Clock and Dagger (13 page)

“I'll think about it. Now, before you go, let me pack you a couple of sandwiches for lunch. Don't say no. It will make me feel less guilty about earlier. I made this spread today. Chickpeas, green olives, olive oil, garlic, some hot pepper flakes. Fresh turkey breast, this spread, a good midwinter sandwich.”

“Actually, winter is only a week old,” I said.

“Don't remind me. Every year I say to Pat, maybe we should go and visit my sister in Florida for a few weeks. You know what he says?”

“What?”

“‘Your sister drives me crazy. I'd rather shovel snow.' Truthfully, she drives me crazy too, but at least we'd be warm. Anyway, let me know what you think of the sandwich. And tell me, what else is Beckett selling that is making you so angry?”

“Clocks aren't enough?”

“Clocks are enough, but if they were nice clocks, you'd probably send customers over. What's the matter with them? Are they electric?”

“I don't mind electric clocks. Don't laugh—it's true. They have their place in the market. I wouldn't sell them, but that's because I'm a clock snob. If he was selling electronic clocks, I'd feel better. What he's selling is much worse than electronic clocks, though.”

I
thanked Nancy for the food, grabbed my groceries, and went back out to the front of the Sleeping Latte so I didn't let cold air in through the back and freeze Nancy. Moira waved as I walked out, but my hands were full. That's why I didn't wave. Or at least that was my excuse. I walked out the front door and looked to my right, noting the crowd gathered around Ben's shop. There were a couple of TV vans as well. Yeah, not today. I walked down the side of the Sleeping Latte and the back way to my shop. I was surprised that no one was back there, but looking out at the end of the alley I noted that the entrance was cordoned off. Maybe it was because of evidence, or maybe it was Jeff Paisley giving us all a little privacy. No matter what the reason, I was grateful.

As I let myself into the shop, I heard my cell phone ring.
I put down my bags and fished around the front pocket of my dress.

“Hello?” I said.

“Ruth, it's Jeff Paisley.”

“Hey, Jeff. Long time.”

He ignored me, which was probably best. “You remember that I promised to send you the pictures of the watch by noon?”

“I do.”

“How about if I bring you the watch instead?”

•   •   •

J
eff came in the back door about fifteen minutes later. I had a pitcher of water and had set out the sandwiches Nancy sent over. Normally there is a rule about no food in the workroom, but this wasn't normal.

“What's up with the news vans next door?” I asked.

“There are a couple of folks who don't think there is any such thing as bad publicity. Kim Gray is one of them.”

“Is she there?”

“She's scheduled a press conference at three o'clock.”

“Really? What's she going to say?”

“Not sure. I'm out of the loop on this aspect of the investigation.”

“Her choice or yours?”

“Hers. Enough about that,” he said, reaching into his bag. “Let's talk about the watch.”

“Do you have it with you?”

“I do. The lab ran some tests, but there weren't any prints on the outside of the case. They weren't able to get the case
open, and rather than have them force it, I thought I'd bring it to you. You have your tools here in the shop.”

“The state police let you take it?”

“They don't consider it important evidence. They are more focused on other events. Anyway, I think they were just as happy to have me leave.”

“Making friends with the state?” I said. “Okay, let's take a look.”

“You'll have to wear gloves.”

“Fine, sure.”

He handed me the blue gloves, latex free. I used gloves on occasion myself, so I wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling. I readied the area, a clean glass surface with a dark cloth underneath so that I could see any pieces that came loose. I turned on the lights over the workspace and pulled the magnifier over. I put on my own vision visor and focused it down over my eyes. I looked up and saw a wide grin on Jeff's face. Or it may have been a smirk—images were skewed once I put the visor on.

“Is something funny?”

“No. I have never seen you in gear before. You look like the medical examiner.”

“Gee, thanks. Give me the patient. Just remember, I'm not a watch expert.”

“You know more than the guys in the lab. One of them wanted to use a screwdriver.”

I shuddered. A screwdriver. The horror.

“Let me finish setting up the camera, then we can start.”

“Why are you recording this?” I asked.

“In case my hunch is right, and this is a critical piece of
evidence, I want to make sure I've followed procedure. Any issues with that?”

“No, none. You know I'll do whatever I can to help.” Jeff pulled out a tripod and set it up. The camera was already set up to snap into place, and he was ready to go in a few seconds. “Now I'm going to hit record, and here we go.

