Just Killing Time (25 page)

“Y
ou really should go to the hospital and get checked out,” the EMT said. Again.

I moved around on the kitchen chair they'd deposited me on and tried to move away from her poking and prodding. Yet again, I declined.

“I'm fine,” I said.

“You weren't fine when I got here,” Chief Paisley said. “You were on the floor, clutching your shoulder.” He'd beaten the state police here by a few minutes and had taken control of the crime scene. Otherwise known as my home.

“You try getting clipped by a carriage clock and see how you do. Really, I'm fine. Just bruised. And shaken up. Where's Bezel? Is she okay?”

“She's fine. Hiding out under the bed. I moved her food nearby.”

The EMT reached over and tried to poke my shoulder. Again.

“Stop fussing,” I said. “I'm not going to go to the hospital. Do you need me to sign something that lets you off the hook if I keel over?”

“She's just doing her job,” the chief said. “We're all just doing our job.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” I looked around the apartment. Piles of boxes had been pushed over. The kitchen chair lay broken by the door to the stairs. “I hate that all of my hard work bringing some order to the chaos of this shop has been undone.”

“Downstairs looks a little better,” he said. “It's been searched, but you'd barely notice unless you happened to have photos of the space from earlier in the week. Tell me again what happened up here.”

“A noise woke me up. Well, actually, Bezel woke me up, but then I heard the noise. I thought it was coming from the shop, but it must have been up here.” I shivered. “I called you, went to make sure the door was closed, and then met the shadow. He . . .”

“Are you sure it was a man?” the chief asked.

I thought about it. “No, I'm not sure. But I'll call it ‘he' for now. Is that okay?” The chief nodded. “He pushed me into a stack of boxes, but then didn't leave right away. Went back to the side table, over there, and grabbed something. I tried to stop him. I threw a chair, but then he threw a carriage clock at me. He grabbed the sack and left. Poor old clock. Where are the parts?”

“All over the place. Lots of glass. Do you recognize it?”

“Specifically, no. But it was a brass carriage clock. Please
don't throw anything away. I might be able to restore it. Or save some of the parts.”

The chief shook his head. “Always on duty, aren't you?”

“Look who's talking. Do you sleep in your uniform?” I asked. He looked less crisp, but fully dressed.

“I fell asleep reading. And at the moment, you are in no position to critique anyone's clothing.” The chief ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and I thought I almost saw him smile. “Did you get a good look at the robber?”

I swallowed my instinct to make a smart comeback and said, “I didn't. He, or she, had a hood pulled up over his or her face. And just a black, or maybe dark blue, sweatshirt, no logos. Dark pants. Black boots. Not very tall, but it's hard to tell, since I was on the floor looking up most of the time. Strong. He threw me to the side like I was a sack of potatoes. I think he wore gloves, since I don't remember seeing a hand. Beyond that, I've got nothing. Sorry about that.”

“You did fine. Do you think you feel up to looking around and seeing what he might have taken?”

“Um, sure.” Someone had wrapped the quilt from the end of my bed around my shoulders, and I pulled it tighter. Somehow I didn't think that my oversized T-shirt featuring cats drinking tea and white sleeping shorts were the normal crime scene uniform. I reached for the yoga pants I'd tossed on the footboard, and the chief had the good manners to look away while I pulled them up, trying not to flash anyone. The chief handed me my flats and I put them on. I wobbled a bit when I stood up, and the chief put his hand under my elbow. I let him keep it there. We walked around to the card tables. There were piles of clocks, parts, and books all intertwined together. Four empty boxes were cast aside. I shook my head.

“I really hadn't gotten to this area,” I said. “So I don't have a sense of what exactly is missing. I can tell you that there were three—no, four—mantel clocks over there. I don't see them.”

“Mantel clocks? Like the ones that were stolen last month?”

“Those were valuable antiques. The ones up here were modern replicas, or so I thought. Not without value, mind you, but not nearly as valuable as some of the other clocks.”

“Would I be able to tell the difference?”

“Probably, after I gave you a lesson.” I looked around the room.

“What's that?” I asked, bending over the smashed remains of the carriage clock. “See that? There?”

The chief grabbed his flashlight and shined it where I pointed. The beveled glass glistened in the light. Brass clock parts were mixed in, surrounded by the battered body of the clock itself. But sitting amongst the ruins was a small gold pin.

“Did you grab photos of this area already?” Chief Paisley asked Officer Troisi.

“Yes, Chief,” she replied.

He reached down with his gloved hand and pulled a piece of metal from the wreckage of the old clock. At first it looked like a piece of the clock itself, but the shape gave it away. He held up the white gold wreath pin.

“Does one of these come with every clock?”

“It doesn't.”

“Not yours?”

“No. I have no idea where it came from. It looks familiar, but that's a pretty common style of pin. I think my grandmother had one.”

Chief Paisley put it in a plastic evidence bag and handed it to the officer.

“Should we take a look downstairs?” I asked.

“Sure, why don't we do that. But before that, why don't you pack a few things. I'm going to drive you over to Caroline's.”

“Caroline's? I don't want to wake her up in the middle of the night.”

