Thread End

by Amanda Lee

  “Would you . . . and your husband or whoever . . . like to dine with me this evening?” he asked. “I’m only in town for a few days. At this point, I’m primarily awaiting word on the status of the museum exhibit. I know hardly anyone here, you seem pleasant enough, and I detest sitting alone in a restaurant.”

  I had no idea when Ted and Manu would finish up for the day; plus, I didn’t know how Ted would feel about my accepting an invitation for both of us to have dinner with a stranger. “I’m sorry, Mr. Benton, but we already have plans this evening.”

  “Very well. Perhaps another time.” He nodded and left.

  The entire encounter was odd, and I felt mildly unsettled as I sat back down on the sofa. Picking up on my mood, Angus sat close to me and placed his head on my lap. I caressed his ears and then leaned over to give him a hug.

  “Could today get any weirder, Angus? Wait. Don’t answer that.” I was half-afraid he might.

  * * *

  I glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly four o’clock. A few customers had filtered in but not nearly as many as on a typical Saturday. I walked around the store with a feather duster, flicking it over the shelves. Angus lay by the window watching the few people on the sidewalk pass by. It dawned on me that it wasn’t just the Seven-Year Stitch that was experiencing a lull. The entire town seemed dead today. Maybe everyone was at the beach. That seemed like a wonderful place to be, in my opinion. If Ted finished up with work in time, it would be great to take Angus to the beach. The frisky pup could romp in the sand and play at the edge of the water while Ted and I enjoyed a leisurely stroll.

  I took my phone from the front pocket of my jeans and called Ted. I was going to ask how he felt about a picnic by the sea, but the call went straight to voice mail. I left a message saying I was thinking about him and hoping the investigation was going well.

  Then I called Mom. I had a sudden need to vent and was thankful when she answered on the first ring.

  “Hello, darling. Is everything all right?”

  I hesitated.

  “Oh, Marcella . . . there hasn’t been another murder in Tallulah Falls, has there?”

  She’d said it almost lightly, as if she were joking but scared that what she was asking would be verified.

  “There has been another murder, Mom. I found the body this morning in the alley behind the shop.”

  “No! Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. . . . Really, I am . . . at least, as fine as can be expected,” I said. “I mean, I am sad for the man who was killed and for his family, if he had any. . . .” I blew out a breath. “But why did he have to be dumped behind the Seven-Year Stitch?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mom repeated. “What is up with that place? It seems that sleepy little town of yours has more crime than all of San Francisco—maybe San Francisco and L.A. combined!”

  “I’m sure it only looks that way because Tallulah Falls is so small. Whenever anything happens here, it’s a big deal and everyone knows about it . . . whereas that’s not so much the case in San Fran.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she said. “Still, the number of incidents happening in or near your shop is unusually high. I wonder if you should call an exorcist.”

  I chuckled. She didn’t. “Wait. Are you serious?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “That is, unless you think it might be a good idea. I’m almost positive I have the number of a director who became close friends with a priest after he came and cleansed . . . or blessed . . . or did whatever needed to be done to scare away some evil spirits that were plaguing a movie set.”

  “Huh.” I mulled that over for a moment, trying to picture the scene in my mind. The only thing I could come up with was something like a witch doctor from a Saturday morning cartoon show. I knew exorcists didn’t go around dressed as witch doctors, but I thought the costume would make things more dramatic somehow. It would step it up a notch from the priest all dressed in black with the exception of his white collar.

  “So do you want me to give the director a call?” Mom asked.

  “No.” I shook myself out of my reverie. “I was merely imagining how something like that might work. I’ve been pretty whimsical today.” I told her about the musical number I daydreamed.

  “That sounds positively charming! Maybe you should try your hand at screenwriting, Marcella.”

  “I might . . . one of these days,” I said. “I’d better clear this latest hurdle before I even think about anything else.”

  “My sweet girl . . . you sound so melancholy. Do you need me to come to Tallulah Falls?”