“This is Chief Jeff Paisley in the Cog & Sprocket, with the owner of the business, Ruth Clagan. Ms. Clagan is a horologist, and is going to help us open the watch found near the body of Mark Pine, a victim of foul play. For the record, no fingerprints were found on the watch.

“I am now handing the watch to Ms. Clagan for examination.”

Jeff took out the evidence bag and opened it, pulling out the watch and handing it to me.

I held it in my hand. “In the future, a better way to transport this would be in a box, keeping it upright. Hear that clinking sound? The watch shouldn't make a clinking sound.”

“Do you know what that is?”

“It could be a dozen different things I know about, and another dozen I have no idea about. We're going to take this slowly. As I said, watches aren't my specialty, but I've worked on a few in my training. See on the back here? This watch was made by the Elgin company, but you probably know that already. See the inscription on the back, along the side? That's how you can tell.”

“Is it worth much?”

“All depends on the year, the condition, whether it is working, replacement parts, all sorts of factors. Could be worth as little as three hundred dollars and as much as
forty-five hundred dollars. I can take some notes, get you some better numbers.”

“How do you open it? Pushing down the stem doesn't work.”

“It should. Let me see,” I said, turning it around in my gloved hand. “Yes, right, there might be something stuck in the hinge. Let me see, maybe this would work.”

“What are you two up to?” Caroline was in the back doorway, shopping bags brimming with party supplies in her hands. She dropped both bags and came over toward us. Her cheeks were aglow from the cold air, but the rest of her face was pale.

“Ruth is helping me with part of an investigation,” Jeff said.

“What investigation? Does this have anything to do with Mark's death?”

“We found this watch by his body.”

“Oh no. When I saw the drawing in your book this morning, I hoped it was a coincidence.”

“A coincidence?” I asked.

“Let me look at this watch.”

“Why, have you seen this type of watch before?” I said, looking up at her quizzically.

“I should say so. I may have made it.”

“W
hat?” I asked.

“What are you recording?” Caroline asked, gesturing toward the camera.

“Chain of evidence for the watch,” Jeff said.

“What? Why?”

“We found it last night,” he said. “We can't get it open, and I thought that getting some expert help made sense. Of course, I thought of Ruth. Didn't realize there were other experts in the neighborhood.”

“Can you turn it off?” Caroline asked.

Jeff didn't look happy about it, but did as she asked. Knowing Jeff, he was being more cautious than necessary. Still, he wasn't one to break his own rules. He wouldn't have for me, that's for sure.

“Here, Caroline, wear these gloves before you touch the watch. Fingerprints wouldn't help anyone.”

“Certainly not me,” she said, smiling wanly, snapping on the gloves. “Ruth, could I use a visor?”

“Of course,” I said. I grabbed the extra one at the workstation, realizing at the last minute it was Mark's. I hoped she wouldn't notice, but when she hesitated before putting it on, I knew she had.

“This is an Elgin, but I suspect you know that.” We both nodded. “Very nice case. Not original.”

“How do you know that?” I asked. I knew a little about watches, but not enough to assess the details.

“I don't, but I have my suspicions. I need to get it open to be sure. The release pin is stuck. Likely someone snapped it shut over and over, and the gold wore down over time.”

“Isn't that normal wear and tear?” Jeff asked.

“The better way to open a pocket watch is to depress the opening mechanism, close it gently, and then release the stem. Let me do this, and then if I gently press the button here, we should be able to get her open.”

I pretended not to notice Caroline's hand shake, but she steadied it soon enough and got the watch opened. The winding vine motif was inside the watch as well. Caroline used her finger to trace the vines, and showed us how it turned into a
W
. I needed to be shown it; then it was obvious.

“It's mine. Or rather, it's Wallace's.”

“Who's Wallace?” I said.

“My first husband. Levi's father,” Caroline said.

“Wallace?” Jeff asked.

“Wallace Struggs.”

“Does he live around here?”

“No. The last I heard, he was still in prison. In Monaco.”

“Prison?” I asked. “What did he go to prison for?”

“A lot of things,” she sighed. “Including forgery.”

