Clock and Dagger (12 page)

I
called Jeff as soon as I left the Corner Market, and told him about the clocks. I sat down on one of the benches outside the market, surveying Orchard while I talked.

“You did say you only wanted me to talk about Beckett if he was breaking the law,” I said when he didn't respond.

“I did. Not sure that misrepresenting clocks is breaking the law. Are you sure what you saw?”

“I'm sure about the one I looked at, but I didn't have a chance to look at the others.”

“How could you tell?”

“The regulator wasn't—”

“Never mind, Ruth. I wouldn't understand if we were standing right in front of it. Was it a good fake?”

“Pretty good, yes. I'd love to look at the other clocks in the shop. Can you help me with that?”

“I can't help you, but I can see what I can find on my own.”

“You don't have the expertise to know what you are looking at.”

“I do know someone who does have that expertise, and I'll ask her for it.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Ruth. There is a murder investigation going on right now in this town. Don't go poking around—you never know where the bees are hiding.”

“Interesting phrase.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” I said, fingers crossed.

“Now promise me you'll call me with anything you find out.”

“Whoa, Jeff, that was cold. Don't you trust me?” I squeaked.

“Just promise,” he sighed. He really had me figured out.

“Promise.” This time I didn't cross my fingers. Keeping Jeff in the loop could save lives. “Are the state cops still in charge?”

“You know it,” he said. “Speaking of which, I've got to invite myself to a briefing.”

“Hang in there,” I said. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“Ada Clark heard that we were dating.”

“We're what?”

“I think I stopped that rumor in its tracks. But just so you know.”

I could almost hear Jeff's head shaking as I hung up the phone.

•   •   •

A
fter I hung up with Jeff I crossed the street, in the crosswalk, having looked both ways beforehand. I didn't want Beckett to give me a citizen's citation for
jaywalking. I turned back to look at Been There, Read That, and saw him standing on his front porch, talking on his cell phone. I smiled and waved. It was hard to read his expression from that far away, but he quickly went back inside.

I pivoted to go into the Sleeping Latte and almost ran over Rina. She could trademark her look: black bottoms, today running tights; red tops, right now a fleece jacket; a headband that provided both warmth and fashion; tinted glasses that got darker in the sun, but that she wore every time I saw her; deep plum lipstick. She exuded money and class, yet she still somehow fit right into Orchard daily life.

Today her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but it was still glossy and completely in control. Rina was always in control. She was an excellent foil for Beckett. Bringing her into the business had been his best move so far. I smiled when I saw her. I noticed that she had a POL bag from the library and was looking at the card she carried.

“Hi, Rina,” I said.

“Hey, Ruth! Good morning. Are you getting refueled as well? I'm addicted to Moira's lattes.”

“Nobody makes better coffee than the Sleeping Latte,” I said.

“I'm trying to figure out their secret,” Rina said.

“So you can steal it for your store?” I said, instantly regretting it.

“What are you talking about?” she said, looking up with her eyes narrowed.

“Sorry, that was harsh. I didn't get much sleep last night. I'm sure you heard about what happened to Mark Pine.”

“I did,” she said, relaxing a bit. “Terrible story. The police
came by to check in with Beckett and me about anything we might have seen last night.”

“They asked me the same thing. Did you remember anything helpful?”

“After Beckett and I realized we couldn't very well serve our food in the dark, we went back to the B and B to put it in the fridge and then headed over to Marytown to grab dinner.”

“You missed a great party. Up until the end.”

“Ruth, what did you mean by stealing the coffee recipe?”

“I went over to Been There, Read That this morning. I noticed the coffee corner. And the clocks. Beckett's making a mini downtown Orchard right in his own store.”

Rina scowled a bit and looked back down at the POL card in her hand. She raised it up and shook it in front of me. “You all have the right idea here, with this card. Beckett is used to being a corporate raider—that's how he made his money. He'll see the light. I promise you, by the time we open, Been There, Read That will be a bookstore. Only a bookstore. All right, with games and puzzles too. But that's all. No coffee.”

“And the clocks?”

“I'm working on that too. Trust me. Those clocks were a mistake. A big mistake.”

•   •   •

I
was tired, stressed, sad, and frustrated. Mostly because of Mark's death, but Kim and Beckett certainly deserved a fair share of my ire. And they were getting all of it today. I didn't want to start a war with Beckett, but I would. Selling clocks. Across the street from the Cog & Sprocket. Please.

I wasn't actually hungry, but knew I'd get a sympathetic ear at the Sleeping Latte. I really didn't want to be alone yet and I could also grab a sandwich for later. I hadn't bought anything that needed refrigeration at the Corner Market, and had restrained myself so I only had one bag of groceries. Good thing, since the Latte was packed. Two of the student workers Moira had brought on were busy behind the counter, and the line was six people deep. Moira was busing a table, and I walked over to say hello.

“You can't sit here right now,” she said, not looking up.

“What?”

“There are customers who've been waiting awhile. You can't just come in and sit.”

“Moira,” I said, a little taken aback by her abrupt tone. “I wasn't going to sit. I came over to say hello and see how you are.”

“Right. Sorry,” she said, stacking up plates with one hand and gathering crumpled napkins with the other. “It's been a heck of a day. We haven't had a break in business. Reporters, cops, curious folks. They all want to eat and drink at once.”

