Clock and Dagger
Page 11
“I know. Parking tickets—that’s what I’ve come to. Kim sees them as a way to increase town funds. I see them as a way to get citizens to avoid using businesses down here. I can’t make anyone happy on this front.”
“It does seem like parking tickets aren’t the best use of your skill sets. Mark Pine’s death is, don’t you think?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. The state is in charge, I’m supposed to follow their lead.”
“The state being the state police.”
“One and the same.”
“Pat Reed calls them staties. So do I, come to think of it.”
“Not very respectful,” Jeff said, though he had a small smile.
“I won’t call them that to their face. Anyway, we both know that you are the best man for this job,” I said. “I want to find out what happened to Mark, and why. So what do we do next?”
“We don’t do anything. I keep on investigating and keep the chain of command informed of what I find.”
“As part of your investigation, how about if I take a look at that watch, see what I can find out? Unless you’re going to use Beckett Green as your watch expert?”
“Beckett Green? Never mind. I don’t want to know, unless he’s breaking the law. I could use your help on figuring out the watch. You sure it wasn’t Mark’s?”
“So the watch is a clue?”
“Depends on who you ask. There are lots of threads to the investigation. I’m following up on the watch. Do you think it was Mark’s?”
“I’m not sure. It was a watch he wouldn’t mind owning, that’s for sure. I know you know this, but if it was his watch, his fingerprints would be on the release clasp, on the winding mechanism, and on the case. I’d need to look at it more closely to see if it needed to be wound daily, or weekly. If it’s an eight-day watch, it will run out on Saturday. Friday is winding day.”
“Why Friday?”
“Mark had some very, very precise habits. Friday was winding day in his world. He was obsessive about it. Also, if the watch was his, you probably won’t find his fingerprints on the crystal or on the bezel. He was obsessive about keeping them clean.”
“I thought bezels and crystals were the same thing.”
Bezel was motionless, peering out the window, but at the mention of her name, her ears flicked around and the tip of her tail twitched.
“No, bezels are the ring that hold the crystal in place,” I said, impressed with his clock knowledge. “You can determine a lot by the bezel, and the designs on it. I’d love to see this one.”
Bezel’s ears flicked forward again, back to more interesting things.
“So would I. I’ll see what I can do to get you photos. How does that sound?”
“Could you send me the pictures of the watch you took?”
Jeff opened up his phone and flicked through the pictures.
“I’ll send them to you later,” he said.
“Why not now? They aren’t official photos, are they?”
“Ruth, they are of the crime scene. I’d rather you didn’t have to see Mark like that. How about you give me time to crop a couple of photos, and then I’ll send them to you.”
“Thanks for being worried about me. But you forget, I’m the person who found him. I kept seeing him every time I closed my eyes last night. I can’t believe I missed the watch.”
“It was a mess over there, and you were in shock. Anyway, at some point you may need to testify about what you found. You’ll probably get questioned about it. Won’t help anyone if you have photos that can be studied. Give me an hour or so. I’ll get you photos of the watch.”
“All right, I guess I understand.”
“Thanks for that. I’m sorry that you didn’t sleep well, Ruth. We’ll find out what happened to Mark, but you’re not going to unsee him for a while. Let me know if you want to talk about it. You suffered a trauma last night; you need to take care of yourself. Or let other folks take care of you. Agreed?”
“Thanks, Jeff. Agreed. I guess it’s starting to hit me. It’s so sad.” I took a minute to regroup, and Jeff waited. It was one of the things I liked best about him. He didn’t try to fix emotions, or brush them aside. I took a deep breath and went on. “I promise, if I need to talk, you’re my first call. And please, let me help you however I can. That’s probably the best medicine possible.”
• • •
Jeff went in to wash his face, and I cleaned up the kitchen area. I wondered if I would ever take my new galley kitchen, and its lovely appointments, for granted. Probably not. Pat sought out, and found, a number of bargains that made my new kitchen affordable. Like in the bathroom, small scratches on the refrigerator, a dent on the dishwasher, a chip on the counter, a faucet hose that didn’t retract automatically, and two different types of cabinets. All new to me, and much nicer than my budget would have allowed so I didn’t mind that they weren’t perfect.
I followed Jeff down the stairs and went to open the front door, which was double keyed. He walked over to the chair that he’d used as a workstation and began to gather his things. His backpack lay on the floor.
I opened the door and found Ben standing there, holding a huge bouquet of flowers and reaching forward to knock on the door.
“Ben,” I said. Brilliant conversationalist, that’s me.
“Morning, Ruth,” he said, smiling that easy smile of his. “I hope it isn’t too early.”
“I’m going to head into the office. I have an extra uniform there,” Jeff said, walking up behind me. “I’ll get you the pictures as soon as I can. Oh, hey, Ben. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I didn’t know you were here, Jeff.”
“I ended up staying here last night,” Jeff said, pulling on his jacket. “Thanks again for breakfast, Ruth. I’ll get you those photos before noon. Wait—let me give you your key back.”
“Why don’t you keep it? You may need to come back when I’m not here. You’re always welcome,” I said.