“What did he forge?” Jeff asked quietly. He wasn't writing anything down, but I knew he wouldn't forget any of these details. Or did he know them already? When Jeff had first arrived in Orchard, my grandfather and Caroline had gone out of their way to welcome him. Had he gotten curious about Caroline's past? Or had she confided in him? For that matter, what had G.T. known?

“Clocks. Watches. Paintings. He specialized in mid-1800s antiquities. You both might as well know this now, before it gets out of hand. I helped him, mostly with the watches. I didn't realize what he was doing, believe me, but I did help.”

Caroline had been working on the watch all the while, laying out the large pieces as they came off. She'd taken off the bezel and the crystal, and then she removed the inner workings of the watch itself. They came out as a unit, which allowed them to be taken apart if necessary. Caroline turned over the mechanism and pointed to the back. She lowered the large table-mounted magnifying glass over the watch and turned on the light. Jeff and I both leaned in.

“See, here? This is my signature. Caroline Struggs. I took to signing the inner workings of the clocks, trying to help the authorities track the work. That was the deal I made, to keep me out of jail.”

“To keep you out of jail?” I asked. I still couldn't get past Caroline expertly disassembling this intricate watch.

Caroline sighed and looked up at us both. She picked up the watch case and absently rubbed her gloved fingers over it.

“Wallace and I met when I was quite young. I was an apprentice in a shop where he worked. The shop was owned by Zane Phillips, the man you talked to yesterday. He was a wonderful mentor.”

“An apprentice?” I asked. “So you are a clockmaker?”

“A watchmaker, actually,” she said, smiling to herself. “Not that I don't like clocks, but my gift was in watch repair. As with clock work, it is very exacting and delicate. The inside of a watch is about the mechanics, and I found that suited me.

“I had a gift, one which delighted Wallace at first. Zane wanted us to stay with him—we were a great team—but Wallace was restless and wanted to move on. I was in love, so I went with him. We moved to Europe and opened our own shop. At first we focused on both clocks and watches, but soon we were getting more of a reputation for watch repair—”

“Because of you,” I said, just starting to wrap my head around this revelation.

Caroline reached over and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Modesty aside, yes, because of me,” she said. “We were doing a good business and Wallace was doing clock repairs. Then I got pregnant, and Levi was born. Everything changed then.”

“What do you mean?” Jeff asked.

“I was a bit older when he was born, almost forty. I didn't expect to fall as in love with my son as I did, but he became my focus. I kept working, of course, but it is one thing to have a baby in the shop. Quite another to have a toddler. So we set up a small shop at home, and I worked more and more from there. That was when it started.”

“What started?”

“When I was in the shop, I was involved in the day-to-day workings of the business. I would meet with the customers and learn about the watches, their history. I would talk to them about restoration work, see if they wanted to try to maintain the value if it was very old, or if they wanted to get it working again. You'd be surprised how differently people reacted once you talked to them. More often than not, people wanted the watch to work. So I would replace the older parts and focus on that. A scratched crystal, a bezel that didn't turn as easily anymore, cogs and gears that were worn down. I'd replace the parts with newer models and get the watches running like new. Of course, I'd keep all of the old parts.”

“Why?” Jeff asked.

“In case someone wanted a more authentic restoration,” I answered for Caroline. “The scratched crystal may not be everyone's cup of tea, but if you have a two-hundred-year-old watch, you may want the two-hundred-year-old crystal to go with it. Even with a little scratch.”

“But, of course, I would always let people know that the parts had been changed. Once I was out of the shop, though, Wallace stopped being quite so careful about the record keeping. At least that is what I told myself when I began to wonder why so many antique watches started to come through looking for restoration work rather than replacement parts. Wallace had started to take some watches of dubious distinction, send them to me for restoration, and then he'd pass them off as antiques. He was doing the same with clocks.”

“You had no idea?” I asked.

“I don't know. I knew something was going on, but I
couldn't fathom the scope. I'll never forget the day I found out Wallace was under investigation for forgery and smuggling.”

“Smuggling?” Jeff asked.

“Wallace would use jewels from nefarious sources in clocks and watches. He'd even taken to using false bottoms in larger clocks to transport stolen pieces of art.”

Jeff let out a slow whistle, and Caroline nodded.

“Long story short, I made a deal. I started helping the authorities by signing my name on the wheels of the watches I was working on. I also went into the shop and did the same on some of the cogs in the clocks. It helped track back the work.”

