Clock and Dagger (18 page)

“H
e what?”

“Let me start from the beginning. Mark had told me about Beckett's job offer a few days ago, and that Beckett needed someone to help get his clocks and watches ready for sale. So I thought I'd go by his shop today and see if I could help somehow.”

“Help? Offer our services, like that?”

“Yes, like that.”

“Hah! I don't believe you, Caroline.”

“What do—?”

“I don't believe you because I had decided to go visit Beckett myself. He's number six on my chart.” I must have sounded crazy, but that statement had made complete sense in my head.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we are both trying to figure out what happened to Mark, and we both recognized that Beckett is on a lot of the paths that cross on the way to the truth.”

“I have no idea what you said, but it made sense. I know that you and Beckett aren't the best of friends, so I thought it would make sense for me to go over. We chatted for a while. Rina wasn't there.”

“I saw her yesterday morning coming out of the Sleeping Latte. She hasn't been around much lately.”

“He indicated to me that he was going to buy her out.”

“Interesting. The partnership isn't working anymore, I guess.”

“Apparently not. I did ask him about Tuesday night, and where he was. He said that he and Rina were in Marytown, having dinner.”

“That's what she told me,” I said, trying to recall the exact details of our tense encounter.

“I could have sworn I saw Rina's red coat in the crowd during the lantern ceremony, but I must have been mistaken. Why do I always assume that a red coat is Rina?”

“I don't know anyone else with a coat that same color. But if she confirms that they were having dinner, then it might give Beckett an alibi for when Mark was killed.”

“Beckett is a loathsome human being, but you don't really think he could have done it, do you?”

“Caroline,” I said. “Someone did it.”

“But there were so many people here that night,” she said as she watched Bezel saunter toward her bowl of food. Caroline must have taken her allergy medication. I was glad, since separating Bezel and food was never easy. “It must have been a stranger.”

“The watch that was left makes it personal,” I said softly. “Your initials on the watch and now these replicas in Beckett's shop. There must be a connection.” The shadow that crossed her face told me she'd thought the same thing.

“So, anyway, what was the tour of Been There, Read That like?”

“It wasn't very extensive. He showed me where the coffee bar was going in. He was trying to breeze by the clocks, but I slowed down and looked at a few of them. That one in particular stopped me. I looked more carefully, and I noticed the mark. The one I'd started to use to tag the forgeries.”

“Maybe it's a coincidence?”

“The mark is my initials. I would know them anywhere.”

“You're sure?”

“Not a hundred percent. It isn't obvious to the naked eye, of course. But I'd put the mark in some embellishment on the clock face if that was possible. It was more helpful for Interpol agents who were doing the tracking. Anyway, without a magnifier I couldn't be sure. That's why I went back and got these.” She pointed to the two bags. “These are my own personal archives from that period of my life.”

“Your own archives?”

“I started to have to document what I was doing for Interpol, so I kept a copy for myself. Insurance, if you will. Or maybe it was a record of my work, since I knew that I would lose it all.”

She handed me a few more envelopes, and I opened them one at a time, taking a quick look inside. I was shuffling through stunning work, too quickly to really honor it. “You worked with both clocks and watches?” I asked, fascinated by this opportunity to peer through this long-closed window into Caroline's life.

“I did. Watches are my passion. For clocks, I was best at the fine work—painting the faces, etching. It was a remarkable time.” She looked absolutely miserable. To do such work, and have it be a misery in your life. It broke my heart.

“Wow, Caroline, you and I have a lot to talk about, don't we?” I flipped through a few more pictures. “What did you say to Beckett?”

“I didn't say anything. I went home, found these things, and came over here to talk to you. Then you mentioned that Beckett is number six, and I have no idea what that means. But it made me feel better, somehow, to know I am not the only conspiracy theorist in this town.”

I walked over and got my notebook and handed it to Caroline. She leafed through it quickly and then handed it back to me.

“This new information about Beckett sort of ties him in with Mark's death, because of the watch, don't you think?” I said.

“I do.”

“Beckett could have brought the watch over to show Mark and dropped it after killing him. Or it's a warning to someone. In any case, we need to call Jeff Paisley,” I said.

If I thought Caroline couldn't be more miserable, I was wrong. Her face crumpled.

“Jeff isn't going to blame you,” I said.

“I blame me,” she said, her voice raw. “When I saw the watch, I prayed that it had nothing to do with me. Then I went to Beckett's and saw the clock. One has to have something to do with the other.”