  “No, Mom. I don’t think you’re a hundred percent recovered from your last visit yet.” The last time Mom had visited Tallulah Falls, she’d gotten embroiled in her very own murder mystery. She was even a prime suspect!

  “Nonsense. If you need me, I’ll be on the next plane headed your way.”

  “I know, and I love you for being so supportive. But everything is fine,” I said. “Ted and Manu already have some terrific leads. I’m sure they’ll have the investigation wrapped up in no time.”

  “Okay . . . but if you need me to fly out—”

  “If I do, I’ll let you know.” I paused. “Is it horrible of me to wish the poor man had been found by anyone else and anywhere except behind my shop?”

  “Of course not, darling. That’s only human.” She sighed. “But try to look on the bright side—you could’ve found him outside your house.”

  “That’s the best you could do for a bright side?” I asked. “Really?”

  “I didn’t have much to work with,” she said. “Did you know the man . . . the man who was killed?”

  “No, I’d never seen him before.”

  “And you don’t have any idea why he was killed?”

  “Although they haven’t made a positive ID yet, the police believe the man was Professor Geoffrey Vandehey,” I said. “I’m not entirely sure what the motive for his death may have been, but it’s possible it was a heist gone wrong. The professor had confessed to stealing a painting—an early Cézanne—a few years ago.”

  “So you think maybe he was involved in some heist, and then his partners killed him to take his share?” she asked.

  “I believe that’s possible. Get this—the professor was wrapped in a rug, and the rug looked an awful lot like an antique kilim on display at the Tallulah Falls Museum’s newest exhibit, which opened last night.”

  “Doesn’t that negate your theory, then? Why would his killer wrap him in an antique kilim, thus destroying a valuable piece of art?”

  “I’m guessing the murderer didn’t know the value of the rug, if it was indeed a kilim from the exhibit,” I said. “That, or else he stole the entire collection and didn’t feel that one rug made much difference.”

  “Either way, wouldn’t a museum robbery narrow the suspect list down to the museum staff?”

  “Not necessarily. But the last I heard, the museum theft was only speculation. Besides, in Tallulah Falls, nothing is ever what it seems at face value.”

  Chapter Six

  I was turning off the lights in the back of the shop when I heard the bells over the door jingle.

  “I’ll be right there!” I called. I didn’t know whether to be glad I had a customer or apprehensive that it was a Nosy Nellie coming to find out more about the body found in the alley. Worse yet, it could be Nosy Nellie Davis from the aromatherapy boutique. She might have gathered up enough villagers, torches, and pitchforks to pay me a visit. Come to think of it, she might be willing to take Mom up on the offer of an exorcist because she thought my cursed shop was bad for business.

  To my relief, when I emerged from the back of the store, I saw Ted playing with Angus.

  I laughed. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  Ted straightened and pulled me into his arms.
“How glad?”

  I drew his mouth down to mine and kissed him passionately.

  “Wow.” He grinned. “I’d have to say you’re delighted to see me.”

  “I am.”

  He hugged me tightly. “I’m glad to see you, too, sweetheart. It has been a long, exhausting day.”

  “I was going to suggest a picnic on the beach,” I said. “Now I’m thinking pizza and a movie rental might be better.”

  Ted cupped my face in his hands and gave me a tender kiss. “You know, I think I’d prefer the picnic if you’re still up for it. That sounds like the perfect way to unwind.”

  “I agree. Want to walk down to MacKenzies’ Mochas with me and get the food?”

  “Sure. I don’t want you to forget the brownies,” he said. “And we should probably get a peanut butter cookie for Angus.”

  At the sound of his name, Angus burrowed between us.

  Ted laughed. “I think we can take that as a yes, we should.”

  Ted and I stepped out the front door, and I locked it. As we walked past the window, Angus barked at us and paced back and forth. I held up an index finger and promised him we’d be back in “one minute.”

  “Do you think he understood that?” Ted teased.

