The Cracked Pot (24 page)

"Do you know what it's like when you've seen or heard something that you know is significant, but you don't know how?"

"It happens," he admitted.

"So, what do you do to figure it out?"

David thought about it a few seconds, then said, "I al ways try not to think about it. Do something else, put it out of your mind, and it will come to you."

"Like not thinking of blue elephants, right?" I asked.

"What? Did I miss something?"

"It's an old parlor game. For the next thirty seconds, you can think of anything in the world. Just not blue elephants. Ready? Go."

I stopped him three seconds later. "Quick, what were just thinking about?"

"Blue elephants," he reluctantly admitted. "Why don't you try having lunch, then? That might jar something loose."

"It might, but even if it doesn't, I still get to eat, so there's no real downside, is there?"

I left the shop, but instead of going to Shelly's or In the Grounds, I decided to swing by the grocery store and pick up some things for a proper lunch with my husband. I'd fed him an omelet the day before, but today I pulled out all the stops. I grabbed some roast beef and provolone cheese from the deli, along with some crisp French bread, and on a whim, I added a bottle of wine to my basket. Bill and I were going to dine in style.

I drove home, trying not to think about holes, or blue ele phants, for that matter, but I didn't have much luck.

Bill wasn't in the house—I even checked in the guest bedroom—which meant he had to be in his shop. I put everything out on the counter and stared out the window as I started making our sandwiches.

Then it hit me. I knew what the fence had really told Butch, and why someone was digging in our backyard. It all came together, as if a jigsaw puzzle had just fallen from the sky and landed in perfect alignment.

Leaving everything where it was, I rushed to our garage, grabbed an old, rusted shovel, and headed into the yard. If I was right, I might just have the answer to all my ques tions. And if I was wrong, we'd have one more hole in the yard.

I didn't think I was wrong, though. The sandy indenta tion had been there twenty-five years, first as a horseshoethrowing pit, and then as a cooling area for my pottery. The missing jewelry was literally in the pits. It had to be. I wedged the shovel into the ground around the perimeter of the sandy area, searching for any sign that I was right. The digging was hard, since we hadn't had much rain lately, and I was beginng to fear I wasn't going to be able to go deep enough when my blade hit something between the edge of the pit and the gas kiln.

It was a pot, but not one I'd ever made. I moved as much dirt as I could with my hands and finally uncovered a small, earthen pot buried deep in the soil. Something was inside it, and as I hefted it out of the hole, the pot cracked open, most likely as a result of that first blow from my shovel. Inside, I could see a dirt-covered box.

This had to be what my backyard digger had been look ing for! My hands were shaking as I worked the box free from the remains of the clay container. Despite the dirt, I could tell it was from the jewelry store robbery so long ago.

That's when I heard a voice behind me say, "Good job, Carolyn. I knew you could do it, if I gave you enough time to look." My blood chilled in my veins as I realized my un cle had been behind it all from the very start. I couldn't be lieve someone close to me, a member of my own family, could be capable of the things he must have done, but the proof was pretty clear. If I was going to survive this con frontation, I had to come up with a way to stop him before he hurt anybody else, including me.

My right hand started drifting toward the shovel, but I felt a foot crash down on my fingers. I yelled out in pain.

"Not so fast. I don't want you getting any ideas. I've got your husband tied up in his shop, and if you do as you're told, you'll both walk away from this alive. Let's go; he's waiting for us."

I knew the threat was real. If I didn't do something quickly, I was sure Bill and I would soon be dead.

I turned slowly, and Don ordered, "Bring the box with you. You just couldn't let it go, could you? Curiosity might end up killing more than just the cat."

My flesh crawled at the sound of his words. Dutifully, I grabbed the box, wondering if I could use it as some kind of weapon. The edges had sharp corners, but I'd have to move quickly and decisively at just the right time, or I'd only anger the killer more.

He said, "Nice and easy. That's right. Let's go over to the workshop, shall we?"

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 looked 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."