Clock and Dagger (15 page)

I
handed Moira two plates, and she unpacked two sandwiches onto one plate and some pastries and a fruit cup onto the second. She brought the sandwich plate over to the microwave.

“These need to be served warm,” she said, smiling.

“I know, the cheese needs to be melted,” I said. The first time I'd eaten one of those wonderful concoctions, Ben Clover had ordered it for me and insisted I eat it hot. I smiled at the memory, and then chewed on the corner of my mouth. I needed to add calling Ben to my list of things to do today. Our last conversation had been strained, and that wouldn't work, at all.

“Don't tell my mother that I used the microwave. She'd want me to put them back in a fry pan. The yolks are going to be hard.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I said. When we'd both settled in with our sandwiches, I took a bite, savoring the combination of Italian bread, fried eggs, bacon, and Romano cheese. Just enough seasoning to make it more savory, but not to overpower the simple deliciousness of the food.

“Thanks for bringing this by,” I said between bites. “I would have made do with my banana, but this is much better.”

“Food is always a good excuse for a visit,” Moira said. “But what I really wanted to do was to apologize for believing the gossip.”

“Gossip? Was there gossip?” I said into my coffee. Orchard was a small town, and one of our major industries was gossip.

“About you and Jeff Paisley. The rumor mill had him spending the night at your shop and leaving after you'd served him breakfast. That and the lipstick on his face Tuesday night?”

“The lipstick wasn't mine,” I said. “It was his mother's. Or his sister's. I don't remember which.”

“You asked?”

“I knew you'd want to know. And yes, he stayed here Tuesday night. I let him use the shop as a base of operation since the crime scene was right next door and it's cold outside. I made him breakfast. He did sleep here, in one of the chairs downstairs. Honestly, he could have stayed in the apartment if he wanted to—he could have had the whole place to himself because I was in the guest room at Caroline's—but he is careful not to overstep. Jeff and I are friends, Moira. I'm not going to say ‘just' friends, because I value him more than that. But there is nothing romantic going on.”

“I know. My mother straightened me out,” she said,
playing with the lid of her coffee cup. “I'm in a state, ever since Mark died. My imagination is working overtime.”

“You're interested in Jeff, aren't you?” I asked.

Moira nodded her head, a slight frown on her face.

“Why so miserable? He's a little older than we are, but not too much older. He's a good man. You don't have a problem because of his race, do you?”

“No, of course not. You know me better than that. There's just one issue: the fact that he isn't interested. At all.”

“How do you know that?” I said. “He smiles every time he sees you. Surely you've noticed that.”

“Big deal. I've asked him out three times, and he always says no, sorry, he's busy.”

“Maybe he is. He has a life, you know.”

“But what is that life? How much do we all know about Jeff, after all? I asked him to come to dinner after the event Tuesday night, but he said he was busy. Why wouldn't he tell me he was going to visit his family?”

“Jeff does play it close to the vest,” I agreed. “He's got a tough shell, but it is beginning to crack. Did you ever talk to him about how you felt about him arresting your father for G.T.'s murder?”

“I didn't think we needed to talk about it. He knew how I felt,” she said, looking down at her now-empty plate.

“He knew at the time. I remember you yelling at him. But afterward, when the charges were dropped, did you talk to him then? Did you try and see it from his perspective? He was just doing his job, after all.”

“Just doing his job? Arresting my father?” she said through clenched teeth.

“Trying to solve a murder. He made up for it by saving
my life, don't you think?” I said gently. “It must be hard, especially in a place like Orchard, where you can never really be off duty. He has to be really careful about public perceptions. Dating must be a minefield.”

“Dating is always a minefield,” Moira said, stabbing a piece of fruit with her fork. “Listen, Jeff isn't my usual type. I've had a string of relationships with men who ended up not being nice guys. The fact that I find Jeff attractive is disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting? That's a twenty-five-cent word,” I teased.

“Stop. I try to polish off my college education once in a while. Running the Sleeping Latte was not what I imagined I'd do with my English degree.”

“Hey, you can hold a conversation,” I said. “I love that I studied horology, but my ex-husband used to make me feel pretty bad about my lack of a college degree.”

“Didn't you tell me you took a ton of classes while you were married to him?”

“I did. One more semester and I could finish my degree.”

“Maybe that's a New Year's goal?”

“Maybe,” I said. I'd been thinking the same thing. Getting some of my unfinished goals done was the new future for Ruth Clagan. Provided I got through this week.

“Anyway, Moira, you and I could have a long conversation about bad taste in men. My ex-husband seemed like my Prince Charming, my knight in shining armor, even, when I married him, but the armor was tinfoil, and the prince was a toad. It's hard to trust someone again. That said, Jeff Paisley is a good man. Seems like a safe bet for a crush. Maybe more. Give it, and him, time. Be his friend. Don't yell at him. Figure out how to give him a New Year's kiss.”

Moira laughed. “All right, I've got two days to figure out the kiss. Anyway, I came by to apologize for believing the gossip, and for being rude yesterday in the café. This is a tough time for all of us, and we need to be nicer to each other.”

“Agreed. Now, back to the gossip mill. What's the latest on Mark's murder?” I asked.

“There are a lot of people coming in and out of the Sleeping Latte, but no one seems to know anything. One thing I'm noticing: no one really knew Mark, you know? He was a nice guy, but he kept to himself.”

I nodded, clearing our plates and bringing them over to the sink. “He did here too. He was a very nice guy, but he made Jeff Paisley look like an extrovert. I'm going to give Nadia a call today and see if she knows more about his family and his background. I want to reach out and see what the plans for a service are, and what I can do to help.”

