by Amanda Lee
“There’s something I want—need—to explain to you,” I said. “When we went to see your father that Friday morning with the books . . .”
Ted pressed my hand again, so I slid it out of his grasp.
“I know what I’m doing,” I told him. “Trust me. Mr. Cantor needs to hear this.” I returned my focus to Adam. “As we talked, your dad found out I had this embroidery specialty shop and correctly assumed that I’d be interested in seeing his antique tapestry. He showed it to me and explained its history and his history. He was proud of his ancestry.”
Adam smiled. “And heaven knows Pop liked to talk.”
“Mr. Cantor, I don’t know why your father would trust me with the secrets of his tapestry, but he did,” I said. “And he told me that he wanted to find this treasure so that you—his family—could have a better life. That’s why I told Mr. Trammel about the tapestry. I wanted your dad to get his wish.”
“But there’s no guarantee there even is a treasure to be found,” Adam said.
“True, but the network doesn’t care,” Ted said.
“Exactly. And by sharing your family’s tapestry and allowing the film crew to use it to search for the Delia, you’ll be well compensated,” I said. “I’m guessing Mr. Trammel will be bringing contracts when he returns on Monday.”
“Have an attorney look yours over and dicker with Mr. Trammel if you don’t feel he’s offering enough,” Ted said.
“Your dad was a dreamer,” I told him. “I think Melanie is too. She’s excited about the possibility of appearing on TV. But, being more practical, this could wind up being your dad’s way of paying for his granddaughter’s college education. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“How did you know Melanie is excited about the film crew coming to Tallulah Falls?” Adam asked.
Ooops. I got too cocky. Think fast, Marcy! “I ran into her at the library the other day.”
He nodded. “I should go. I’ve got some errands to finish up, and then I might go home and have Mary iron that old tapestry.”
“Oh, please, don’t,” I said. “The tapestry is really delicate and should only be ironed or cleaned by a professional.”
He smiled. “Right. Well, anyway, you guys have made me feel better about Explore Nation. Glad you’re okay, Marcy.”
He left, and I shot Ted a triumphant smirk. “See how unnecessary all that squeezing turned out to be?”
“First off, he nearly tripped you up when he asked about Melanie.”
“Was it that obvious?” I asked.
“It was to me. Hopefully, it wasn’t to Adam. That’s one of the reasons squeezing you was absolutely necessary. I had no idea what you were about to say,” he said. “Even on a good day, I’m not sure anyone—including you—knows what you’re going to say before it leaves your brain and tumbles out of your mouth. Today you had two additional strikes against you.”
“I’ll concede yesterday’s head injury,” I said. “What’s the other strike?”
“The power of the beret. I feared it would lead you astray.”
“That’s so Seussian,” I said, with a laugh.
“Actually, I thought it sounded like the beginning of a limerick,” he said. “But, seriously, job well done. I’m proud of the way you handled the conversation with Adam. The next time the department needs an arbiter, I’m recommending you.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. I just wanted him to know why I pursued the treasure hunt with the network,” I said. “I didn’t want to gain anything by it . . . and it’s not my intention to destroy Tallulah Falls.”
“Do you think Adam sent the wreath? That he’s the one who attacked you?”
“I don’t know.” I took Ted’s hand. It was warm and strong and comforting when it wasn’t squeezing me to try to keep my mouth shut. “Adam is a relatively big man. He could’ve hurt me badly, had he been the one who attacked me. I get the impression that this person was smaller than Adam Cantor.”
“Do you believe it could have been a woman?” he asked.
“It’s possible . . . but it was important to me to let Adam know at least part of Chester’s hope for his family,” I said. “It might not do any good, but I know now that I’ve done everything I can to help.”
Ted kissed me. “You’re one special woman.”
A pair of customers came in—sisters who often visited the shop together on Saturdays to see if I had anything new—and Ted returned to the office.
