Grace Against the Clock (A Manor House Mystery)

by Julie Hyzy

  “I’m not positive,” he said, “let’s check.”

  Wes pulled out several large boxes from a nearby shelf and I pulled one over and began digging. “I apologize,” he said. “One of my projects is to get all these files arranged so that they’re more easily accessed. I haven’t gotten this far back yet.”

  Wes dug through a different box. “They should be in there,” he muttered to himself.

  “It’s our lucky day,” I said as I found one of the dates I was looking for.

  “Let me see,” Wes said. He eased a yellowed newspaper out slowly from the tightly packed box. Pointing, he said, “Take a look.”

  The Emberstowne newspaper’s headline read: “Esteemed Surgeon Faces Charges.”

  “Oh my gosh.” I took the paper from his hands. “This is great.”

  “It looks like we have several copies in here,” Wes said. “Would you like to borrow that one?”

  “I’d love to, thank you,” I said. “Out of curiosity, do you have any newspapers for the next day, maybe into the following week?”

  He reached in again to look. “So you can follow the rest of the story?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “I’ve been relying on others’ memories from five years ago. I think that if I read the actual articles, I’ll have a better sense of the timeline and flavor of how things happened. And if you happen to have the newspaper from a day or even two before this one”—I held the issue with the scandal headline aloft—“that would be great, too.”

  “Why would you want that?” he asked.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you never really know what’s important until you find it. I’m wondering if there was anything else going on in Emberstowne at that time.”

  I dug a little longer, pulling out newspapers from the day before the Keay scandal and from several days after. “Whoever killed Dr. Keay sent a message by injecting him with alcohol,” I said. “To me, that says that the murderer was angry. No, more than angry. Whoever did it was livid with rage, and the killer equated Dr. Keay with being a drunkard. Which, according to all accounts, he wasn’t anymore.”

  “What you believe, then, is that whoever killed Dr. Keay did it because of something the doctor did while he was intoxicated?” Adam asked.

  “That’s the theory I’m holding on to.”

  “Right now, the only person who lost anything was Joyce Swedburg,” Wes said.

  “That we know of. There may be others. Plus, you’re forgetting Todd Pedota,” I said. “His wife was the woman in the car with Keay when he crashed.”

  “Your neighbor?” Adam asked.

  “The same.”

  Chapter 25

  Adam and I walked to a coffee shop in the slightly busier part of town, about a mile from the historical society. After ordering, we made our way to their outdoor seating area, where a handful of tables circled a verdigris sundial. Surrounded by heavy-headed sunflowers and burnt-orange daylilies, the cobblestoned courtyard was beautifully screened from the street. With classical music piped in around us, it was a perfect, quiet spot to relax.

  “Not very accurate, is it?” I asked, absentmindedly running a finger along the sundial’s edge.

  Adam twisted to read the time. “Two in the afternoon? Yeah, I’d say it’s a bit off.” He consulted his watch. “It isn’t even noon yet.”

  “I suppose it’s here for decoration, but if you make the effort to install a sundial, wouldn’t you try to get the time right?”

  We sat at a nearby table and he grinned as though I’d said something funny. “Not everyone pays as close attention to details as you do. That’s one of the things that makes you so special.”

  “That doesn’t make me special. I think everyone is curious. I just happen to act on that curiosity more often than most people do.”

  Adam smiled. “I stand—or should I say sit—corrected. You’re not special in the least.”

  I laughed at that. “Thank you. What did you think of Wes?”

  “I like him,” Adam said. “He’s a wealth of knowledge. I’m glad he’s helping you on this. I can’t say the same about your neighbor, even though I haven’t met him. I’m not thrilled about you having an open passage between your house and a possible killer’s.”

  “Todd Pedota may technically be a suspect in my book, but he’s certainly not of any interest to Flynn.”

  “You were shocked to hear that Flynn arrested Joyce Swedburg, right?”

  I sipped my tea and nodded.

  Adam leaned forward, fixed me with a firm gaze, and lowered his voice. “With Flynn’s track record, I’d lay odds that Joyce Swedburg isn’t guilty but that Todd Pedota is.”

  I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “You,” I said, feeling a quick lightheartedness I hadn’t expected. “You haven’t met Joyce, you haven’t met Todd. I’m sure you barely remember Flynn from last time.”

  Adam straightened. “Oh, I remember him all right.”

  “My point is that you haven’t gotten to know any of these people, but you’re being drawn into the drama of it all.”

  He wrapped both hands around his tea. “Can’t help it. It involves you.”

  Except for a teenage couple in the far corner of the outdoor space, we were alone. I leaned toward him and spoke quietly. “Why, Adam?”

  He knew what I was asking, but I watched guardedness come across his expression. “Why what?”

  I placed my hands around his. They were warm. “Why are you here?”

  He stiffened. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “We need to have that talk.”

  His hands trembled, barely enough for me to notice, but I did. Not wanting him to feel self-conscious, I pulled back.

