by Amanda Lee
Melanie, Mary Cantor’s daughter, was sitting between her mother and a woman named Susan. She had chosen a cross-stitch kit of a long-eared puppy with a bedroom slipper dangling from his teeth. “I like this dog,” Melanie said to no one in particular. “He’s cute.”
“Maybe one day we can have a dog,” her mother said.
“I hope so.” Melanie sighed.
“I have a dog,” I said. “His name is Angus. He’s an Irish wolfhound, and he’s bigger than I am.”
“That’s not saying much,” said Reggie with a laugh. “But, seriously, when Angus stands on his back paws, he’s over six feet tall.”
“Wow,” Melanie said. “Is he scary?”
“Not at all,” I said. “Maybe your mom can bring you by the shop to see him sometime. He loves having visitors!”
“Can we, Mom?” she asked.
“We’ll see,” Mary said.
“Grandpa wants you to take the tapestry to her shop so she can see how old it is,” Melanie said.
“I said we’ll see.” Mary didn’t look up from her needlepoint rose.
I wanted to ask about the tapestry, but I didn’t want to cause Mary—or especially Melanie—any discomfort. I waited until after the class and spoke with Mary discreetly.
“What sort of tapestry was Melanie talking about?” I asked.
Mary gave me a half shrug. “Pop has this piece of embroidered cloth that he thinks is a treasure map. Frankly, I don’t even think it’s that old, but he thinks it’s an antique and that it could be the answer to our prayers. When I told him about class tonight, he got really excited and wanted me to show you the tapestry so you could confirm how old it is.”
“I could probably look at it and tell you,” I said. “I’m really good with textiles.”
“I’d rather you look at it and tell him,” Mary said. “If you could convince him that it’s not what he believes it to be—some ancient treasure map—then maybe he’d leave with us, and Melanie and I could get out of that house. As it is, he won’t budge.”
“Why not?” Reggie asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—but I couldn’t help overhearing. Your father-in-law is an adult of legal age and of good mental capacity, isn’t he?”
Mary nodded. “But he keeps telling me he has a plan. He believes that this grand scheme of his is about to come together and that he, Mel, and I can go far away where Adam will never find us . . . at least, until Adam comes to his senses and agrees to get help . . . which—if he honestly thinks Adam will ever do that—makes me question Pop’s mental capacity.”
“He just hopes, Mom,” Melanie said quietly. “I do too. I love Dad. He gets upset sometimes . . . that’s all.”
“Pop encourages us to go on without him, but I’m afraid to leave him there alone with Adam.” Mary raised her eyes to Reggie’s. “Will you visit with Pop . . . see if you can talk some sense into him? If you could persuade him to leave, we could go tomorrow.”
Reggie put her needlepoint kit down on the table, removed her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What if Adam sees me? He knows I’m Manu’s wife. He’ll know something’s up.” She lowered her hand. “I’ll be happy to call Chester and speak with him over the phone.”
“That won’t work,” Mary said. “He doesn’t hear well over the phone. He doesn’t hear well at all, for that matter, but in person, he can lip-read.”
“Adam doesn’t know me,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind going and checking out the tapestry. Maybe if Chester learns it isn’t authentic, he’ll decide to go with you.”
Mary shook her head. “According to Pop, Adam doesn’t know about the tapestry.”
“Then I won’t go as an embroidery shop owner.” I mulled this over for a second, wondering what my excuse would be. Door-to-door salesperson? No, there aren’t that many of those around anymore. Census taker? Charitable donation seeker? Then it came to me. “Reggie, doesn’t the library have a book – mobile? If so, couldn’t we use that?”
“We do have one,” Reggie said.
“What’s a bookmobile?” Melanie asked.
“It’s someone who delivers books to shut-ins,” I said, my gaze encompassing her, her mother, and Reggie. “A bookmobile would provide me with a legitimate excuse to be there, and if Adam is at home, then I can actually talk with Chester about books. When I come back with the books he’d like to read, then maybe Adam won’t be there.”