* * *
Angus spent most of the day lying by the window with his chew toy that Ted had refilled with peanut butter. When he had to go out, Ted insisted that we go together. He said the fresh air would do us all good. I knew he didn’t want me to be alone.
Mom once told me, “Let your man be your hero . . . even if the only heroic thing you have him do is open a pickle jar. It’ll make you both happy.”
She was right, as usual. And so was Ted. It did do us all good to stroll down the street. He and I held hands, and Angus loped along in front of us. And it was especially nice that one time when Ted cleaned up after Angus. The fact that it made him gag was the proverbial icing.
We were headed back to the Seven-Year Stitch, and I was poking fun at Ted when two engines of the Tallulah Falls Fire Department went tearing down the street. I froze.
Ted, ever adept at reading my thoughts, said, “It’s not your house, sweetheart. They’re going in the wrong direction.”
When we got back to the shop, Ted washed his hands and then called Manu to find out what was going on.
“It’s the Cantors,” he told me. “Their house is on fire.”
I gasped. “Is it bad? Was anyone hurt?”
“All Manu knows at this time is that a call went out requesting dispatch to send fire trucks to the Cantors’ address,” Ted said. “He recognized the address because he’s seen it so much recently because of Chester’s death.”
“That poor family. We should go over there.”
“Marcy, we need to stay here and let the fire department do its job.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “I feel badly for the Cantors too, but right now we’d just be in the way.”
“Manu said the call requested fire trucks but not ambulances, didn’t he?”
“That’s what he said.”
I leaned into Ted, and he encircled me in his arms. “I hope everyone’s all right.”
“I wonder if the tapestry was destroyed.”
“Ted, how can you think of the tapestry at a time like this?” I asked.
“The note you received yesterday with the wreath said you were destroying Tallulah Falls,” he said. “The only thing you’ve done that would affect Tallulah Falls in the least is the fostering of the reality show, and you did that with the tapestry.”
“So you think the fire might’ve been set on purpose in order to destroy the tapestry and stop the production of the reality show,” I said.
“And stop the search for the Delia.” He reached into his pocket and took out his phone again. “Manu Singh,” he said into the phone.
When Manu answered, Ted told him his theory.
“Given the fact that Chester was murdered,” Ted told me after he’d ended the call, “Manu had already placed a team of officers and an arson specialist on the scene. He’ll let me know as soon as he has further information.”
I shuddered, and Ted hugged me again.
“Let’s get you and Angus home,” he said.
I was more than happy to comply with that suggestion.
Chapter Twenty-two
Ted and I were in the kitchen making pizzas when Manu and Reggie came by. They sat at the table while we finished adding cheese, onion, pepperoni, and sausage to one pizza, and cheese, ham, and pineapple to the other. Ted popped both into the oven, and then we sat down with Manu and Reggie.
“Will you join us for dinner?” I asked. “I’ve already tossed the salad, and it’s in the refrigerator. The pizzas should be done in ten to fifteen minutes.”
“Thank y
ou for the offer, but we stopped at MacKenzies’ Mochas on the way over,” Manu said. “I missed lunch today and then was at the Cantors’ place all afternoon. I was ravenous.”
It was obvious the day had taken a toll on Manu. His deep-set brown eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles beneath them.
“What caused the fire?” Ted asked.
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked.
Since Ted and I had spoken at the same time, Manu answered my question first. “No one was hurt. There wasn’t anyone home at the time of the fire. That’s the good news.” He lifted his eyes to Ted’s. “Here’s the bad—it was arson. The firefighters told me that the odor of gasoline was overpowering and that it was concentrated in the small back bedroom.”
“Chester’s room?” I asked.
Manu nodded. “That’s right.”
“Was most of the damage concentrated there then?” Ted asked.
“Nothing in that room survived the blaze, but the fire spread quickly,” Manu said. “The family lost pretty much everything.”