  “This isn’t the time,” he said.

  “I think it is.” I waited for him to argue again, but instead he looked away. He lifted his glass and took a deep drink of tea. Even if he refused to make eye contact, I had to forge ahead. “You’ve come to visit me a couple of times now. You bring me flowers. You seem genuinely glad to see me.”

  “I am.”

  “But . . . why?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’ve given you nothing,” I said.

  His gaze snapped to meet mine. “You’ve given me friendship.”

  “I get the sense you want more.”

  “I’m a patient man.”

  “But what if I can’t give you what you want? What if—” This was hard to say, but it needed to be asked. “What if you and I never move forward? Your patience will be wasted.”

  The hurt in his eyes slipped in and out so quickly I almost missed it.

  “If you tell me to go away, I will,” he said simply. “I hope you won’t, because I’m good for you, Grace. You may not see it yet, but I am. And you’re good for me.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I don’t know. I just do.”

  “That’s vague.”

  “You don’t see it yet, but it’s there.”

  His pronouncement tweaked me. “You do realize you’re coming across like a know-it-all. Like I’m a silly female who doesn’t know my own mind, but not to worry: Big, strong-shouldered Adam is here, and he’s going to take care of me, whether I like it or not.”

  His eyes clenched as though pained. When he opened them again, he looked away. His mouth pulled in tight and his gaze went glassy. He shook his head and stared out toward the sunflowers but I wasn’t sure he was actually seeing them. I wasn’t touching him, but I could see his body vibrate.

  He breathed in deeply through his nose, settled himself, and turned back to me.

  “I’m not an enigma, like your friend Jack,” he said finally. Was there a touch of anger there now? I thought so. “You don’t have to work to figure me out. I�
�ve been straight with you from the very start and I told you that I would continue to be that way for as long as we remain friends.”

  “I know that.”

  “What you don’t know,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him, “is why I believe we’re right for each other.”

  I was almost afraid of what he might say next. Adam was a great guy, I could recognize that on a logical level. He was kind, compassionate, determined, and a hard worker. I liked him, a lot. From time to time I even felt more than friendship for him. But not enough. Never enough to allow this to turn into a full-blown relationship. Not yet. And I couldn’t be sure I’d ever feel that way.

  “Why, Adam?”

  He shook his head. “What I feel for you, Grace, is strong and profound, and utterly different than anything I’ve felt before in my life. I’m thirty-seven years old and there are parts of my life I’ve wanted to share with you, things I haven’t spoken about to anyone. But you aren’t ready. You may never be ready.” He squinted into the sun and lowered his voice further. “Every time you smile at me, my heart gives a little lurch. I know that doesn’t happen for you and I thought that would be okay for now. I thought I could get you to change your mind.”

  I wanted to interrupt, but I wasn’t sure what I’d say.

  “When I hear myself trying to explain why we’re right together, I come across exactly as you described: a know-it-all. Or worse, a crazed lunatic who doesn’t know when to walk away.” Still not looking at me, he wore the saddest smile. “I’m beginning to accept that you may never feel for me what I do for you. Maybe it’s time I move along.”

  “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “If we were a couple, yes. But we aren’t.”

  I reached across, to touch his arm with my fingers. He pulled away.

  “Adam, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Finally making eye contact, he tried to smile again. “For being honest with me? Don’t ever be sorry for that.”

  My head was swirling. Was this what I really wanted? I knew we were at a turning point. We might stand up and leave right now. We might stay and talk longer. Either way, I knew that when we did leave, it would be after I’d made a decision. A make-or-break decision. Adam was asking me if I wanted to cut ties with him. I cared for the man. I didn’t want him out of my life. But was it fair to him to maintain this arm’s length when he wanted so much more and I didn’t know what I wanted?

  A breeze stirred up, causing the heavy sunflower heads to bounce and wave as though mocking me.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. He shifted in his seat, his entire body facing mine. “You’re so smart, Grace. So inquisitive. Look at all you’ve done here in Emberstowne since you arrived. You’ve solved murders, for crying out loud. How many people can say that?”

  I didn’t understand where he was going with this.

  “Maybe my mistake was to show up here, to try to make you care about me before you were ready. You’re not used to that. I’m not a mystery to be solved. I’m just big, eager Adam. What you see is what you get.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “It is as far as you’re concerned. Understand me, Grace. I don’t blame you. I blame myself. You deserve to be treated well, you deserve all that’s best in the world. Because you are the best in the world. But you’re not ready for that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re still attracted to Jack. Don’t deny it. I hear it in your voice when you say his name. Nothing wrong with that, but you’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain. Am I close?”

  My breath caught. How did he know? I gave one quick nod.

  “He was distant and aloof when you were interested in a relationship and suddenly attentive when you were not.”

  I bit my lip, almost wishing I hadn’t shared so much of this with Adam. At the same time I was perversely curious enough to want to hear the rest of his analysis.

