by Leona Fox
Tick, Tock, Trouble
A Seagrove Mystery Series
Book 5
Leona Fox
Copyright © 2015 Leona Fox
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher
Chapter One
“I just can’t believe it,” Sadie Barnett said to her friend, Lucy Shylock.
“Tamsin Woo, killed on the street in Seagrove. What is our town coming to?”
She picked up Mr. Bradshaw, her tiny Jack Russell Terrier cross and held him close for comfort. The rash of murders they’d been experiencing in Seagrove unsettled her.
The two women were having coffee in Sadie’s living room, located in her apartment over the antique shop she owned. The coffee and pastries were from the bakery next door, improved by the new owner to the point that Sadie had to limit her intake or she’d turn into a vibrating ball of caffeinated butter. She was already plump enough.
“What gets me,” Lucy said, “is they tried making it look like a drive-by shooting. We don’t have any gangs in Seagrove, unless you count that group of high school kids down at the rec center. And the worst they do is smoke cigarettes and ride skateboards.”
“No,” Sadie agreed, “this is something else. Something evil.”
“I don’t like it,” Lucy said. “Something is changing in Seagrove and it’s not for the better.”
“Look,” Sadie pointed to a squirrel balancing on the railing of her balcony.
“There’s Simon. He comes down to the balcony twice a day to see if any nuts have fallen from the tree. He’d come right in the house if I let him.”
Simon jumped from the railing to the little table where Sadie liked to sit and drink coffee. Then he was bounding off the chair and looking in through the door. He tapped a nut against the glass and Lucy giggled.
“How long has he been doing that?” she asked.
“He’s been around since the beginning of summer,” Sadie said. “But he only started tapping at the glass when the nuts started falling.”
The bell to her shop rang and Sadie and Lucy jumped and looked at each other. Sadie laughed.
“Look at us. Jumping at an everyday occurrence. I’ll be right back.”
She headed down the inside stairway with Mr. Bradshaw on her heels. A delivery van was parked on the street outside the shop. Sadie opened the door to a uniformed driver.
“Are you Sadie Barnett?” the driver asked.
“I am,” Sadie said and Mr. Bradshaw barked once in agreement.
“Sign here, please.”
Sadie carried her package upstairs and plopped back on the couch near Lucy, who was sitting in the best armchair ever. That’s what Sadie always called it, as a name, The Best Armchair Ever. It was so comfortable.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
“Give me a second and we’ll find out.”
Sadie wrestled with the tape until the flaps came open and a letter fluttered out and floated to the floor. She picked it up looked at it.
“This package is from Tamsin Woo,” she said. “The very dead Tamsin Woo.”
She pulled the packing paper from the box and, when she did, there was a flash of gold as whatever the box had been holding went flying through the air and landed on Lucy’s lap. Lucy examined it and held it out to Sadie.
“I think it’s a pocket watch,” she said. “But I’m not really sure.” Sadie took it and looked at it carefully.
“This,” she said, “is a very rare watch, and only partly because it’s almost impossible to tell time with it.” She opened it.
“See here?”
She asked pointing out the delicate carving and filigree on the watch’s face. It was a forest scene carved from gold and the hands moved behind much of the decoration. Only occasionally did the hands become visible.
Then she closed the watch, flipped it over and opened the other side. The clockwork was visible through the face and another set of hands moved counterclockwise across the etched glass.
“That’s amazing,” Lucy said. “But it doesn’t make any sense to have a backward watch on one side and one that obscures the time on the other.”
“Not great for telling time, but an excellent oddity. There are people who collect oddities. Tamsin Woo was one of those.”
Sadie picked up the paper from her lap and read, “Sadie, please keep this safe for me. Hamilton has tried to steal it several times. ~ Tamsin”
“Who is Hamilton?” Lucy asked. “And why would he steal Tamsin’s watch?”
“He’s a rival collector,” Sadie said.
“They used to try to beat each other to the best stuff. Hamilton always was trying to get me to sell him things that Tamsin asked me to find for her. Only last week he was telling me that Tamsin was just using me.”
“How can you be used in a business relationship?” Lucy asked. “It’s not like she didn’t pay you.”
“Exactly,” Sadie said.
“Hamilton was trying to convince me she wasn’t really my friend. I told him she was a client, not a friend. That shut him up for about five minutes. It’s hard to keep Hamilton down for long.”
“What will you do with that?” Lucy asked, nodding in the direction of the watch.
