Clock and Dagger Page 8

  “Drugs? No, not Mark. He was a straight arrow.” I loved Nancy, but she was the hub of all gossip in Orchard. Time to cut that off now. “We’ll know what happened soon enough.”

  “You’re right, of course. Come on in. We’re all sitting in the kitchen. Don’t want folks to think the Latte is open. All those looky-loos. They should be ashamed of themselves, waiting outside, hoping to see something untoward. Just terrible.”

  “Why did you all come here?” I asked.

  “Once Ben told us what had happened, we locked up your shop and came down. You know me, Ruthie, I cook when I’m stressed. Besides, none of us had dinner tonight. Won’t do any good if we all keel over, will it?”

  “I guess not,” I said. I walked back into the kitchen. Caroline was bent over a cup of tea, both hands wrapped around the mug. She looked up when I came in, and held a hand out. I went over and reached down to give her a hug first, then I took her hand. Her normally calm demeanor was gone, and her eyes were puffy.

  “Are you all right, Caroline?” I asked.

  She nodded. “What about you? It must have been awful.”

  I nodded too, and sat down on the chair Pat brought over. I looked around at my friends, the other shop owners here in Orchard. Ada Clark was absentmindedly rubbing her pregnant belly, and her husband, Mac, sat next to her, an arm protectively around her shoulders. Pat Reed sat himself on a stool by the stove, where Nancy was busy frying, scooping, and stirring. Moira was taking the wrapping off some baked goods and putting them out on plates. Ben was sitting next to his aunt Flo, who dabbed her face and tore at the tissue in her hands.

  “Where’s Nadia?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure where she and Tuck are,” Moira said. “I’ve been texting and calling, but she isn’t replying.”

  I pulled out my phone and texted Nadia. Call me ASAP was all I said. I stared at my phone, but no return text came through.

  “Anything?” Pat asked.

  “No, and that’s unusual for Nadia. I don’t think I’ve ever gone more than two minutes without a return text from her. Let’s assume she’s all right. No news is good news, right?” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

  “So, Ruth, tell us what happened,” Nancy said, plunking a mug of tea down in front of me.

  “Nancy,” Pat said.

  “What? We all want to know, so let’s hear it. She’ll leave out the bad parts.”

  I looked around the room. I’d sort of promised not to tell the details, but I had to tell them all something. Everyone here knew Mark and wanted to know what had happened to him. I told them about finding the body, but I left out the details about the cake. And that he was strangled. Not my details to share. I looked over my notes to see if I had missed anything I could tell them all.

  “What’s that?” Ada asked.

  “I wrote down everything I saw,” I said. “Just in case.”

  “What’s the matter, Ruth? Are you saying this wasn’t an accident?” Caroline asked, smoothing her hand over her neatly styled hair, pushing a few errant strands back into place.

  “I don’t know. It’s a feeling I had—something wasn’t right. I’m sure I’m wrong, but since Jeff isn’t here, I thought I’d better take notes.”

  “We were all talking about that earlier, trying to think about when we last saw Mark and who was where,” Caroline said.

  “I saw him around four or so, at the shop,” I offered. I turned the page on my pad of paper and wrote it down. “He told me that Beckett had offered him a job.”

  “The clocks. Of course,” Nancy said, dropping a spatula on the frying pan.

  “Did everyone know about the clocks before I did?” I said, looking up from the notes I had spread out in front of me.

  “No, only since Mum found out,” Moira said.

  “Hush, you,” Nancy said. “Pat and I saw him around five. He came by for a cup of coffee and some food. A pesto and mozzarella sandwich, with what passes for tomatoes this time of year.”

  “Mum, I doubt anyone cares what kind of sandwich he got,” Moira said.

  “And he also got a sliced meatball panini with a side of sauce. His favorite.”

  “So the pesto was for someone else,” I said.

  “I’d guess, but I don’t know.”

  “He came by the market afterward to get a Moxie soda,” Ada said. “He had the bag and was sipping the coffee. I joked that he needed another hand.” She started to cry softly, and Mac rubbed her back.

