“Who’s on your list?”
“Fred, Freddie, Jason, Beckett, Jimmy.”
“Freddie? When did she go back?”
“About five minutes after the speeches were done.”
“I didn’t notice. But you saw her today. If she’d killed Kim, she wouldn’t have been able to function for the rest of the afternoon.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. What about if Fred asked her to give Kim a tart? He hated Kim as much as anyone. Would Freddie be able to do it if she didn’t know she was going to kill her? She would have done what her father told her.” I hated the line of thought, but realized it made sense, so I went on. “And then Fred went back to make sure she was dead—”
“And dropped a bell on her to be sure. Ding-dong. That’s cold,” Nadia said. “I don’t see it myself. Too much planning for Fred. That, and I don’t think he’d use Freddie as his surrogate murder weapon. He adores Freddie.”
“Maybe he just meant to get Kim sick?”
“Or maybe Kim died by accident, and then someone went back and dropped the bell onto her out of spite? I guess I can see Fred doing that.”
“Dropping the bell out of spite,” I said. “Maybe Kim wasn’t killed at all? Maybe she died, and someone took advantage of it. Got his frustrations out by dropping a bell on her. It’s pretty sick, but who can really know what people are capable of . . .”
“And there wasn’t a house available . . .”
“Nadia—”
“Come on, Ruth, don’t tell me you aren’t thinking about The Wizard of Oz every time you think of a bell being dropped.”
“You’re the one who called her the Wicked Witch—”
“I’m not the only one,” she said.
“You’re right,” I said. “Kim’s death an accident? I’m not buying it. We don’t have that kind of luck. Much as I hate to admit it, it looks like there’s been another murder in Orchard.”
Nadia looked down, and I knew she was thinking about Mark Pine. Time to change the subject.
“Zane said that no one came by today?” I asked.
“No one,” Nadia confirmed. “But there were some calls. Where’s that pad—here it is. Three calls to set up appointments for you or Zane to go look at sick grandfather clocks. The church over in Oakfield wants you to come over and look at their clock tower.”
“Really?” I said, my ears practically perking up.
“Look at you, so excited. Yeah, it’s intact, but hasn’t been wound in fifteen years.”
“Probably needs a good cleaning.”
“Zane’s first words too. They want to talk to you, specifically you, about how much it would cost to get it running again. I also talked to them about a winding and maintenance contract.”
“That’s exciting,” I said, clapping my hands together with glee.
“You haven’t even heard the best part. The church council was considering going electric, but then someone told them about our tower and suggested they try and save the original.”
“How great is that?” I asked, meaning every word. While I understood why some folks decided to go electric, a small piece of my soul hurt every time an old clock tower was converted.
“There was a weird call on the voice mail. Someone calling on behalf of Lila Bloodsnow.”
“The woman who wants the Willard banjo clocks?”
“Same woman, but her assistant was calling to follow up on the offer Ms. Bloodsnow had made on the clock collection at the Parker University.”
“What offer?” I asked. I didn’t need to ask which collection she was referring to. Back when I was a faculty wife, I’d lived in one of the houses on campus. I spent time getting all of the clocks in working order, showing the students in the house how they worked, getting a few of them to help me by being on the winding crew. The university was rehabbing one of the dorms, and they were selling two grandfather clocks. Neither of them had worked for years, or been taken care of for longer than that. The cases were scratched, the glass was dusty, the brass was dull. But they were both beauties. I made a low offer on them both, which was accepted, much to Eric’s chagrin.
I had them moved to our apartment. It took me a year, but both of them got back to working order. We kept one of them in our apartment, but moved the other to the dining hall, where it became a showpiece for the university. When Eric and I broke up, I met with the dean and offered to put the clocks on loan until I settled down. I’d kept in touch with her, updating her on my new business ventures. At one point she’d written and asked if I wanted my clocks back. I told her no, that I didn’t have room for them right now. That was a lie, of course. What I didn’t want was to be tempted to sell them. I’d rather let the students enjoy them for a while longer, while I figured out other ways to finance my dreams.
“I called her back. Ms. Bloodsnow’s assistant, Mary Stibal,” Nadia said. “She wanted to know if you were going to accept the offer. It took me a while, but I finally got the details. She had offered a hundred thousand dollars for the two grandfather clocks. She also wanted to talk to you about some clock you made for the lobby? She’d love to commission one for her office.”
“A hundred thousand dollars? Are you sure? That’s a lot of money.”
“That’s what she said. It would go a long way toward keeping this place going, that’s for sure.”
“We’re doing all right,” I said weakly.
“You’re forgetting that I am doing the books these days,” Nadia said. “When’s the last time you took a paycheck?”
“I get paid—”
“You pay yourself less than you pay me,” she said. “You have to start—”
“Not now, Nadia. You haven’t mentioned this to Caroline, have you?”
“You and I are the only two people who know how tight things are.”
“Keep it that way, all right? We’ll figure it out, I promise. Right after the clock tower is done, I can get back to making some money.”
“Fair enough,” Nadia said. “Unless you sell this woman the clocks she wants to buy. So what did the clock you made look like?”
