Just Killing Time (23 page)

“You made them into a book?”

“I took the photos to help us remember the groupings, since they are part of the history of the clocks. I thought the Winter children might enjoy having the book as a remembrance, so I had a couple of books made.”

I flipped through the pages. “You take wonderful pictures. These are really great. And you're right, they help me understand some more about the collectors. Very interesting groupings.” I noticed one wall of clocks that had little to do with one another at first glance, but the up-close pictures of each clock showed that they all had grapes as part of a painting on the clock face or as a detail on the clock itself.

“Are the grape clocks in the shop?” I asked, showing her the page.

“Yes, they are. They are listed on the inventory sheets as the grape collection.”

“Clever naming,” I said, teasing.

“It only had to make sense to me at this point. I wanted to try and honor the Winters' collecting habits as much as possible.”

“Are the ones that were stolen in here?”

Caroline turned to a page and held it open for me to look at. I recognized the clock in the bench. “These five here—they are the ones that were stolen. The Winters grouped clocks by collections of their own making, as you can tell. There were a couple of groupings like the grape collection. But others were more standard, by manufacturer and type, which made sense. Clocks made by the Seth Thomas factory in Connecticut were particular favorites. The clocks that were stolen were all from the same decade, and they were roughly the same size.”

“Interesting.” I took my keys out of the front of the bag and took the car key off the ring. I double-checked that the car was locked, and handed the key to Caroline. She smiled at me.

“You sounded like your grandfather again. ‘Interesting.' I'd come to understand that
interesting
meant he had an idea, but wasn't ready to share it yet.”

I laughed. “Trust me, I have no ideas right now. But I feel like the cogs are moving. I look forward to looking at these pictures. We'll check in tomorrow.”

“You're sure you'll be all right riding home?” she asked.

“More than all right, thanks.”

“Please call me when you get back to town. Would you do that?”

“Of course,” I said. No one had asked me to check in with them for a long time. I didn't mind the feeling.

“Here's a flash drive with my computer records,” she said. “And here are some of the clock cards that Thom had brought home. We should make sure everything is in one place, don't you think?”

“It makes sense. We can figure out a way to get all the information in one place and get a work plan set up.” I swung my leg over the bike. It was a little tall for me, so I had to bend it to the side a bit. “I'll call you when I get home. But don't worry if it takes a while. I'm going for a ride.”

And with that I was ten years old again. I pushed off and rode down the driveway, heading back to the Cog & Sprocket, the wind in my hair.

I
rode back to town using back roads and shortcuts I'd internalized from childhood. Most of the roads were the same, with a few more paved roads and a new house here and there.

Though I wanted to avoid Washington Street, I couldn't bring myself to pedal up the back alley to the shop. The alley, as it were, ran parallel to the river and was more of a shared access road for the Sleeping Latte, Ben's Barbershop, and the Cog & Sprocket. There were parking spaces for employees and room enough for delivery trucks to park. There were two ways of accessing the alley: one via Maple Street and the other a little farther up, on Pine Street. Rumor had it that during Prohibition, the river and back entrances of the buildings were also used for rum running, perhaps by G.T.'s own father. I'd tried several times to confirm that
part of the family history, much to my grandmother's chagrin. She didn't like discussing family skeletons, and in the Clagan family, the closets were full of them. Of course, I loved that.

I came up around to the front of the Cog & Sprocket and hefted the bike upstairs onto the porch. I opened the door and wrestled the bike into the shop. It was a tight fit, but I got it in. I went back outside, calling Caroline on my cell to let her know that I was back in town.

“I'm going to head over to the Sleeping Latte and see if Moira's still there,” I said. “If not, I'm going to the Corner Market to get some food.” It's not that I wanted food; I wanted to know if Pat had shown up or if the chief had tracked him down. I couldn't get the image of how upset Nancy was out of my mind.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she said, and hung up. I put the phone back in my bag, first checking the power. I'd missed a call from Anita at the museum. I thought about calling her back, but decided she could wait. Besides, the phone was almost out of juice again. I needed to recharge it soon. I started to walk to the Sleeping Latte, but heard someone calling out my name in a very loud whisper. I whipped around and saw Ben gesturing to me from the back of his shop.

“Yeesh,” I said, starting a bit. “You scared me.”

“Sorry about that. Could you come here for a second?”

“On my way back. I'm heading over to the Sleeping Latte to beg for food. Unless Moira is still in your shop getting her hair done? In my search for food I almost forgot about your offer to do something about this,” I said, gesturing to my windblown curls.

“I had Moira reschedule her appointment. Something
came up. Could we talk? Now, please?” Ben said, but he wasn't really asking. I walked into the shop and saw Pat Reed sitting at one of the washing stations at the back of the shop, looking down at his hands.

“Pat called me and asked me to pick him up from Marytown this afternoon,” Ben explained quickly, his hands on his hips.

“Pat!” I said, rushing toward him. “Nancy's worried sick. You were at the garage all that time? Why didn't you call us back?”

“I wasn't at the garage,” Pat said, still refusing to meet my eyes. “I dropped off Caroline's car and then borrowed another one to go and run some errands.” He stopped.

“Pat, tell her what you told me. She has a right to know.”

“It can't be that bad,” I said, taking a step toward the light switch on the wall. “Here, why don't we turn on a light.”

“No,” they both said in very loud whispers, stopping me in my tracks.

“You're freaking me out. What's going on?”

“A few weeks back, there was a robbery at the shop,” Pat said, looking up at me for the first time, a pained expression on his face. “I stole five clocks.”