  “Yeah, I talked him into some chips,” he said. “I gave him a bigger bag so he could carry it all.”

  “I saw him a few minutes after that,” Flo said. “I stopped him to ask him to bring me some brochures from the Cog & Sprocket over so I could put them out. He promised he would, but didn’t come back. That was right before the open house started. It started out a little slow—I was nervous, let me tell you—but then about fifteen minutes in, it really picked up. I can’t say if I noticed him again after that.”

  Everyone agreed that once the open house started the crowds took the focus, but no one remembered seeing Mark after that.

  “What a terrible way to end a great night,” Nancy said, adding part of an omelet and some hash browns to a plate and handing it to Pat, who put it in front of me.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said, pushing the plate away.

  “But you have to eat,” Pat said, putting it back in front of me with one hand and sliding a plate in front of Caroline with the other. “We all have to eat. I, for one, am going to wait up for Jeff to come by, so I might as well eat now. It’s going to be a long night.”

  I lifted my fork and picked at a bit of potato. I took a small bite, and then a bigger one. I was hungrier than I realized, and I polished off the plate before long. Pat silently picked it up and got me some more potatoes. We all ate in silence, at least most of us did. I looked over at Caroline, who was moving her food around.

  “Eat something,” I whispered to her. “It will make you feel better.”

  Caroline looked over, and smiled uncomfortably. I heard a knock on the back door, and Pat went to answer it. He came back, followed closely by Jeff Paisley.

  Jeff Paisley had moved to Orchard to become the chief of police, a sideways career move. I rarely saw Jeff out of uniform, never mind dressed up in a nice suit like he was wearing today. The gray wool was cut perfectly, and his white shirt was still pressed. His tie was loosened, and on closer inspection, I saw a small stain in the middle. We were about the same height, but he was in much better shape. His brown hair was cropped short, and had flecks of gray at the temples. I knew that his brown eyes would crinkle at the edges when he laughed, but I also knew we wouldn’t see that tonight.

  Moira stared at him, but not in a happy-to-see-him way. When he turned toward me, I could see why. There was a red lipstick mark on the side of his brown face. I also noticed glitter and confetti on his shoulders.

  “You got here fast,” I said.

  “I was already on my way back when Officer Troisi called. I understand you found the body . . . Mark.” I nodded. “You all right?”

  “Better now that you’re on the case,” I said.

  “Not really on the case,” Jeff said, sighing. “The state has taken over, since I wasn’t here.”

  “But you’ll be in charge, right?” Nancy said. “We want our own chief to be on the case.”

  “I’ll be helping out. Especially since it is being treated as a murder case.”

  chapter 9

  “Murder?” Caroline said.

  “It’s an unattended death,” Jeff said. He walked toward Caroline, and she put her hand out. He took it and squatted down, speaking directly to her but in a voice loud enough for us all to hear. “They are going by the book.”

  Everyone started asking questions at the same time. I kept silent, knowing that it was, in fact, murder, but still having a lot of trouble wrapping my brain around that fact.

  Jeff stood again and looked around the roo
m, and then rested his gaze on me. I nodded, letting him know that I’d keep the news to myself. Ro must have filled him in on everything. “Since we need to treat this like a crime scene, your shop is going to be closed for a few days, Ben.”

  “What about Aunt Flo’s shop?” Ben asked, looking up from the food that he had been steadily consuming since I’d walked into the room.

  “We’re going to work on getting you get back in there as soon as possible. Flo, you have my word on that. We want to make sure we do right by Mark.”

  “Of course,” Flo said. “You do what you need to do, Jeff.”

  “I’m going to need to ask some questions about where you all were . . .”

  “Ruth’s already on that,” Flo said.

  “Oh, she is, is she?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Yes, well, I thought it would be helpful for us all to try and remember when we last saw Mark, in case you needed a timeline for that. Here, I’ve been taking notes while we’ve all been talking. I can transcribe them if that’s easier.”