“I already did. She's expecting you. You can't stay here. The back door is wide open and this place is a crime scene. Ben came by to see what happened. Apparently Blue was barking and howling to wake the dead. According to Officer Troisi, he has offered to take care of Bezel and to let the locksmith in tomorrow. I assume you trust him?”

“I do. Do you?”

Chief Paisley looked surprised by my question, but recovered quickly.

“I do. So pack your toothbrush and some clothes. We need to get you over to Caroline's. I'll call and let her know we're on our way.” He took a few steps toward the front kitchen to give me at least the illusion of privacy.

I sighed. I fished out another pair of leggings and a plaid shirt dress, rolled them up, and shoved them into my bag. I laid the quilt back on the bed and pulled a sweatshirt over my head. I exchanged my flats for my boots to complete the ensemble, and was ready to go.

The chief took a look at me and his lips twitched.

“What? This isn't high fashion enough for you?” I said, looking down at my outfit.

“It's a look. Is this all you need?”

“Yes, everything else is in my bag. Oh, can you throw
the charger in? I want to charge my phone. Where's my phone?”

“We found it over by the pile of boxes. You might as well take it.”

“Thanks.” I pointed to the table.

The chief picked up my bag and made an exaggerated show of almost falling over. I appreciated the effort to make me smile. It worked, and helped get my mind off the robbery and being attacked in my own apartment in the middle of the night.

“Watch out, it's a little heavy,” I said, smiling and wincing at the same time. “Are you sure that Bezel will be all right?”

“She'll be fine. Now let's go downstairs. I have more bad news for you. Your car isn't parked out back, or out front.”

“It's at the cottage. Caroline's car is in the shop—Pat drove it over to Marytown today. What time is it? Yesterday. He must have told you that.”

“So it looked like you weren't home tonight. Interesting. Do you know what time he drove it over?”

“Late morning? Not sure. Why? Is that important?”

“It may be. We're piecing the day together. There are a lot of holes in Pat's timeline, which aren't helping anyone. You wouldn't know more about that, would you?”

“Chief, I may have a concussion after all, so anything I say is suspect. When I know something, you'll know something.”

“I'm counting on that. Sure you have everything?”

“Oh, wait. One more thing. I want to bring the clock tower notebook over with me. G.T. had built a model, and I'd love to compare it with his notes.”

“I'll get it for you. Where is it?”

“Maybe it's still locked up in the wardrobe? Oh, wait, no. It's right there. On the floor, next to the chair. I don't think I left it on the floor though.”

“Maybe the robber moved it? Looking for something?”

“You would have thought I would have woken up. Yeesh.”

“Or maybe Bezel knocked it over.” The chief didn't sound convinced, but we both let it go. “Have you had any luck finding his current notebook?”

“None. And no luck finding the elusive deed. Though I did find the clue Grover Winter left for my grandfather. A lovely old Harrison. Whoa.”

“Whoa? What are you doing, Ruth? Be careful.”

I'd rushed back to the wardrobe and found the key on the back, just where I'd left it. I unlocked the door and searched through the top box of notebooks.

“Grover Winter left my grandfather a clock, a Harrison sea clock. There was a note inside, telling him that the clock would lead him to what he needed, or something like that.”

“I know all about it. Thom told me.”

“The other day, I found an envelope addressed to G.T. Here it is. The return address was John Harrison. I looked in it, but all I saw were old files. But maybe, just maybe.”

The chief had put on some gloves and gently took the envelope from me. He pulled out the contents and laid them out on the bed. I leaned over and put my hand on his shoulder to see better. And to stop me from toppling over.

There were articles and pictures and a treasure trove of information about the old Town Hall. There was also a commemorative booklet that had been published on its centennial in 1965. The chief picked it up and gently fanned the pages. Something was stuck in the middle. With far more
patience than I felt, he opened the book to the page and pulled out an oversized envelope. It looked fairly new, and was addressed to Thomas Clagan. The chief looked inside and pulled out another envelope. He looked inside that one and made a slow whistling sound.

“Is that?”

“The deed to the old Town Hall. Signed over to your grandfather. You found it, Ms. Clagan.”

“More importantly, the robber didn't,” I said.

I
woke up in my old room at the cottage. It was a little different now, since it was the guest room, but the bed was the same, the quilt was the one my grandmother made me when I was ten, and the rocking chair was in the exact same place. I thought for a minute that I was refreshed, but then I tried moving and my back ached. Every shift hurt, but I tried to stretch, hoping to work out some of the kinks.

I remembered last night. Caroline hadn't fussed over me when I arrived, but I could tell she was concerned. The chief stayed and had a cup of tea with us, and we told her about finding the deed.

“That's wonderful news. It's wonderful news, isn't it, Jeff?” she asked.

“I'd think so.”

“He's going to bring it by Kristen's in the morning,” I said.

“Unless you'd like to take custody of it?” the chief asked.

“Since it was in the shop, I think it technically belongs to Ruth. It's probably safer with you for now,” Caroline said as she put down her teacup. “This piece of paper has caused enough grief already. First Thom, then Ruth.”

“So you think that both incidents had something to do with the deed?” the chief asked.

