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  “Is this where I come to get ferrets fetched, weasels wrangled, cats captured, dogs detained, rodents roped, and any other critters corralled?” Jason winked.

  I laughed. As a matter of fact, I could hardly stop laughing.

  Jason didn’t appear to notice the edge of hysteria in my laughter because he elbowed Ford and winked at me. “Guess who I’ve been talking to?”

  I wiped the corners of my eyes. “My money is on Frank.”

  “You got it. He told the story in great—and, I’m guessing, exaggerated—detail.” He turned to Ford. “I assume you’re here giving Amanda a hard time over it too.”

  “Over what?” Ford asked.

  “The ferrets.” Jason shook his head. “Go talk with Frank. But maybe get him away from Ella first. I get the feeling she doesn’t appreciate the story the way he does.” He chuckled. “Amanda, I’ve come to ask you to go to dinner with me and tell me the truth about the famed ferret fiasco.”

  “I’d love to.” I looked at Ford. “Ford, go ahead and finish what you were saying.”

  “Oh, yeah, man, I’m sorry I interrupted,” Jason said.

  I’m not.

  Max echoed the sentiment.

  “It can wait,” Ford said. “You two have fun. I think I need to see if Frank and Ella have left yet.”

  After Ford left, Jason said he’d go upstairs and lock the door and be right back.

  “I need to take Jazzy home. Would it be all right if we meet at the restaurant?”

  “Sure.” He smiled, suggested a place, and when I agreed, said he’d see me there.

  “I don’t want you to meet him there,” Max said. “I want him to be with you every step of the way. And then seduce him so he’ll spend the night with you.”

  “Max!”

  “What? I want you to be safe.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You could stay with Dave,” she said.

  “I’ll be fine,” I repeated.

  She sighed. “Be careful.”

  “I will be.”

  AFTER REGALING JASON with the ferret story—which he swore was even better than Frank’s version because Frank didn’t even know about the wig—he and I finished our dinner and said goodnight. As I drove home, I thought about everything I’d learned about the people at Shops on Main since opening Designs on You. I tried to stick to facts and not speculate...at least, not too much.

  Mark Tinsley was having trouble making ends meet and was going to have to give up his space at Shops on Main. His father was in a costly assisted living facility. Mark kept his relationship with his father a secret from his mother. Mark was shot to death in his office.

  Janice and Mark had been dating. Mark had told his mother about Janice. Janice had at some point also been dating Guy. I had no idea whether Janice had dated the other man before, after, or during the time she dated Mark. Guy wasn’t all that young—in fact, I’d imagine he was fairly close to Janice in age—but Connie said Janice enjoyed dating younger men to boost her self-esteem. Of course, if she was dating a young man who couldn’t afford to buy her nice things, then she might have been two-timing with an older man who had money. But that was conjecture. Moving on.

  When I’d discovered the “good” jewelry Max had told me was in the drawer, Janice had blown her top. Then she’d lied about the jewelry having been custom made for one of her clients. That was implausible when she told it, but now that we’d seen the manufacturers’ marks on some of the jewelry, we knew for certain it was a lie. That meant Janice had either stolen the jewelry herself or was holding it for the thief.

  Grandpa had reported the stolen jewelry, and it had disappeared before the police could search Janice’s Jewelry. Brett had unlocked the door to Shops on Main and to Janice’s Jewelry that night to let the police in.

  A memory of George Meacham giving me an impish grin and saying, “Roscoe has sticky fingers” flooded my mind. Had George been talking about his brother in the past tense or his brother—Brett—in the present tense?

  Brett had unlocked the door. He could’ve gotten there sooner and removed the jewelry from Janice’s shop. He could have easily gone back outside and waited for the officers to arrive. Plus, he was a younger man. And, again, Janice enjoyed dating younger men.

  But what about Ford? And Connie? How were they involved in all this? If everyone was involved and the police arrested them, how would it affect Shops on Main? That is, unless one of them killed me like they did Mark, and then carried on with their business as usual.

  When I got home, I sprinted into the house and immediately locked the door behind me. Then I made sure the back door and all the windows were locked too.

  Jazzy was lying on the sofa. I gathered her into my lap and was reassured slightly when she started purring. I called Grandpa Dave, but he didn’t answer. I thought he was probably out in the workshop working on the furniture he’d bought yesterday.

  But Janice knew Grandpa was in her shop on Friday night. She might blame him for the police searching her shop. I called again. Still no answer. I kissed the top of Jazzy’s head, placed her back onto the cushion beside me, grabbed my keys, and headed out the door.

  { }

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I

  drove as quickly as I dared to Grandpa’s house, threw my car into park, and got out. I left the door standing open as I raced onto the porch. I tried the front door. It was unlocked, so I hurried inside.

