Just Killing Time (7 page)

“Where did he come from?”

“He used to be in the military, and was a SWAT commander. Grover Winter pulled some strings, got him the job and a five-year contract, so he's staying put. Don't get me wrong, he's good at his job, but really hard-core.”

“What do you mean, hard-core?”

“Sometimes I feel like he's a robot, not a man. But he's been working day and night since G.T. died.” I'd forgotten that she called him by the same nickname I did, but it felt good to hear her say it.

“You don't know of anyone who would want to hurt G.T., do you?” I asked quietly.

“Jeez, Ruth, no. Sure, he was a tough old bird. But he was also one of the most respected men in town. I can't even imagine who would have done this.”

“Do you think it had anything to do with the robbery?”

“I guess so, don't you think? It's all too much of a coincidence otherwise.”

Before I had a chance to ask what Moira meant, I felt a shadow fall across our breakfast table.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. And sorry to listen in on your conversation.” I hadn't heard Chief Paisley come up to the table. “Ms. Clagan? I'm Jeff Paisley. First of all, let me say how very sorry I am for your loss. Thom Clagan was a good man and a better friend. He will be missed.”

“Thank you. Chief, can you tell me about the investigation and where it stands?”

“I'd be happy to tell you everything I can. When you are done here, perhaps I can walk you back to the shop? Unless you were planning on staying to use Moira's Internet connection?”

“Moira's Internet? Why, is there no Internet at the Cog & Sprocket?” I tried not to sound too horrified at the thought, but honestly, the Internet-less week at the retreat almost did me in. I could use my phone, but my plan didn't allow for a lot of roaming Internet use. E-mail took forever to load. Besides, cell connections in the Berkshires could be spotty.

“Oh, Ruthie, you have no idea,” Moira said. “It's like a 1970s time warp in there. They just got a computer, but only because Caroline insisted. Old-fashioned phones.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“Wish I were. But you're always welcome to come and
use our Wi-Fi. You go ahead with the chief. I need to get to work anyway. Let me get you both a cup of coffee to go.”

“I'm going to go back to say good-bye to your mother.”

“Just poke your head in though—otherwise you'll be trapped.”

I did as I was told, but Nancy Reed grabbed me and gave me a hug. “We're expecting you for dinner.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“See you at six. You remember the way.”

“Like I could ever forget it. See you at six.”

I knew better than to ask if I could bring anything. I'd need to be creative with a hostess gift. Heading back out to the front of the café from the back, I stopped when I saw Moira and Chief Paisley deep in conversation. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Moira's body language said a lot, and the finger poking Chief Paisley's chest confirmed it. She was angry and it was personal.

I approached them both, just in time to hear Moira say, “Why did you even bother to ask me if you are always working?”

They both noticed me and stopped talking.

“Sorry, that took a little longer than I thought it would,” I said, shrugging awkwardly.

“Of course it did. You know Mum. Here's your coffee,” she said, reaching behind the counter to grab a large paper bag. “And I packed up a couple of our to-go sandwiches and threw in some premade salads to keep you fed while you figure things out. Don't give me that look. And put your money away. It's no good here. Chief, be useful and carry this stuff.”

He hesitated, but carefully took the handled bag,
brimming with food, from Moira's hand. I gave Moira a quick hug and picked up the cardboard tray with the coffees. Together we walked out of the Sleeping Latte and took a right. I slowed down a bit in front of Ben's Barbershop, but I couldn't see through the window.

“T
inted glass. And most of his chairs are set back. He didn't want folks peering in and making customers uncomfortable. Not understanding that in a town like Orchard, peering in is a pastime. For some folks, it's a job,” the chief said as we passed Ben's shop.

I glanced over, but no smile from the chief. He didn't strike me as a small talk kind of guy, but I thought I'd keep trying.

“I remember when it was Parker's Emporium. People would reschedule depending on who was in the room. And half the people were just there to gossip. My grandmother included. She went over every day, midmorning, to bring Mrs. Parker a cup of tea.”

“That was neighborly of her,” he said.

“It was. She'd end up staying for an hour. She also got
her hair done once a week, washed and set. Mrs. Parker did quite the business.”