“Take it to the Chief,” Sadie said. The Chief was Zack Woodstone, the chief of police and Sadie’s boyfriend.
“Want to come?”
“Of course,” Lucy said and extracted herself from the Best Armchair Ever.
They pulled on jackets, for it was turning toward autumn and there was a nip in the air, and Sadie clipped Mr. Bradshaw’s leash to his collar before they left through the shop’s front door.
“I love this time of year,” Lucy said as they kicked through the leaves that had littered the sidewalk.
Mr. Bradshaw jumped and caught an especially bright specimen that floated down from a red maple.
“I know,” Sadie said. “The air just glows. I think it has something to do with the angle of the sun.”
“Or the fact it’s shining through red and gold leaves,” Lucy said.
“I’m sure someone up at the College could tell us, “Sadie said.
“It’s probably something very scientific that has nothing to do with leaves or the angle of the sun.” She sighed.
“It’s okay not to be an expert at everything, Sade,” Lucy said. “Your expertise is junk. Leave the quality of light to someone else.”
It was a quick walk to the stationhouse where they found Zack sitting in his office surrounded by paper. Sadie let go of Mr. Bradshaw’s leash and he ran around to greet the Chief while Sadie and Lucy sat in the wooden chairs facing his desk. Sadie wondered if he used them to keep people from getting too comfortable in his office. Well, it wouldn’t work with her.
Chief Zack Woodstone finished rubbing Mr. B behind the ears and reached under his desk. He tossed them each a seat cushion. Sadie looked at it in surprise and then it dawned on her. She stood up and fit the cushion on the chair. Lucy did the same.
“I save those for the lucky few I actually want to sit in my office,” Zack said.
“If my chairs are too comfortable my staff will sit and chat instead of running off to do their jobs. Can’t have that. I have my own work to get done.”
“You make yourself sound like a horrible boss,” Lucy said. “But I bet that’s not true.”
“He’s a great boss,” Sadie said. “It’s his boss, the mayor, he’s trying to keep from sitting around.”
“Only too true,” Zack said. “What brings you ladies down here today?”
>
Sadie pulled out the tiny pocket watch and the letter that arrived with it.
“This,” she said and explained the delivery earlier that morning.
“Interesting,” Zack said, examining the watch.
“Impossible to use, but very beautiful. Reminds me of that period of time when beauty without function was in fashion among the very rich.”
“Exactly,” Sadie said. “But what interests me is that Tamsin sent this, one day and was killed the next. See, look at the postmark.”
Zack pulled a magnifying glass from his drawer and bent over the package. “It’s true,” he said.
“It was postmarked the day before she died. Interesting, but I’m not sure it tells us anything.”
“But surely,” Sadie started.
“Why not?” Lucy asked at the same time.
Zack held up his hand. “Because like most things, a postmark can be faked. It’s possible that it was sent days before it was postmarked, or it could have been stamped and then held until the next day.” He rubbed his chin.
“And didn’t you say a delivery service brought this to your door, Sadie? It shouldn’t have been postmarked at all.”
“It could have been Express Mail,” Sadie said.
“They have package delivery people.” She thought hard about the uniform the messenger had been wearing.
“The uniform was more than one color.”
“I’m going to hold on to these,” he held up the note and the watch.
“But I’ll give you a receipt. The court may find that Tamsin’s intention was for you to have it. Or not.” He shrugged.
He pulled some paperwork from a drawer and started filling it out. Then he pushed it over to Sadie to sign and took it to the copier outside his door.
“Do you think the watch is why Tamsin was killed?” Lucy asked when Zack handed Sadie the copy of the receipt.
“I don’t know, but Sadie, you’d better watch yourself. If it was this watch and the person who killed Tamsin finds out she sent it to you… well, you could be in danger,” Zack finished lamely.
“I can’t imagine anyone killing for that tiny useless watch,” Lucy said. “It’s just ludicrous.”
“Some people gamble on what the next big thing is going to be,” Sadie said. “If they thought the watch was going to gain value it might be possible. But truthfully, it’s unlikely.”
“Isn’t money the number one motive for murder?” Lucy asked.
“I think crimes of passion are number one,” Zack said, “but it doesn’t matter what the number one reason is, it only matters what our murderer’s reason was. Find that, find the murderer.”
“Or vice versa,” Sadie said, just to be contrary. She got up.
“Come on Luce,” she said. “Let’s take Mr. Bradshaw home. The Chief here has a homicide to solve.”
“Zack, Sadie,” he said. “My name is Zack.”
