by Amanda Lee
Amber had come a lot further along in her design than her mother had. Her mother pointed out that Amber had more free time, but Amber protested, “At least you don’t have homework, Mom!”
Amber’s design was a monarch butterfly on a yellow rose. Her tote bag was natural canvas, and the background was sky blue.
“You know, Amber,” I said, “I was a little concerned about your choosing this design because it involves such intricate work for a beginner. But this looks great. You’re doing a wonderful job.”
“Thanks, Marcy.” She looked up at me with a huge grin.
Julie was doing a snowman. It was simple but cute. She had started from the top and, so far, had the hat almost completed.
Although it was just the three of us—or maybe because it was just the three of us—we had a pleasant, relaxing class. I was even able to forget about Julie’s warning about identity theft until class was over.
After class, I went over and had a soda at the Brew Crew. I chatted briefly with Todd, but he was busier than expected and didn’t have much time to socialize.
I was glad to get home and into my flannel pj’s with the bunnies on them. I wasn’t used to sitting around in dress clothes all evening. So now I was sitting by the fire with Angus on one side and my rolling embroidery kit on the other. I had called my credit card company and they didn’t report any unusual activity, so then I had left a message for Mom’s attorney to dig deeper and assure me I was not a victim of identity theft. Somehow, despite all the trouble surrounding the shop, my life seemed pretty sweet.
My embroidery kit has three drawers—two large and one small—and holds my works in progress, patterns, threads, needles, hoops, scissors, and frames. My plan was to spend the rest of the evening working on the replica of the MacKenzies’ Mochas logo I was making Blake and Sadie for Christmas.
As I stitched, I thought about Julie saying her husband had been a straw buyer for Four Square. Why would a man with such a lovely wife and daughter subject himself to the possibility of going to prison? I figured money was the reason, naturally; but now that he was on probation, for restitution, he probably had to pay back more than he initially earned, and his daughter was ashamed of him. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. Poor Amber.
The phone rang. It was Alfred Benton, Mom’s attorney.
“Alfred, you didn’t have to call me back tonight,” I said.
“I know, but I wanted to make sure you hadn’t found another body in your storeroom.”
“Not this time.” I explained about Julie’s concern that my identity had been compromised.
Alfred assured me he’d look into the matter first thing the next morning. “I’m assuming I’m to keep mum to your mum?”
“For now, please. After all, it might just be a misunderstanding.”
You have no idea how indebted I am to this man. He’s been my mother’s lawyer for nearly thirty years and my secret keeper for almost that long. He was often the closest thing I had to a father.
Angus groaned in his sleep, and his foot twitched. It was an inconsequential movement, but it nudged me back to the present. I went back to work on the Mac-Kenzies’ Mochas logo, and sometime later, like Angus, drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
I felt as if I had cobwebs in my eyes when I stepped into MacKenzies’ Mochas the next morning.
Blake gave me an exaggerated blink. “You look like something Angus chewed up and spit out. You don’t have this stomach virus, too, do you?”
“No.” I lowered myself onto a stool and propped my head on my hand. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
Blake shook his head and made me a latte. “That’s getting to be a habit with you.”
“I know. Did Sadie go to the doctor yesterday?” I asked.
“Yep. She had a stomach virus.”
“I’m glad it was nothing serious.”
“Me, too.” He sat the latte on a paper coaster in front of me. “It wasn’t what she was hoping for, though.”
I tilted my head.
“She hoped she was pregnant,” Blake said.
“Oh, Blake! Sadie didn’t even tell me you guys are trying to have a baby.”
“Why do you think she was so fired up about your moving to Tallulah Falls? We’re eventually going to need a reliable babysitter.” He smiled. “I’m kidding. When you talk to Sadie, though, don’t let her know I told you we’re working on a baby. She doesn’t want anyone to know until it’s a done deal.”
I promised not to tell and said I would call to check on Sadie later in the day.
“By the way,” Blake said, “there were some people in earlier this morning saying someone broke into the Trelawney house during the funeral last night.”
“That’s horrible! Did they catch whoever did it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Do the police think whoever it was is the person who killed Bill?”
Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. Just repeating idle gossip. I feel really bad for Mrs. Trelawney, though.”
“Me, too. That must’ve scared her half to death.”
“Well, thank goodness the break-in happened while no one was at home.”
I finished my latte and hurried next door to work.
I hadn’t been there long when Reggie paid me a visit. She was wearing an ankle-length, floral-print dress and a pink pashmina. She looked lovely, and I told her so.
She smiled. “Thank you. You look like a woman who has too much on her mind.”
I nodded. “The list grows longer every day. Do you think I should simply pack everything up and return to San Francisco?”
“Only you can answer that question,” Reggie said. “Do you honestly feel that coming here to Tallulah Falls was a mistake? Or are you upset over what happened to Margaret Trelawney last night?”
“I don’t know. I just heard about the break-in from Blake MacKenzie. I’m upset for Mrs. Trelawney, of course, but her current predicament is only the latest log on the fire.” I sighed.