  Jeff took the pad of paper from me and then he slowly took his reading glasses out of his inside front pocket. I thought about the time I’d spent with Jeff over the past few weeks. I can’t say it helped me know him any better, but it did create paths for us to build a friendship. I knew little about his family, except that they lived in Dorchester and that his grandparents on his mother’s side had emigrated from Jamaica many years ago. He hadn’t mentioned to me that he was going to visit them today. I wondered if Moira knew. There were sparks with her and Jeff, but neither of them acknowledged them, nor did they act on them.

  “This is helpful. Thank you, all. Listen, Officer Troisi has to come in and take brief statements, then she’ll let you go home.”

  “Chief, I’d like to drive Caroline home,” I said. “She was at the Cog & Sprocket the whole time, with me. Does she need to stay?”

  Jeff took a deep breath and ran his hand over his closely cut hair. He let the breath out on a deep sigh. The state police had jurisdiction; he’d already told us that. I wondered if they were going to let Jeff in, or if he was going to have to play second fiddle. I also wondered how I could help.

  “All right, listen. Ro will get the statements done, and I suspect you will all be going home. We’ll need you more tomorrow. Ruth, why don’t we head back to your shop. I have some specific questions I want to ask you. Then you can come back and get Caroline. How’s that sound?”

  That didn’t sound like a suggestion, so I got up and grabbed my coat.

  “Thanks for the food, Moira. I really needed that,” I said.

  “I hope to see you for breakfast” was all she said. “Both of you.”

  • • •

  “Jeff, why would Mark be murdered?” I asked as I closed the back door of the café behind me. I called Jeff “Chief” in public, but had started calling him “Jeff” in private, or in front of Caroline. After a man saves your life, and you help him catch a murderer, you start using first names.

  “Ruth, why did you think it was murder?”

  “I was there when the state police officer—I don’t remember his name—when he told Ro and me Mark was strangled. Or maybe Ro told me?” I had to try to cover for Ro; Jeff was her boss after all.

  “Not that. Ro told me you knew. Good for you for keeping it quiet, by the way. I meant when you found him, why did you think it was murder?”

  “I didn’t,” I said.

  “You secured the crime scene. Wrote down what you did when you went to turn on the lights, and wouldn’t let anyone else in. One of the state police techs commented on it.”

  “I could tell he was gone right away.” I cleared my throat and closed my eyes tightly to block out the image. The night was still, but it had gotten considerably colder in the past few hours. Or maybe I was feeling it more. There was a buzz of activity coming from Washington Street. Even our little parallel access road was busier than normal, with vans parked and lights being erected to help the officers gather evidence. “I remember seeing him, and I guess I thought it was odd for him to be dead, so I acted. Does that make sense?” We’d reached the back door of the Cog & Sprocket, and I let myself in. Jeff followed and locked the door behind him.

  “You’ve got good instincts. What I am about to tell you isn’t public, but I’m going to need your help with this. As you know, it looks like Mark was strangled. We’ll know more after the exam. I’d like you to take a look at something. Right now all I’ve got is my cell phone photo. The lab will be forwarding me better images soon.” Jeff flipped through the images and then handed the phone to me. “What can you tell me about this?”

  I looked down at the photo and used my fingers to zoom in. The pocket watch was oversized and thick. Possibly old, very old, before parts got as miniaturized as they were now. The filigree pattern on the watch case was faded in parts, as if it had been handled a certain way over the years.

  “This is a pocket watch, not my area of expertise, but I know a little about them. This looks like a railroad watch, could possibly date back to the 1800s.”

  “Railroad watch?”

  “Clocks and watches have always striven for accuracy, but there was leeway for a long time. Who really knew if your clock was five minutes off?”

  “I guess that makes sense. I always wondered who decided what time was what?”