“Of course I do, Jeff. This piece of paper could cost folks thousands of dollars. Look for the person who attacked Ruth tonight. That's who you are looking for,” Caroline said.

“You may be right, Caroline. But there are still the five stolen clocks.”

“A gift to the Reed family, from Thom and me. No stolen clocks, aside from the ones that were taken tonight. Tell me, Ruth, was it Pat Reed who attacked you?” Caroline asked.

“No, of course not. This person was not big enough to be Pat, anyway.”

“How about Ryan Reed?” the chief asked, staring right at me.

I couldn't help but look away. “I don't know.”

“All right, that's enough. Ruth needs some rest. You can talk to her again in the morning.” With that, Caroline shooed Chief Paisley out of the room. We followed him out and she locked the door behind him.

“Thank you, Caroline. I'm so sorry to impose like this,” I said, shifting gingerly in my chair.

“Please, it isn't an imposition. How are you feeling?”

“I feel like a truck ran over me and then backed up and parked.”

“The adrenaline is wearing off. Go ahead upstairs. I'll bring you up some water and ibuprofen. Maybe we can get ahead of some of those aches and pains. A hot bath would also be good.”

“I don't have it in me to take a bath. I think I just want to go to sleep.”

“I'll be right up.”

The second my head hit the pillow, I had fallen into a deep, deep sleep.

Now I looked at the bedside table and saw the three tablets laid out beside a glass of water. I could either lie in bed and wait for the pills to kick in or I could get moving and try to go to the Sleeping Latte to help Moira and Ben. I sat up gingerly, regretting throwing off the warm covers almost immediately.

My bag rested on the rocking chair, and I reached in for my cell phone to check the time. Dead battery. I found the charger and plugged it in. It was so dead that it wasn't coming right back to life, so I shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom to get ready for the day. Caroline was just coming out of her room, dressed in running tights and a fleece.

“You're up,” she said. “I was going out for a quick run, but let me make some coffee.”

“You run?” I asked.

Caroline laughed. “I do. I used to race, but my knees won't tolerate that anymore.”

“Did you get G.T. to run with you?” I asked, enjoying the mental image.

“Heavens no. I barely got him to take walks with me. But I find that when life gets a little overwhelming, a run helps clear my mind.”

“Maybe I should try that,” I said. “But not today. Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“Of course not. I left a towel for you and there's shampoo in the shower. Take all the time you need. I'll be back shortly.”

I expected another trip down memory lane when I stepped in the bathroom, but I was happily surprised to see the update. The old vanity was gone and replaced by an off-white solid-surface sink and countertop on top of a cherry cabinet. The old, metal medicine cabinet had been replaced by a larger cabinet and the tiles were all in shades of white and beige, simple but elegant. I wondered what, if any, other modifications Caroline had planned for the rest of the house.

The hot water streamed down on me from the tall, rain showerhead, pounding on my aching body, and I offered up a silent prayer of thanks that I was not crouched in the torture device that passed for a shower back at the apartment. I could have stayed there all day, but after a few minutes of steaming, I climbed out. I toweled myself off and borrowed some of the lotion on the edge of the tub, slathering my body and pulling some of it through my hair. I didn't have any hair product with me, and knew that I would have a frizz attack very shortly. I wove my hair into a quick braid and finished getting dressed.

I was hobbling like an old woman, but that couldn't be helped. The few bruises I could see in the mirror were impressive. I forced myself to think back to what had happened last night. There was something that seemed familiar about the shadow, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The whole thing felt like a nightmare, but each time I moved or breathed too heavily it became all too real again.

I went back to the bedroom and made the bed. The phone
responded when I turned it on, and I was surprised that I had four messages waiting for me. The first and third were both from Jonah, asking me to bring the files and box over to the house. Shoot. In all the hustle and bustle yesterday I'd forgotten to drop off the boxes, but they were still in the back of the car.

The middle message was from Ben Clover.

“Ruth, just checking in with you. Don't even think of coming in to the diner this morning. Aunt Flo is going to keep her eye out for the locksmith. I went by this morning and did what I could to fix the door, but I think you'll need a new one sooner rather than later. We can talk about that this afternoon.”

The last message was from Chief Paisley.

“This is Jeff Paisley. I hope you've recovered a bit from last night. I want to make sure we've crossed all the t's and dotted all the i's regarding the deed. I'd like you to come by the station so I can take an official statement. Could you do that this morning so we can get the paperwork filed today? I'll see you by ten o'clock, all right?”

I checked the time on my cell phone. The chief wanted to see me in an hour. I suspected dealing with the deed would take the better part of the day, so I needed to make two quick stops first. A stop by Jonah Winter's house, and then the Sleeping Latte for breakfast. Maybe I'd bring the chief a breakfast sandwich, if Ben had figured out how to make them.

I went down to the kitchen and grabbed a cup of the coffee Caroline had made before she set out for her run. I didn't properly enjoy it, but it was useful in both warming and waking me. I wrote her a short note, explaining that I was heading into town per the request of Chief Paisley. I'd get the car back out to her as soon as I could. I rinsed my mug and left it on the draining board as I headed back toward town.