“Thanks. Remember, call me,” Jeff said, pointing at me.
“I will, I promise.”
“Ben, are you around today?” Jeff asked.
“Not at my shop, but you already know that,” Ben said, his hands clenched around the bouquet of flowers. “I’ll be out at Aunt Flo’s. You’ve shut her down as well.”
“I haven’t shut anyone down, Ben. You know that,” Jeff said. “I’ll see what I can do to get her store back up and running, but it is in the same building as your shop. They have a right to keep it closed down while the investigation is still active. I’ll call you later and give you an update.”
Ben didn’t say anything, and Jeff left. I imagined that Jeff was used to people not being happy with him, but Ben was radiating animosity. You’d think he blamed Jeff for Mark being killed in his store.
“Come in,” I said. “It’s cold out there.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ve got to get back,” he said, shuffling his feet a bit on the welcome mat.
“Oh well, those are lovely flowers,” I said. The mixed bouquet was in shades of white, a welcome change from the red and green that had covered every surface over the holidays.
“They’re not for you,” Ben said quickly. “They’re for Caroline. For her birthday. We never did get a chance to celebrate it.”
I was taken aback. I didn’t expect them to be for me, though a girl could hope. Why would they be? We were friends, just friends. But still, he didn’t have to bite my head off.
“Last night was hardly a night for celebration,” I said, immediately regretting my tone, and softening it. “At least at the end. The first part of the night was great. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you how wonderful the lanterns were.”
“As you said, the night ended up pretty badly, at least for most of us. I won’t keep you any longer.”
“Ben, don’t rush off. Maybe we should talk?”
“I’ve been talking all night, to the whole town, it seems like,” he said, rubbing his sc
ruffy chin with his hand and looking more tired than I’d ever seen him. “I’ll see you around, Ruth.”
With that, he turned and walked down the front steps. I went to close the door and saw Beckett Green watching the scene from across the street. I’d talk to Ben later. Right now, I had business with Beckett.
chapter 14
Beckett had to have seen me coming, but that didn’t stop him from turning, and half running into his store. I quickened my pace. Not only was I as tall as he was, I was in much better shape. I caught up with him as he was about to close his front door. I pushed my way in, and turned, ready to give him a piece of my mind.
The words all caught in my throat as I looked around the store, taking it all in. Cartons of books were everywhere. A few had been shelved, but the ones that were unpacked were laid out on tables, in piles. A coffee station in the corner, surrounded by overstuffed leather chairs. A round customer service station anchored the center of the space, with a few computer stations on it, and shelves below filled with magazines, candy, fruit-and-nut mixes, and other assorted sundries. The wall to the left of the store was painted deep red and had a dozen clocks hanging on it. The ticking was audible in the silence of the room.
“I wouldn’t have believed it, but it’s true. You are trying to be all the shops of downtown Orchard in one place, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his color rising.
“Your magazine rack looks like the one over at the Corner Market.”
“Good for impulse purchases. Bookstores are risky businesses,” he said, tapping his foot impatiently. “I need to make the customer happy.”
“Coffee?”
“Why should folks have to walk down the street?”
“Never mind that if you’d agreed to be part of the POL card, you could have said with a purchase of so much money, folks could get a free cup of coffee at the Sleeping Latte? Or a free candy bar at the Corner Market?”
“You sound like Rina. She’s been all over me this morning about that blasted card, and the open house. Have you two been talking? I still don’t see the value of discounting.”
“What don’t you get? That’s the point of the program, to get the businesses to support each other, not to take away sales.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said, straightening a pile of paperbacks on a nearby table.
“And what about these? And this?” I asked.
“What?” he said, not looking up.
“The clocks,” I said. He flinched when I said the word clocks, and he should have. I sidestepped him, again not difficult, and walked over to the wall of clocks. Lovely banjo clocks, examples that rivaled my own collection. A few Viennas. A Seth Thomas.
There was a sign affixed low on the wall, underneath the row of clocks.
“‘Have a clock that needs to be fixed? We can help! The Clock Doctor will be in on Wednesday afternoons.’ Who, exactly, is this clock doctor?” I scoffed.
“None of your business.”
“None of my business? You are offering a specialty service across the street from my shop, and it is none of my business? You’ve got to be kidding me.” I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or scream.
“If I am able to offer comparable service for a fraction of the cost, that is simply good business strategy. You have to admit, you overcharge for your services. Just like I hear your grandfather did.”
“My grandfather and I both undercharge for our services. Do you have any idea what it takes to be a horologist? The years of training? The apprenticeships? The costs associated with opening a shop, keeping the right parts in stock, finding vendors to make parts, the hours that a repair can take? Even a simple cleaning is anything but. I know that you offered Mark Pine a position, and he turned you down. So who did you hire? Who’s your clock doctor?”
“How do you know about Mark?” he said, meeting my eyes for the first time since this ridiculous conversation began.
“He told me, of course. The last time I saw him, alive. I saw you looking for him later. Did you find him, Beckett? How angry were you that he turned you down? Angry enough to hurt him?”
