Read Online Clock and Dagger by Julianne Holmes - Free Book Online Page A

zipper-pulling inventions. I reached around by my waist and tried to get the zipper inched up. A couple of inches. Still couldn’t reach it over my shoulder, so I twisted again. A couple more inches. I could almost grab the zipper, and somehow thought jumping up and down would help. Bezel meowed and moved to the other side of the bed. I finally got the dress zipped, but now my hair needed fixing. But when didn’t it?
    I was mid curl wrangling when I heard the shop phone ring in the kitchen. I was glad I’d had an extension installed up here, and even gladder that I could turn off the ringer if I wanted to. I was tempted to let it go to voice mail, but decided against it at the last minute. Maybe Nancy needed something, or Caroline was running late?
    â€œHello. Cog & Sprocket. How can I help?” I said.
    â€œCaroline?” a voice whispered.
    â€œNo, this is Ruth. May I help you?”
    â€œRuth? Are you Thom Clagan’s granddaughter?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œMy name is Zane Phillips. I am, I was, a friend of your grandfather’s. Perhaps he’s mentioned me? Or Caroline has?” The voice was still whispering. Maybe he didn’t want to be overheard? Or he had a cold?
    â€œI think so,” I said. The name was familiar, but since I’d become immersed in the business of the Cog & Sprocket, I couldn’t be sure.
    â€œI’d love to come by the shop. I haven’t been there for years, and I read about the open house in the paper. I didn’t realize that you were Ruth until I read the article more closely. I saw you—”
    â€œWe are going to reopen next week. On January second,” I said. I didn’t want to rush him, but trips down memory lane took time, and I was running late. No big surprise, but still, I couldn’t be late to my own party.
    â€œPlease, tell me. Is Caroline about?”
    â€œNo,” I said. I didn’t elaborate. Something about his voice sounded familiar, but my gut said to hold back until I could talk to Caroline directly. She was so private, it was contagious.
    â€œIs she going to be at the open house?”
    â€œShe isn’t feeling well, so I’m not sure she’s going to make it.” I’d run the name by Caroline first. Not that it was my job to protect her, but still.
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping to stop by tonight. When you talk to her, please tell her I called and am in the area. I’d love to see her.”
    â€œMay I have a phone number where you can be reached?”
    I reached for a scrap of paper and wrote down the numbers he rattled off.
    â€œIf I don’t hear from her, I’ll call back,” he said. “Perhaps you could give me her home number?”
    â€œYou know, I don’t know it off the top of my head,” I lied. “I have it programmed in my phone, which is downstairs, charging. Sorry about that.”
    â€œI’ll try back later in the week. Please do pass on the message. I’m sure she’ll want to see me.” With that, Zane Phillips hung up. I wrote down his name and put the paper in the pocket of my dress. All of my dresses had pockets—a prerequisite for purchase. I heard one clock chime, and then others join in. Five o’clock.
    Yeesh. Once again, I was running behind time. A heckuva habit for a clockmaker. If anyone asked, I’d blame it on the zipper. The party started in a half hour. I looked longingly at my beat-up Dr. Martens nestled in the corner before I zipped up my slick, high-heeled-for-me black boots, and slashed on some red lipstick. I was tempted to try and fix my hair again, but gave up. It would have to do. I closed the door behind me as the clocks finished their five o’clock show.
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    I closed, and locked, my apartment door, which was an unusual move for me, especially since I’d moved back to Orchard. But the shop was going to be full of