“Listen, Caroline, we can both make guesses, but where will that get us? Isn't Levi coming home later today?”
Caroline nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “So how about this. We call Jeff and set up a time to talk. Then I'll come out to the house, and we can have dinner with Levi. I am really looking forward to meeting him. Tomorrow, we'll go over and talk to Beckett together. How does that sound?”

I took her nod as an assent, and I called Jeff Paisley. He didn't pick up.

“He could give a girl a complex,” I said to Caroline while I listened to his voice mail recording. Caroline was watching me while I left our message. “Jeff, it's Ruth. So, Caroline was visiting Beckett this afternoon, and she noticed that one of the clocks in his shop had some similarities to the watch you brought over yesterday. Call me and I'll tell you more.”

“That was fairly cryptic,” she said.

“I know. I think we may as well be cryptic on voice mail—don't you agree?”

“In case someone is listening in?”

“Well, I was thinking it would make him more likely to call back. I feel like he's been avoiding me.”

Caroline smiled and patted my arm. “I'm sure he's very busy. Listen, why don't I leave all of this with you?”

“Are you sure? It's fine with me, of course.”

“I'd rather it be here with you, especially now. You can keep it safe and help me figure out what to do with it after you've looked it over. It is time to work out my past before it takes over my present. I hope all of this is a terrible coincidence.”

“I'm sure it is,” I said. We both knew I was lying, but it was a necessary lie for now. Believing anything else would break Caroline's heart, and I wasn't sure she could live through yet another heartbreak. On the other hand, the more
I learned about Caroline convinced me that she was probably one of the strongest people I knew. All of those secrets must have been a heavy burden.

“Now, I need you to promise me something,” Caroline said, smoothing her hand over her hair, tucking in a few flyaways with practiced fingers.

“Anything.”

“Promise me you won't go visit Beckett again until you've talked to Jeff. Don't look at me like that. You know I'm right. If anything ever happened to you—”

“Caroline, nothing is going to happen to me. But if it makes you feel better, fine. I will wait to see Beckett until we talk to Jeff.”

Caroline reached across the table and took both of my hands in hers. She may have wanted to see if I was crossing my fingers, but she held them both and squeezed them. I squeezed back.

“I've got your back on all of this,” I said. “We'll get through it, no matter what. Trust me.”

C
aroline scoffed at my offers to bring food for dinner with Levi.

“I've had a brisket cooking all day. That's his favorite. I'll mash some potatoes, and I have roasted vegetables ready to go. I will tell you what, though. Levi loves Nancy Reed's cookies. Maybe you could bring some of them?”

We both looked at the empty plate. We'd polished off most of my stash.

“I'll head down to the Sleeping Latte and see what they've got.”

“I'm sure Nancy will have some gossip to go with the cookies. Bring that to dinner as well, won't you?”

“Will do.”

•   •   •

I
walked down to the Sleeping Latte. It was almost four o'clock, close to closing, but you wouldn't know it when you walked in. Every table was packed, and there were three people waiting in line for coffee. I was surprised to see Pat Reed busing tables, and I walked over.

“Moonlighting?” I said, smiling.

“Ruthie, you are a sight for sore eyes. Could you grab that tub over there?”

I walked over and picked up the tub. It was full of dishes and coffee cups. I followed him back into the kitchen, and set the tub next to the sink. Three other tubs were on the counter.

“Tuck was supposed to come in this afternoon, but he didn't show up.” Pat looked at the dishes and sighed. “I came over for lunch, and they put me to work. They were already understaffed, because of the holiday. But this was supposed to be a quiet week.”

“Why don't I take care of the dishes?”

“Know what you're doing?”

“I do. I've been helping out since December when student workers had exams and started calling out on shifts.”

“Thanks. I'll go back out front and take over the counter. Nancy isn't the best at customer service.”

I found a pair of rubber gloves and grabbed an apron. I heard the sound of a siren wailing down the street, the babble of the crowds in the front of the restaurant, and the ticking of a kitchen timer. I shook my head and tried to block all of the sounds out. I pulled out two racks of clean dishes and walked them out to the front. There were three empty
racks waiting, so I gathered them. Moira looked up from frothing some eggnog and mouthed “thank you” to me. I nodded and went back to the kitchen.

