her feel closer to him. I saw a glove, a belt, a shirt—”

Clara straightened. “A red shirt?”

Melosa’s eyes widened. “Yes, it was. How do you know?”

Clara shrugged. “Just a guess. I don’t suppose you saw her with his pigging string?”

Sheer horror flooded the other woman’s face. “You don’t think Anita killed Lisa? She wouldn’t . . . she couldn’t . . . I shouldn’t have said anything. Please forget what I told you.”

Clara hurried to reassure her. “I’m not thinking anything, Melosa. Just asking, that’s all. Don’t worry. I won’t be talking to the police.”

“Thank you.” Looking unconvinced, Melosa hurried off.

“So what was that all about?” Stephanie asked, as Clara slid onto her seat. “I couldn’t hear what she was saying.”

Starting the engine again, Clara repeated what Melosa had told her. “I think she’s really scared, though I’m not sure why. I told her I wouldn’t tell anyone what she said, but I can’t promise to keep quiet about this if the police ask questions.”

“Well, you know how Dan feels about us ‘interfering in police business,’ as he calls it.” Stephanie fastened her seat belt. “It will be better for us if he doesn’t know we talked to anyone about the murder.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Somehow he always finds out, though.”

“Well let’s hope he doesn’t find out this time, or we’ll be in deep trouble.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s go. I’m getting hungrier by the minute.”

“You’re always hungry.” Clara drove out of the field and headed back to the coast road. “I don’t know why you don’t carry snacks with you.”

Yeah!
Tatters nudged Stephanie’s neck with his nose.
Why don’t you?

Stephanie yelped. “I swear that dog knows everything we say.”

Clara decided it was safer to ignore that remark. Instead, she started a conversation about the rodeo that lasted until they reached the resort.

The Hill Top Resort had prompted an outcry of protests when it was originally proposed, and even more as it was being built. In spite of several heated public meetings, presided over by Madeline Cheswick, the mayor of Finn’s Harbor, and numerous demonstrations by enraged environmental groups, the resort had been completed on schedule.

Recently opened, it had failed to produce the kind of dire consequences envisioned by its critics. Although there were still those who grumbled about extra traffic in town and eyesores along the coast road, most residents of Finn’s Harbor had settled down to an uneasy truce.

No one could deny the benefits brought about by the increase in tourists to the town, and the resort and accompanying golf course were too far along the coast to cause much of a physical nuisance.