Chapter One
“I just can’t believe it,” Sadie Barnett said to her friend, Lucy Shylock.
“Tamsin Woo, killed on the street in Seagrove. What is our town coming to?”
She picked up Mr. Bradshaw, her tiny Jack Russell Terrier cross and held him close for comfort. The rash of murders they’d been experiencing in Seagrove unsettled her.
The two women were having coffee in Sadie’s living room, located in her apartment over the antique shop she owned. The coffee and pastries were from the bakery next door, improved by the new owner to the point that Sadie had to limit her intake or she’d turn into a vibrating ball of caffeinated butter. She was already plump enough.
“What gets me,” Lucy said, “is they tried making it look like a drive-by shooting. We don’t have any gangs in Seagrove, unless you count that group of high school kids down at the rec center. And the worst they do is smoke cigarettes and ride skateboards.”
“No,” Sadie agreed, “this is something else. Something evil.”
“I don’t like it,” Lucy said. “Something is changing in Seagrove and it’s not for the better.”
“Look,” Sadie pointed to a squirrel balancing on the railing of her balcony.
“There’s Simon. He comes down to the balcony twice a day to see if any nuts have fallen from the tree. He’d come right in the house if I let him.”
Simon jumped from the railing to the little table where Sadie liked to sit and drink coffee. Then he was bounding off the chair and looking in through the door. He tapped a nut against the glass and Lucy giggled.
“How long has he been doing that?” she asked.
“He’s been around since the beginning of summer,” Sadie said. “But he only started tapping at the glass when the nuts started falling.”
The bell to her shop rang and Sadie and Lucy jumped and looked at each other. Sadie laughed.
“Look at us. Jumping at an everyday occurrence. I’ll be right back.”
She headed down the inside stairway with Mr. Bradshaw on her heels. A delivery van was parked on the street outside the shop. Sadie opened the door to a uniformed driver.
“Are you Sadie Barnett?” the driver asked.
“I am,” Sadie said and Mr. Bradshaw barked once in agreement.
“Sign here, please.”
Sadie carried her package upstairs and plopped back on the couch near Lucy, who was sitting in the best armchair ever. That’s what Sadie always called it, as a name, The Best Armchair Ever. It was so comfortable.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
“Give me a second and we’ll find out.”
Sadie wrestled with the tape until the flaps came open and a letter fluttered out and floated to the floor. She picked it up looked at it.
“This package is from Tamsin Woo,” she said. “The very dead Tamsin Woo.”
She pulled the packing paper from the box and, when she did, there was a flash of gold as whatever the box had been holding went flying through the air and landed on Lucy’s lap. Lucy examined it and held it out to Sadie.
“I think it’s a pocket watch,” she said. “But I’m not really sure.” Sadie took it and looked at it carefully.
“This,” she said, “is a very rare watch, and only partly because it’s almost impossible to tell time with it.” She opened it.
“See here?”
She asked pointing out the delicate carving and filigree on the watch’s face. It was a forest scene carved from gold and the hands moved behind much of the decoration. Only occasionally did the hands become visible.
Then she closed the watch, flipped it over and opened the other side. The clockwork was visible through the face and another set of hands moved counterclockwise across the etched glass.
“That’s amazing,” Lucy said. “But it doesn’t make any sense to have a backward watch on one side and one that obscures the time on the other.”
“Not great for telling time,
“I just can’t believe it,” Sadie Barnett said to her friend, Lucy Shylock.
“Tamsin Woo, killed on the street in Seagrove. What is our town coming to?”
She picked up Mr. Bradshaw, her tiny Jack Russell Terrier cross and held him close for comfort. The rash of murders they’d been experiencing in Seagrove unsettled her.
The two women were having coffee in Sadie’s living room, located in her apartment over the antique shop she owned. The coffee and pastries were from the bakery next door, improved by the new owner to the point that Sadie had to limit her intake or she’d turn into a vibrating ball of caffeinated butter. She was already plump enough.
“What gets me,” Lucy said, “is they tried making it look like a drive-by shooting. We don’t have any gangs in Seagrove, unless you count that group of high school kids down at the rec center. And the worst they do is smoke cigarettes and ride skateboards.”
“No,” Sadie agreed, “this is something else. Something evil.”
“I don’t like it,” Lucy said. “Something is changing in Seagrove and it’s not for the better.”
“Look,” Sadie pointed to a squirrel balancing on the railing of her balcony.
“There’s Simon. He comes down to the balcony twice a day to see if any nuts have fallen from the tree. He’d come right in the house if I let him.”
Simon jumped from the railing to the little table where Sadie liked to sit and drink coffee. Then he was bounding off the chair and looking in through the door. He tapped a nut against the glass and Lucy giggled.
“How long has he been doing that?” she asked.
“He’s been around since the beginning of summer,” Sadie said. “But he only started tapping at the glass when the nuts started falling.”
The bell to her shop rang and Sadie and Lucy jumped and looked at each other. Sadie laughed.
“Look at us. Jumping at an everyday occurrence. I’ll be right back.”
She headed down the inside stairway with Mr. Bradshaw on her heels. A delivery van was parked on the street outside the shop. Sadie opened the door to a uniformed driver.
“Are you Sadie Barnett?” the driver asked.
“I am,” Sadie said and Mr. Bradshaw barked once in agreement.
“Sign here, please.”
Sadie carried her package upstairs and plopped back on the couch near Lucy, who was sitting in the best armchair ever. That’s what Sadie always called it, as a name, The Best Armchair Ever. It was so comfortable.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
“Give me a second and we’ll find out.”
Sadie wrestled with the tape until the flaps came open and a letter fluttered out and floated to the floor. She picked it up looked at it.
“This package is from Tamsin Woo,” she said. “The very dead Tamsin Woo.”
She pulled the packing paper from the box and, when she did, there was a flash of gold as whatever the box had been holding went flying through the air and landed on Lucy’s lap. Lucy examined it and held it out to Sadie.
“I think it’s a pocket watch,” she said. “But I’m not really sure.” Sadie took it and looked at it carefully.
“This,” she said, “is a very rare watch, and only partly because it’s almost impossible to tell time with it.” She opened it.
“See here?”
She asked pointing out the delicate carving and filigree on the watch’s face. It was a forest scene carved from gold and the hands moved behind much of the decoration. Only occasionally did the hands become visible.
Then she closed the watch, flipped it over and opened the other side. The clockwork was visible through the face and another set of hands moved counterclockwise across the etched glass.
“That’s amazing,” Lucy said. “But it doesn’t make any sense to have a backward watch on one side and one that obscures the time on the other.”
“Not great for telling time,
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