“Thank you,” he said. “It would be helpful to stay put and get to work. The state police are determined to take jurisdiction, but Orchard is my town. I need to be on site, and staying next door is easier. I can probably make do down here; won’t need the upstairs.”
“Take the key, Jeff. Make yourself at home. Take a nap. You just drove back from Boston!”
“Thanks, Ruth. Don’t worry, I’ll watch out for her majesty if I do need to go upstairs.”
“Let me go up and pack an overnight bag,” I said.
I started to walk toward the back stairs, but stopped when I heard steps coming downstairs.
“Did you hear that?” I turned toward him, but he obviously had. He moved past me, gently pushing me to the side. Someone was coming down the stairs, and Jeff Paisley was the welcoming committee.
chapter 10
“Freeze!” Jeff Paisley said. Where did the gun come from? I hadn’t noticed a holster, but then again, I wasn’t looking for one.
“What the?” Nadia came downstairs and stood on the bottom step. “What’s going on?”
Nadia looked terrible: mascara streaks down her face, her hair smashed on one side, bloodshot eyes, carrying her boots, the cuff of her coat torn.
“Where have you been?” Jeff asked.
“We came back here during the lantern ceremony.”
“We?”
“Tuck and me.”
“Where is Tuck?”
“He’s right behind me. Can we come downstairs? Or are you going to shoot us?” she said, sarcastic even at gunpoint.
Jeff lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away. He stepped back and cleared some space.
“Yeesh. That was a little extreme, don’t you think?” Nadia said. Tuck followed her, his head lowered. His clothing looked as disheveled as Nadia’s did.
“Why did you come back here? What was the time?” Jeff asked again.
“I don’t know. Nine or so? Why we came back is private,” Tuck said. He looked up at Jeff, and I noticed the blood down the front of his shirt. It looked like his nose was broken, and he had a black eye.
“Listen, the two of you, answer his questions. Have you been upstairs this entire time?” I asked. Tuck always made me feel like a schoolmarm with no sense of humor.
“I kept bouncing around, making sure everyone had what they needed. I was over at the Corner Market, helping Mac, but Tuck came by, and we started talking. My bag was here, so we came back to get it. We came in the back door and went upstairs. Everyone was busy, so we didn’t say hi. When we got up there, we started talking more.”
“Talking?” Jeff asked, looking at them both.
“Okay, arguing,” Nadia said.
“Nadia, you don’t have to tell them anything,” Tuck said, gingerly touching the bridge of his nose. “It’s none of their business.”
“Of course I do. They’ve probably heard all about it. The whole town probably has, the way you made such an idiot out of yourself.”
“I made an idiot out of myself?”
“That’s right. Getting into a fight with Mark. Idiot.”
“You and Mark Pine fought tonight?” Jeff asked.
“I was over by the Sleeping Latte, and I saw him kiss Nadia. She left out the part of the story where she left the Corner Market with Mark. I’ll admit it, when I saw them, I lost it,” Tuck said. His color rose as he spoke, accentuating his bruises.
“It wasn’t a kiss kiss. It was a friend kiss. He brought me dinner! You’re such a jerk,” Nadia said.
“I don’t kiss my friends like that,” Tuck said. Nadia stopped talking. “So I took a swing at him—who’d blame me? Why, what’s he saying? Is he pressing charges? Is this why we are getting the third degree right now?”
“He’s not saying anything,” Jeff said. “He’s dead. He died earlier this evening.”
“He’s what?” Nadia said, her eyes wide. I rushed to her side as she began to crumple. I put an arm around her and lowered her onto a chair.
“Tell me more about this fight,” Jeff said, keeping his distance. Tuck didn’t move to Nadia. Instead he turned and addressed Jeff directly.
“Hey, listen, I said I took a swing. I never connected. The guy was some sort of martial arts master. Before I knew what happened I was flat on my back and my nose was bleeding.”
“Where did this happen? Outside the Corner Market?”
