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a mental note to mention it to Stephanie. Mice ate books, didn’t they? Or was that rats? Either way, she’d rather not come face-to-face with them. She started cutting open the cartons with a feverish speed, hauling books onto the rollaway until it was full. Then, with a last look over her shoulder, she opened the door and shoved the loaded cart out into the aisle.

    Stephanie was waiting for Clara when she arrived at the bookstore the next day. She must have been watching from the window, since she met Clara on the doorstep with her coat collar turned up and a scarf wound around her head.
    The bitter wind swirled dust and dried leaves around their feet as they walked back down the hill to the parking lot. “You could have called me from the car,” Stephanie said as they crossed the lot to where Clara had parked her car.
    “I need the exercise and fresh air.” Clara pressed her key to open the doors. The car answered with a faint
beep
and the
click
of locks releasing.
    Stephanie trudged around to the passenger side, raising her voice as the wind buffeted her face. “If the air gets any fresher, we’ll be blown right off our feet.”
    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