In the next instant, all hell broke loose. Shouts, lights, the pounding of hooves, hollering and the sudden shock of being grabbed by two strong arms took all the breath from her body.
Dimly she was aware of being dragged over the fence, while the uproar inside the arena continued.
She was in Rick’s arms, his hand cradling her head. “Are you hurt? Did he get you?”
Choking back tears, she shook her head. “Just a bruise or two. His horn missed me by inches.”
“Thank God.” Rick pulled her even closer. “If that beast had hurt you I would have killed it with my bare hands.”
Clara thought that was pretty unlikely, but it was very satisfying to hear. “Thank heavens you got my message. I thought I was going to die.”
“You can thank Stephanie. She was worried that you hadn’t called her so she called me. That’s when I found your message. We couldn’t get you on your cell so I called Wes. He didn’t know anything about meeting you here, so we came out to see what was going on.” He shuddered. “That’s when we saw Ferocious in the arena. We didn’t see you until the bull starting charging at you.” He tightened his arms around her. “When I saw him get that close to you on the fence and you fell . . .” He buried his face in her hair.
She hugged him, and after a moment he lifted his head. “Promise me you will never do anything like that again.”
“Not if I can help it.” Realizing the noise in the arena had subsided, she looked over the fence. Someone had switched on the arena lights. Wes was standing over by the chutes talking to a couple of guys. They must have been alerted by the noise. Behind them, a very unhappy bull stood corralled behind a gate.
“Wes saved my life,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t know how I’m going to thank him.”
“Well, I like to think I had a hand in it, too. It wasn’t easy going in there with that monster standing over you.”
“Oh, I know.” She looked up at him. “But I figured I’d thank you in a way I couldn’t possibly manage with Wes.”
Rick’s eyes lit up. “Is that a promise?”
“You bet it is.” She looked back at Wes. “You were right about him. He didn’t kill Lisa.”
“You sound very sure of that. Do you know who did?”
“I think so.”
“So who was it?”
She was about to answer when another voice spoke from a few feet away. “That’s something I’d like to know.”
Swinging around, Clara looked into the disgruntled face of Dan Petersen. Tim hovered behind him, looking worried.
She looked back at Rick. “You called the police?”
“No,” Dan said. “Your cousin’s husband called me. He said you were in danger out here.” He looked at Rick. “It doesn’t look to me like you’re in danger.”
“Well, I was,” Clara said, feeling guilty. Stephanie and George must have been really worried to call Dan. She quickly told the police chief everything that had happened to her that evening, emphasizing how Marty had tried to run her down on the coast road. “He killed Lisa Warren,” she said when she was done. “I’m sure of it. He knew I was onto him and tried to kill me.”
Dan shook his head. “Marty Pearce has a cast-iron alibi for that night. Just because the guy didn’t see you in the dark doesn’t make him a murderer. He could have been so shocked he froze on the brake. It’s happened plenty of times before. I’ve done it myself.” He stared across the arena at the men beside the chutes. “Is that Carlton over there?”
“He saved my life,” Clara said quickly. “I would have been killed by that bull if Wes hadn’t gotten here in time.”
“He got the bull’s attention and somehow got him in the chutes,” Rick added. “He deserves a medal, if you ask me.”
“He deserves more than that,” Clara added fervently.
Dan stuck a hand in his pants pocket. “Didn’t you tell me that he was the one who got you here in the first place? That he sent Marty Pearce to find you and bring you here?”
“But he didn’t.” She glanced up at Rick. “He didn’t know anything about me coming here. That’s why he and Rick came, to find out what was going on.” She looked back at Dan. “Marty made all that up to get me out here. He left me alone in there with that bull, and if Wes and Rick hadn’t turned up when they did, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you now.”
Dan still looked unconvinced. “How do you know Carlton isn’t lying about sending Pearce to find you?”
“Why would Wes risk his life to save me, if he wanted me dead?”
