Clock and Dagger (8 page)

“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.”

“M
urder?” 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 room, 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.”

•   •   •

“J
eff, 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 keep 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.

“Thank you,” he said. “It would be helpful to stay put and get to work. The state police are determined to take jurisdiction, but Orchard is my town. I need to be on site, and staying next door is easier. I can probably make do down here; won't need the upstairs.”

“Take the key, Jeff. Make yourself at home. Take a nap. You just drove back from Boston!”

“Thanks, Ruth. Don't worry, I'll watch out for her majesty if I do need to go upstairs.”

“Let me go up and pack an overnight bag,” I said.

I started to walk toward the back stairs, but stopped when I heard steps coming downstairs.

“Did you hear that?” I turned toward him, but he obviously had. He moved past me, gently pushing me to the side. Someone was coming down the stairs, and Jeff Paisley was the welcoming committee.

“F
reeze!” Jeff Paisley said. Where did the gun come from? I hadn't noticed a holster, but then again, I wasn't looking for one.

“What the?” Nadia came downstairs and stood on the bottom step. “What's going on?”

Nadia looked terrible: mascara streaks down her face, her hair smashed on one side, bloodshot eyes, carrying her boots, the cuff of her coat torn.

“Where have you been?” Jeff asked.

“We came back here during the lantern ceremony.”

“We?”

“Tuck and me.”

“Where is Tuck?”

“He's right behind me. Can we come downstairs? Or are you going to shoot us?” she said, sarcastic even at gunpoint.

Jeff lowered his gun, but didn't put it away. He stepped back and cleared some space.

“Yeesh. That was a little extreme, don't you think?” Nadia said. Tuck followed her, his head lowered. His clothing looked as disheveled as Nadia's did.

“Why did you come back here? What was the time?” Jeff asked again.

“I don't know. Nine or so? Why we came back is private,” Tuck said. He looked up at Jeff, and I noticed the blood down the front of his shirt. It looked like his nose was broken, and he had a black eye.

“Listen, the two of you, answer his questions. Have you been upstairs this entire time?” I asked. Tuck always made me feel like a schoolmarm with no sense of humor.

“I kept bouncing around, making sure everyone had what they needed. I was over at the Corner Market, helping Mac, but Tuck came by, and we started talking. My bag was here, so we came back to get it. We came in the back door and went upstairs. Everyone was busy, so we didn't say hi. When we got up there, we started talking more.”

“Talking?” Jeff asked, looking at them both.

“Okay, arguing,” Nadia said.

“Nadia, you don't have to tell them anything,” Tuck said, gingerly touching the bridge of his nose. “It's none of their business.”

“Of course I do. They've probably heard all about it. The whole town probably has, the way you made such an idiot out of yourself.”

“I made an idiot out of myself?”

“That's right. Getting into a fight with Mark. Idiot.”

“You and Mark Pine fought tonight?” Jeff asked.

“I was over by the Sleeping Latte, and I saw him kiss Nadia. She left out the part of the story where she left the Corner Market with Mark. I'll admit it, when I saw them, I lost it,” Tuck said. His color rose as he spoke, accentuating his bruises.

“It wasn't a
kiss
kiss. It was a friend kiss. He brought me dinner! You're such a jerk,” Nadia said.

“I don't kiss my friends like that,” Tuck said. Nadia stopped talking. “So I took a swing at him—who'd blame me? Why, what's he saying? Is he pressing charges? Is this why we are getting the third degree right now?”

“He's not saying anything,” Jeff said. “He's dead. He died earlier this evening.”

“He's what?” Nadia said, her eyes wide. I rushed to her side as she began to crumple. I put an arm around her and lowered her onto a chair.

“Tell me more about this fight,” Jeff said, keeping his distance. Tuck didn't move to Nadia. Instead he turned and addressed Jeff directly.

“Hey, listen, I said I took a swing. I never connected. The guy was some sort of martial arts master. Before I knew what happened I was flat on my back and my nose was bleeding.”

“Where did this happen? Outside the Corner Market?”

“No. He and Nadia were heading back here. I caught up to them past the Sleeping Latte, closer to Ben's shop. A little before nine o'clock. Anyway, he knocked me flat. He wanted to talk to me about it, but I couldn't deal with him then. I needed space so he went his way, and Nadia and I came back here. To talk.”

“Is that when Nadia's coat got ripped?” I asked. Nadia was useless, weeping in my arms. We were sitting together
in the chair and a half I'd located near the back of the store. It was a tight fit, but she wasn't letting go. Neither was I.

“She tried to stop me from fighting with Mark. Her coat got ripped. It was an accident.” Tuck turned and sat at one of the stools at a workstation. Jeff remained standing, his eyes never leaving Tuck.

“Is that true?” I whispered to Nadia.

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head.

“Where did you go next?” Jeff asked.

“Up to the attic office.”

“That was over three hours ago.”

“We fought for a while, then Nadia went and got me a cloth for my nose. I must have fallen asleep.”

“How about you, Nadia? Did you fall asleep too?”

Nadia nodded her head, but she still couldn't speak. She was sobbing, and I kept my arm across her shoulder.

Jeff finally secured his gun into the holster beneath his jacket. He pulled out his cell phone and hit a button.

“Ro, I'm over here at the Cog & Sprocket. I need you to come by and take a couple of statements. Yes, now.” While he was on the phone Nadia got up and went into the bathroom. She never looked over at Tuck. Once the door closed, I heard her start to wail.

“You can't keep us here,” Tuck said.

“I can make this more official if you'd like,” Jeff said, his patience waning. “I assumed you would want to help me find out who killed your friend. He was your friend, wasn't he, Mr. Powers? Didn't you get him this job?”

“We went to high school together. Sure, of course I want to help. It's only that Nadia is so upset, I should get her home.” Tuck started to rise, but Jeff gestured for him to stay put.

“Tell you what. After we get your statements, I'll have someone drive you both home.”

“Do you want me to stay?” I asked, getting up. “I can make some coffee.”

Jeff shook his head. “Go and get Caroline home. We can touch base again tomorrow.”

I could tell I was being dismissed. I went upstairs and changed out of my dress. Yoga pants and a hoodie were much more comfortable. I fed Bezel and explained the situation to her as I packed. She was more interested in her food than my explanation, so I picked her up and kissed the top of her head, holding her reassuringly warm bulk for a few moments longer than I knew she liked. Even as she wriggled away from me I was comforted by that brief moment of contact. I grabbed my spare key and went back downstairs with my overnight bag, brushing fur off the front of my hoodie.

Nadia was back sitting in the chair, crying more quietly. Ro had pulled up a chair next to her, her cell phone on the arm of the chair and a half, a pad of paper on her lap. She was taking notes and nodding. I walked toward the front of the shop and noticed Tuck had moved to one of the chairs in the showroom. He wasn't looking at the clocks. Instead, his elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hands.

Jeff Paisley was standing by the front counter of the store.

“I'm going out the back,” I said.

“Good idea. There's still a crowd out front,” Jeff said.

“Here's the spare keys. This one is to my apartment, and this one is to the office, in case you need anything there.”

“So, Nadia and Tuck couldn't have gone into your apartment?”

“No, neither of them have a key.”

“Did you go up to the office?”

“No, I thought you'd want to do that.” Actually, I hadn't thought of that. Shoot. I was more tired than I thought.

“So, I have your permission to look around?” Jeff Paisley sounded more official than he had all night.

“You do. Are you sure you don't want me to stay?”

“No, go take Caroline home. And take care of her; she was fond of Mark.”

She was indeed. We all were, or so I thought.