“That must have been difficult, going against Wallace,” I said.

Caroline looked up at me and shrugged.

“My marriage to Wallace had become a cycle of abuse,” she said quietly. “At first it was verbal. Looking back, that was always there—cruel language, put-downs, bursts of anger when he was frustrated. After Levi was born it escalated into physical violence. He never hurt Levi, but my arms were covered with bruises from where he would grab me.

“I was the weak link in Wallace's operation. Interpol understood that before I did. They offered me immunity, and a new life, if I would help them arrest Wallace and shut down his ring.”

“His ring?” I asked.

“Wallace may have been a mediocre clockmaker, but he was a smooth talker and an excellent master criminal.”

“How long did it take?” Jeff asked, quietly scratching away at his notepad as Caroline spoke.

“Six months,” she said. “At first I was a wreck, but after
a while it became second nature. Do the work that Wallace asked me to do, take pictures and write notes for Interpol, and continue to tag the work with my signature, which I had always done subtly on every piece I worked on. Meanwhile, Wallace grew bolder. Ironically, he finally stopped being so abusive at home.”

“He never caught on?”

“He had no idea. Hubris and arrogance were his trademarks, so that shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. He had no idea until the trial, when I was called to testify against him in open court.”

“How did he react?”

“He threatened to kill me. That would have frightened me under normal circumstances—I knew what he was capable of more than anyone—but I knew two things: First, that he was going to jail for a very long time, hopefully forever. Second, I was getting a new life and moving back to the United States.”

“So Caroline Adler was born,” I said softly, a little in awe of the strength of this small, tidy woman I saw before me. What else didn't I know about her?

“Reborn,” she said, smiling. “At first, I tried to completely divorce myself from my old life. I had no living family to speak of, so I thought that would be easy enough. But I missed doing my work. By then, Zane Phillips had moved to Vermont, so I went to visit. He was thrilled to see me and was completely comfortable with helping me create a new identity. He gave me work on the side, kept my secrets. I holed myself up in Vermont and lived in fear for a long time. Then I started to relax.

“Six years ago, Zane talked me into going to a Clockmakers of America society conference. He thought it was high
time I started to expand my horizons a bit, especially now that Levi was getting older. Besides, Zane wanted to step back from work and travel. He knew I needed to make my own connections. So I went to the conference, and Thom Clagan was there. He and Zane were good friends, and so the three of us spent a lot of time together, eating meals and talking. This was shortly after your grandmother Mae had passed, and Thom was in terrible shape. Zane invited him up to Vermont for a visit, and we spent more time together. He also met my son, Levi. He was so, so good with the boy. Levi was about fifteen then, and in need of a male role model. Fond of the boy as Zane was, and is, he wasn't much help with the role model part of being with a young person. Clocks made of knives and teenage boys don't exactly mix.” She laughed.

“Is that why you both got married? So Levi could have a father?” I asked.

“Ruth, I married your grandfather because I fell in love with him. He was, and is, the best man I've ever known. I know that he loved your grandmother desperately and would never love me the same way, but we had a good marriage. I like to think I made him happy. I think I did. At least I tried my best.”

Not for the first time since I'd met her, I was sorry that I had reacted so badly to the news of their marriage and had stopped talking to my grandfather. I should have known that marrying Caroline wasn't a sign of not loving my grandmother. He'd been lonely. I wasn't going to underestimate their marriage, though. From what Flo and Nancy had told me over many cups of tea, Caroline and G.T. were happy. She'd been good for G.T.

“Did G.T. know about Wallace?” I asked.

“He knew everything. Do you think I would have married him without letting him know about my past? He and Zane Phillips are the only two people who know the story. Or they were. Now you know the story too.”

“Levi doesn't know?” Jeff asked.

“He thinks his father died in a car accident,” she said, shifting her gaze down to the table.

“Okay,” I said carefully. “I guess I can understand that. Anyway, your secret is safe with me.”

I noted that Jeff Paisley did not chime in at this point. Instead, he continued to make notes while Caroline put the watch back together.

“Caroline, would you mind checking these notes?” Jeff asked, setting the open notebook down in front of her.

“Of course not, Jeff,” Caroline said. “Let me pack this up for you first.”

Jeff nodded to me, and we both took a few steps away. Jeff never took his eyes off Caroline and the watch. We lowered our voices.