“Well, the karma didn't get passed on to her nephew.”

“Business bad? Surprising. Ben seems pretty charming.”

“Every time I go in, it's pretty quiet, but you'd have to ask Ben.”

“You go there?”

“I need to get my hair cut. Ben does a fine job. Figured I should support the new guy, being new myself. This town isn't easy on new guys.”

“This town isn't really easy on anyone.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

We'd arrived back at the Cog & Sprocket. I searched my pocket for the keys and fumbled to find the right one.

“My grandfather and I had a falling-out. I'm sure you've heard.” I looked over at the chief, and he nodded. “And I just knew that Orchard would take his side, so I stayed away. I realize now, that was a mistake. Why don't you come in and we can have a cup of coffee and chat?”

I walked in and found a note from Pat on the counter:
Gone to wind the clock tower over in Marytown. Will be back.

“Wind the clock tower?” the chief said.

I turned just as he stepped back from looking over my shoulder. He didn't even look abashed. I was surprised to realize we were the same height. He'd seemed much bigger. His short brown hair was very closely cropped, and flecked with gray. Liquid brown eyes held my gaze, but I noticed a lack of laugh lines around them. That said, when I smiled, he returned it.

“Part of the business has always been maintaining the
clock towers in the area. Pat must be keeping up with the jobs, bless him. Tell you what, why don't we go upstairs to chat?”

•   •   •

T
he chief preferred milk in his coffee, but there was none to be found. In fact, there wasn't much in the refrigerator, just beer and condiments. He shrugged when I told him, and took out his phone.

“Low battery,” I heard him mutter.

“What kind of phone is it? Maybe my charger would work?” I walked over and picked up my bag from where it still rested on the other side of the bed. I brought it over to the kitchen table and riffled through it till I found my phone charger. I handed it to the chief and pointed him toward the extension cord on the floor.

“What else do you carry in there? It looks like a bag Mary Poppins would carry if she was a hipster.”

“Hey, watch it.” I looked down at my messenger bag. I found it online on a steampunk site. Steampunk enthusiasts love clock parts almost as much as horologists do. I loved the different shades of gray gears that created the pattern on the red bag. “My life is in this bag.”

“Obviously.” The chief pulled out some reading glasses and looked down at his phone. “Ms. Clagan, I thought I'd let you know where the investigation into Thom's death stands. How much do you know?”

“Not much. Just that he died of a heart attack, but had been attacked first?”

“Yes, Thom did suffer a head wound. We didn't know what caused it, but two days ago Ben Clover and his dog . . .”

“Blue.”

“Blue.” The chief smiled. “They were taking a walk by the river and Blue started barking frenetically. Ben went over to see what was wrong, and Blue had found a pendulum.”

“A pendulum?” I asked.

“Yes. Good dog—he wouldn't let Ben touch it, but we couldn't find any prints. I'll spare you the details, but the pendulum was used in the attack against your grandfather.”

“Was it from the shop?”

“I'm hoping you can tell me that.”

“Maybe,” I said, remembering the gutted grandfather clocks. “Do you have a picture of it? Or any details?”

“I can get you the details—weight, size, all of that. Give me your e-mail address before I leave. I do want to reiterate that I am treating this like a murder, since it is a death during a robbery. But according to the coroner, Thom had a fatal heart attack during the attack. He didn't suffer.”

I was grateful that Chief Paisley took such care to make me feel better. I wasn't sure if he could really know that, but I didn't push. I had to believe that G.T. didn't suffer.

“There is some evidence that someone was in the shop with Thom that night. Pat confirms that he took out all the garbage before he left work that evening. We found two coffee cups in the trash the next morning. That alone means nothing.”

“And DNA?” I asked. Too many crime show reruns had made me an expert.

“DNA testing takes a long time and we'd need DNA to compare it to. And the person in the shop may not be the perpetrator. Pat says he doesn't think any clocks are missing, but he can't be one hundred percent sure. I haven't shared
the evidence about the pendulum with him yet. I'd appreciate your checking to see if one is missing.”

“I will, as best I can.”