Dan pursed his lips. Before he could answer, Clara added, “What’s more, I believe that Marty killed Seth Ferguson. It wasn’t Marty in the arena that night Lisa was killed. He paid Seth to take his place. If you don’t believe me, look at the video of that night on the Chronicle’s website. Sparky the clown is running around without a trace of a limp. Ask Marty to explain that.”
Dan raised his eyebrows, while Rick murmured, “Nice work, detective.”
Dan turned to Tim. “Find Marty Pearce and bring him to the station.” He looked back at Clara. “We’ll get all this sorted out tomorrow. Be in my office at nine a.m. sharp.”
Clara let out her breath. “I’ll be there.”
“Meanwhile,” Dan said, “I’ll have a chat with Carlton.” He started to walk off, then looked back at Clara over his shoulder. “If you’re right about this, I’ll take back everything I said about you interfering.”
Clara smiled. “I can’t wait.”
—
“So are you going to tell us what happened at the police station, Clara?” Jessie demanded, as she handed a dish of roasted potatoes to Rick.
Clara piled some asparagus on her plate and passed the dish to her mother. “There’s not a lot to tell.”
Jessie sighed and shook her head at Rick. “She keeps saying that. I was hoping she’d tell us more when you got here.”
“I told you, Dan didn’t tell me much. He was too busy asking me questions.” Clara heaped potatoes on her plate.
“Actually, Wes told me some of it.” Rick helped himself from the plate of salmon Jessie handed him. “He said Tim told him he found Marty soon after we left the arena. He was hooking up his trailer, getting ready to take off.”
“Oh, my.” Jessie offered Rick the wine bottle. “Good thing Tim caught up with him. He could have gone into hiding, and they never would have found him.”
“Dan said Marty confessed to everything,” Clara said, “once they showed him the video of the rodeo that night.”
“I’m just surprised nobody else noticed that the clown wasn’t limping.” Jessie refilled her own glass with wine and passed the bottle to Clara.
“Marty did a good job of hiding his disability in the arena.” Rick grinned at Clara. “But even he couldn’t have done what Seth did that night without some sign of a limp. That was a great catch, Clara.”
“It was, darling.” Jessie smiled at her daughter. “I’m so proud of you. Did Marty say why he killed Lisa?”
“Dan didn’t tell me anything except that Marty had confessed.” Clara looked down at her plate. “He did congratulate me on figuring everything out.”
“That’s huge, coming from Dan.” Rick raised his glass. “Here’s to a job well done, detective!”
Jessie picked up her glass. “Good job, Clara, though I do wish you wouldn’t take such awful risks. Especially when you’re not getting paid to do it.”
Clara laughed. “That’s my mom. Practical as ever.”
Jessie turned to Rick. “I don’t suppose your friend knew why that dreadful man killed that poor woman?”
“As a matter of fact, he did. I guess Tim told him the whole story.”
Clara uttered a little squeak of protest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Rick grinned at her. “I haven’t had the c
hance until now.”
“So tell us!” Jessie leaned forward. “We’re both panting to know.”
“Apparently Marty was in love with Lisa. He made the mistake of telling her, and she laughed at him. I believe her actual words were something like, ‘Why on earth would you think I’d be interested in a freak?’”
Clara gasped. “No wonder he was furious with her.”
“Still,” Jessie said, putting down her glass, “that didn’t give him the right to kill her.”
Clara stared at her plate, remembering the clown’s words. People think that because I’m a clown they can laugh at anything and everything I say or do. They don’t think I have feelings just like everybody else. “That’s so sad. He lived to make people laugh, while inside he was miserable. That must have been so hard.”
“It doesn’t justify what he did,” Jessie said firmly.
“He must have been burning up with revenge.” Rick shook his head. “He’d heard the rumors about Lisa having an affair with Paul, so he forged a note from him to get Lisa to the concert stage. He said if he couldn’t have her he’d make sure no one else would. So he strangled her.”