“Do you need help?” I asked. I'd helped in the restaurant a couple of times. I wouldn't trust me to make a latte, but I could use a register.

“No, we're all right. Listen, I need to get these dishes in the dishwasher, so I can help out front.”

“I can do that,” I said. “Seriously. I'm good at it. How about if I put my groceries in the office, and then I'll take the dishes back, put them through the wash, and say hi to your mother.”

“Whatever,” she said, shaking her head like I was a
mosquito buzzing in her face. “Thanks, I guess. But you don't have to.”

“I know I don't have to,” I said. So much for that sympathetic ear.

Moira shrugged and left the tub of dirty dishes on the chair. I watched her walk away, but didn't wait too long. I dashed to the office and stowed my groceries and my giant purse out of the way. Then I went out front again and grabbed the gray tray of dirty dishes and walked through the door to the kitchen.

I'd been here less than twenty-four hours ago, but now it was a different world altogether. Instead of a group of friends eating together, taking solace in community, it was the Nancy Reed solo show. She had sandwiches lined up and was putting them all together. I smelled cookies and bread baking, and noticed that both oven timers were about five minutes away from releasing delicious goodies. My lack of hunger flew out the door and my stomach growled.

“Ruth, what are you doing here?”

“I volunteered to help Moira get the dishes done. It gave me an excuse to come back and say hello.” I opened up the industrial dishwasher and loaded it like I had been taught. “Is she all right? She was a little weird with me.”

“Rumors are flying around town about you and Jeff Paisley,” she said, efficiently slicing a sandwich in half. “They don't sit well with her.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked. I stopped loading for a moment, but went right back to it. “Obviously, Pat hasn't been in this morning.”

“Not yet. He's out at the cottage.”

“Getting a clock ready to be moved. I know. I saw him
there, this morning, right before Caroline drove me into town. I stayed with her last night.”

“But your car was at your shop,” she said, arranging tomatoes on a BLT.

“Where it's going to stay, until I get someone to jump the battery.” I rinsed out the gray tub and dried it lightly. “I'm going to take this back out front and see if I can get some more dishes. May as well run a full load. One thing, Nancy. It sure would be nice if people asked me a question directly, instead of being a gossip.”

I walked back out front, to the other busing station. Half the tub was full of dishes, so I swapped them out and then wandered over to three empty tables. Honestly, what was the matter with people? They can't bring their own dishes up? Yeesh. As I went back to the kitchen with a full tub of dishes, I walked by Moira, who was spraying a table down with cleaning solution.

“By the way, Moira, I stayed with Caroline last night. Next time you have a question, ask me.” I saw her back stiffen for a moment before she returned to her cleaning.

I went back into the kitchen and over to the dishwasher, which I finished loading. I took a little bit of my hostility out on the dishes and felt better once the dishwasher was running. I rinsed out the tub and then washed my hands. Doing this kind of work was satisfying. There was a mess, it got cleaned up. Would that life worked like that.

I turned around and Nancy was standing there, offering me a fresh cookie.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I've got to get back to the shop. Caroline will be there shortly.”

“Don't be like that, Ruthie. I'm sorry we all jumped to
conclusions. I'm not even going to try and explain. We're all tired and our nerves are raw. We should have known better.”

“Or minded your own business? How does that sound?” I asked, still a little wound up. “What's going to happen if I ever did have anyone stay with me at the shop? Will there be a special edition of the
Orchard Gazette
printed? Yeesh.”

“Printing's too expensive. It would be a banner ad on the website. Flashing. Probably red type.” Nancy smiled and pushed the cookie forward. “Come on, Ruthie. We're all in a state this morning.”

“That's an understatement,” I said. “You were right. Beckett is selling clocks.”

“What? Sit down and tell me.”

So I did. The whole story, starting from Kim's phone call and ending with Beckett's store. I left out some parts, like the information about the watch, that weren't mine to share. I ended with the coffee area in the store.

“What kind of coffee area? I thought I put a stop to that,” Nancy said.

“It looked like there were urns of coffee, or going to be, once it was set up.”

“There are ordinances about that, you know. He can't sell coffee without permits. He must have found a way around the rules. No doubt with Kim's help.”

“What does Kim have against all of us?” I asked. “For a town manager, she seems determined to put some of us out of business. I thought that would stop when we derailed the development plans she had.”

“From what I hear, she's looking at different chains, trying to get them to come to Orchard.”

“But the entire point is that we are all unique.”

“A point that is being made, and resonating with folks. The open house yesterday was testimony to that. At this point, she's trying to do things out of spite more than anything else. You know, she refers to you and your grandfather as ‘those Clagans' as if your grandfather is orchestrating our actions from beyond the grave. Her face turns kind of purple when she says it.”

“Nancy, that shouldn't make you so happy. I hate to think I'm stirring so much up in town. That wasn't my intention.”

“It's your birthright. Seriously, Clagans are one of the oldest families still living here. Your people have always been stirring the pot. In a good way. Glad to see that Thom passed it along. It's one of the things that keeps Orchard on track, and honest. Maybe you should run for the Board of Selectmen. I've heard that Dottie is going to retire—can't stand working with Kim. We need to get someone on there with a backbone.”

“Why don't you run, Nancy?”

“Me? Folks wouldn't vote for me.”

“Of course they would. You've got the vote of everyone downtown. Seriously, Nancy, think about it.”