PRAISE FOR THE NATIONAL BESTSELLING RAVEN’S NEST BOOKSTORE MYSTERIES
Trouble Vision
“Allison Kingsley . . . has written another enjoyable mystery with very likable characters and a light, humorous tone sure to please.”
—Kings River Life
“Kingsley’s use of the paranormal in this series is exceptional.”
—Debbie’s Book Bag
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 of 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
“This series debut features a young psychic, a unique bookstore, and the charm of small-town Maine. The action starts early and the momentum builds through this cleverly plotted cozy . . . A good start to a promising new series.”
—RT Book Reviews
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Allison Kingsley
MIND OVER MURDER
A SINISTER SENSE
TROUBLE VISION
EXTRA SENSORY DECEPTION
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
EXTRA SENSORY DECEPTION
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2014 by Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
Excerpt from A Sinister Sense by Allison Kingsley copyright © 2012 by Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
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) LLC.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-13929-9
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / August 2014
Cover illustration by Griesbach/Martucci. Cover design by George Long.
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.
Version_1
To my husband, for watching over me.
Contents
Praise for the National Bestselling Raven’s Nest Bookstore Mysteries
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Allison Kingsley
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Excerpt from A Sinister Sense
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my editor, Michelle Vega, for caring about my characters as much as I do. Your help has been invaluable, and I’m grateful.
Thanks to my agent, Paige Wheeler, for all the great advice, support and encouragement—sometimes badly needed. You always come through.
To my very dear friends, Sam and Alan Willey, for your broad shoulders and willing ears. You made the coast of Maine come alive for me, and I thank you.
To Mr. Bill, who is always looking over my shoulder. Your pithy comments make my day.
To my fans, for your kind e-mails and posts. They mean so much to me, and I cherish every one.
The second Clara Quinn pushed open the door of the Raven’s Nest bookstore, she knew she’d picked the wrong moment. For one thing, her cousin, Stephanie, stood behind the counter, holding a feather duster and wearing a red spot that burned in each cheek, which meant the infamous Quinn temper was in full bloom.
For another thing, the elegant blonde at the receiving end of Stephanie’s fierce scowl was the owner of the stationer’s next door, and a constant thorn in the sides of both cousins. Roberta Prince’s fists dug into her slender hips and her voice was shrill with indignation as she demanded, “What do you mean—bulldozed? Are you suggesting I browbeat my customers into buying my products?”
Luckily Stephanie’s full attention was on her opponent and she didn’t see Clara gently close the door and back away from the store.
This was Tuesday, Clara’s day off, and normally she would be relaxing on the beach in the warm May sunshine, watching Tatters chase the waves back into the sea. The big shaggy dog loved the water, and tirelessly bounded in and out until she called to him. Right now she’d give anything to be back on that beach, instead of facing the prospect of walking into a volcanic argument between her cousin and Roberta Prince.
Across the narrow street, a hunky dark-haired man balanced on a ladder while he pounded a nail into the nameboard of his hardware store.
For as long as Clara could remember, Parson’s Hardware had been an institution in Finn’s Harbor. Her father had practically used it as a second home, and every Saturday morning had stopped by, whether to buy the latest tools and gadgets or just to chat with Vern Parson. Now Vern was retired and her father had passed away, though the hardware store continued to thrive on Main Street.
Clara squinted against the sunlight as she watched the new owner fasten his own name above the door. She’d been dating Rick Sanders for a few weeks now, and was beginning to get us
ed to the rush of pleasure she felt every time she saw him.
At first she’d been wary of getting involved again since her last disastrous relationship, but Rick had won her over with his thoughtfulness, honesty and fun-loving nature. She was gradually taking down the walls, and each time they were together she became a little more comfortable around him.
Smiling, she sauntered across the street, happy for the excuse to put off her visit to the bookstore.
Rick stared down at her when she called out to him, his gray eyes looking almost colorless in the glare reflected off the windows. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods? I thought this was your day off.” He frowned at the nameboard, then, apparently satisfied, tucked his hammer into his tool belt and started down the ladder.
