“Maybe the robber moved it? Looking for something?”
“You would have thought I would have woken up. Yeesh.”
“Or maybe Bezel knocked it over.” The chief didn’t sound convinced, but we both let it go. “Have you had any luck finding his current notebook?”
“None. And no luck finding the elusive deed. Though I did find the clue Grover Winter left for my grandfather. A lovely old Harrison. Whoa.”
“Whoa? What are you doing, Ruth? Be careful.”
I’d rushed back to the wardrobe and found the key on the back, just where I’d left it. I unlocked the door and searched through the top box of notebooks.
“Grover Winter left my grandfather a clock, a Harrison sea clock. There was a note inside, telling him that the clock would lead him to what he needed, or something like that.”
“I know all about it. Thom told me.”
“The other day, I found an envelope addressed to G.T. Here it is. The return address was John Harrison. I looked in it, but all I saw were old files. But maybe, just maybe.”
The chief had put on some gloves and gently took the envelope from me. He pulled out the contents and laid them out on the bed. I leaned over and put my hand on his shoulder to see better. And to stop me from toppling over.
There were articles and pictures and a treasure trove of information about the old Town Hall. There was also a commemorative booklet that had been published on its centennial in 1965. The chief picked it up and gently fanned the pages. Something was stuck in the middle. With far more patience than I felt, he opened the book to the page and pulled out an oversized envelope. It looked fairly new, and was addressed to Thomas Clagan. The chief looked inside and pulled out another envelope. He looked inside that one and made a slow whistling sound.
“Is that?”
“The deed to the old Town Hall. Signed over to your grandfather. You found it, Ms. Clagan.”
“More importantly, the robber didn’t,” I said.
chapter 41
I woke up in my old room at the cottage. It was a little different now, since it was the guest room, but the bed was the same, the quilt was the one my grandmother made me when I was ten, and the rocking chair was in the exact same place. I thought for a minute that I was refreshed, but then I tried moving and my back ached. Every shift hurt, but I tried to stretch, hoping to work out some of the kinks.
I remembered last night. Caroline hadn’t fussed over me when I arrived, but I could tell she was concerned. The chief stayed and had a cup of tea with us, and we told her about finding the deed.
“That’s wonderful news. It’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Jeff?” she asked.
“I’d think so.”
“He’s going to bring it by Kristen’s in the morning,” I said.
“Unless you’d like to take custody of it?” the chief asked.
“Since it was in the shop, I think it technically belongs to Ruth. It’s probably safer with you for now,” Caroline said as she put down her teacup. “This piece of paper has caused enough grief already. First Thom, then Ruth.”
“So you think that both incidents had something to do with the deed?” the chief asked.
“Of course I do, Jeff. This piece of paper could cost folks thousands of dollars. Look for the person who attacked Ruth tonight. That’s who you are looking for,” Caroline said.
“You may be right, Caroline. But there are still the five stolen clocks.”
“A gift to the Reed family, from Thom and me. No stolen clocks, aside from the ones that were taken tonight. Tell me, Ruth, was it Pat Reed who attacked you?” Caroline asked.
“No, of course not. This person was not big enough to be Pat, anyway.”
“How about Ryan Reed?” the chief asked, staring right at me.
I couldn’t help but look away. “I don’t know.”
“All right, that’s enough. Ruth needs some rest. You can talk to her again in the morning.” With that, Caroline shooed Chief Paisley out of the room. We followed him out and she locked the door behind him.
“Thank you, Caroline. I’m so sorry to impose like this,” I said, shifting gingerly in my chair.
“Please, it isn’t an imposition. How are you feeling?”
“I feel like a truck ran over me and then backed up and parked.”
“The adrenaline is wearing off. Go ahead upstairs. I’ll bring you up some water and ibuprofen. Maybe we can get ahead of some of those aches and pains. A hot bath would also be good.”
“I don’t have it in me to take a bath. I think I just want to go to sleep.”