“I know,” she smiled at him. “But I can’t help myself. It’s so much fun to tease you.”
As they were passing the squad room, Mr. Bradshaw stopped in the doorway. He went rigid, tail sticking straight up in the air, and bared his teeth. A growl emanated from his throat. Sadie stopped, surprised. Mr. B appeared to be looking at a well-dressed man sitting across from one of the desks. The man didn’t appear to have noticed Mr. B’s aggression and Sadie scooped him up and carried him down the hall.
“What was that about?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know,” Sadie said. “Mr. Bradshaw doesn’t usually growl at people like that.”
“Had to be something wrong,” Lucy said. “Maybe that man was lying to the officer and Mr. Bradshaw could tell.”
“Could be, but the last thing I need is for Mr. Bradshaw to get himself banned from the police station. He’d be unhappy if I had to leave him on the step like a normal dog.”
She kept the little dog under her arm until they were safely outside. Outside the station house, Lucy parted ways with Sadie and Mr. B.
“I’ve got things to do on this side of town,” she said. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Sadie and Mr. B. hurried home through the brisk morning. A bank of clouds was rolling in from the west and cold rain spit down at them in showers. They were moving quickly and made it back to the shop in record time – even with a pit stop in the park for Mr. B.
They hurried back across the street, thankful to bang through the door into the warm shop. Betty, Sadie’s shop assistant, was at the register as they blew in and she gestured to Sadie.
“Justin Ives is in your office,” Betty said quietly. “He’s very upset about Tamsin. I thought you’d like to know before you went in there.”
Sadie took a deep breath. She liked the junior professor from the community college, but he did tend to be embroiled in whatever the local trouble happened to be. He had a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She let Mr. Bradshaw off his leash and marched into her office.
“Dr. Ives,” she said as she entered, “what a pleasant surprise. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No thanks, Ms. Barnett. I really just need to talk to you.”
He stood up as she came in the room and his glasses, which had tape wrapped around the nose piece, started to fall. He pushed them up with a finger.
“Just give me a minute,” she said.
She shed her jacket and hung the leash on a hook near the door. Then she spun her chair around and sat facing the young man.
“Tell me what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into this time. I suppose it has to do with Tamsin Woo’s death?”
“How did you know?” he asked.
“How do you always know?” His response sounded bewildered and Sadie had to stop herself from laughing.
“Oh, Dr. Ives, it’s not that difficult. Now tell me.” She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees.
“Well, about a month ago I was parked out in front of Town Hall and Tamsin lost control of her car and totaled my VW,” he started, pushing up his glasses again.
“Your Bug? That’s too bad,” Sadie said.
“Her insurance had lapsed,” he said, grimacing.
“Which you wouldn’t think would be a problem because the Woos are rolling in it, but she claimed there was a mechanical fault with her car and it wasn’t her fault. She said I’d have to take it up with the manufacturer.” He shook his head.
“Crazy woman. She wrecked my car and then gave me a bunch of grief about it.”
“Did she not pay?” Sadie said.
“No.” He sounded indignant and used a knuckle to adjust his glasses.
“And so I tried to sue for damages, but her lawyer keeps making objections and stalling the proceedings. It’s costing me a fortune in legal fees. I know he’s hoping I’ll just drop it after a while because it’s costing so much.”
“And now she’s dead,” Sadie said.
“Yes. Now she’s dead.” He was silent for a moment.
“Her lawyer accused me of killing her. He went to Chief Woodstone and asked him to arrest me.”
“And did he arrest you?” Sadie raised her eyebrows.
“No. He said there was no evidence and he wasn’t going to start arresting people based on speculation. But that doesn’t mean he won’t arrest me later.”
He dropped his head in his hands and his glasses fell off and landed in his lap.
”I don’t know what to do.”
He picked them up and looked at them with disgust before sliding them back on his face.
“First off, stop being such a drama queen,” Sadie said.
“It makes it hard for people to take you seriously.” She sat up and grabbed a pad of paper and pen from her desk.
“I take it you want two things?” She asked.
“Two things?” he sounded bewildered.
“Yes, two things. You want your car replaced and you want not to be tried for murder. Except that’s a negative goal. You want…” she thought for a minute.
&nbs
p; “I read somewhere that goals should be stated in the positive. Negative goals just muddy the waters. So I think your goals should be something like this, you want to be found not guilty - and you want your car to be replaced. Do you want restitution for the harassment, too?”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she said.
“You are a college professor. Surely you understand the concept of restitution?” He looked at her blankly.