  “Oh, Jeff, don’t even get me started. I can fix clocks, but I study time. I love the history of how humans have been trying to manage it for years. We’ll talk about that another day. Anyway, railroad watches. A few minutes of inaccuracy worked until there were trains, and schedules. Keeping accurate time became critical for conductors to keep trains from crashing. So, there got to be a standardized, and accurate, watch. It became a stamp that a lot of watchmakers used, but not everyone adhered to.”

  “This looks pretty ornate for a conductor,” Jeff said, pointing to the wrapped vines that wound around the cover.

  “The clock guts could be housed in different cases, and cases could be changed out. Maybe this owner liked a little more decoration? Or a wife or girlfriend picked it out for him? Looking at the inside would answer a lot of questions. Research could be done on the history of the watch to determine age, ownership, history. I could tell you more about it if I saw it, but, again, watches aren’t my area of expertise.”

  “You do know people who could help?”

  “Of course. But you know, Mark was one of those people.” I pursed my lips to stop them from trembling. Mark could fix a clock, but he loved watches. I knew the minute I saw him clean one of them that he had a gift. “Where did you find the watch?”

  “It was nearby, under the sinks. It may have nothing to do with his death. Mark might have had it and dropped it. Or it may have been placed there. Ruth, what are you thinking?” It was like he could see the gears turning in my head.

  “I’m thinking,” I said, concentrating, “that if someone wanted to ambush Mark, they could use a watch to distract him. He’s a lot like me. He was. Yeesh, this is hard. You know me, once I get seduced by a clock, I’m a goner. He was good at all of this, you know. He had great talent.” I wiped a tear that ran down my cheek.

  “Do you know how we can contact his family?” Jeff asked, taking his phone back from me.

  “I don’t, I’m sorry. Caroline will know—she does payroll for the shop.”

  “You never talked about family with him?”

  “Not specifically, no. He must have known about what happened to G.T., and didn’t want to bring it up. Or maybe he didn’t have family. He did spend the holidays in Orchard. Even had dinner with us, at the Reeds’. I don’t pry about personal matters, but maybe I should start. Right now, I’ve got nothing. I should have cared enough to ask him more questions.”

  “Ruth, don’t blame yourself for any of this, all right? We all know you care. Some folks are private about their families. Besides, for all we know, it was his watch. Or someone else dropped it earlier. Okay if I ke
ep asking you questions as we find out more?”

  “Of course. I want to help.” I reached over to Caroline’s work area and grabbed a tissue so I could blow my nose.

  “For the record,” Jeff said, “I was visiting family tonight. I know I don’t talk about them much, but we’re very close. I have two older sisters, both married. One of them has grown kids, two girls. The other one has twins, a boy and a girl. They’re eight. They all live around Boston. They think the Berkshires are in another country, but my mother made noises about coming to visit soon.”

  “Which one of them wears red lipstick?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I grabbed another tissue and wiped the side of Jeff’s face. He looked down at the lipstick smear and grimaced.

  “That looks like my sister Angela’s shade. I know this will surprise you, but I’m not a very demonstrative person.” Jeff smiled, and I smiled back at him. “My family likes to make fun of me. Hugs and kisses when I arrive, and when I leave.”

  “The horror,” I said. “A family who loves you.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m a lucky guy. I’ve got a good family.”

  “They’re pretty lucky too. If, when, your mother comes to visit, we’ll have her over for dinner, Caroline and I. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds good. Tell you what—I’m going to let you go and get Caroline and take her home.”

  “Wait. Why is it so bright in here?” I said, suddenly aware of the light streaming in through the windows. We both looked around. We’d turned on some lights, but they weren’t really needed. Activity over at the barbershop was spilling into the Cog & Sprocket. The noise was a loud hum, with occasional shouts. “I might as well stay out at the cottage tonight, what do you think? I doubt I’ll get much sleep staying here.”

  “It is pretty chaotic next door,” Jeff said.

  “Tell you what—why don’t you use the shop as your base of operations? I’ll get you the extra key to my apartment. There’s food up there. Just don’t let Bezel out.”

  “—Bezel out.” He said the last two words with me.