Reggie looked pointedly at her watch. “The Seven-Year Stitch doesn’t officially open this morning for another ninety minutes. I thought you and I could jaunt over to the Trelawneys’ home and check on Margaret.”
“That’s a flimsy ruse for snooping around their house, isn’t it?”
“Not at all.” She dangled her car keys. “Come on. I’m driving.”
Reggie’s immaculate Subaru was easier to get in and out of than my Jeep, but I still preferred my big Jeep. It suited me somehow. I also preferred doing the driving. Reggie’s driving was fine—she obeyed all speed limits and traffic rules, as a proper police officer’s wife should—but I like to be in the driver’s seat. It’s difficult for me to relinquish control . . . of anything.
“So, what are we looking for?” I asked, as Reggie parked in the Trelawneys’ driveway.
“The same thing the burglar was looking for.”
“Which is?”
Reggie scowled slightly. “I’ll know it when I see it.”
I shook my head. “How do you think we’re going to find anything relevant that was overlooked by not only the burglar but also by police crime-scene investigators?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.” She looked at me. “Isn’t it?”
Before I could answer, Sylvia flung open the front door. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Reggie and I stepped out of the car.
“It’s Reggie Singh, Sylvia. Marcy Singer is with me. We’ve come to see Margaret.”
“Okay. Come in, then.”
Sylvia looked as rough that morning as I felt. Although she wore a beautiful beige suit with a chocolate brown silk shirt and matching shoes, her eyes reflected the strain and lack of sleep the past several hours had wrought.
“How are you holding up?” I asked her.
“I want to go home,” she said. “I want to go home until Bill’s murderer has been apprehended. In fact, I am going home. And I wan
t to take Maggie with me.”
“Did something happen last night after Chief Myers left?” Reggie asked.
Sylvia shook her head. “It was unsettling being here. That’s all.”
“I’m sure it was. Why don’t you gather up some things for yourself and for Margaret, and Marcy and I will wait and see you out.”
“I’m already packed,” she said, “but I’ll pack a suitcase for Maggie. She’s in the den, by the way.” Sylvia left the living room and walked down the hall.
Reggie and I went into the den. Mrs. Trelawney was sweeping up some of the debris scattered about the room.
“Mrs. Trelawney, I can do that,” I said.
She relinquished the broom and dustpan readily enough and sank onto the sofa. “Bill used this room for his office.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “What a mess.”
“Maggie, do you mind if I take a look around? See if there’s . . . well, I don’t really know what I’m looking for.”
Mrs. Trelawney gave Reggie a defeated wave. “Fine, fine. Whatever you like.”
Reggie sat down at the desk and began opening drawers, while I sat with Mrs. Trelawney on the couch. In a few minutes, she said, “Marcy, come take a look at this.”
I went to the desk to see that she was poring over an accounting ledger. It gave me a somewhat unwelcome flashback to all those years of doing payroll and bookkeeping. This particular ledger appeared to be accounts receivable for Mr. Trelawney’s rental clients.
Reggie turned and looked up at me, her face expectant. “Do you see it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Look closer.” She ran her finger down the lined page. “By some of these names you can see a small notation: b.”
“You think these people were behind on their accounts?”
“No. I think it means they were straw buyers.”
I frowned. “That’s quite a leap, isn’t it? What makes you think the b stands for straw buyers?”
“This ledger is dated 2004. Notice there are squares around each of the letters? I think this is a dummy ledger with coded information for Four Square Development. That would explain why such an old ledger is being used.”
“Once again, Reggie, that’s a stretch. Just because there are blocks around the year, you think it’s synonymous with Four Square?”
“Maybe it is a stretch,” she said, “but right now it’s all we have. None of the other ledgers have squares around the years. So yes, I think this ledger has information relevant to Four Square. I believe the intruder was looking for something but had no idea what,” Reggie said.
“Give it to your husband, won’t you?” Mrs. Trelawney asked. “Ask him to make sure Chief Myers gets it.”
I was once again sitting in my favorite red chair in the shop’s seating area, working on my tote bag. Angus was snoring softly at my feet, and I was having trouble not dozing off myself. It was terribly rainy today. A few people had drifted in and out, buying yarn, cross-stitch fabric, and thread, but overall business had been slow.
All day I’d been planning my evening. As soon as I got home, I’d take a warm, relaxing bath. Then I’d have a bowl of clam chowder. And then Angus and I would turn in early, maybe watch a little mindless television before actually calling it a night.
I yawned and stretched. It was still nearly an hour until closing time, so I decided to call Sadie. That would wake me up and, hopefully, it would be a good time for her to talk.
She answered on the third ring.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked.
“No. I was just lying on the sofa, and the phone was on the other side of the room.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I should’ve had the phone with me. How’ve you been these past couple days?”
“Me?” I asked. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Ah, I’ll do. I’m getting over the bug. I probably needed to lose a few pounds, anyway.”
“If I didn’t have so much other junk going on, I might be tempted to come have you breathe on me. It would be cheaper than liposuction.”