“I’ll be right up.”
The second my head hit the pillow, I had fallen into a deep, deep sleep.
Now I looked at the bedside table and saw the three tablets laid out beside a glass of water. I could either lie in bed and wait for the pills to kick in or I could get moving and try to go to the Sleeping Latte to help Moira and Ben. I sat up gingerly, regretting throwing off the warm covers almost immediately.
My bag rested on the rocking chair, and I reached in for my cell phone to check the time. Dead battery. I found the charger and plugged it in. It was so dead that it wasn’t coming right back to life, so I shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom to get ready for the day. Caroline was just coming out of her room, dressed in running tights and a fleece.
“You’re up,” she said. “I was going out for a quick run, but let me make some coffee.”
“You run?” I asked.
Caroline laughed. “I do. I used to race, but my knees won’t tolerate that anymore.”
“Did you get G.T. to run with you?” I asked, enjoying the mental image.
“Heavens no. I barely got him to take walks with me. But I find that when life gets a little overwhelming, a run helps clear my mind.”
“Maybe I should try that,” I said. “But not today. Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“Of course not. I left a towel for you and there’s shampoo in the shower. Take all the time you need. I’ll be back shortly.”
I expected another trip down memory lane when I stepped in the bathroom, but I was happily surprised to see the update. The old vanity was gone and replaced by an off-white solid-surface sink and countertop on top of a cherry cabinet. The old, metal medicine cabinet had been replaced by a larger cabinet and the tiles were all in shades of white and beige, simple but elegant. I wondered what, if any, other modifications Caroline had planned for the rest of the house.
The hot water streamed down on me from the tall, rain showerhead, pounding on my aching body, and I offered up a silent prayer of thanks that I was not crouched in the torture device that passed for a shower back at the apartment. I could have stayed there all day, but after a few minutes of steaming, I climbed out. I toweled myself off and borrowed some of the lotion on the edge of the tub, slathering my body and pulling some of it through my hair. I didn’t have any hair product with me, and knew that I would have a frizz attack very shortly. I wove my hair into a quick braid and finished getting dressed.
I was hobbling like an old woman, but that couldn’t be helped. The few bruises I could see in the mirror were impressive. I forced myself to think back to what had happened last night. There was something that seemed familiar about the shadow, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. The whole thing felt like a nightmare, but each time I moved or breathed too heavily it became all too real again.
I went back to the bedroom and made the bed. The phone responded when I turned it on, and I was surprised that I had four messages waiting for me. The first and third were both from Jonah, asking me to bring the files and box over to the house. Shoot. In all the hustle and bustle yesterday I’d forgotten to drop off the boxes, but they were still in the back of the car.
The middle message was from Ben Clover.
“Ruth, just checking in with you. Don�
�t even think of coming in to the diner this morning. Aunt Flo is going to keep her eye out for the locksmith. I went by this morning and did what I could to fix the door, but I think you’ll need a new one sooner rather than later. We can talk about that this afternoon.”
The last message was from Chief Paisley.
“This is Jeff Paisley. I hope you’ve recovered a bit from last night. I want to make sure we’ve crossed all the t’s and dotted all the i’s regarding the deed. I’d like you to come by the station so I can take an official statement. Could you do that this morning so we can get the paperwork filed today? I’ll see you by ten o’clock, all right?”
I checked the time on my cell phone. The chief wanted to see me in an hour. I suspected dealing with the deed would take the better part of the day, so I needed to make two quick stops first. A stop by Jonah Winter’s house, and then the Sleeping Latte for breakfast. Maybe I’d bring the chief a breakfast sandwich, if Ben had figured out how to make them.
I went down to the kitchen and grabbed a cup of the coffee Caroline had made before she set out for her run. I didn’t properly enjoy it, but it was useful in both warming and waking me. I wrote her a short note, explaining that I was heading into town per the request of Chief Paisley. I’d get the car back out to her as soon as I could. I rinsed my mug and left it on the draining board as I headed back toward town.
chapter 42
On my way to Jonah’s, I called Ben. I didn’t reach him so I left a message.