“That could work,” Mary said. “Chester loves to read . . . especially old history and shipwreck books.”
“What do you think, Reggie?” I asked.
Reggie hesitated, and I could tell she was struggling.
“It’ll be fine,” I continued. “I won’t be pushy. If Adam won’t allow me into the house, then I’ll leave.”
“Dad usually leaves for work at seven in the morning,” Melanie said. “Mom doesn’t leave until eight. If you got there just after Dad left and were gone before he comes back home at lunchtime, it should be okay.”
I looked at Reggie. “What do you think?”
Reggie blew out a breath. “I don’t like it, but if you’re game—and if Mary and Melanie think it will help get them all to safety—then we’ll do it.” She bit her lip. “Let’s just not tell Ted until after the fact.”
* * *
After class, Reggie and I went to MacKenzies’ Mochas to work out all the details of our plan. Sadie greeted us at the door and escorted us to a table in the corner.
“How did the class go?” she asked.
“It went fine,” Reggie said. “Thanks for asking. How about a decaf latte, please, with extra whipped cream?”
“Sure. Marcy?” Sadie asked.
“I’ll have the same.”
With a nod, Sadie hurried off to get our drinks. I knew she had wanted to hear about the meeting in more satisfying detail, but Reggie and I needed to hammer out our plan and get home—her to Manu, and me to Angus. Besides, Sadie could rest assured that I’d tell her everything tomorrow.
“The library does have a bookmobile,” Reggie said. “But I’m driving.”
Sadie returned with our lattes, gave me another odd look, and then left.
“But what if Adam Cantor sees you driving the van?” I asked. “Won’t he find it suspicious that the library director is doing her own grunt work?”
“Of course not,” she said. “What could be more natural than a librarian driving a bookmobile? Besides, there’s no way I’m letting you go to the Cantor place by yourself. Adam has an assault record a mile long. He’s been sentenced to anger management sessions twice, and he served a year in county lockup for assault with a deadly weapon when Melanie was still in elementary school. But none of that seems to help.”
“I’m so sorry for Mary and Melanie,” I said. “They seem sweet.”
“They are,” Reggie said. “I’ve never met Chester, but he doesn’t appear to be anything like his son.”
“Isn’t that unusual?” I asked. “I thought abuse typically ran in families.”
“It does. From what I’ve heard, Adam suffered his abuse at the hands of his stepfather. Chester and Adam’s mother divorced when Adam was still a baby. I don’t think Chester made the most of his time with his son until Adam was in his early teens.” She shook her head. “By then, the damage had already been done.”
As I sipped my latte, I thought about what Reggie had said about Adam. His jail sentence and anger management classes had apparently not mellowed him out much. “Adam must be pretty mean.”
“He is,” Reggie said. “But he can be charming too. Otherwise, Mary never would have fallen for him.”
I nodded. Charming or not, if this man found out we were duping him, he was going to be furious.
Reggie looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run. I’ll pick you up in the morning between seven and seven fifteen.”
“All right. See you then.”
Reggie’s chair hadn’t got cold before Sadie slid into it. “Okay. Spill.”
&n
bsp; “Spill what?” I asked, merely prolonging the inevitable.
“Tell me what you and Reggie are up to,” she said. “I thought I heard the name Adam Cantor mentioned.”
“She and I need to talk with Adam’s father, so we’re going to the house under the guise of a bookmobile visit,” I said. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” she insisted. “Adam Cantor is bad news.” She turned and motioned for Blake.
“What’s up?” Blake asked, arriving at our table while drying his hands on his black apron.
“Marcy is going to Adam Cantor’s house in the morning,” Sadie said.
Blake’s eyes widened. “What? No way.” He pulled up a chair and sat down.
I blew out a breath. “It’s not that big a deal, guys. Reggie and I are going by the house tomorrow after Adam has left for work. If anyone sees us there, we’ll look like we’re just the friendly, neighborhood bookmobile.”
