The Cracked Pot

by Melissa Glazer

  I knew that once we were inside, Don would be able to deal with us easily. If I could keep him outside, there was a chance that one of my neighbors would see us and get sus picious. It was worth a shot, anyway.

  "I knew it had to be you," I said as I turned to my uncle and looked him straight in the eye. He had a handgun pointed at me, partially concealed by a folded towel, but it was clear enough to me what it was.

  "Don't try to tell me that," Don said. "I was careful not to leave any clues behind."

  "They're everywhere, if you just know where to look."

  "Go on, I'm listening."

  "Let's take that ring for starters. It's from the robbery, isn't it? That was careless of you to keep wearing it, be cause it matches the general description of one that was taken," I said, recalling what Butch had told me.

  He glanced at it, then said, "It suited me. Besides, every one who knew that it was part of the haul was either dead or gone. To be honest with you, I nearly forgot where I'd got ten it. You've got to have more than that."

  "You were too quick to unload on me the first time I talked to you," I said. "That was a red flag from the start. When I came out to see you after the murder, you didn't lower that gun barrel until you found out that I was looking for information and not there to accuse you of murder. What happened, Don, did your guilty conscience get the best of you?"

  "Why would you think I would kill him after all these years? Rose got over it. So did I."

  "It wasn't about Rose at all," I said. Where was every body? Normally I couldn't take out the trash or go get the newspaper without someone butting into my business, but now a man was threatening me with a gun in broad daylight, and no one was around. "You were looking for this box from the start. Richard was blackmailing you with what's inside it, wasn't he? Don't bother denying it, it's the only thing that makes sense. Were you two partners in the rob bery?"

  My uncle laughed coarsely. "What's it going to hurt to tell you now? Do you think I'd be stupid enough to be part ners with him? I committed the robbery myself. It was just dumb luck that he saw me coming out of the store that night and demanded a split of the take. I thought about killing him then, too, but he was too smart for me."

  "So that's why you've been digging in my backyard the last few nights. Did you follow him here the first night he was back in town?"

  Don nodded. "I saw him leaving your shop and followed him the rest of the day. I knew he had to have come back to Maple Ridge to check up on his stash. Richard wouldn't tell me where the box was when I confronted him that night, and I lost my temper. He was going to dig it up. I knew it had to be somewhere around here, but I wasn't having much luck on my own. It was nice of you to dig it up for me."

  "So the rest of it was just a smokescreen," I said. "Seeing David, the lecture, all of it."

  "It was enough to fool Hodges. That's all of the ques tions I'm going to answer. Let's go back to Bill's workshop where we can talk about this without your neighbors around. Go on, Carolyn, and don't get any funny ideas."

  "There's nothing remotely humorous about all of this," I said.

  Poor Bill. Was he already dead? It was clear that my un cle was capable of murder. If he'd killed my husband, I'd find a way to stay alive long enough to make him pay for it.

  "Go on inside." He nudged me with the gun when I hesi tated at the doorway.

  I walked in expecting the worst, but relief flooded through me when I saw that Bill was still alive. Don had bound him to a chair and had taped his mouth, but I could still see Bill's eyes. He was trying to tell me something, I knew it, but I couldn't figure out what it was. As my uncle started to raise the gun, I said, "There's nothing in the box. You know that, don't you? It's too light."

  "You're bluffing." A worried expression crossed his face, though I knew it would pass when he felt the weighty box.

  "See for yourself." I started to offer it to him when there was a noise behind us. Bill had somehow managed to free himself, at least one arm. He ripped the tape off his mouth and screamed ferociously, like a wild animal attacking.

  Don's aim shifted from me to my husband, and I hit his gun arm as hard as I could with a sharp corner of the box. A shiver went through me as I struck him, a physical memory of defending myself once before.

  He dropped the gun and yelped in pain. That was all the opening I needed. As he knelt down to retrieve the weapon, I grabbed a length of oak Bill had turned on a lathe and shaped like a baseball bat, and I struck Don in the back with everything I had.

  My uncle hit the floor hard, like a bag of dirt.

  I started for Bill when he shouted, "Get his gun first."

  "He's not coming around anytime soon," I said.

  "Just do it, Carolyn," he commanded, and I obeyed. I took the gun, and stared down at my uncle. Had I killed him with the force of that blow? If I had, I promised myself I wouldn't let it destroy me. The man was a cold-blooded killer, and he deserved what he got, even if he was my kin.

  As I started to untie Bill, he said, "Get that knife on the bench and cut me free."