“Hi, Ben. Thanks for the call. I’m feeling okay. I need to drop something off at the Winters’ house that I just keep forgetting about, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to grab a quick bite at the Latte. I’m meeting with Chief Paisley at ten o’clock, so I won’t be able to help out this morning. Sorry about that, but I have some good news to share so I’ll be by later. And I know seeing you sweating behind that counter in a hairnet will make me feel better. See you soon.”
I plugged my phone back in my lighter and stored it on the dash. I liked the voice of the woman who left that message. She was bright and cheerful, despite having been beaten up a few hours prior and being in the middle of a challenging, to put it mildly, week. Dare I say it, I might have even been flirting with Ben. Just a little bit. The air of Orchard was changing me.
I hadn’t been to the Winters’ house for years, and even then, only a couple of times as a visitor when G.T. took me along while he talked to Grover. But as a citizen of Orchard, I’d been there three times a year, every year, once I moved to Orchard full-time. Besides the Fourth of July picnic, there was the Halloween Haunted House, held the Saturday before Halloween for all the kids in town, and the Holiday Open House, held the weekend between Christmas and New Year’s. The picnic and Halloween parties were open to the entire town, but the Holiday Open House was invite only, and my grandparents were always on the list.
I loved all these events, but especially the Holiday Open House. The entire first floor was open, decorated from floor to ceiling with garlands, twinkle lights, and at least one tree per room. The food was plentiful and there were games, music, and even folk dancing to keep everyone laughing late into the night. But I, of course, always took a tour of the clocks. Perhaps it was because of the size of the house, but there didn’t seem to be too many clocks, just enough. I’d looked through Caroline’s book that was a clock tour of the Winters’ house last night, and I recalled a lot of them. I remember trying to be in a different room each quarter hour to hear the chimes and to see if I could identify the clocks. My grandmother was oblivious to the effort, but my grandfather had caught on and joined me a few times. On the way back home, we’d talk about the collections, my grandfather quizzing me on the characteristics of the longcase in the parlor or the shelf clock in the music room. My visits to the Winters’ home had been an important part of my clock-appreciation development.
I came around a corner and there sat the Winters’ house on top of a hill. As I approached the house I realized the current Winter estate paled in comparison to my nostalgia-tinted memories, but I suppose that was to be expected. Sure, the lawns weren’t as manicured as they always had been and the gardens were in need of tending. It was a lot of house for one family to keep up with, and I suspected that it would return to its former glory under the care of Harris University. The empty flower urns on the front stoop just looked sad.
I pulled around the horseshoe-shaped driveway to the front of the house and parked. I was tempted to tap on the horn, but I didn’t think it was appropriate. Instead I climbed up the front steps, gritting my teeth as my muscles ached, and rang the bell. It made a satisfying chiming sound that bounced around the front hall. I looked down at the battered garden and noticed several concrete animals lined up. Each one was missing a limb or an ear. The carnage looked intentional, and I shuddered a bit at the sight.
No one came to the door, so I went back to the car and opened the back hatch. I put the keys in the front pocket of my dress. I loved pockets and was so relieved when I found clothes with them. I felt something small and sharp in there with the keys and pulled it out. The earring I’d found that first day in the shop. I needed to remember to ask Caroline about it. And I probably should ask her if I could do a load of laundry at her house.
I dragged one of the boxes out of the trunk. Fortunately, it was more cumbersome than heavy, but still, my battered body felt the half-dozen steps to the front porch. I went back and took out the second box, and was almost to the first step when the front door opened.
Jonah Winter stood with the door half opened, making no move toward helping me with the box.
“Jonah, I could use some help with these.”
