We all sat down. The molded plastic chairs had seen better days. I suspected the orange linoleum was the 1970s original, rather than a retro throwback. I held Moira’s hand. And Ben kept his arm around Nancy. She leaned on his chest, and he kept telling her it was going to be fine. When he caught me staring, he gave me a smile, which I returned.
Kristen arrived a short time later. She went back into the station. About twenty minutes later she and Pat walked out to the waiting room. The chief followed them.
“Let’s all go home,” was all Pat said.
“Dad, what’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that they don’t have enough to arrest your father, so they have to let him go. They could hold him, but we’ve agreed to come back tomorrow morning to answer any and all questions. We’ve offered to bring Nancy with us tomorrow. So tonight Pat is going home. He’s not to have any contact with his son, nor are the rest of you. If anyone hears from Ryan, we are to report back to Chief Paisley immediately. Is that clear?” Kristen said.
“Why should we turn our back on our son?” Nancy asked, her voice trembling. “I’ll never believe that he had anything to do with Thom’s death.”
“Of course he didn’t, Nancy. But this isn’t the best place to have this conversation,” Pat said, taking Ben’s place at his wife’s side. “Let’s go home. We’ll both see you in the morning, Chief. And thank you. We won’t let you down.”
As we all walked out of the station, Moira suggested we go back to the Sleeping Latte to talk. Pat turned her down.
“No, Moira, I need to go home and get some rest. The chief asked me not to talk to anyone, and I’m not going to. You’ll need some help at the shop tomorrow, sweetheart. Your mother’s coming with me.”
“Patrick Reed, we are not turning on our son.”
“Nancy, in the car. Please. We aren’t turning on our son. We are going to help him.”
The four of us watched as they drove away.
“Moira, why don’t I come by the Latte tomorrow and help you open?” Ben said.
“You have your own shop to run,” Moira said, her eyes still fixed on the taillights of her mother’s car as it vanished into the darkness.
“Aunt Flo just got back in town. I bet if I call her, she’ll be thrilled to come in and run the shop for a day or two.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Moira said.
“You didn’t ask. I offered. See you in the morning?”
“Yes, thanks. I am going to hitch a ride home with Kristen, and talk. Thanks again. Your faith in my father means the world.”
Ben and I walked over to his car and climbed in. He started the car and pulled out of the lot. I stared out the window.
“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking?” Ben asked.
“Just thinking that I don’t know what to think.”
“Ruth, I don’t know you that well, but I have complete faith that if anyone is going to figure this all out, it’s you.”
“That’s very nice,” I said, taking a deep breath. “And probably wrong.”
“I’m never wrong.” He smiled as he shifted Betty into drive. “Let me get you home. We have an early day tomorrow.”
“We?”
“You don’t think I’m slinging hash first thing in the morning by myself, do you? First of all, I’m a lousy cook.”
“Hey, I have my own shop to run. Besides, what makes you think I’m a good one?” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“We’ll get you back to your shop by ten o’clock, I promise. I’m heading home to read a cookbook. I just hope a day of bad food doesn’t sink Moira’s business.”
chapter 39
I’d barely fallen asleep when I felt Bezel standing on my chest and batting my head. Her claws weren’t out, but her intent was clear. Wake up, human.
“What?” I opened my eyes and saw her staring at me. Bezel and I had adopted each other, but up until now she was very good about letting me sleep, mostly. I hated to think this was a new phase of our relationship. Because sleep and I were elusive enough friends without my cat scaring it off. My cat.
She batted me again.
“Bezel, I just got to sleep. It’s past midnight. I have to wake up early to help Ben at the Sleeping Latte. So stop.” I rolled back over, flipping Bezel on her side. She retaliated by jumping back on my side and kneading up and down from my hip to my shoulder like a rotund tightrope walker. It was not a pleasant sensation.
One of the challenges with an open floor plan was there was nowhere to separate me from the cat. When she added a chorus of meows, I finally gave up.
“What is wrong with you, beast? Are you hungry?” I asked. I didn’t think that was possible. I’d been a little overgenerous with my food portions. I assumed that losing my grandfather had been a trauma for Bezel as well, and just in case she fed her feelings, I wanted her to have that option.
I started to get out of bed, but I heard a noise. I heard boxes being moved, and a crash. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Maybe the shop? I listened carefully, but didn’t hear anything else.
I swallowed hard, trying not to panic. I looked at my nightstand, but my phone wasn’t there. I’d forgotten to plug it in. My bag was on the chair next to the bed. I rummaged around the front pocket for my cell phone, and found it. I called 911 and breathlessly whispered my address and that I was fairly sure that someone had broken in downstairs.
“We’ll send someone over as soon as possible. It may be twenty minutes or so. Are you safe?” said the formal voice on the other end of the line.
“Twenty minutes? Aren’t you at the station?” I whisper-shouted.
“Ma’am. You’ve reached the barracks in Lee. We field the after-hours calls for Orchard. We’ll get someone there as soon as possible. Just lock yourself in and don’t confront the intruder. Do you want me to stay on the line?”
“No.” I hung up the phone. I heard another muffled noise. This one sounded closer. I called Chief Paisley on his cell.