  "These ropes are expensive," I said. "Give me a second. I'll get it."

  "Carolyn, don't push our luck."

  I gave up on the knot and grabbed the knife. "Don't move," I said.

  As soon as he was free, he leapt to his feet and threw his arms around me. "I didn't think you'd get my signal."

  "What signal? I could see you were trying to tell me something, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was."

  "I was gesturing to my back," he said plaintively. "I man aged to free one arm while he was out there with you, and I was working on the other one when you showed up." He cradled his cut hand against his chest. "I wish I hadn't thrown those pills away."

  "Don't worry, we can get you more." My hand was throbbing from the stomp Don had given it, and I might need a pill myself to get to sleep that night.

  Bill shook his head, and I could see he was shaking. "That was too close. I can't believe how hard you hit him."

  I couldn't believe it myself. The adrenaline that had been shooting through me was nearly gone, and I felt my knees weaken. "We're safe now; that's all that counts."

  "Thanks for saving me," he said in a humbled voice. "I've never felt so helpless in my life."

  I tapped him lightly under the chin. "You saved us both, you old fool. If you hadn't worked your arm free and taken that tape off, you never would have been able to distract him like that. Nice yell, by the way. You managed to rattle me, too."

  "So I guess we saved each other," he said.

  "I like that," I agreed. "There's a certain symmetry to it, isn't there? Would you like to call Sheriff Hodges, or should I?"

  "I'll let you have the privilege." He looked down at Don and shook his head. "So, it was all for nothing. The box was empty."

  "Hardly," I said as I started to open it. My hands were shaking as I worked the clasp free and lifted the lid. As I gazed inside, I asked, "I wonder if there's a finder's fee for this? There's a necklace in here that I absolutely adore."

  "If there's not a reward, I'll buy it for you out of my woodworking money."

  "That's all right," I said as I closed the lid. "It's probably too fancy for me anyway."

  I heard Don groan, and despite what I'd vowed earlier, I was glad I hadn't killed him.

  "You watch him while I go make that call," I said.

  Bill picked up the turned piece of wood. "Go on, but hurry. I don't like playing guard duty."

  "If he somehow manages to get up after the way I hit him, you should be able to glare at him hard enough to drop him again."

  Chapter 14

  The next day, I was working at Fire at Will when the sheriff came in.

  "I just wanted to let you know that your uncle confessed to the murder."

  "Don't call him that," I said. "He stopped being family a long time ago."

  He shrugged. "I don't blame you a bit for feeling that way. Are we good?"

  I look
ed at him, thought of about a thousand things I could say, but surprised myself by answering, "Never bet ter."

  "Sometimes worse though, right?" Was that a smile I saw on his lips? It happened so briefly I couldn't be sure.

  After the sheriff left, the older gentleman returned for his sister's cottage, and I had it ready and waiting for him. As he paid the bill, he said, "I couldn't help noticing your front window."

  I smiled. "In a way, it's all your fault. I enjoyed making those cottages so much, I kind of got carried away. What can I say? You inspired me."

  "It's a nice scene. Most of us spend our lives trying to go home again, don't we?"

  I smiled. "I don't know; I'm kind of happy the way things are right here and now."

  He saluted me with two fingers as he made his way to the door. "Then you are a truly lucky woman."

  "You don't have to tell me that," I said as he walked out with a smile on his face.

  Twenty minutes later, three people I never expected to see together came into the shop, practically arm in arm. Hannah, David, and Annie looked as though they'd found a way to come to grips with their situation.

  Hannah said, "We need to talk to you, but I get to go first." She smiled at the kids, and added, "I won the coin toss."

  "I wanted to go two out of three," David chimed in.

  "Let you mother talk," Annie corrected him, and to my amazement, David did just as she'd asked.

  "Carolyn, anybody can say what their friends want to hear, but it takes someone special to point out something that might be tough to take. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," I said. "But I'm disappointed in one thing."

  "What's that?" She looked alarmed, so I decided I'd bet ter stop toying with her.

  "You don't have any presents with you."

  "I'm taking care of that," Annie said. She came forward and hugged me. "Thank you for finding my father's jewelry."

  "I imagine you have to give it back to the insurance com pany," I said. "That's a real shame."

  "They never paid his claim," Annie said brightly. "Everything you found belongs to me. Do you know what that means? When I sell the jewelry, I'll be able to finally go to Stanford. It will be all mine as soon as the case is settled. I'm so happy."

  "There wasn't that much in there, was there?" I knew the costs to go to such a fine school were astronomical.