“Thank you. If the pendulum came from the shop . . .”

“Then the killer was with G.T. in the shop before the murder,” I said, finishing his sentence. He nodded his head, and I felt a shudder.

“Do you have any suspects?” I asked.

“Yes and no. There are a number of people who could have been in the shop. But someone who is also a murderer? I need to figure out the motive before I can find a suspect. And right now, that is challenging.”

The shop phone rang.

“Go ahead and take it,” the chief said. “I'll just look around up here a bit. Do you mind?”

“No, of course not,” I said. I picked up the wall phone that hung to the right of the staircase.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Ruth, it's Caroline Alder.”

“Hello, Caroline. Are you feeling better?” I asked. Her voice sounded raspy, but I couldn't hear her breathing.

“Yes, thank you. Listen, I forgot to mention this. Your grandfather had an appointment with Stephanie Lincoln over at the Berkshire Real Estate Group. She's been working on getting the shop appraised.”

“Were you planning on selling?” I asked.

“Orchard's been changing. I'm sure you see that. Someone offered Thom a sum for the shop. Thom mentioned it to Ben, who said the shop was worth twice the amount.”

“Ben? Barber Ben?” I asked.

“Yes, that Ben. I'm glad you've met him. He and Thom
had become good friends. Of course, it's hard not to like Ben. Anyway, Thom decided he'd see how much it was worth. And then he became a bit obsessed. He started to look into what Orchard property values were and to compare them to other towns.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why.” Caroline sighed. “That's a big question. Thom's been restless this past year. Percolating ideas, most of which I didn't know about. Stephanie Lincoln may know more. She specializes in historical properties.”

“Historical properties? Like the Cog & Sprocket?”

“Yes. And on the pros and cons of getting a home declared a historical landmark.” She paused, waiting for my reply. “Anyway, you may want to keep the appointment. Your choice of course. It's at four o'clock, I think. The appointment card is in the corner of the desk calendar.”

“Great, I'll check it.”

“Ruth, why don't you plan on coming by for dinner this evening?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I already promised I'd go to the Reeds for dinner.”

She paused for a moment. Did she think I'd cancel the Reeds for her? Not a chance. “Well, how about lunch tomorrow then?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. I'll be there. What time?”

“Would eleven thirty be too early? We could have a meal and then I could come back to the shop to talk you through a few things. How does that sound?”

It sounded like it would be much easier for her to come into town, but I wasn't about to turn down a trip to the cottage.

“Eleven thirty it is, then,” I said. I hung up and grabbed
my cell phone. Just a few days before, I couldn't have even imagined willingly having lunch with my grandfather's new wife, but there I was, entering the appointment into my calendar for eleven o'clock sharp. I added three reminder alarms. That way I might be on time.

I turned back to the chief, who was over by one of the tables of clocks. I walked over and looked at them with him.

“Chief, I understand there was a robbery a while back?”

“Three weeks ago. Yes,” he said, reaching out to shift a clock so that it lined up neatly with its neighbor.

“What was taken?” I pressed.

“Five clocks. I'll e-mail you the descriptions I got at the time.”

“Thank you. Do you think the robber came back?”

“That's the assumption right now. Everyone knew that the shop was chock-full of clocks.”

“And so they came by to get more clocks, but hit G.T. over the head instead? Does that make sense?” I asked.

“Yes and no. It's just a theory.”

“Do you have a line on the stolen clocks?”

“We aren't looking for them. Or weren't until Thom died. Caroline and Thom dropped the complaint,” he said, looking up at me.

“Dropped it? Why?” I said, meeting his steady gaze.

“You'll have to ask Caroline. All I know is, I'll be surprised if one has nothing to do with the other.”

We heard a noise at the door, and I got up and looked down the staircase. There was a carefully placed mirror on the wall that let you see the front door from upstairs, as long as the curtains at the bottom of the stairs were open. Pat Reed was coming in the front door.

“Be right down, Pat!” I called. I turned back to the chief. “Is there anything else I should know?” I asked him.

“Not at the moment,” he answered, taking one last glance around the room, setting his jaw, and offering me a stiff nod. “But I'll keep you apprised.”