“Paisley,” he said. He sounded really groggy, and I was oddly thrilled that I woke him up. After the party at the station, he sort of deserved it. Sort of.
“Chief, it’s Ruth Clagan. Someone’s in the shop. I called the barracks, but wanted to call you too.”
“They should have called me right away.” He was suddenly very awake. “I’ll be there in a few. Make sure the door’s locked. And don’t go downstairs—do you hear me?”
“I do.” And I did. I was no hero. Let the police do their job, at least this part of their job. I got up out of bed, using my cell phone as a flashlight. Bezel meowed at me.
“I’m just going to check on the door to downstairs. I want to make sure I locked it,” I whispered to my disgruntled guard cat. And to move the kitchen table in front of it, but Bezel didn’t need to know I was such a chicken. I didn’t want her to lose respect for me this early in our relationship.
I tiptoed toward the kitchen area, tugging my oversized T-shirt down over my sleeping shorts. Leave it to me to risk confronting a robber without any pants on. The door to the shop was open. Wide open. Hadn’t I closed it when I came in last night? Of course I had. I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep in a scream. I’d never go to sleep here without triple-checking the locks on all the doors. So who’d opened the door? What was that over there? I swung the flashlight beam to something beside the door. It was a black sack of some kind. My breath came in short pants. Where was the chief?
I took two steps back, my feet cold on the hard wooden floor. An arm looped around my waist. As I screamed I was flung into the wall of boxes. I lost my footing, and my cell phone, and fell backward. My back smacked the floor and knocked the wind out of me. The intruder, a blurred shadow in dark pants and a hoodie, flew at me. I rolled away, and the shadow stumbled. I gasped in gulps of air. Jumping up, the shadow ran back to the side
of the room, grabbing a box. I tried to stand up, and grabbed one of the kitchen chairs to steady myself. When I’d finally pulled myself upright, I couldn’t see anyone else.
A siren sounded, coming steadily closer. I looked over toward the door, moving in front of it as best I could without getting directly in the path of the robber. I couldn’t just let him, or her, leave. If I could just stall for another minute or two.
I put my hands on a chair back and picked it up. I heard Bezel yowl from my left. I turned to look just as the shadow ran at me with a brass carriage clock raised overhead. I darted to the left, but the shadow kept coming, hurtling toward the door . . . and me. I tossed the chair in its path. The figure stumbled and turned to throw the brass box toward me. I saw the gold blur coming right at me and felt it hit my shoulder as I turned around. I fell again, catching a final glimpse of the shadow hurtling down the stairs as it snatched up the sack by the door, carrying a box under its arm. Then it all went black.
chapter 40
“You really should go to the hospital and get checked out,” the EMT said. Again.
I moved around on the kitchen chair they’d deposited me on and tried to move away from her poking and prodding. Yet again, I declined.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You weren’t fine when I got here,” Chief Paisley said. “You were on the floor, clutching your shoulder.” He’d beaten the state police here by a few minutes and had taken control of the crime scene. Otherwise known as my home.
“You try getting clipped by a carriage clock and see how you do. Really, I’m fine. Just bruised. And shaken up. Where’s Bezel? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Hiding out under the bed. I moved her food nearby.”
The EMT reached over and tried to poke my shoulder. Again.
“Stop fussing,” I said. “I’m not going to go to the hospital. Do you need me to sign something that lets you off the hook if I keel over?”
“She’s just doing her job,” the chief said. “We’re all just doing our job.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I looked around the apartment. Piles of boxes had been pushed over. The kitchen chair lay broken by the door to the stairs. “I hate that all of my hard work bringing some order to the chaos of this shop has been undone.”
“Downstairs looks a little better,” he said. “It’s been searched, but you’d barely notice unless you happened to have photos of the space from earlier in the week. Tell me again what happened up here.”
“A noise woke me up. Well, actually, Bezel woke me up, but then I heard the noise. I thought it was coming from the shop, but it must have been up here.” I shivered. “I called you, went to make sure the door was closed, and then met the shadow. He . . .”
“Are you sure it was a man?” the chief asked.
I thought about it. “No, I’m not sure. But I’ll call it ‘he’ for now. Is that okay?” The chief nodded. “He pushed me into a stack of boxes, but then didn’t leave right away. Went back to the side table, over there, and grabbed something. I tried to stop him. I threw a chair, but then he threw a carriage clock at me. He grabbed the sack and left. Poor old clock. Where are the parts?”
“All over the place. Lots of glass. Do you recognize it?”
“Specifically, no. But it was a brass carriage clock. Please don’t throw anything away. I might be able to restore it. Or save some of the parts.”
The chief shook his head. “Always on duty, aren’t you?”
“Look who’s talking. Do you sleep in your uniform?” I asked. He looked less crisp, but fully dressed.
“I fell asleep reading. And at the moment, you are in no position to critique anyone’s clothing.” The chief ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and I thought I almost saw him smile. “Did you get a good look at the robber?”