“Keep me posted,” Moira said. “And thanks for the pep talk. You're a good friend, and I'll never forget that again.”

I
walked Moira downstairs and checked the wall of clocks in the workshop. I loved this collection of Willard-inspired clocks, each with its own twist on his creation. The biggest difference was the decoration on the rectangle at the bottom. Some were simple, others incredibly ornate. All lovely. Only problem was, none of them agreed on what time it was. They would before they were sold, but for now, it was around nine o'clock. Still time for a good walk, which I needed now more than ever. I had eaten a little fruit salad, but not nearly enough to mitigate the carbs from the breakfast sandwich followed by a pastry.

Layers back on, and another stretch of the legs. Again, I headed out the back door. This time it was the arrival of Tuck that prevented my foray into fresh air. Maybe the powers that be just didn't want me to exercise.

“Is Nadia here?” he asked without preamble, looking past me into the shop. Tuck Powers had the manners of a ferret. Today he looked exhausted, though. His normally waxed mustache was trimmed short, and his black spiked hair was falling over. The bags under his green eyes were significant, and I felt instant remorse. He and Mark Pine had been friends.

“She isn't here, no,” I said, closing the door once again.

“She said she was coming in,” Tuck said.

“I was upstairs, but I would have heard if she went up to the office.”

Tuck turned and ran up the stairs, and came back down within a minute.

“The door is locked.” He sounded accusatory.

“Yes, it is,” I said, forcing a smile. “Chief Paisley has asked me to lock up the office until he has time to go through Mark's things.” All right, he hadn't asked me to do that. I'd just thought of it, but I should give Jeff a call to suggest it.

“My stuff is up there.”

“What stuff?”

“My camera and stuff.”

“Were you taking pictures the night of Mark's . . . the night of the open house?”

“You hired me to take the pictures, and I take my job seriously.”

“Of course you do,” I said. I wondered what else Tuck had taken pictures of. I put my hand on my cell phone, fingers twitching to call Jeff. I needed to get him on speed dial.

“So, can I get my stuff?”

“The chief will need to look through the pictures first.”

“Come on! They're my pictures.”

“And my camera, or the shop's. You're the one who
talked me into investing in that rig. Was there anything else up there that was yours?”

“My tie. And my cuff links.”

“You were wearing cuff links?”

“Of course. If you're going to get dressed up, go old-school. The cuff links mean a lot to me.”

“I'll make sure they get back to you,” I said.

“Nadia's stuff's up there too.”

“You don't know where she is?” I asked.

“No. I sort of hoped she'd be here. She's a wreck.” He sighed and studied his shoes. “She and Mark were pretty tight.”

I remembered the two of them, Tuesday afternoon, close together, hands touching. “Pretty tight” was one way to put it. “You and Mark went to high school together, right? He was your friend too.”

“Yeah, yeah, he was.” Tuck rubbed the area between his eyes and crouched down into a squat. Luckily his bruised face didn't look too bad.

“I'm sorry, Tuck,” I said.

“Do you want to know what really sucks? Mark and I had that huge fight on Tuesday. He tried to talk to me about it, but I wasn't having any of it. I walked away. I'd been doing that a lot with him, not talking about what was going on.”

“What was that fight really about?”

Tuck hesitated and then shrugged. “Nadia, what else? C'mon, Ms. Clagan, you've seen them together. They are— they were—crazy for each other.”

“I never thought so.” I was lying to Tuck. I totally thought that they had the hots for each other, but how would that help? Besides, I didn't want Tuck to shut down.

“Really?”

“Really. I thought that they were friends. Nadia was able to get Mark to talk. You know what I mean. Beyond small talk. I could never get him to open up. Of course, you're not exactly Captain Chatsalot.”

Tuck grunted and stood up, a slight smile on his face. He shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the worktable where Mark had always worked. He ran his hands along the desk, then closed his fist and pounded the table.

“Man, I should have called him back,” Tuck said, almost whispering.

“Called him back? When did he call you? After the fight?”

“He texted me that afternoon, and wanted to talk. I told him we'd talk after . . . after the open house.”

“Then you had the fight?”

“Yeah, and he went all ninja on me. Nadia took off. I tried to clean myself up, then I went over to the Latte to look for Nadia. Nancy saw me and asked me to take some pictures. I was still pretty ticked off, but I should have gone over and talked to him. He was pretty freaked lately. Maybe I could have helped, or gotten there in time.”

“Don't do that to yourself, Tuck,” I said. “You couldn't have stopped what happened.”

“You don't know that.”

“You're right. I don't. Listen, I didn't know Mark that well, but I did like him. A lot. He was a good guy. Maybe instead of beating yourself up, you can help the chief figure out what happened to him.”

“Me, help the cops? Not going to happen. Not in this lifetime.”

“Sounds like you have a history with law enforcement.”

“You could say that.”

“How about helping me, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was something going on with Mark? You said he was freaked. Is that something the chief should know about? Come on, Tuck, what aren't you telling me? Do you know who did this to Mark? Or why? Tell me what you know. I'll tell the chief. I won't tell him it came from you.”

Tuck looked down at his phone and then put it back in his pocket. “I'm going to go find Nadia. We need to talk first, but then I'll come back.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said. I was amazed at how calm my voice sounded. What I really wanted to do was shout, and shake him till he told me his secrets, but I felt like I was earning his trust and I didn't want to risk losing this progress. I took a deep breath. Tuck turned to go out the back door. I noticed he opened it a crack and looked through the opening carefully before he stepped out.

“Tuck?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful, all right? Take care of yourself, and Nadia. Call me if you need anything, day or night.”

“Will do,” Tuck said. “I'll be back.”

I hoped he meant it.