His son gave a snort of derision. His father let it pass without comment.
“So you were arguing over that watch?” I said to Harry. I was confused. So much anger over an old watch that had belonged to his father didn’t make sense to me.
He pulled a hand across his mouth. “He told me he wasn’t even sure he still had the watch but he’d take a look when he had the chance. He said he didn’t see what the big deal was.”
“That makes two of us,” Harrison commented.
I saw a flash of anger again in Harry’s eyes but his voice was quiet and steady when he spoke. “Do you remember where you got that watch?” he asked his father.
“Your mother got it for my birthday,” Harrison said. And then recognition spread across his face. He swore again. “It was the last gift she bought me before she had that stroke.”
Now I got why the watch was so important.
Harry let out a breath. “Dad, I’ve tried to be supportive of your relationship with Peggy Sue. Hell, she got you to go for a checkup, which is more than Larry and I have ever been able to do, so in my book she gets points for that. I want you to be happy.” He swallowed. “And I’m damn glad we have Elizabeth, no matter how she came into our life.”
The old man nodded but he also hung his head. Harry’s younger sister, Elizabeth, was the result of a relationship Harrison had had when his wife, Harry’s mother, was in a nursing home after a debilitating stroke that eventually ended her life.
“But I don’t want my mother to be forgotten. I thought if you had the watch, maybe you’d remember her once in a while. When I heard Leo was in town it seemed like a good chance to try to get it back.”
Harrison’s expression changed. “Remember her once in a while? There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of your mother. I loved her with everything I had. And yes, I’m grateful to have Elizabeth and to be part of her life—which by the way is thanks to Kathleen—but I’m ashamed of how I betrayed your mother.”
I wrapped one arm around my midsection and pressed the back of my hand to my mouth. I’d handled this badly. I’d upset two people I cared about for nothing. Harry’s argument with Leo Janes had nothing to do with his murder. “Harry, I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. This is none of my business.”
“No,” he said. “You’re right. There’s more and I shouldn’t have been keeping it to myself. At my age I should know better.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Day before he was killed Leo called me at the house. He said he’d found the watch and he asked if I could do something for him. He said he’d give me Dad’s watch whether I helped him or not.”
“So what did he want?” I asked.
“Well, it didn’t make sense, but Leo wanted me to put him in touch with Lisa.”
“What for?” Harrison said, frowning. Lisa was Harry’s ex-wife.
Harry tented his fingers over the top of his water glass. “I don’t know. I figured it had to have something to do with insurance.” He looked at me. “Lisa’s a claims adjuster for Activa Life,” he said.
“Did you talk to her?” I asked.
“I did. I explained that he was giving me Dad’s watch. She knows about it. I asked if she’d talk to Leo.” He looked from his Dad to me. “I told her she didn’t have to help him but I’d appreciate it if she’d talk to him. She said she would. That was it. Pretty much.”
“Did you talk to Leo again?” I asked.
“I called him with her number. He told me to come over and pick up the watch.” He rubbed a hand over his bald head.
“You were there, the night he was killed. I passed you on the way over there. It was raining.”
Harry nodded. “I rang the bell but he didn’t answer the door and yes, I was mad when I left.” He looked at his father then. “I didn’t kill Leo.”
“Good Lord, we know that!” Harrison exclaimed.
I nodded. The idea that Harry could have killed Leo Janes or anyone else was unthinkable.
Harry went on to explain he’d talked to Marcus. Footage from a security camera on a nearby house confirmed how quickly Harry had been in and out. He wasn’t a suspect.
And I was glad of that, but that meant Simon still was.
chapter 11
Harrison got to his feet.
“What are you doing?” his son asked.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling Lisa to find out what Leo wanted to talk to her about.” A cordless phone handset was sitting on the nearby buffet. He picked it up and brought it back to the table.
Harry stared at his father. “How do you know her phone number?”
“What? I’m not allowed to check on my daughter-in-law?”
“We’re not married anymore, Dad.”
The old man nodded his head. “I know that. You two aren’t married. That has nothing to do with me.” By then he had punched in a phone number and lifted the handset to his ear. A warm smile spread across his face when Harry’s ex-wife answered. “Hello, my girl, how are you?” Whatever her response was made him laugh. “Well, I think I’m in damn fine shape for the shape I’m in,” he said. He listened for a moment. “You’re right,” he said. “I didn’t just call to check in. My son says he asked if he could give your number to Leo Janes.”
I watched as the smile slipped off his face, replaced by a frown that pulled his bushy eyebrows together. “Well, that’s a surprise.”
There was a pause.
“I appreciate that,” Harrison said then. “It was good of you to say you’d talk to him. You have a good night. I’ll be talking to you soon.” He ended the call and set the phone on the table.
“Leo didn’t call before he died, did he?” I said. That seemed obvious from Harrison’s side of the conversation and the way his expression had changed.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you went to so damn much trouble just to try to get that watch back,” he said to his son. “The fact that you did means a hell of a lot to me and I’m sorry I let you think I forgot your mother.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get the watch before I gave him Lisa’s phone number,” Harry said.
Harrison shrugged. “Water under the bridge, son.” He looked across the table at me. “Eat up, Kathleen. I made gingerbread.”
“More like Peggy made gingerbread and you watched her,” his son commented. The glint of a smile was back in his eyes.
“Never you mind,” Harrison countered. “I can cook. I have all sorts of talents.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at me.
I laughed and dropped my head over my bowl. I wasn’t crazy enough to get pulled into that conversation.
Harry got to his feet and picked up his bowl. “Your talents are not dinnertime conversation,” he said. His father just laughed.
The gingerbread, topped with a small dollop of vanilla whipped cream, was delicious. After we’d eaten Harrison showed me the Christmas card he’d received that had been in the pile of found mail. A jolly Santa was on the front and a slightly naughty limerick was written inside in sharp angular writing. The card was signed, Cyrus.
“Cyrus was your older brother,” I said.
Harrison nodded. “He was eight when I was born. The last thing he wanted was a baby brother. When I was about six months old the Edwards, who lived up the road a stretch, took in a dog somebody had just abandoned on our road. It had three puppies. Cyrus tried to trade me for one of the pups.” He smiled at the memory. “When Mrs. Edwards turned him down he offered the contents of his piggy bank as well. He always said he figured if he’d had another twenty-five cents worth of pennies in that thing they probably could have made a deal.”