“It is. I’m running an errand for my mother.”
“Glutton for punishment, huh?” Reaching the ground, he grinned at her. “Or is this just an excuse to come and see me?”
Clara laughed. “Maybe a little of both.” She looked up at the nameboard. “Rick’s Hardware. It has a nice ring to it.”
“Yeah.” He followed her gaze. “I’ve been meaning to change the name ever since I first bought the place. I thought about naming it Sanders’s Hardware, but I think Rick sounds more appealing.”
“Me, too.” She sent a reluctant glance at the Raven’s Nest. “I guess I’d better get over there and rescue Stephanie. She didn’t look too happy just now.”
“Roberta doing a number on her again?”
“Well, you know Roberta.”
“Indeed I do.” He took hold of the ladder, twisting his head to look at her over his shoulder. “Do you have a minute? I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Sure.” She followed him into the store, waving to Tyler, his young assistant, as they walked by the check stand. Passing by shelves loaded with cans of paint, electrical supplies, an assortment of faucets, shower heads and bathroom cabinets, she wondered what kind of favor she’d agreed to do.
Rick stacked the ladder in the storeroom at the back of the store, and when he came out again, he held a roll of paper. “I promised a pal of mine I’d put one of these up in my window. He gave me a few of them, so I thought you might put one up in the bookstore.”
She took the poster from him and unrolled it. “Oh, I heard about this—the Hometown Rodeo. It’s part of the Memorial Day weekend festival.”
“Yeah. The owners of the Hill Top Resort sponsored it. They thought it would add to the festival, now that their new resort has put Finn’s Harbor on the map.”
“It’ll be different, that’s for sure. I don’t think there’s ever been a rodeo around here, at least as long as I can remember.”
“It should be fun.” Rick tapped the poster with his forefinger. “My buddy, Wes Carlton, is a calf roper competing in it, so I said I’d help out by putting up the posters.”
“Well, we’ll be happy to help, too.” Clara rolled up the poster. “We can put it next to the festival ad. I think—”
An anxious male voice from the other end of the store interrupted her. “Rick? Can you come here a minute?”
Rick frowned. “Sounds like Tyler’s got something he can’t handle.”
He started up the aisle, and, abandoning what she was going to say, she followed him, calling out as she reached the door, “See you later.”
Rick waved a hand in response, his attention on a customer who was curling his fingers around an imaginary object while he tried to explain what he wanted.
The sun warmed Clara’s back as she waited at the curb for a line of cars to pass by. The sea breeze, heavy with the fragrance of sand and seaweed, fanned her face. On either side of Main Street, tourists strolled down the sidewalks, stopping every now and then to peer into the windows of the little shops.
Colorful awnings shaded them from the sun while they gazed at seashells and sand dollars, antique dolls and handcrafted jewelry, toy boats and rows of postcards depicting the Maine coast.
It hadn’t been that long since Clara had left New York to return to her hometown, but already the memories of the bustling city were slipping away. At times like these, watching the sun sparkling on the water in the harbor at the base of the hill, she felt almost as if she’d never left Finn’s Harbor, and that her life in New York had been nothing more than a dream.
With a start she realized the road was clear, and darted across to the other side. Roberta was still standing at the counter when Clara pushed open the door. Stephanie, however, seemed calmer. Apparently the two women had settled their differences.
Her cousin looked surprised as Clara walked up to the counter. “You’re supposed to be off today. What are you doing here?” Stephanie demanded, while Roberta ran her gaze up and down Clara as if she were examining an offensive statue.
Clara played a mental image of herself—jeans, sneakers, tank top and green striped shirt. Her dark hair had been blown around by the stiff sea breezes and she’d been putting off a haircut for way too long.