It didn't take long to get the dishes into the machine. There was still a tub left. I filled up the sink and started to hand-wash some more cups and saucers to replenish the stock out front. I realized I was going to miss just stopping in to lend a hand once I had the Cog open regular hours and I didn't have as much free time. I left the cups drying in the rack and then added some of the baking bowls that had dried cookie dough stuck inside. I left them to soak for a while and brought the cups and saucers back out front.

“Were you going to close at four?” I asked Pat.

“No, Moira could use the business. We'll close the doors at five.”

“I can help for a little while longer. I'll get you ahead of the dishes, at least.”

I walked back into the kitchen and saw Nancy sitting on a stool, nursing a large glass of ice water. When she saw me, she started to get up, but I motioned her down.

“Nancy, you look done in.”

“I'm too old for this.”

“Too old? You? Never. You just need more help around here.”

“We really do. I thought hiring Tuck would help us, but then he didn't show up. Ticks me off, it really does. I went to bat for the kid. Even Moira thought he had a talent at the barista bar, which would have been a huge help today.”

“He didn't call in?”

“I talked to him last night. I know he was a friend of Mark's, so I told him he didn't need to come in. But he told
me he wanted to. He'd quit one of his other jobs and wanted to settle in here. Did he quit working for you?”

“No, not that I know of, but he was sort of working ad hoc in the shop. We have a meeting set up for tomorrow, to go over shots from the open house to use on the site. That is, if we can get the memory cards back from Jeff.” I made a mental note to check in with Jeff, and make sure Nadia dropped the memory cards off. Maybe I could use the need for pictures as an excuse to get a glimpse of them all.

“Tuck isn't the most charming guy in town, but he is pretty reliable,” Nancy said, interrupting my photo plotting.

“Agreed on both counts.” I pulled out my cell phone and texted Tuck:
Call or text ASAP. You OK?
I noticed that I had a call and checked my phone. The ringer volume was practically shut off it was so low, which accounted for the missed call. I stepped out onto the back stairs to check my messages.

The voice mail was short. “Ruth, this is Zane Phillips. Just confirming our dinner plans for tonight. Looking forward to seeing you and Caroline both. Where should we meet?”

Shoot! I had completely forgotten to tell Caroline I'd agreed to dinner on her behalf. Great. Well, I guessed we would have to set an extra place at the table and have him over at Caroline's house tonight.

I hadn't heard back from Jeff about the phone call. I hadn't heard back from Jeff about anything. Where was he, anyway?

I called Caroline first, on her cell. She answered right away. “Caroline, Zane Phillips called. Remember earlier when I called and left you his number? Well, I meant to
mention he wants to have dinner tonight. And I said that we were free. Do you think we can have him over to your house just to simplify things?”

“What, oh, I suppose. A little last-minute, but with everything that's happened the past few days it's understandable. And Levi knows him already. It might be nice to have company, take our mind off things.”

“Thank you! I feel like anything not directly related to the murder investigation just doesn't fit into my brain these past few days. Is Levi there yet?”

“No, he left a message, and was having some car trouble. Oh, look, that's him now, on the other line. Can you let Zane know the address? Tell him around seven thirty?”

“I'll give him a call,” I said.

“Give who a call?” Nancy asked as I hung up the phone and stepped back in. She was back sitting on the stool and was now resting the glass of ice water against her forehead.

“An old friend of hers—Zane Phillips. He's in town and wants to see her.”

“That's nice. Levi's there, isn't he?”

“Not yet. He was having some car trouble. But he was calling with an update while I was on the phone with Caroline. Listen, Nancy, I hate to ask, but I actually came by to see if you had any cookies I could take to the dinner tonight. I guess Levi loves them as much as I do.”

“Levi is my best taste tester. I'm glad he'll be around for a little while. I have three new cookies I want to try out. Of course I'll send some out with you.”

“I'm happy to pay for them,” I offered, even though I knew the offer was futile.

“Put your money away. You know how you can help me,
don't you? You can finish up the dishes. And take care of Caroline. She's taking Mark's death hard.”

“She is. And I will. Let me get the next load of dishes in.”

“I'll put a couple of batches in the oven now.” Hot, home-baked cookies. A couple of loads of dirty dishes in exchange for those gems. Yet again, I got the better end of the deal.

•   •   •

T
he box of cookies was warm in my hands. I knew it would get cool soon enough, but wouldn't it be great if they made it out to the cottage warm? I decided to go out the front of the Sleeping Latte, hoping to have a quick chat with Moira before I left. Her back was to me, at the espresso machine, six drinks in various stages of completion as she carefully steamed some milk. I didn't want to interrupt her rhythm, so I waved at Pat and walked out the front door. I'd catch up with Moira later.