“That’s horrible,” I said. “Poor Melanie. She’s lost her grandfather and her home in just over a week. I mean, my heart goes out to Adam and Mary too, but all this must be particularly devastating to Melanie.” I looked at Reggie. “What can we do?”
“Ted, are you working tomorrow?” Reggie asked.
“Unless Marcy needs me here, I’ll be at work,” he answered. “I want to help investigate this fire. And I also intend to dig a little deeper into the Cantors’ personal lives to see whether the fire was set in order to destroy the tapestry or whether the treasure map is merely a red herring that someone is using to throw us off the real reason the Cantors are being victimized.”
“All right, then perhaps Marcy and I can take a care package over to the hotel where the Cantors are staying,” Reggie said. “I don’t know what we can come up with, and it probably won’t be a lot, but it will show them that their community cares.”
The oven timer dinged, and I got up and took our pizzas out and placed them on wire racks to cool.
“That’s a good idea,” I told Reggie. “And I know all of Tallulah Falls will come together and lend a hand as soon as word gets around.”
Reggie smiled. “In this town, word has more than likely already gotten around . . . twice.”
Manu stood. “We’ll go now and let you enjoy your dinner. See you tomorrow.”
After another attempt to persuade them to stay and eat, we walked Reggie and Manu to the door. Reggie had been disappointed she hadn’t gotten to see Angus since he’d been in the backyard during their visit, so she went to the fence and patted his head.
Ted winked at me when he heard Manu pleading with his wife to “Come on . . . I’m tired. . . . You can play with him tomorrow.”
“I wonder why they don’t have pets of their own,” I said. “Reggie is obviously an animal lover.”
“Manu loves them too, but he’s allergic,” Ted said.
“Oh, my gosh, I had no idea.”
He grinned. “Stick with me, kid. You’ll learn a lot.”
After dinner, I called J. T. Trammel. I thought it was only fair to let him know that the tapestry had more than likely been destroyed in the fire. Stacey answered J.T.’s private number, and it finally penetrated my thick skull that she was more to him than his assistant.
“Hey, Marcy, what do you know?” J.T. asked when he came on the line.
“I have some bad news,” I said.
“Well, don’t beat around the bush. Let’s have it.”
“The Cantors’ home was set on fire today. It was almost a total loss, and it’s probable that the tapestry was destroyed,” I told him.
“You say the fire was set?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. It was definitely arson.”
“Marcy Singer, you beautiful little doll!” He laughed. “If you were standing here right this minute, I’d kiss you!”
“But won’t this ruin your plans for the reality show?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? You still have the digital photos of the tapestry, and reality television doesn’t get any better than this. Before we’ve even started filming, we’ve got us a murder and a house fire,” he said. “We can speculate that other treasure hunters are sabotaging us . . . or that the treasure is cursed. Our ratings will go through the roof! Thanks for the update, darlin’. See you on Monday.”
I ended the call and then stared at the phone in stunned silence.
“What is it?” Ted asked. “Was he more upset than you’d expected him to be?”
“Upset? No.” I tried to emulate J.T.’s voice. “He’s delighted . . . thrilled out of his cotton-picking gourd. If I wasn’t sure he was in California, I’d think he kindled that fire himself.”
Ted slipped his arm around me. “Maybe he was drunk or something and doesn’t understand the ramifications of the fire.”
“Oh, he understood all right,” I said glumly. “He told me that reality TV doesn’t get any better than this, that ratings would be great, and that if I was there he’d kiss me. Trust me. He understood perfectly.”
“I suppose if you take away the human element—put aside the impact of this fire on the family who lived in the home—you do have danger and excitement. Television programs cash in on people’s misfortunes all the time,” he said. “I guess J. T. Trammel is just looking at the bottom line.”
“I’m beginning to wish I’d never even heard of Explore Nation . . . that I’d kept my nose out of the Cantors’ business,” I said.
Ted stifled a laugh. “A leopard can’t wish his spots away.”