“As if you need to lose an ounce,” she said. “Blake told me someone broke into the Trelawney house during Bill’s funeral.”
“Yeah. It was terrible. Mrs. Trelawney has gone to stay with Sylvia in Portland for a few days.”
“Sylvia the dragon lady? Poor Mrs. Trelawney. She must be scared.”
“She is. And Sylvia is, too. I think at first Sylvia thought Mrs. Trelawney was being foolish and paranoid, but she’s had a change of heart.”
“Because of the break-in,” Sadie asked, “or did something else happen?”
“I’m not sure. When Reggie and I stopped by this morning to see about Mrs. Trelawney, Sylvia was already packed and ready to leave.”
“That’s odd.”
“I am glad Mrs. Trelawney decided to stay with Sylvia for a few days,” I said. “I feel it’s best that she get out of town for the time being.”
“Not to change the subject,” Sadie said, effectively changing the subject, “but have you heard from Todd lately?”
“I saw him at Mr. Trelawney’s visitation. We like each other, Sadie, but our schedules aren’t that compatible right now.”
“It’ll work out. Things always work out.”
Her voice sounded wistful as she said that, and I somehow felt she was no longer talking about Todd and me but about her own disappointment over not being pregnant.
“It will,” I said. “Everything will work out great.”
I decided not to burden Sadie with any further talk of my currently troubled life.
After speaking with her, I saw there were still a few minutes left until closing time. Angus was still snoring, and the sound seemed somehow hypnotic. I allowed my head to loll against the back of the chair and my heavy eyelids to close.
Only for a second . . . So tired . . .
I was surrounded. Most of the people I knew from Tallulah Falls were there. Sadie, Blake, Todd, Riley, Mrs. Patrick . . . even Timothy Enright, his estranged wife (or should I say, his strange wife), and Bill Trelawney were there. For some reason, they all began throwing straw at me.
I was jolted by a loud, musical trill. It still took me a second to shake off the dream and answer my phone.
It was Alfred Benton. “Marcella, darling,” he said, “I’m sorry to tell you that your financial identity has indeed been compromised.”
Chapter Twelve
That certainly woke me up. I bolted upright in my chair, making Angus get up and move over to his bed behind the counter.
“What exactly does this mean, Alfred?”
His response was slow and deliberate. “I don’t know the full extent to which your credit was used at this time. However, you should cancel all your credit cards, flag your other financial accounts for possible fraud activity, and alert the authorities.”
I had half a dozen questions, and they began pouring out all at once. “Who could’ve done this? What about my checking account? Can I use that? How did this happen? You haven’t told my mom, have you?”
“One thing at a time, sweetheart,” Alfred said. “I have not told your mother anything. Your checking account is fine, although you need to have your bank be watchful for any suspicious activity. And the issuing financial institutions should be able to replace your credit cards within a week to ten days.”
I sighed.
“In the meantime, if you need to put something on a credit card, I can give you the number for one of mine.”
“Oh, no, Alfred. I’m sure I can live without a credit card for a week. How much trouble am I in?”
“It’s nothing I can’t get you out of.”
“Why don’t I find that reassuring?” I asked.
He chuckled. “My paralegals will have a bit more work and perhaps get to delve into new legal territory, that’s all.”
“New legal territory such as?”
“Real estate fraud,” he answered. “It
appears someone posing as you bought a piece of real estate in northern Oregon and then sold it for a small fortune. I knew that couldn’t be you, and I flagged it.”
“You . . . you mean this person—whoever conducted this transaction—was a straw buyer?”
“Yes, I imagine so. Hmmm. I’m surprised you’re familiar with that term, Marcella, darling.”
My stomach sank. “I . . . uh . . . I just learned about it recently.”
“Well, not to worry. I’ll take care of all of this. I or my staff will call you if there’s anything we need from you. All right?”
“Alfred, is there any indication who might’ve done this to me?”
“None yet, but if something turns up, I’ll let you know.”
I caught up with Reggie in the library parking lot. She was almost to her car when I drove up slowly beside her.
She turned, and I put down my window.
“Hi, Marcy. What’s going on? Do you need something from the library?”
“No, but I’d like to talk with you. Is Manu working this evening? I thought maybe you could join me for dinner.”
“Manu isn’t working this evening, but I can call and see if he has plans.” She paused. “Or is this girl talk?”
“It’s stolen-identity talk.”
She raised her brows. “As in your identity or someone else’s?”
“Mine.”
“Where would you like us to meet you for dinner?”
“Would you guys mind coming to my house?” I asked. “I don’t want to leave Angus alone for another evening. Plus, I was already planning on making clam chowder and cheese biscuits.”
“Is six thirty okay?”
“Six thirty is great.”
So, I wouldn’t be having my turning-in-early evening, after all. Of course, that was a given the instant Alfred told me my identity had been stolen. I desperately needed to talk this situation through with someone, and I didn’t want to go to Chief Myers. After what I’d heard, I found the man a little intimidating and didn’t think I’d find a sympathetic ear, so I hoped Manu and Reggie could steer me in the right direction.