Roberta’s slim black skirt was a tad too high above the knee. Her sandals added to her height by at least three inches. The crisp pink blouse bared her arms from the shoulder, and a string of pearls gleamed around her neck. She wore her smooth bleached hair pulled back in a bun and, unlike Clara, who had dashed a spot of lipstick across her mouth and dabbed at her eyelashes with the mascara brush, had obviously spent a good few minutes creating a masterpiece on her face.
Suppressing a sigh, Clara turned to her cousin. “I need to buy a copy of Flight to Marcana. Mom can’t find it in the library and she’s dying to read it. I promised her I’d pick up a copy for her today.”
Stephanie nodded at the closest aisle. “It’s a great book. There’s some on the end display.”
“I’ll get one.” Clara walked over to the end display, automatically patting the shoulder of Madam Sophia, the lifesize model of a fortune-teller that served as one of the store’s mascots, before plucking a copy of the book from the shelf.
“I’ll never understand why people read that garbage,” Roberta said, as Clara carried the book back to the counter. “All that crap about other worlds in outer space. Vampires and ghosts, people traveling through time—no wonder our children are growing up with identity problems. They don’t know how to deal with the real world.”
Stephanie looked as if her hackles were rising again. Clara laid the book on the counter, saying mildly, “Fantasy and sci-fi books are extremely popular, which is why we specialize in them and why the Raven’s Nest does so well. Normal people know it’s fiction. They don’t take it literally.”
Apparently offended by the insinuation that she wasn’t normal, Roberta gave her a lethal look. “Well, maybe they should. There’s too much violence in those things. It’s bound to have an effect on children’s minds.”
They’d had the same argument before, and knowing Roberta, there was no point in continuing it with her now. Wisely, Clara decided to change the subject instead. She held up the poster to show it to her cousin. “I told Rick we’d put this up in the window.”
Stephanie took it from her. “What is it?”
“A poster for the rodeo. Remember, Tim told us about it the other day?”
Roberta sniffed. “Tim Rossi seems to spend an awful lot of time in here for a deputy sheriff. You’d think he’d have better things to do, like chasing criminals, for instance. I’m surprised Dan doesn’t do something about that.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes, but kept on studying the poster in silence.
“As for rodeos,” Roberta added, “I can’t imagine why the town council thinks it’s such a good idea. The Memorial Day festival has been around for years and managed perfectly well without adding something so utterly vulgar. Imagine all that dust and noise, not to mention the smell of those animals.” She wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting. The fairgrounds will never be the same. Who wants
to sit on grubby hard benches surrounded by screaming spectators watching a bunch of cowboys being flung to the ground? Bor-ing!” She stalked to the door, nose in the air. “You won’t catch me anywhere near that place.”
The door closed behind her, leaving only the heavy fragrance of Obsession hanging in the air.
Stephanie let out her breath on an exasperated sigh. “That . . . woman. I’d like to put her in an arena with a raging bull.” She put down the poster and moved to the register, where she began entering Clara’s purchase.
“She’d have the bull running back to the chutes with his tail between his legs.” Clara dug in her purse for her credit card. “So what was the fight about earlier?”
Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “How’d you know about that?”
“I came in the door in the middle of it.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“I know. I backed out when I saw you two facing off like a couple of territorial wolves.”
“Coward.”
“Yep, that’s me.” Clara swiped her card through the credit card machine. “So what was it about, anyway?”
Stephanie sighed. “Roberta had the brilliant idea for a joint promotion.”
“A what?”
“Promotion. She wants to set up a tent on the sidewalk during the Memorial Day festival outside our two stores, with tables for our combined sale-priced merchandise.”
Clara thought about it. “That might not be such a bad idea.”
“The festival is this weekend. How are we supposed to put all that together in three days?”
“I guess it is a little short notice.”
“She wanted to hire musicians, a juggler and a fortune-teller, among other just as stupid things.”
Clara grinned. “A fortune-teller?”
Stephanie waved a hand at the model. “Like that. Crystal ball and everything. She said it would advertise all the weird stuff we sell.”
“And what did you say to that?”
Extra Sensory Deception Page 1