“Is that right?” I picked up a pillow. “Well, then, maybe you can beat them off of him!” I slung the pillow at Ted’s head.
I got in a couple of good licks, but looking back on it, I’d have to say the pillow fight ended in a tie.
* * *
I was working on Mom’s Fabergé egg when Reggie arrived the next morning. I was making good progress and was almost two-thirds of the way finished with the cross-stitching. Reggie bragged on the egg and then, as Manu had known she would, she played fetch with Angus.
“So what’s our plan for today?” I asked.
“After I got home last night, I called some of our local merchants and explained what had happened to the Cantors,” she said. “Most of them had already heard, of course, and all were eager to help. Some are donating merchandise, others are giving gift cards or cash, and a few are even doing both.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said. “I love how our town comes together in a crisis. Even though I didn’t suffer much of a crisis on Friday, the gifts and cards and phone calls from my friends meant a lot to me.”
“Yes, for the most part, Tallulah Falls is a wonderful town. There are just those few bad apples that hurt us all.”
“Speaking of bad apples, do you think the same person who attacked me is the one who set fire to the Cantors’ home?” I asked.
“I believe it’s a strong possibility,” she said. “Why?”
“Because I think it’s a strong possibility too, and that’s why I’ve decided to stay here with Angus today. If someone burned my house down with Angus in it, I’d never forgive myself.”
“I understand completely. I’ll call the merchants and reschedule my pickups until after Ted gets off work.”
“Please, don’t do that,” I said. “The Cantors need you today. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay. I’ll come back here as soon as I’ve made the delivery,” Reggie said.
I smiled. “If you’ll call me before you leave the hotel, I’ll make us some lunch. In the meantime, maybe I can get this egg finished.”
* * *
About half an hour after Reggie left to visit the Cantors, Angus decided he needed to visit the backyard. I got up and let him out, and then I fixed myself a cup of tea. I stood at the window, watching him play with a Kodiak bear chew toy—he’d to
ss it up, run and get it, and then heave it into the air again. Suddenly, he stopped playing and ran to the fence. He jumped up and draped his lanky front paws over the top and started barking. I couldn’t see who our visitor was yet, but it was certain that we had company.
As I placed my teacup on the counter and headed for the entryway, the doorbell rang. I looked through the narrow glass to see Susan Willoughby. She wasn’t my favorite person—especially since meeting and talking with Jared and his mother—but I had no reason not to open the door. Maybe she was here seeking donations for the Cantors.
“Hi, Susan,” I said, as I opened the door. “How are you?”
“Fine, thanks. How are you, Marcy?”
“I’m doing much better. Thanks for asking. What brings you by?” I asked.
“I brought her.” Ed Harding had been standing at the side of the porch, just out of my range of vision. He now stepped up as Susan pushed her way into the house. After both she and Ed were inside, he closed the door.
“We want that tapestry,” Ed continued. “Where is it?”
“I imagine it burned up in the Cantors’ house yesterday,” I said.
Ed shook his head. He was such a greasy, disagreeable old man—I had no clue what Susan saw in him.
“I went through that house top to bottom before I torched it,” Ed said. “It wasn’t there. So I figure either you’ve got it, or you know where it is.”
“Why do you suddenly want the tapestry?” I asked. “Is it because of Explore Nation? If it is, you’re out of luck. I’ve already spoken with Mr. Trammel and told him I thought the tapestry had burned up in the fire at the Cantors’ house.”
“We don’t suddenly want the tapestry,” Susan said. “We’ve wanted it since the first time you laid eyes on it, haven’t we, Daddy?”
Daddy?
Ed nodded. “I never put any stock in Chester’s belief that it was some kind of magical treasure map that would solve all his family’s problems, but Susan said it was the only thing keeping that old man—and Mary—from moving out of the Cantors’ house.”
“Once she was gone, Adam would’ve seen how much better I’d be for him than Mary was,” Susan said.