I hadn't walked down the main drag in a couple of days. Though it was more efficient to walk down the back alley, the true spirit of the town didn't exist back there, but rather on this main stretch of road. The Corner Market's parking lot was packed. Of course, there were only six spots, but still, it was good to see. The library was to the left, across the street. I loved that it was still open seven days a week, from eight in the morning till eight at night.

At the last town meeting Kim Gray had tried to propose shorter hours and closing on weekends to save money. She hadn't even gotten to the amount it would save in the budget before Nancy Reed stepped in.

“We have to keep the library open. It's the only place a lot of folks have access to the Internet. It's also warm, which
is critical this time of year,” Nancy Reed had said. “It's not just a place to borrow books, it's a service to the community.” She got a round of applause as she sat down.

“You don't want folks sitting in the Sleeping Latte for hours, using your Internet,” Kim had said, smiling as if she were joking. Everyone in the room knew she wasn't. The Nancy Reed–Kim Gray tussles had become a spectator sport at town meetings, and everyone was waiting for Nancy's response.

Nancy stood back up and smiled at the people in the room.

“Kim, the business is Moira's, but I think I can speak for her when I say that we love folks to come in, get a cup of something hot, and sit. We never kick people out. That said, there are some who don't want a cup of coffee or can't pay for it. There are other folks who need a quiet place to work and don't have a computer. Older folks who need access to benefits online, people who need to apply to jobs, kids working on papers and using the resources provided at the library that they can't get at home . . . I can go on and on. If you take away that option, we'll do what we can to take up the slack. But it isn't the same—you know that.”

They combed through the budget and they kept the library open by shifting some funds around, including the money that was earmarked for a new office suite for the town manager, Kim Gray herself. She'd tried to slide it through, but not much got past Nancy Reed. That drew new battle lines between the women. Most of the townsfolk were on the Reed side of the fight. A few others sided with Kim Gray, at least publicly. The only person who was completely on Kim's side was Beckett Green. Not joining the POL consortium and
participating in the open house had been his attempt at being a conscientious objector. It hadn't won him any fans. I suspected it would also cost him some business once his store was open.

Beckett Green was the other reason I decided to walk back to the shop down Washington Street. I'd made a promise to Caroline, one I intended to keep. But still, maybe Rina was in. I should really stop by and apologize for yesterday. I was rude, taking my frustration out on her, when it was directed at Beckett. If being a good neighbor let me take another look at the clocks, so much the better.

I looked up the street at Been There, Read That. Lights were on. A lot of lights were on. The entire corner glowed. Jeff Paisley's car was parked right in front of the building, blocking other cars from going in or out of Beckett's small parking lot. An ambulance was backing out of the parking lot, lights flashing. As it sped past me, they turned the siren on. Even though I knew it was coming, the sound stopped my heart for a moment.

I looked both ways before crossing the street by rote, but was glad I did when I saw another SUV flying past me. I hurried my pace and caught Ro Troisi as she was getting her gear out of her car.

“Is everything all right?” I asked. “Is someone hurt? Was there a robbery?”

“A robbery? What makes you ask that?” she said, cocking her head.

Ro Troisi was formidable, with dark curly hair that she corralled into a ponytail, and a shirt that always gaped at unfortunate places. Ro and I always grabbed a cup of coffee when we had the chance, and she'd become a friend. I knew
that Jeff considered her his right hand, and she was blossoming under his leadership. She had stopped what she was doing and was waiting for my answer.

“Beckett has been bringing in some merchandise that is worth a good deal of money. Since he isn't open yet, I'm not sure if all of his alarms are in place. I figured maybe something was taken.”

“So you decided to come over and check it out,” she said, cocking her eyebrows.

“Yes,” I said. I matched Ro's gaze and smiled. “Given everything that is going on around here, do you really blame me?”

“You do seem to be around for drama,” she said with a snort. She looked over her shoulder as Jeff Paisley was coming out the door. She bent over and picked up her gear.

“Troisi, you need help?”

“No, sir. On my way in.”

“Good. We need to secure this scene before the state comes in and takes it over. You up to that?”

“I'm on it, Chief.” She looked at me and shrugged slightly.

Jeff Paisley came down the stairs, heading right toward me.