  "You'd be surprised. But don't forget, I've been saving for years. I was getting close, but the jewelry will put me over the top. I want you to have something."

  She reached into her bag and brought out a brightly wrapped present.

  "I can't accept that," I said.

  "I insist," she said.

  Well, it wouldn't hurt to unwrap it. Instead of the neck lace, there was a nice ring with a diamond that, while not huge, was still substantial.

  "Thanks," I said, "but I meant it. I can't accept it." She started to frown when I added, "Think of it as a small schol arship. There's just one condition, though."

  "What's that?"

  "You have to promise not to use the money from its sale on anything practical. Set up a fund for pizza runs and ice cream parties. There's more to school, and life, than work ing all the time."

  She nodded, and I could see tears tracking down her cheeks.

  "Are you crying?" David asked her.

  "Of course not," she mumbled. "Restroom?"

  I pointed to the back, and she ducked in to repair her makeup.

  David said, "I never understood why women cry when they're happy. She was happy, wasn't she?"

  "David, what am I going to do with you?" Hannah asked.

  "He's too old to throw back, so I guess you're going to have to keep him," I said.

  We laughed, and David scowled slightly. All was well with the world again.

  Annie came out and gave me a hug. "Thank you."

  "Just do as I ask, and I'll be happy."

  "I promise," she said. "David, are you ready?"

  "Let's go." He turned to me and said, "We're driving to Boston to talk to some jewelry appraisers and find one who'll give top dollar for what you found. You two don't want to come, do you?"

  It was clear from his expression that our company was the last thing in the world he wanted.

  "Sorry, I've got to keep the shop open."

  "And I have a class to teach," Hannah added.

  They were gone before we could blink.

  Hannah said, "It's nice they asked. So, you don't get a present after all."

  "You're back in my life. That's the only gift I need," I said. "I'm sorry I was so abrupt with you."

  "You were brutal," she acknowledged. "But I needed it. I'm going to try to step back a little. I may need some help."

  "Don't worry, if your apron strings start to constrict, I'll step in and say something."

  "I know I can count on you. Do you really need to keep the shop open?"

  "Why, don't you have a class to teach?"

  "My TA can handle it. After all, that's what teacher's as sistants are for."

  "I'm game if you are," I said. "What did you have in mind?"

  "Nothing as exciting as a trip to Boston, but I was think ing a nice long coffee break might be in order."

  "Lead the way," I said. As I locked the shop up, I glanced at the store window. Our cottages were lined up like a vil lage street, making me think of our quaint little town. Maple Ridge was a wonderful place to live, but it wasn't perfect. Greed could have dire consequences. Richard Atkins's greed had gotten him killed, and my uncle's had nearly ended my life—and my husband's—all for a few cold, hard stones.

  And unlike pliable clay that could be reworked and used again, Richard's and Don's lives were destroyed forever, like fired porcelain that was shattered beyond all hope of re pair.

  I chose to look at it positively, though. Annie had her education paid for, David had his life ahead of him, and I had my best friend Hannah and my husband, Bill, as well as two bright and healthy sons.

  It was more than most folks had, and for me, it was everything I needed.

  Clay-Crafting Tips

  Weaving Clay

  There's a real artistry in weaving clay. If you have access to a kiln, you can weave potter's clay, but don't despair if all you have is modeling clay. Many brands can be used to form a nice woven basket that you can temper in your oven. Be sure to read the package's instructions before starting your project.

  As Carolyn demonstrated to the Firing Squad, knead your clay and then roll it into a flat sheet the thickness you want. If you're using modeling clay, you can dress up your creation by using different colors of clay. After you've rolled out the clay to a quarter-inch thickness, cut it into uniform strips. I like to make mine around an inch wide, but you don't have to be exact. Lay out half the strips side by side vertically, and then take one of the remaining strips and weave it horizontally in and out of the vertical strips, going over one and then under the next. Repeat until you've used all but four of the remaining strips.

  After you've completed the pattern, you should have a woven square. Now comes the fun part. Using a bone or a rib, bend the four corners up until you have a bowl shape. You can squeeze and pinch the clay at this stage to get the shape you desire. To dress the edges after you're done, take the final four strips of the clay and bend them lengthwise over the rough edges of the basket. Then bake your bowl per the directions on the clay package.

  And as always, the most important thing to remember is to have fun! If you're not happy with the results before you fire the clay, knead it all together again and start over. That's one of the beauties of working with clay.

 

 

 
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