“Nancy told me this earlier. But I didn't believe it. Ryan stole the clocks and you're covering for him. At least that's what I think,” I said. “I'm right, aren't I?” I demanded.

Pat nodded and looked back down at his hands.

“Where'd you go today, Pat?” I asked, sighing.

“I went to find Ryan,” he said softly. “Last week I found five boxes in our basement. The clocks were in them. I'd sworn to Thom I didn't know where they were, and until that night I didn't.”

“But you knew who'd taken them?” I said, looking over to Ben, who was pacing back and forth. “Stop that, Ben, you're making me nervous!”

“I knew the chief was right—it had to be someone who could get in the shop easily and could have an idea of which clocks were good ones to steal.”

“How did Ryan know which ones to take?”

“I practically told him myself,” he said, shaking his head. “He came by one night to see all of the clocks, and I was showing him around. Showing off what I knew, I guess. The next night, someone broke into the shop. I told Thom the next day that I was afraid it was Ryan.”

“Why? Why would you suspect him?”

“Ryan's trying to stay in school. He lost his football scholarship. We were able to pick up the slack on that. But then his grades slipped and he lost his academic scholarship too. Rather than letting his mother and me know about that, he was trying to make ends meet himself. He was coming up short, so I'm afraid he got a little desperate.”

“Nancy told me earlier today about when you found the clocks last week,” I said.

“I stopped by the shop that night and told Thom that we found them. The plan was to make Ryan bring them back, and to apologize in person. We both thought that would be a good first step. And Thom wanted to talk to Ryan, see about helping him with a loan once we sold a couple of clocks.”

“That sounds like Thom,” Ben said. “Tell her what happened this morning.”

“After Thom died, I wanted to wait to return the clocks to the shop until you and I could talk, and I could explain
about Ryan. Ruthie, you have to know, I was going to bring them back to you. I promise. But they couldn't just show up, because then the chief would have to know.”

“And that would be a problem because?”

“Because I'm not sure Jeff Paisley would see beyond the robbery. Beyond the letter of the law.”

“Okay, I understand that. So then what happened this morning? What changed and made you start switching cars and hiding in the dark?”

“The clocks Ryan stole were gone. I'd moved them up to our attic at the house a few days ago. They were there on Saturday when I checked on them. They were gone, Ruth. And I panicked. I knew this was all about to come crashing down.”

“And you think Ryan took them?”

“I don't know who else could have. I haven't seen him for over a week. He's been staying with his girlfriend, Helen.”

I mulled all of this information over and didn't like the conclusions I was drawing. I looked Pat in the eye. “Pat, do you think Ryan had something to do with G.T.'s death?” I hadn't seen Ryan for a long time, but I just couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.

Before Pat could answer, someone pounded on the back door of Ben's shop. Ben walked over and opened it. Chief Paisley stood there with his arm raised, about to pound on the door again.

“Clover,” he said, walking into the shop. “Ms. Clagan.”

“Chief,” Ben replied, stepping back and avoiding his gaze.

“Pat, we've been looking all over for you,” the chief said.

“I've been here for a while,” Pat said, shrinking a bit in his chair.

“I know. It took us a while to pinpoint the GPS on your phone. I've spent the afternoon searching the historic district. Funny, this is the last place I thought I'd find you. Hiding in the shadows of a closed shop with the lights off.”

“Catching up with a couple of friends,” Ben said not too convincingly.

“Pat, I'd like to ask you some questions, down at the station.”

“What kind of questions?” Pat asked, not standing up.

“Questions about five clocks that showed up on eBay this morning. The five clocks that were stolen from Thom Clagan.”

I gasped and put my hand over my mouth. eBay? Surely Ryan didn't think the chief wouldn't be able to track these clocks on the Internet?

“Chief, I thought that the complaint was rescinded by G.T.?”

“He did. But when he died, I reopened the investigation. I figured one had something to do with the other, and it seems like I was right. I had several alerts in place in case someone was stupid. The alerts worked. I'm hoping Pat can help me understand how they ended up on eBay.”

“I have no idea how they ended up on eBay,” Pat said, hanging his head.

“Pat Reed, I'm arresting you on suspicion of five counts of grand larceny, and the murder of Thomas Clagan.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping forward. “Arresting Pat Reed for my grandfather's murder? That's just plain crazy.”

“Ms. Clagan, I have very little choice in the matter. I believe he's responsible for the theft of the clocks. After you get through the false identities, the online auction lists him as the owner. So we aren't even going to pretend that Pat had nothing to do with the clocks.”

“Chief, Pat's like family. Which makes the idea, the very idea, that he killed G.T. preposterous.”

I choked out the last part of this speech. I was fluctuating between spitting mad and heartbroken. I knew Pat didn't hurt, wouldn't hurt, G.T. But was a Reed involved? Did the clocks have something to do with G.T.'s murder after all? The thought horrified me.

“I'll go with the chief,” Pat said, heaving himself up out of his chair. “Ben, would you call Nancy?”

“Sure,” Ben said. “I'll find you a lawyer too. Don't say anything without a lawyer in the room.”

Pat held out his hands. “Don't you want to cuff me, Chief?”

“Pat, I don't want to do any of this, but I have to. It's my job.” Chief Paisley ignored the outstretched hands and took Pat by the elbow. “I'm going to trust you to walk out to the car with me.”

Pat stopped for a moment and looked right at me. “Your grandfather was the best friend I've ever had. I would never hurt him. You know that, don't you?”

“I do,” I said as the chief led him out the door. “Hang in there, Pat.”