Free Mind Over Murder by Allison Kingsley

her all that well.” Frannie’s expression suggested she was okay with that. “She’s from New York.” She said it as if that explained a lot about the woman, and none of it complimentary.
    Clara wondered if the comment was somehow directed at her, then decided Frannie was not that subtle. “Have you met her?”
    Frannie rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes. She looks like one of those skinny models on magazine covers. You know, fancy blonde hairdo, lots of makeup, expensive clothes. I wouldn’t have thought someone like her would ever want to live in Finn’s Harbor.”
    “Oh, I know her!” Stephanie nudged her head at the window. “I’ve seen her going in and out of Rick’s store.”
    Frannie followed the gesture with a scornful glance. “Yes, she seemed to spend a lot of time over there. Maybe she was trying to buy his business, as well.”
    Clara raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
    Frannie shrugged. “All I know is, she sure wanted Jordan’s real bad. She knew Ana was having financial problems, and she was bugging Ana for months to sell the business. I overheard them talking about it in the office. Arguing, I should say. Ana even threatened to sue her for harassment if she didn’t leave her alone.”
    Stephanie exchanged a glance with Clara. “That is weird. I wonder why she wanted Jordan’s.”
    Frannie sniffed. “Whatever it is, it was real important to her. She acted like she’d go to any lengths to get what she wanted. Maybe even . . .” she gulped, then muttered, “. . . murder.”
    Clara balled her fingers into fists. The voices were back. Whispering, insistent. “Are you saying,” she said more loudly than she intended, “that you think Roberta Prince killed Ana to get her business?”
    Fear flashed across Frannie’s face. “I’m . . . not saying anything. I don’t know what happened. I don’t want to know.” She snatched up her book off the counter and practically ran to the door. “The best thing all of us can do is forget about the whole thing and let the police take care of it.” The door closed behind her with a loud snap.
    “Well,” Stephanie said softly. “What do you make of that?”
    Clara cleared her throat. “I think that Frannie’s afraid of Roberta Prince and thinks that she killed Ana to get her hands on the business.”
    “Which is nonsense, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    They laughed in unison, though Clara got the impression that she wasn’t the only one who wondered if there was a grain of truth in Frannie’s ambiguous remarks.
    The afternoon seemed to drag for Clara once Stephanie had left. Business was quiet, and she had plenty of time to browse the bookshelves in between customers.
    Stephanie’s love of all things Poe was obvious. The shelves were stuffed with books by him and about him, and on the wall hung pictures of the author, his house in Philadelphia and his final home in the Bronx.
    By the time Clara was ready to close up shop, she had a pretty good idea of where to find everything and was feeling quite pleased with herself as she stepped out into the quiet street and locked the door.
    Warmth still rose from the sidewalk, even though the sun had disappeared behind the hills. The breeze from the ocean lifted her hair, cooling her face as she started down toward the parking lot.
    She had only taken a few steps when she heard heavy footsteps pounding behind her. Whoever it was, he was catching up fast. Remembering Ana’s dead eyes staring up at her, Clara quickened her pace.
    The footsteps drew closer.
    Voices started whispering in her head. She was tempted to listen, wondering if it was a warning. Surely the killer wouldn’t attack her out here on the street, where a car could come along any minute?
    The next streetlamp was a few yards away. She probably couldn’t outrun him. She’d have to confront him. Wishing she had a gun in her purse, she hurried up to the lamp, then swiftly turned on her pursuer.
    Rick Sanders came to a screeching halt just a