“It had the university shield on one side, a calendar clock in the middle, and the house shield on the other side. The calendar clock was refurbished, but in full working order. Every hour a dove flew from one shield to the other, and then back. It was a fun piece. I had students help me with the install.”
“Well, apparently she’s an alum and fell in love with the clock when she went back for a reunion last fall. How much do you think it is worth?”
“Hard to say,” I said. “The pieces were a few hundred, maybe more—”
“Ruth, we need to start getting you to value the art pieces you create. Can I try and figure out how much it might be worth?”
“Is it really art?” I said. I always felt odd talking about the clock creations I made. For me, they created another way to imagine a clock and gave me great joy to work on. Making money from them? Was that even possible?
“Just stop,” Nadia said. “I’m going to do some research. Anyway, Ms. Bloodsnow’s assistant says she’s been trying to get hold of you for a while, but your husband—”
“Ex-husband.”
“I explained that part to her. Your ex has been dodging her calls since alumni weekend. The dean gave her this number.”
“Well, that explains the letter,” I said.
“Letter?”
“My ex sent me a letter. Decided he was wrong not to split our assets last year when the divorce was finalized, so he sent me a check.”
“Big of him,” Nadia said.
“Isn’t it though? He must have had a team of lawyers to help him phrase the letter in just a way that my cashing the check would have bound me to a new agreement. Probably some legal loophole my divorce lawyer didn’t anticipate.”
“So if you accept Ms. Bloodsnow�
��s offer?”
“Eric will demand his share. Half of a hundred thousand dollars is fifty thousand, so he’d net twenty-five thousand.”
“What a jerk,” Nadia said.
“You have no idea,” I said.
“Well, your taste has gotten better, that’s for sure. Speaking of which, did I mention that Ben is upstairs?”
“You didn’t,” I said.
“Sorry about that, boss,” she said a bit sheepishly. “Go ahead, I’ll lock up down here. See you tomorrow.”
I barely heard her, I was so focused on getting upstairs as quickly as possible. I opened the door, and Blue came bounding up to greet me. “Where’s your dad?” I said, crouching down to rub his neck and return his kisses. I looked up and saw Ben stretched out on the couch, fast asleep.
“Ah well,” I said to Blue. “Let me feed you guys, and then I’ve got some notes to write.”
• • •
A half hour later I was sitting at the table, looking over my notes. Ben shuffled into the kitchen area and gave me a kiss on top of my head.
“Okay if I grab a beer? Do you want one?” he asked.
“No thanks,” I said. “Would you like some dinner? We can cook, or there are sandwiches that Flo brought over in the fridge—oh, I see you found them.”
Ben grabbed a sandwich, unwrapped it, and took a bite. “That’s perfect. It will tide me over until we make dinner later. I have a pasta dish I want to make with the rest of the ham,” he said, sitting at the head of the table. “What are you working on?”
“Notes from today.”
“Clock notes?”
“No, notes about the weekend.”
“Kim’s death?”
“Yeah. It’s been a busy day. Want me to tell you about it?”
“I do. I’d like to tell you about my day too,” he said.
“You go first,” I said, closing my notebook. I took a sip of water. My hand shook a bit.
“So, first thing I did was rent a car. I went back down to Hartford to talk to my buddy. I made a deal to license him the software I was telling you about.”
“License? Are you going to go work with him?”
“Nah. May I see your phone?” I nodded and handed it to him. He scrolled through and then hit a few buttons. “As I said, I don’t want to go back to the life I had before I moved here when I barely thought about anything other than work, constantly moving on to the next thing, and losing myself in the process. I can look back on it now and paint a rosy picture of the success I had, but the truth is, that success was ruining my life.” He looked up and stared at me. “Of course, there are a couple of other things factoring into my decision. Okay, here you go. From now on you won’t have to wonder where I am. I added a phone-finding app to your screen.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, unsure of what this meant. “I trust you.”
“I know you do, but I realize that I’m not always good about checking in, and I don’t want you to wonder.”
“I’m not going to use it.”
“But you’ll have it.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I said. I hoped he wasn’t planning on tracking me. “Now, about the two other factors?”
“I kept coming back to two things that made me decide to stay here in Orchard, figuring out my new life.” He put his beer down and reached over and closed my notebook. He reached out for my hand and pulled me toward him.
“Two things?” I said, getting up and moving toward him. He pushed himself back from the table so I could sit on his lap. I looped my arms around his neck.
“First, Orchard is home now. I don’t want to leave.” He kissed my jaw, the corners of my mouth, my temples.
“Second?” I asked, breathing heavily.
“You. Can’t see that anything would be much fun if I couldn’t see you every day.” He smiled that smile, the one that took my breath away, and I leaned in and kissed him.
chapter 23
“Sorry, babe,” Ben had said when I came back up from checking the locks on the shop. I trusted Nadia, but always double-checked. I’d bounded up the stairs, a spring in my step. “Pat texted, and needs help over at the Latte. They’re going to reopen tomorrow.”
“That’s good news, at least.”