Clara shuddered. “What about the pigging string? Where did he get that?”
“The what?” Jessie stared at her. “What on earth is that?”
“It’s a rope the cowboys use to tie down calves.” Clara looked at Rick. “Did he just happen to find it?”
“No, he stole it. He’d heard Wes fighting with Lisa about the way she’d treated him that afternoon, and he figured Wes would be blamed for the murder.”
Jessie made a sound of disgust. “And what about Seth? Where did he figure in all this?”
Rick took a sip of his wine and put down the glass. “Marty knew Seth from his days on the circuit. He told Seth he’d been hired to work a benefit at a local hospital and that he wanted to do it but he’d be breaking his contract. So he offered to pay Seth to take his place. Seth couldn’t resist getting back in the arena one more time.”
“And it cost him his life,” Clara said soberly.
Rick nodded. “Yeah, apparently Seth got suspicious when he heard about Lisa’s death. He went down to the pub that night to question Marty, and got run down for his troubles. Tim found traces of Seth’s blood on the fender of Marty’s truck.”
Jessie shivered. “How devious. He planned to murder that woman, and went to a lot of trouble to cover it up. Then he killed an innocent man to escape justice, and would have killed you, Clara, had this young man here not arrived in time to save you.”
“Yes,” Rick said, with a wicked wink at her. “You promised to thank me for that. Remember?”
Clara felt her cheeks warm as she caught her mother’s interested glance. “I have to thank Stephanie, too,” she said quickly. “If she hadn’t called you, you might never have seen that message on your phone until it was too late.”
“True.” Rick picked up his fork. “Your cousin said she had a feeling you were in danger. You two must be really close to tune in to each other like that. Though you do seem to have a knack for reading people’s minds.”
Clara froze. Had her mother told him about the Sense after all? She looked at Jessie and met her mother’s steady gaze.
Jessie gave an imperceptible shake of her head. “Clara has always been sensitive to people’s moods,” she said lightly.
Clara relaxed. She should have known her mother would keep quiet about something her daughter so desperately wanted to keep hidden. She felt reasonably secure in the knowledge that the Quinn Sense would remain a family secret—at least for now.
Smiling, she raised a glass. “Let’s drink a toast. To family and friends.”
Rick raised his glass, his gaze warm on her face. “To friendship and love.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jessie murmured.
Clara barely noticed. She was too busy staring into Rick’s eyes.
Clara Quinn was in the act of rearranging a display of cookbooks when she heard the ruckus. It sounded like a big dog in a tizzy. A really big dog. After trying for several moments to ignore the commotion, she walked over to the bookstore’s window to get a better look.
Outside, the afternoon heat shimmered on the cars passing by, dazzling her eyes. A group of summer visitors wandered along the storefronts, seeking the shade of the striped awnings as they hunted for souvenirs. Some of them paused to watch the cause of the disturbance—a shaggy black and gray dog leaping up and down, barking at a tall, blonde woman.
Clara winced. Roberta Prince, owner of the stationer’s next door, would not appreciate being pawed by a dog. Roberta never appeared in public without perfect makeup, an impeccable hairdo and an immaculate outfit.
One muddy paw print on that slim, white skirt or, worse, the coral silk shirt, and the image would be destroyed. Roberta’s day would be ruined, and everyone else around her would feel the repercussions.
As Clara watched, the irate woman backed off into the road. The dog advanced, apparently determined to knock her down. Roberta must have lost her nerve. She turned tail and dashed across to the nearest haven, which just happened to be the Raven’s Nest bookstore.
Unfortunately the door was on a strong spring. It didn’t close quite fast enough as Roberta charged through it, followed closely by her pursuer.
Roberta yelped and rushed toward the counter. The dog chased after her, its tail thrashing wildly. Colliding with the table, it sent Clara’s intricate display of cookbooks tumbling to the floor.