“No. He and Nadia were heading back here. I caught up to them past the Sleeping Latte, closer to Ben’s shop. A little before nine o’clock. Anyway, he knocked me flat. He wanted to talk to me about it, but I couldn’t deal with him then. I needed space so he went his way, and Nadia and I came back here. To talk.”
“Is that when Nadia’s coat got ripped?” I asked. Nadia was useless, weeping in my arms. We were sitting together in the chair and a half I’d located near the back of the store. It was a tight fit, but she wasn’t letting go. Neither was I.
“She tried to stop me from fighting with Mark. Her coat got ripped. It was an accident.” Tuck turned and sat at one of the stools at a workstation. Jeff remained standing, his eyes never leaving Tuck.
“Is that true?” I whispered to Nadia.
“Yes,” she said, nodding her head.
“Where did you go next?” Jeff asked.
“Up to the attic office.”
“That was over three hours ago.”
“We fought for a while, then Nadia went and got me a cloth for my nose. I must have fallen asleep.”
“How about you, Nadia? Did you fall asleep too?”
Nadia nodded her head, but she still couldn’t speak. She was sobbing, and I kept my arm across her shoulder.
Jeff finally secured his gun into the holster beneath his jacket. He pulled out his cell phone and hit a button.
“Ro, I’m over here at the Cog & Sprocket. I need you to come by and take a couple of statements. Yes, now.” While he was on the phone Nadia got up and went into the bathroom. She never looked over at Tuck. Once the door closed, I heard her start to wail.
“You can’t keep us here,” Tuck said.
“I can make this more official if you’d like,” Jeff said, his patience waning. “I assumed you would want to help me find out who killed your friend. He was your friend, wasn’t he, Mr. Powers? Didn’t you get him this job?”
“We went to high school together. Sure, of course I want to help. It’s only that Nadia is so upset, I should get her home.” Tuck started to rise, but Jeff gestured for him to stay put.
“Tell you what. After we get your statements, I’ll have someone drive you both home.”
“Do you want me to stay?” I asked, getting up. “I can make some coffee.”
Jeff shook his head. “Go and get Caroline home. We can touch base again tomorrow.”
I could tell I was being dismissed. I went upstairs and changed out of my dress. Yoga pants and a hoodie were much more comfortable. I fed Bezel and explained the situation to her as I packed. She was more interested in her food than my explanation, so I picked her up and kissed the top of her head, holding her reassuringly warm bulk for a few moments longer than I knew she liked. Even as she wriggled away from me I was comforted by that brief moment of contact. I grabbed my spare key and went back downstairs with my overnight bag, brushing fur off the front of my hoodie.
Nadia was back sitting in the chair, crying more quietly. Ro had pulled up a chair next to her, her cell phone on the arm of the chair and a half, a pad of paper on her lap. She was taking notes and nodding. I walked toward the front of the shop and noticed Tuck had moved to one of the chairs in the showroom. He wasn’t looking at the clocks. Instead, his elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hands.
Jeff Paisley was standing by the front counter of the store.
“I’m going out the back,” I said.
“Good idea. There’s still a crowd out front,” Jeff said.
“Here’s the spare keys. This one is to my apartment, and this one is to the office, in cas
e you need anything there.”
“So, Nadia and Tuck couldn’t have gone into your apartment?”
“No, neither of them have a key.”
“Did you go up to the office?”
“No, I thought you’d want to do that.” Actually, I hadn’t thought of that. Shoot. I was more tired than I thought.
“So, I have your permission to look around?” Jeff Paisley sounded more official than he had all night.
“You do. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“No, go take Caroline home. And take care of her; she was fond of Mark.”
She was indeed. We all were, or so I thought.
chapter 11
I went outside and pushed the unlock button on my car. Sigh. My car battery was still dead. Caroline’s car was right next to mine, but I didn’t have a key. I walked back down to the Sleeping Latte and knocked on the door again. Pat Reed answered.
“I was getting ready to send out the search party,” he said.