I swallowed my instinct to make a smart comeback and said, “I didn’t. He, or she, had a hood pulled up over his or her face. And just a black, or maybe dark blue, sweatshirt, no logos. Dark pants. Black boots. Not very tall, but it’s hard to tell, since I was on the floor looking up most of the time. Strong. He threw me to the side like I was a sack of potatoes. I think he wore gloves, since I don’t remember seeing a hand. Beyond that, I’ve got nothing. Sorry about that.”
“You did fine. Do you think you feel up to looking around and seeing what he might have taken?”
“Um, sure.” Someone had wrapped the quilt from the end of my bed around my shoulders, and I pulled it tighter. Somehow I didn’t think that my oversized T-shirt featuring cats drinking tea and white sleeping shorts were the normal crime scene uniform. I reached for the yoga pants I’d tossed on the footboard, and the chief had the good manners to look away while I pulled them up, trying not to flash anyone. The chief handed me my flats and I put them on. I wobbled a bit when I stood up, and the chief put his hand under my elbow. I let him keep it there. We walked around to the card tables. There were piles of clocks, parts, and books all intertwined together. Four empty boxes were cast aside. I shook my head.
“I really hadn’t gotten to this area,” I said. “So I don’t have a sense of what exactly is missing. I can tell you that there were three—no, four—mantel clocks over there. I don’t see them.”
“Mantel clocks? Like the ones that were stolen last month?”
“Those were valuable antiques. The ones up here were modern replicas, or so I thought. Not without value, mind you, but not nearly as valuable as some of the other clocks.”
“Would I be able to tell the difference?”
“Probably, after I gave you a lesson.” I looked around the room.
“What’s that?” I asked, bending over the smashed remains of the carriage clock. “See that? There?”
The chief grabbed his flashlight and shined it where I pointed. The beveled glass glistened in the light. Brass clock parts were mixed in, surrounded by the battered body of the clock itself. But sitting amongst the ruins was a small gold pin.
“Did you grab photos of this area already?” Chief Paisley asked Officer Troisi.
“Yes, Chief,” she replied.
He reached down with his gloved hand and pulled a piece of metal from the wreckage of the old clock. At first it looked like a piece of the clock itself, but the shape gave it away. He held up the white gold wreath pin.
“Does one of these come with every clock?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Not yours?”
“No. I have no idea where it came from. It looks familiar, but that’s a pretty common style of pin. I think my grandmother had one.”
Chief Paisley put it in a plastic evidence bag and handed it to the officer.
“Should we take a look downstairs?” I asked.
“Sure, why don’t we do that. But before that, why don’t you pack a few things. I’m going to drive you over to Caroline’s.”
“Caroline’s? I don’t want to wake her up in the middle of the night.”
“I already did. She’s expecting you. You can’t stay here. The back door is wide open and this place is a crime scene. Ben came by to see what happened. Apparently Blue was barking and howling to wake the dead. According to Officer Troisi, he has offered to take care of Bezel and to let the locksmith in tomorrow. I assume you trust him?”
“I do. Do you?”
Chief Paisley looked surprised by my question, but recovered quickly.
“I do. So pack your toothbrush and some clothes. We need to get you over to Caroline’s. I’ll call and let her know we’re on our way.” He took a few steps toward the front kitchen to give me at least the illusion of privacy.
I sighed. I fished out another pair of leggings and a plaid shirt dress, rolled them up, and shoved them into my bag. I laid the quilt back on the bed and pulled a sweatshirt over my head. I exchanged my flats for my boots to complete the ensemble, and was ready to go.
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br /> The chief took a look at me and his lips twitched.
“What? This isn’t high fashion enough for you?” I said, looking down at my outfit.
“It’s a look. Is this all you need?”
“Yes, everything else is in my bag. Oh, can you throw the charger in? I want to charge my phone. Where’s my phone?”
“We found it over by the pile of boxes. You might as well take it.”
“Thanks.” I pointed to the table.
The chief picked up my bag and made an exaggerated show of almost falling over. I appreciated the effort to make me smile. It worked, and helped get my mind off the robbery and being attacked in my own apartment in the middle of the night.
“Watch out, it’s a little heavy,” I said, smiling and wincing at the same time. “Are you sure that Bezel will be all right?”
“She’ll be fine. Now let’s go downstairs. I have more bad news for you. Your car isn’t parked out back, or out front.”
“It’s at the cottage. Caroline’s car is in the shop—Pat drove it over to Marytown today. What time is it? Yesterday. He must have told you that.”
“So it looked like you weren’t home tonight. Interesting. Do you know what time he drove it over?”
“Late morning? Not sure. Why? Is that important?”
“It may be. We’re piecing the day together. There are a lot of holes in Pat’s timeline, which aren’t helping anyone. You wouldn’t know more about that, would you?”
“Chief, I may have a concussion after all, so anything I say is suspect. When I know something, you’ll know something.”
“I’m counting on that. Sure you have everything?”
“Oh, wait. One more thing. I want to bring the clock tower notebook over with me. G.T. had built a model, and I’d love to compare it with his notes.”
“I’ll get it for you. Where is it?”
“Maybe it’s still locked up in the wardrobe? Oh, wait, no. It’s right there. On the floor, next to the chair. I don’t think I left it on the floor though.”
Just Killing Time Page 21