“Hey!” Clara flew over to the animal and grabbed its collar before it could do any more damage. The dog lunged forward, dragging her with it.
“Tatters! Sit!”
The loud bellow had come from the open doorway. In all the uproar, Clara hadn’t noticed Rick Sanders blocking out the sunlight. Rick owned the hardware store across the street and, by the looks of it, a very unruly animal.
Clara let go of the collar, allowing the big dog to trot around the counter, once more in pursuit of Roberta.
“Get that thing away from me!” Roberta flapped her hand at the dog, making it bark once more.
“Tatters!” Rick slammed the door shut behind him and strode forward, one hand raised in the air. “Here, boy. Now!”
Tatters ignored him and went on barking—loud, deep barks that seemed to reverberate throughout the shop.
Clara moved around the counter, leaned forward and laid a hand on the back of the dog’s neck. “It’s all right, Tatters. Just calm down, baby.”
Tatters whined and turned his head to look at her.
Cautiously, Roberta moved around the end of the counter. “You need to control that monster,” she hissed at Rick as she hurried to the door and hauled it open. “It’s a menace.”
Rick looked hurt. “He’s just a dog. He thought you had more cookies, that’s all.”
Roberta brushed imaginary hairs from her skirt and sent a disdainful glare at the offending animal. “That’s not a dog. It’s a . . . big . . . hairy . . . horse.” With that, she swept out of the shop and disappeared up the street.
Clara met Rick’s gaze and burst out laughing. “I guess she’s not a dog lover.”
Rick’s expression was grim. “I can’t really blame her. Look at him. He takes up more room than my truck. The thing is a menace.”
Clara patted the silky coat and received a moist lick on her hand in gratitude. “Oh, he’s not yours, then?”
“Not if I can help it.” Still scowling, Rick joined her behind the counter, where Tatters now sat panting, his tongue flopping out of his mouth.
Snapping the leash he held onto the dog’s collar, Rick glanced up at her. “You seem to have a way with dogs.”
The comment made Clara uncomfortable. She’d spent most of her life hiding the fact that the infamous sixth sense she’d inherited from her family gave her special insigh
ts into people’s minds. Not only people, it seemed, but animals as well. At least to the point where she could communicate with them in a way they understood. Some of the time, anyway.
The family called it the Quinn Sense. Not everyone inherited it, much to the disgust of Clara’s cousin, Stephanie, who owned the Raven’s Nest, loved all things paranormal and never got over the fact that the family curse, as Clara called it, had bypassed her.
Born just two months apart and more like sisters than cousins, she and Stephanie had grown up together, planned futures together, dreamed dreams together. They’d eagerly awaited the day when their powers would be fully developed. When they’d realized that Clara had the Quinn Sense and her cousin did not, it had caused an uneasy rift between the two of them. Unspoken, but there all the same.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Clara jumped, realizing that Rick was staring at her, no doubt confused with her silence. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about Roberta and wondering why Tatters chased her across the street.”
Rick made a sound of disgust in his throat. “She came into the store with a handful of cookies for the dog. I don’t know how she knew he was there. That woman doesn’t miss anything that goes on in Main Street. Or the whole of Finn’s Harbor, come to that.”
Clara grinned. “She does have an ear for gossip. People are calling her Maine’s main mole.”
A smile flicked across his face. “Cute. I like it.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.”
“So she gave Tatters the cookies?”
Rick nodded. “I warned her not to, but of course she didn’t listen. The dog wasn’t happy with what she gave him, so he started sniffing around her, looking for more. She backed off and he took it as a game. Before I could stop him, he’d chased her out of the store and across the street.”
Clara couldn’t resist another grin. “Yeah, I saw her.”
“I had a customer back there thinking about buying a very expensive lawn mower. There’s another guy asking where to find City Hall and someone else looking at garden tools. They’ve probably gone by now. Thanks to this brute.”
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