“And what if Adam or the neighbors want to know why you didn’t visit any other houses?” Blake asked.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Sadie said.
Actually, I hadn’t either, so I scrambled for an answer. “The reason we’re only visiting the Cantors’ house is . . . because patrons have to sign up for the service at the library and give Reggie their information there.” I nodded, satisfied that my explanation sounded reasonable. “We can say Mary put her father-in-law on the program because he’s a shut-in who enjoys reading.”
They both simply looked at me, making me feel as if I were their reckless teenage daughter and they were my parents. Even though we were all three fairly close in age, they had always treated me as if I were their baby sister.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Reggie will be there.”
“Why are you going there in the first place?” Blake asked.
“Mary wanted Reggie to talk with her father-in-law about leaving with her and Melanie—Mary and Adam’s daughter,” I said.
“Then why are you going?” Sadie asked.
“Because Chester—the father-in-law—wants me to determine the authenticity of a tapestry he believes to be an antique.” I shrugged. “Reggie will work everything out to where we’ll be safe. I trust her.”
“I trust her too,” Blake said. “But she’s no match for Adam Cantor. Did you know he’s served jail time for assault?”
I nodded. “Reggie told me about it.”
“Did she tell you that he committed this assault at the Brew Crew and that he did over five thousand dollars’ worth of damage to Todd’s bar with a baseball bat?” he asked.
“No.” I had a feeling I’d be getting a call from Todd later and that he too would try to convince me not to go to the Cantor house tomorrow morning. “I can’t bail on Reggie—or Mary and Melanie—at this point. Adam Cantor has no reason to be suspicious of me . . . no reason to harm me. . . . I’m merely delivering library books to his father.”
“And trying to convince his father, his wife, and his daughter to leave him,” Sadie said.
“Not the wife and daughter,” I said. “They’re already poised for flight. They just don’t want to leave the poor old guy there to fend for himself.”
Sadie squeezed my hand. “Promise me you’ll be careful . . . and that this will be a onetime thing and that you won’t get in over your head.”
“I promise.” And when I said it, I had every intention of keeping that promise.
Chapter Three
I’d just let Angus out into our fenced backyard when Reggie arrived the next morning. I was surprised to see that Officer Dayton was with her.
“Good morning, Ms. Singer,” Officer Dayton said.
“Please, call me Marcy,” I said.
“Then, please, call me Audrey,” she said with a smile. She was dressed casually in black slacks, a bulky black sweater, and black flats. Noticing me looking at her clothes, she asked, “Are you wondering about my husky ninja costume?”
I inclined my head. “Maybe a little.”
She pulled up her right pant leg to reveal an ankle holster with a small gun. Then she turned and slightly raised her sweater so I could see the Taser located at the small of her back. “I’m not expecting any trouble, but I’m prepared if there is any.”
After getting the lecture last night from Sadie and Blake about the dangers of Adam Cantor, I was glad to see that Officer Dayton—Audrey—had our backs. Surprisingly, I hadn’t heard from Todd last night. I didn’t know whether Sadie had been unable to reach him or it had been too late when he’d finished up at the Brew Crew to call me and add his two cents to the Adam Cantor warning.
Reggie looked at her watch. “We should be moving along. Marcy, Audrey will be in the back of the van out of sight.”
I grinned. “I feel like we’re going on a secret undercover mission.”
“I’ll agree it’s kind of exciting,” Reggie said. “Usually, it’s Manu who gets to do all the fun stuff.”
“It won’t be fun if we have a confrontation with Mr. Cantor,” Audrey said.
Reggie and I glanced at each other. I knew we were both thinking that it might be fun to see Audrey spring into supercop mode.
When we arrived at the Cantor residence, a handsome man who appeared to be in his late thirties was pulling away from the curb in a white late-model SUV.
“Oh, crap,” I mumbled.
“It’ll be all right,” Reggie said.