  “Jack was broken, and he’s in the process of putting himself together again,” Adam said. “He’s doesn’t yet know himself fully, which means you can’t know him fully, either. He’s a mystery to be solved. And you can’t resist.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” He tilted his head again. “At the very least, he’s unfinished business. You need to find closure before you can move on. That closure might very well mean that you and Jack end up together, I don’t know. But you need to find out what the right answer is. For you. Got that? Not for Jack. Not for me. Until that happens, you’re denying yourself happiness. And you deserve to be happy.”

  My throat went hot.

  “I don’t do the jealous thing,” he said. “I’m not angry that Jack is still in your life. What’s right for you is right for you. I happen to believe that what’s right for you is me. But until you believe that, it really doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”

  He stood, picked up his tea glass, and shook his head when I started to rise. “Tell you what. How about you wait here for a little bit? Give me a half hour’s head start. The workers are in and out of your house all day today, right?”

  Numb, I nodded.

  “Then the doors are probably open. I’ll go in, pack up my stuff, and get out of your hair.”

  “Adam—”

  “Do what you need to do,” he said. “But remember one thing above all: You deserve happiness.” Swallowing hard, he hit me again with that sorrowful smile. “Do I want you to find that with me? You know I do. But I can’t make it happen and I’m starting to understand that my coming here didn’t do either of us any good. I need to leave.”

  My heart was heavier than it had been since my mother died. I knew Adam was right about my feelings for Jack, but the realization of the hurt I’d caused took my breath away. I could barely form the words. I couldn’t look at him. “You’re leaving? For good?”

  “That will be up to you.”

  My gaze flicked up to meet his.

  “I’m going to pretend that you and I never met. Heaven help me, it will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I’m taking the pressure off, Grace. You do what you need to do,” he said again. “Whatever that is. Maybe you’ll realize that you can never care for me the way a man and woman should if they want to spend time together. Then again, maybe you can. My hanging around here isn’t going to make it easier for you. So, I’m going.”

  “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

  He waved off my apology. “You can’t make another person love you,” he said. “It’s time I realized that. Give me a half hour,” he said again, then turned away.

  I gave him his half hour. I gave him more than that. I sat staring at the sundial until clouds gathered overhead and time disappeared.

  Chapter 26

  Frances stormed into my office Monday morning. Nose in the air, she kept her arms folded across her chest. “You have been summoned.”

  Her body language screamed “annoyed,” so she couldn’t be talking about Bennett. “Flynn?” I asked.

  “No, this time it was your little lap dog,” she said. “Ronny Tooney.”

  “Has he found something?” I stood. “Is he here?”

  She wagged her head, and her ample chins shimmied in response. Her feet were planted shoulder-width apart and if it hadn’t been for the crossed arms, I would have thought she was about to tackle me. I knew Tooney aggravated the heck out of her, but this level of anger was out of proportion.

  “He’s drunk,” she said. The words came out hard and sharp, like a bite. “Drunk as Dr. Keay was when he keeled over in front of us.”

  “Are you sure?” Tired of having to guess what was going on, I brushed past Frances to hurry into her office. “Where is he?”

  “Home, of course. The man is an idiot, but he’s no fool.”

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Explain wh
at’s going on, Frances. Without the commentary, please.”

  She rolled her mouth as though fighting to keep the snarky comments from escaping. “He called a minute ago. Wants you to come out to see him. At his house.” She raised an eyebrow at that. “He claims he has information for you that’s important but he’s too drunk to drive. Want me to tell him to come in when he sobers up?”

  “No, this is great.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “This could be the break I was hoping for.”

  I raced back to my desk, grabbed my purse, and started for the door. Frances stared at me, openmouthed.

  “Well,” I asked, “are you coming along or not?”

  * * *

  We were barely out Marshfield Manor’s front gates when Frances shifted in her seat to face me. “What happened with the boyfriend?” she asked. “You know, the bandleader hippie guy.”

  I signaled to turn right at the intersection, and took my eyes off the road long enough to gauge her face. Her tadpole brows sat suspended high on her forehead, and she blinked at me. Her look said she was all innocence. I wasn’t buying it.

  “He’s not a hippie.” I returned my attention to my driving. “Far from it.”

  If she hadn’t been confined by her seatbelt, she probably would have jammed her fists in her hips. “Everybody knows he dumped you at the coffee shop,” she said.

  “He didn’t dump me.”

  “You dumped him?” Her tone suggested she found this scenario unlikely. “I thought this was Mr. Right for you. You keep insisting you’re over Jack and that this new boyfriend was the one.” She studied me, her beady eyes bright. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Not depressed or anything.”

  I’d never said that Adam was “the one,” but I couldn’t fight more than one battle at a time. “You want to make sure you get the rest of the story straight so you have something to share with your grapevine gremlins around town. Is that it?”

  “We’re interested in your well-being.”

  I shot her a look of contempt. “For your information, the breakup was mutual.”