“Sorry about that. The chief wanted to ask me a couple of questions, and then we heard a noise upstairs. Nadia and Tuck had been up in the office ever since the open house was over.”
“What were they doing up there?” he asked.
“Fighting and sleeping, or so they say.”
“Just fighting and sleeping?” Pat said, raising his eyebrows.
“Oh please, don’t put that in my head,” I said, hitting him on the arm. “Anyway, Jeff is questioning them both. He’s using the Cog & Sprocket as base camp and it looks like this investigation is far from over for the night. I’m going to bring Caroline home. It’s probably best to let this go through the grapevine without help from us—what do you think?”
“I agree. Plus, this would wind Nancy up, and I don’t have the energy.”
“Is everyone still here?”
“No, Ro took all of our statements, and Ben took Flo home. Ada and Mac left too. Ada’s exhausted.”
“Of course she is. Not sure how she is going to make it for three more weeks.”
“Moira took some coffee and sandwiches up to the police officers, and then she was heading out. Nancy and I are going to close up and go home.”
“That’s good,” I said, absentmindedly. “Sorry, I zoned for a second.”
“That’s okay. This wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“They aren’t sure, but it doesn’t look like it,” I said. A half-truth. The full truth was going to get around town before dawn anyway.
“Not again,” Pat said, rubbing his arm. “Are you okay, Ruthie?”
“I’m shaken up. You?”
“Sleep will help us all. Where’s your car?”
“Up at the shop. Battery’s dead. We’ll take Caroline’s car.”
Pat held his hand out. “I’ll take care of your car.”
I shook my head. “I can call someone,” I said.
“No, let me do this for you, Ruth. Go get some rest.”
• • •
Pat walked us both to Caroline’s car and made sure it started before he took my car keys and went back to the Sleeping Latte to pick up Nancy.
I drove slowly out to the cottage. There weren’t a lot of streetlights, and I couldn’t tell if the shiny spots up ahead were ice or water, or my eyes playing tricks. We hadn’t spoken yet, but the silence was comfortable, though heavy with sadness. “Caroline, you holding up?” I asked.
“He was a lovely young man. They think someone did this to him?” she said, her eyes wide. She was normally so composed, but I could tell she was really feeling this.
“That’s what people are saying.”
“The thought that someone may have wanted to hurt him? I can’t fathom it.”
“Neither can I. How about if we talk about something else? How did you think the open house went?”
“Lord, that seems like days ago, doesn’t it? It went well, really well. We talked about it a little, after you’d left with Jeff. Everyone was pleased.” Her voice broke, and she looked out the window again.
“Oh, hey, I forgot to mention this. Someone called today. Zake Phillips?”
“Zane Phillips?”
“Zane, right. Come to think of it, I might have seen him earlier too. Tall, thin, white guy?”
“With a scar on his right cheek?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Zane is a clockmaker. Knew your grandfather,” she said, half smiling despite the dry tears lining her cheeks.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”
“You wouldn’t. He’s been under the radar for years. He closed his shop a few years ago, thinking he’d retire, but it didn’t suit him. So he started working for other clockmakers and doing his own work on the side. That’s how he got the scar.”
“He got that scar from clocks? Calluses, maybe. A rotator cuff injury from winding clock towers—I can see that. A bad back from squatting and twisting and lifting when you are fixing a grandfather clock? Been there, done that. A scar across the face, from a clock? This you have to explain.”
Caroline laughed. “Zane was always trying to push the boundaries of clocks. He decided to make a clock out of knives.”
“Knives? That’s crazy!”
“I think it was a commission of some sort. For a restaurant. Anyway, the balance was off on the pendulum, given the knife he was using, actually a machete—”
“A machete? Yikes.”
“Yikes indeed. He was working on the balance and got too close to the clock and was cut. He was so stubborn he wouldn’t go and get it sewn up, so he got a terrible scar. It made him look scary, but he’s actually the sweetest man I know. He’s been a good friend to me over the years.”