  “Of course I do. He understands everything I say. We have an almost telepathic relationship.” I looked up at his handsome profile. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “Actually, I do,” he said with a smile. “The more I see the two of you together, the more I realize what a special bond the two of you have.”

  “Did you ever have a dog growing up?”

  He shook his head. “My mom had a poodle, but it died when I was a baby. I can remember having goldfish, a frog, a turtle . . . and my sister had a rabbit . . . but we never got another dog.”

  “That’s sad. I mean, do you think your mom just never got over the loss of her poodle?”

  “I think she didn’t want the responsibility,” he said. “It was all Mother could do to take care of Tiffany and me.”

  “Does she have any pets now?” I asked.

  “Nope. She lives in one of those upscale condos where she can make the staff do all her bidding. She loves it.”

  At that point, we were at MacKenzies’ Mochas.

  Ted opened the door. “After you, my lady.”

  Blake was standing at the counter. “Hey, now! Don’t let Sadie see you treating Marcy like a queen! She’ll expect me to step up my game.”

  We laughed. Ted and I both knew that Blake already treated his wife like royalty.

  “You’re in a punchy mood this afternoon,” I said.

  “Sadie and I took the evening off,” he said. “We’d planned on attending the museum exhibit tonight, but we heard it’s been shut down.”

  Ted nodded. “Manu is giving a press conference. The museum was robbed, and the majority of the Padgett Collection was taken.”

  “That’s terrible. I hope you find the thief. . . . Still,” Blake continued, “a night off is a night off. I’m looking forward to it, no matter what we do.”

  Ted and I exchanged glances. I could tell we were wondering the same thing—should we invite Blake and Sadie to go to the beach with us? I felt it was entirely Ted’s call. He was the one who’d spent the day investigating a murder while I’d merely meandered around the shop waiting for the nonexistent customers to come in. On the other hand, Blake had rushed to my side this morning immediately after getting Ted’s call.

  “We came by for some food to take on a beach picnic,” Ted said. “Would you guys like to join us?”

  “That sounds like fun,” Blake said. “Let me check with Sadie.”

  When Blake left to find his wife, Ted turned to me and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I was thinking the same thing but thought you might be too tired to entertain another couple.”

  “Angus will entertain all of us,” he said. “Besides, I get the feeling it’ll be a short night, anyway. Blake probably wants to be alone with Sadie almost as much as I want to be alone with you.”

  When Blake returned, he was wearing his mock serious expression. He would draw his eyebrows together to try to look severe, but the twinkle in his blue eyes and the fact that his dimpled smile was bursting to reveal itself ruined the effect for him.

  “We’ll go on one condition,” he said. “We provide the food . . . no charge.”

  “We didn’t invite you along in order to take advantage of your generosity,” I said. “I insist that we pay.”

  “And I insist that you don’t. Besides, the invitation really came from Ted.”

  “That’s true,” Ted said, with a grin. “And I have no problem whatsoever taking advantage of MacKenzie’s generosity.”

  I playfully smacked Ted’s arm while he and Blake shared a fist bump.

  “My boy, Angus, wants you to bring him a peanut butter cookie,” Ted told Blake. “So make sure that generosity extends to including a cookie.”

  “I’ll bring two just to show you how great a guy I am,” Blake said. “Tell Angus I’ll fix him right up. Do you guys want to meet at the lighthouse in about half an hour?”

  “That sounds good,” I said. “I have to feed Angus before we go. If I don’t, he’ll wind up stealing the entire picnic.”

  “Then, by all means, feed the little guy, but make sure he saves room for dessert.” Blake winked.

  * * *

  We arrived at the lighthouse right on schedule. Ted was driving my Jeep while I held on to a stack of blankets and Angus hung his head out the window sniffing the salty air. Blake and Sadie were already there setting up our picnic beneath a tent.

  “Wow, you guys really outdid yourselves,” I said as I got out of the car and clipped Angus’s leash onto his collar.

  “Hey, we like to be prepared for anything,” Blake said. “You want a picnic? I can throw one together for you”—he snapped his fingers—“just like that.”