“How dare you? Get out of my shop. Now.”
“I wonder if the police know about your fight with Mark. I need to give Jeff Paisley a call and let him know. I think I told him last night, but maybe I didn’t.”
“Never mind. I’ll call him myself, unless you leave right now.” Beckett walked over to the customer service desk and picked up the phone. He stood and stared at me. I shrugged and turned back to the clocks.
I opened the door on the third one in, a lovely antique. The card said it was a “Biedermeier Vienna Regulator Wall Clock dated 1865.” A beautiful clock, rosewood. Brass pendulum, working. Grande sonnerie movement, if I wasn’t mistaken. In less than five minutes the quarter hour was due to chime. The clock should be better protected from customers, but I wasn’t going to tell Beckett that. I took out my cell phone and turned on the flashlight app, sweeping it inside the clock. Beckett grabbed at my arm, pulling me away.
“That clock is worth thousands of dollars,” Beckett said. “Get away from it.”
I turned to look at him, and knew that he believed what he said.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” I said, shaking him off. “I’ll leave. I’ve seen enough. But listen to me, Mr. Historical Council, you should probably know what you’re talking about before you start making judgments on historical accuracy.”
I wish I’d been able to look at all the clocks more closely, but it didn’t matter. I’d already seen enough.
Beckett Green was selling fakes.
chapter 15
I left Beckett’s store and walked down to the right, to the Corner Market. I needed more cat food, but also wanted to check in with Ada and Mac Clark.
Mac had inherited the Corner Market from his uncle, but he and Ada had made the store their own. With an emphasis on locally sourced and organically grown food, it was hip enough for foodies to flock there. But they also carried staples like eggs, milk, cheese, and bread. Not enough junk food, but I had noticed they’d started carrying a few more bags of chips. They were responding to customer demands. This customer, at least.
I’d learned early on, never just carry a basket through the aisles. Get a cart. Even when all you want is cat food, you’ll find a half-dozen other things you didn’t know you needed. Today’s case in point, half-priced sourdough bread and a grapefruit that was the size of a softball. I had barely gotten in the front door.
I found Ada Clark in the condiment aisle, trying to stock shelves. What was normally second nature had become a chore for her, as she tried to navigate around her enormous belly. From the back, she looked much the same, but when she turned around it looked like she had swallowed a basketball. Or two.
“Ada, can I help you with that?” I asked. I bent over and handed her the bottles and jars she had in her cart.
“Was there a run on mustard?” I said, taking note of the labels as I handed them to her.
“Last night got a little crazy. We offered people three percent off their bill as part of our promotion, and boy, they took us up on the offer.”
“Three percent could really add up, couldn’t it?”
“Mac is running the numbers now. It could, especially on items that are expensive for us to carry, like some of the specialty cheeses. But there are other items that have a decent profit built in, and folks were buying them as well. I think we had a really good night. Up until the end, of course.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “It feels like there are two different nights. One before we let the lanterns go, and one afterward, when I found Mark. We’re all so focused on the afterward it is hard to remember the open house.”
“I wonder if we’ll ever stop thinking about the night and feeling sad?” she said, holding a jar of fancy, spicy mustard in each hand.
“If you want something to help move you to another mood, go over t
o Beckett’s store and look at his checkout counter. See yours, the display of candy, magazines, mints, water, all that? His looks like that.”
“What do you mean? I thought he was selling books?”
“Books, and sundries. And clocks.”
“Clocks.”
“Clocks. Then there’s the free coffee.”
“Free coffee?”
“I’m telling you, Ada, you’d think he was the only store in town. I’d be surprised if he didn’t start selling eggs and milk.”
Ada laughed and sat down on the stool that was nearby in the aisle, likely for that express purpose.
“Sorry, I know it isn’t funny. What is he trying to do? Someone should explain how a small town works,” she said.
“He thinks he has it figured out. He’s got Kim Gray in his pocket.”
“How do you know?”
I told Ada about my conversation with Kim, and she thoughtfully rubbed her belly. Ada and I were almost the same age, but she seemed years younger. When we’d first met, I envied her happy marriage and her impending motherhood, both things I’d always wanted. Now we were friends, and I was excited about the arrival of Baby Clark, knowing that I would play a role in his or her life.
“We need to tell Mac about the meeting with Kim. You know we’ll help however we can. What happens if the deal with the town doesn’t go through?”
“Then I own the Town Hall. I can figure it out, but I don’t want to. I know that I sound like a wimp, but taking care of the Cog & Sprocket is enough for me to deal with right now. The old Town Hall is Pandora’s box. Who knows what’s inside?” I said, opening the last box full of mustard bottles in Ada’s cart.
“We’re all here to help—you know that. I can’t believe Beckett is selling clocks.”
“Right? I don’t think he knows what he is doing. He had mislabeled the one I was able to get a good look at. I didn’t even get a chance to look at them all.”
“Mislabeled, like wrong name or year? Or mislabeled, like pulling the wool over customers’ eyes?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably on her little perch next to the packaged pastas.