“It is,” he said. “Pat wants some help unloading a few things. I won’t be gone long, I promise. Can you take Blue for a run? Don’t wear yourself out.” Another kiss, this one tinged with a little regret.
• • •
A run sounded like a good idea, and Blue agreed. “Thanks for coming with me,” I said to Blue, quickening my pace to keep up. “Figure, given everything, I may as well get some sort of exercise in tonight, though this isn’t what I had planned.” I took a swig from my water bottle, trying to swallow the frustration that was welling up.
“Hey, Blue, slow down, buddy. I’m getting a stitch on my side.” Blue did as I asked and stayed next to me. Maybe this 5K was going to get past week two after all. I’d decided to cross the bridge behind the Cog & Sprocket and run on the other side of the river. The change of scenery would do me good. I’d barely started when I ran by the first bridge, which was the half-mile mark. The next bridge meant it would be a two-mile run total. I decided to go for it. How I loved the long days of June. It was just past six, and I had plenty of daylight left. Blue was thrilled about the run, and I was trying to match his enthusiasm. Maybe he needed to be my new running coach.
It was a stunning night to be out. Coolish, around sixty-five degrees. Spring had been cold, so the trees were late, but the bright green was forcing itself out of the winter-gray branches. The river was running high and was more turbulent than usual. I loved the sound of the rushing water, ever mindful that the dam that kept it manageable also kept the Cog & Sprocket and the rest of the riverside businesses dry.
We finally got to the second bridge, and I stopped for a minute in the middle, eating a protein bar, looking back toward downtown. We were still in the town of Orchard. Aunt Flo lived in this part of town, as did the Clarks. These houses mostly dated from the mid-1800s—pretty summer cottages that were truly cottages, not the mansions of Newport. Porches that overlooked the river, clapboard and shingle sides, lovely but not ostentatious. Many of these houses had been split up into apartments over the years, including Flo’s, though she owned the whole house. She’d left one apartment empty for Ben, and she rented the third for income. Mac and Ada’s house was originally a gardener’s cottage for a larger house that had long ago been razed for a post-WWII subdivision. Their house sat farther back, but I could see their gray roof from here. I loved this part of Orchard, and would consider living here if I ever needed more space.
“Ready, Blue?” I asked. Blue had been playing catch with the lapping water of the river, but as soon as I said his name he came bounding up. I stooped down, put his smiling face between my hands, and kissed the tip of his nose. Blue was quite possibly the sweetest dog I’d ever met. Ben was a smart man, leaving Blue with me. Being abandoned by both of them would have left me in quite a state.
I went running back down the other side of the river, toward downtown Orchard. I checked my watch. Quarter of seven. Not bad. Not good, but not bad.
I was running by the hardware store, looking in the window. Was someone in there? This late? Doubtful. But there were lights on inside. I went over and peered in the window. I couldn’t see anyone. I walked around to the left of the shop. This is where the access road behind all of our shops dead-ended. No cars, no trucks. No one. Just the lineup of Dumpsters, for the use of the hardware shop only. That made extra clear by the lock the owner had installed on each of the lids. In the past the owners had all shared Dumpsters, but no longer. Now the Dumpsters were for sorting of recyclables and chemicals, the stock-in-trade of the store. Food items didn’t mix in his specific system, so the Sleeping Latte had to get their own Dumpster ou
t back. It had caused a bit of a kerfuffle. There’d been a lot of Dumpster angst this spring. Who knew getting rid of trash could be so fraught?
Someone didn’t get the memo on “no Sleeping Latte stuff in the hardware store Dumpster,” despite the large sign he’d posted on the fence about them. The baker’s box could have come from anywhere, until you noted the large turquoise, pink, and gray sticker on each side. Moira stuck them on everything that didn’t move, part of the branding campaign Nadia had started for her.
Better I take the box than Henry, the owner of the hardware store, find it. It was resting on top of the closed lid of the Dumpster. The Latte had been closed, so where did this come from? If it was from the Latte itself, they would have used their own Dumpster so as not to set off a war. I walked over and came close to picking up the box, but then I saw the scrawl on top of the box.
Here are your cherry tarts. Hope you enjoy them. Thank you for your business!
I stepped back, fumbling for my phone, and called Jeff Paisley. He picked up on the second ring.
“You’re not going to believe what I found.”
• • •
I was dying to see what was inside the box, but refrained from taking a look. Partially because I didn’t want to tamper with the evidence. But mostly because all three sides of the box were taped shut. I did take a few pictures with my phone while I was waiting. I’d tied Blue up by the street, since the last thing we needed was for him to dive on the box and open it for the police.
Finally Ro Troisi arrived.
“Causing trouble again, I see,” she said, turning the corner into the alley. She bent down to say hello to Blue and then came down the alley. “Tell me. Step by step.”
So I did. Step by step, I walked her through what had led me to finding the box.
“You were running? This late? With the best-looking boyfriend in Orchard? What’s happened to you, Ruth?”
“Ben’s helping Pat with something. Besides, that’s all you have to say?” I asked, reddening slightly. “What about the fact that I found a key piece of evidence?”
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