“Just leave the boxes there. I’ll get them. Very kind of you to bring them. Thanks so much. Family history, missing bits and pieces. Sorry I can’t invite you in, but I’m in the middle of something.”
“Are you all right?” I asked. Not only was he acting odd, but I could swear he was wearing the same clothes he wore when we first met. He hadn’t shaved since, and his eyes were rimmed with red, with dark circles underneath.
“I’m fine, really. Thanks again. I’ll be seeing you.” Jonah went to close the door, but it suddenly swung open. Aggie Kurt, wearing black jeans and the top of her delivery uniform, stepped out from behind her brother. She held a gun in her hand and moved it toward me.
“Jonah, what would Dad say about your hospitality? Invite her in.” She pushed him forward a bit. “Let’s make sure she really brought us our clocks, shall we? You, bring that box in here. Jonah, grab the other one. And neither of you try anything. I’ve got plenty of bullets.”
I could have dropped the box and run, but I had no doubt that Aggie would shoot. And even if she missed, she’d probably catch me. If the angels were on my side, maybe I could get the car started and leave, but it was a big maybe.
And then there was Jonah. He looked terrible, and from the way Aggie was grabbing his shirt and moving him around like a tall puppet, I didn’t think he’d survive if I ran. Not that I knew Jonah very well, but still. I couldn’t leave him to fend for himself.
I followed Aggie’s directions and brought the box into the front hallway. I was shocked by the change in the house. The old-money elegance had been completely replaced by a postapocalyptic nightmare. Frequently a house lost its personality when it was emptied out, but this time the markings weren’t just normal wear and tear; they were vandalism. The corners of wallpaper were torn and the bare walls adorned with hooks and bright boxes the only indication of where the magnificent artwork had hung. The floors were naked, with long drag marks marring the parquet.
“Go get the other box,” Aggie said bitterly. “Baby brother isn’t up to it after all.”
I almost refused, claiming a bad back, but I didn’t want to let Aggie know I was hurt. I suspected that if she decided I wasn’t of use, I’d be deemed expendable. I had to step down to ground level to pull the box towa
rd me, rather than bend over and pick it up. But I did it, trying to ignore the twinge I felt in my lower back. I breathed through it and held my stomach muscles as tightly as I could.
I walked back up the stairs and into the foyer. Aggie slammed the door shut behind me, throwing the locks, including the huge bolt at the bottom of the door.
“Make yourself useful, little brother, and grab that other box. Bring it in here.” She pointed to the room to the right of the foyer. A front parlor, if my memory served. I focused on my breath and tried to remember what I’d learned at the yoga retreat last week. Was that only last week? I shook my head and focused on what was happening right now, trying to keep the fear that kept rising in my throat at bay.
Jonah struggled with the box, but finally got it up. He barely made it through the doorway before he dropped the box on the floor and then crawled to the sofa, where he lay down. Sweat soaked the back of his shirt, and I noticed he was shaking.
“Your sports drink is right there, Jonah. The red one, the one you like so much. Drink up, little brother.”
I put my box down on the seat of a wing-back chair and stood up carefully. If there were signs of damage in the hallway, this room had become the symbol of a new reality for the Winter family. The couch that Jonah was lying on was ripped open, with horsehair and springs forcing their way out. The fireplace to my left was full of books and mangled picture frames. Singe marks indicated that someone had tried to start a fire. The leather club chairs were both gashed open, and the stuffing had been pulled out. I recalled this room from the open houses of years past. I remembered the wonderful cacophony of chimes on the hour, and I was immediately grateful that the clocks were all safe, back at our shop.
“Open the box and take out the clocks. All of them,” Aggie said, turning the gun on me.
I did as she asked, laying them all out on top of the ottoman carefully. She picked up the first one, the lovely Seth Thomas miniature I’d looked at the other day. She dropped it in front of her and stomped on it. I couldn’t help it—I cried out. Still keeping the gun trained on me, she bent over and rifled through the debris left over.
Just Killing Time Page 22