The man in the SUV circled around and came back to see what we were doing. He pulled up beside the van and put his window down. “What are you doing here?” His question sounded more curious than demanding, but there was an undercurrent of steel that warned that Adam Cantor was not a man to be crossed.
Reggie lowered the driver’s-side window of the van. “Good morning, Mr. Cantor. We’re here to see your father.”
“What do you want with him?”
“We’ve brought him a selection of books we thought might interest him.” She glanced down and rifled through a couple blank papers. “It says here he likes nonfiction . . . history?”
“Yeah.” He smiled, showing even white teeth. “Yeah, he does. It’s pretty early for a delivery, though, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Reggie agreed. “I don’t like the bookmobile to interfere with regular library operations, so we typically run it before and after library hours.”
Adam squinted into the van at me. “You don’t look all that familiar to me. I don’t think I’ve seen you at the library before.”
“I’m not an actual employee,” I said. “I’m just here to help Reggie this morning. I have an embroidery shop in town, so I don’t have to go to work until ten a.m.”
“Nice of you to give up your morning like this,” Adam said.
I smiled. “I think it’s important that everybody has access to books. Besides, it’s only a couple days a week. I can spare that.”
He nodded. “So you brought books to show to Dad? I’ll go back inside with you. There might be something there I’d like to read.”
“Of course,” Reggie said.
This was not in the plan. She and I were both smiling, but I knew her mind had to be racing even faster than mine was. We needed to get rid of Adam Cantor, or else our intended conversations would never take place. But if we tried to get rid of him, he’d be more suspicious than he probably already was and would never allow us into his home.
“I’ll start grabbing the books,” I said to Reggie, hopefully giving Audrey time to hide before I opened the van’s back door.
“Be right there,” Reggie said, taking out a pen and scribbling on one of the blank papers before placing it in a folder.
I hopped out of the van, went around to the back, and opened up the door. I saw Audrey standing just to the side of a small cart filled with books.
“Take the entire cart,” she whispered.
By that time, Reggie had joined me.
“Can you grab that end?” I asked, getting the handle of the cart closest to me.
&
nbsp; “Of course,” she said, her sunny affect never wavering.
We’d barely had time to shut the door before Adam Cantor came around Reggie’s side of the van.
“So these are the books?” he asked, craning his neck to read the titles.
“These are all we have this trip,” Reggie answered. “If there’s something specific you’d like, I can put in a request and hopefully we’ll be able to bring it to you next time.”
“All right. Can you two manage that cart okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said.
He checked his watch. “I’ll run back into the house for a second, but then I need to get to work. Maybe the next time you come, it won’t be such a surprise.”
Reggie and I got the cart up onto the curb as Adam Cantor jogged up the sidewalk and into the house.
Adam graciously held the door open for us and invited us in. “Pop!” he called, over his shoulder. “You’d better get out here. There are some mighty pretty ladies here to see you!” He winked at us. “He’s just finishing up his breakfast. He’ll be right with you. In the meantime, make yourselves at home here in the living room.”
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Mary just inside the door nervously fingering the hem of her gray cardigan.
Adam turned toward her. “Mary, don’t just stand there. Come and introduce yourself.”
“We’ve met,” Reggie said. “Remember, Mrs. Cantor, when you signed your father-in-law up for the bookmobile delivery?”
“Oh, of course. It’s good to see you.” Mary said.
I held out my hand. “Hi, Mrs. Cantor. I’m Marcy Singer. I don’t work for the library, but I’m helping Reggie out this morning.”
Mary shook my hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me we had company coming this morning, Mary? I’d have called in and said I’d be late for work.” Adam was smiling, but his eyes and his voice were like flint. He looked at his watch before shooting an accusatory glare at Mary.
Mary glanced up at her husband and then down at the floor. “I’m sorry, Adam. I must’ve forgotten about it.”
“Yes, you must have. If I don’t go on, I’ll be late.” He turned back to Reggie and me. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Singer. Mrs. Singh, I appreciate your kindness to my father.”