  “Only because we bought that tent to use at a Lincoln City Summer Fair last year and Blake keeps a card table and some folding chairs in the van,” Sadie said.

  “To be prepared for anything,” Blake repeated, shaking his head.

  “I think you did a great job,” Ted said. “This is a pretty sweet setup. You must have been a Boy Scout, MacKenzie.”

  “Since when did you two become the Lone Ranger and Tonto?” Sadie asked.

  “What do you mean?” Blake frowned. “We’ve always been friends.”

  I could see Sadie’s point. There had been times in the past when Ted and Blake did not always see eye to eye. But, unlike Sadie, Blake had been more accepting of my relationship with Ted.

  When I had first moved to Tallulah Falls, Sadie and Blake tried to fix me up with their friend Todd Calloway. He and I had become friends and gone out on the occasional “date,” but I had always had more of a connection . . . more chemistry . . . more everything . . . with Ted. I think Blake had been able to see that all along, but Sadie had held on to her hope that Todd and I would heal each other’s bruised hearts and live happily ever after. But I wound up with Ted, and soon after, Todd began dating Deputy Audrey Dayton.

  Angus suddenly drew everyone’s attention away from the small talk by chasing after a seagull. It was especially captivating since I was still holding his extend-a-leash, and he dragged me with him for a few feet until I could get him stopped. He’d had obedience training, but sometimes in his excitement that discipline went out the window.

  “Please don’t chase the birds,” I told him once I had him sufficiently distracted by the peanut butter cookie Blake had handed me. The guy really was prepared for anything.

  “I don’t know,” said Blake. “He has a point in running them off. Those pesky little guys can ruin a picnic in a hurry.”

  “Plus, it’s against th
e law to feed them,” Ted said. “So it’s best that you avoid temptation, Marcy.”

  “Oh, that is so true,” Sadie said. “When we were roommates in college, Marce fed everything. She would even leave bread crumbs on the windowsill outside our room for the ants.”

  “It was just that one time! Don’t you ever forget anything?” I asked.

  “You have to admit, that was pretty unforgettable,” Sadie said, laughter bubbling up in her voice.

  “I need to hear more of these college stories,” Ted said.

  But as we sat down on the lightly padded blue chairs and began to fill our plates, our conversation turned more serious.

  “Someone came into the coffee shop this afternoon and said the textile exhibit had been shut down because the museum was robbed,” Sadie said to Ted. “Is that true?”

  Ted nodded. “I was filling Blake and Marcy in on it earlier.” He squeezed a packet of mustard onto his ham sandwich while Angus watched with extreme interest. “I’ll save you a bite, buddy.”

  “So the rug that was in the alley this morning”—my appetite waned at the memory—“it was the kilim from the exhibit?”

  “Yes,” Ted said. “And the victim was Dr. Vandehey.”

  Sadie paused with her cup of peach tea halfway to her lips. “Vandehey . . . why does that sound familiar?”

  Ted explained how Dr. Vandehey had stolen the newly discovered Cézanne, had confessed to the crime and been pursued by federal authorities, but had avoided capture.

  “No, that’s not it. That’s a good story, but I’d never heard it before,” Sadie said, turning to Blake. “I think Vandehey was the name of the man Josh was complaining about the other day.”

  “You’re right,” Blake said. “Josh called him Professor Know-It-All.”

  “Are you talking about Josh Ingle?” Ted asked.

  “The museum curator?” I added.

  “Yeah,” Blake said. “Josh thought this Vandehey guy was really obnoxious.”

  “Playing devil’s advocate, though, Josh can be pretty sensitive when it comes to his job,” said Sadie, sipping her tea and then putting the cup back down on the table. “See, Josh is working hard on his master’s degree at night, but he currently only has a bachelor’s degree in art history. The board of directors wanted someone with a master’s degree for the position when their current curator retired after thirty years to move to Arizona, but Josh’s uncle persuaded them to give him a chance.”