This story didn’t jibe with the feeling I’d gotten from Zane earlier. But then, I wasn’t always the best judge of men. Example one being my ex-husband. Example two being Beckett Green. Given my history, Zane Phillips probably was a saint, and I’d misjudged him.
“He’s in town and wants to have dinner.”
“Now, that gives me something to look forward to. Do you have his phone number?”
“I do. In my dress pocket. Which is in my apartment. Sorry, I’ll get it to you tomorrow.”
“No worries. Much as I’d love to see him, I want to focus on Mark for a bit.”
“I hear you, and I agree. We’ll do what we can to make this right.”
I reached over and grabbed Caroline’s hand, giving it a squeeze. I navigated the turns, avoided the ice, and finally pulled into the driveway. The moonlight sparkled on the lake in the distance. The porch light was on, welcoming us back to the lovely old Cape. It was so peaceful out here, a sharp change from the chaos in Orchard. We were home.
• • •
I gave up trying to sleep around six thirty. I thought I’d be the first one up, but Caroline had still beaten me. She was sitting at the table fully dressed, her hair swept back in her customary twist. The unopened paper lay in front of her, a coffee mug clutched in one hand and a crumpled tissue in the other. She was staring into space, and I coughed softly from the doorway before I came into the kitchen.
“Oh, good morning, Ruth,” she said, dabbing her eyes and clearing her throat.
“Good morning, Caroline,” I said. “You all right?”
“I didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“I know what you mean,” I agreed. Every time I’d closed my eyes I saw poor Mark Pine lying in Ben’s shop, but I didn’t tell Caroline that. I suspected it was Mark that kept her up as well. She’d taken a real shine to him.
I put the notebook I carried down on the table, then I walked over and poured a cup of coffee. I sat down at the table across from Caroline and opened the large sketch notebook I used for everything—sketches of clocks, lists for every event, shopping lists, recipes, notes from meetings. I went through one every few months and then indexed what was in it for future reference, adding a table of contents. I’d inherited the notebook habit from my grandfather. I’d dev
eloped the table of contents habit after I’d spent some time trying to catalog his old books, to no avail. I was at the tail end of this book, but I hoped to stretch its use out to the New Year and the reopening of the shop in just a few days’ time. I felt guilty even thinking about that. I looked over the notes I’d written last night right before I went to bed, the ones I’d re-created from memory. I’d had to give the originals to Jeff, and it hadn’t seemed appropriate to ask to make a copy. Finding Mark Pine’s killer was another task I’d added to my to-do list.
I turned the page and looked over the watch I’d sketched the night before in the guestroom after Caroline had gone to bed. It was rough, and from memory. I’d sketched the twisted vines on the side, trying to remember the exact pattern. I wondered if Jeff Paisley would let me look at it again. The watch might hold some answers.
“What’s that?” Caroline asked.
“This?” I said. “Just a watch I saw somewhere. Why, do you recognize it?”
“No,” she said softly. I was fairly certain she was lying, but I didn’t push. Caroline was a lovely woman, but her guard was up all the time. I wasn’t about to toss stones though, since my house was glass. I was fresh from a divorce, forging a new life in a town that was both familiar and foreign. I knew Caroline had a son I still hadn’t met, but the rest of her life before marrying G.T. was a mystery to me. I’d asked a few questions, but she didn’t offer answers, and I didn’t push. We were both opening up, slowly, but neither of us was given to effusive sharing of feelings. We had time.
She was still staring at the watch, so I gently turned the page back to the list of things I needed to do this week.
“Caroline, do you think you could give me a ride to the shop? I hope Pat jumped my car. I need to go back to Marytown and the party store yet again. We went through almost all the paper goods I bought.”
“So, everything will still go on as if nothing happened?” she said, stiffly folding her hands in her lap.
I took a deep sigh and looked at Caroline. “I thought about this a lot last night. On the one hand, it feels wrong to plan to reopen the shop on schedule, what with what happened to poor Mark. On the other hand, he worked as hard as anyone did to get the shop ready to open. The best tribute I can make to him is to show off his work.”
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