  “Grandpa!” I frantically looked into the living room and kitchen before looking out the kitchen window to see that there was a light on in the workshop. I went out the back door and sprinted to the workshop.

  There was Grandpa Dave, wearing noise-canceling headphones while he used a belt sander on the chifforobe he’d bought yesterday. He was whistling Tennessee Waltz.

  He caught a glimpse of me as I heaved a sigh of relief. He turned off the sander and removed the headphones. “Hey, Pup. Everything all right? You look white as a sheet.”

  “Let me run back out and turn my car off,” I said.

  When I returned from properly parking my car and shutting the engine off, Grandpa was concerned. I told him I’d tried to call and that when he didn’t answer, I was afraid something had happened to him.

  His shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “That doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re all right.”

  He gave me a one-armed hug and nodded toward the chifforobe. “I sanded the finish off the tables and chairs this morning. I’m going to use the same varnish on all of them so that maybe I can sell them together.”

  “Good thinking,” I said. “Hey, I’ll let you get back to it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Nonsense. Come in and let’s have something cold to drink.”

  I considered this, but I knew that if I stayed, I’d end up telling Grandpa everything that had happened today with Janice, Connie, and Ford. That would only worry him. “I need to get back. I have to schedule bridesmaid fittings.”

  “All right then. Maybe I can come by and bring you lunch tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good to me. You be careful in here.”

  “I will, Pup. And I’ll keep a closer eye on my phone.”

  My car and my heartbeat were considerably slower on the drive back home. I’d been so afraid that Janice or one of her partners had gotten to Grandpa and had accused him of turning them into the police. Of course, he would admit to it and say that I had no knowledge of it whatsoever. He’d want to protect me at all costs. I understood that feeling of wanting to protect a loved one well.

  When I walked up to my front door, I got out my key to unlock it. It wasn’t locked. In fact it was slightly ajar. I groaned. Had I been in such a hurry to get to Grandpa Dave that I’d neglected to shut the door all the way? No...I was certain I’d locked it. Hadn’t I?

  I felt a prickle at the back of my neck as I pushed open the door. My blood turned cold when I saw Brett Mea
cham sitting on my sofa. Jazzy was nowhere in sight. I imagined she’d ran and hid when he’d broken into the house.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you know where I live?” My mind was racing with a dozen additional questions, but those are the ones that came out of my mouth first.

  “You seem to forget my grandmother is your landlord. I know all about you, Amanda. What I need to know is what you know about me.”

  “I don’t know anything about you.” I spotted a pistol in his right hand. He had it casually on his lap, but it was pointing at me.

  “I believe you do. Start talking.”

  “All right. I think you and Janice are working together to sell jewelry.”

  “Stolen jewelry?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “You tell me.”

  He barked out a laugh. “That’s not how this works. I’m the one with the gun. You’re the one doing the talking. Who have you told that you think I’m selling stolen jewelry?”

  “No one.”

  “I know better. You’ve told your grandpa at the very least. Janice said he was with you in her shop on Friday night.”

  “We were in there,” I said. “We followed your grandmother in there when the alarm went off. That’s all.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I saw that he wasn’t going to buy the story that I hadn’t told anyone anything, so I went with what I felt was my best option. “Fine. The only person who knows about the stolen jewelry is my friend Max.”

  “Max who?”

  “Max Englebright. She comes into Shops on Main often.”

  Brett narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never met her.”

  “She’s...elusive. But she’s a jewelry aficionado. I didn’t even suspect that the jewelry was stolen until I described the bracelet I’d found in Janice’s shop to Max,” I said, warming to my subject. “Max knew right away that the piece was made by Tiffany & Co. in the 1920s.”

  “So? How did she know it was stolen?”

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask her that.”

  He stood and waved the gun. “Fine. Let’s go ask her.”

  I had no idea where I’d take Brett to make him think we were going to see Max Englebright, but at least, I’d bought myself some time.

  Brett walked over to me, turned me around, and pushed me onto the front porch just as a police car pulled into my driveway and blocked my car. I saw that Grandpa’s truck was parked on the side of the road across from my house. I couldn’t see whether or not he was in the vehicle, but I prayed he’d stay inside it, keep his head down, and not get hurt.

  Officer Cranston got out of the car. He drew his service weapon but stayed behind the car door to give himself some cover. “Mr. Meacham, things will go much better for you if you allow Ms. Tucker to walk over here to me.”

  “No way.” Brett put his arm around my waist and placed the gun barrel against my head. “I let her go, and you’ll shoot me.”

  “I give you my word that I won’t do that.”

  “Like your word means that much to me at this point.”

  There was a rustle in the bushes to my right. I whipped my head around. Brett apparently did the same thing and relaxed his hold on the gun. Then, before I knew what was happening, Brett was crumpling onto the porch like a sack of potatoes. I kicked the gun out of his reach.

  “Hope I didn’t hit him too hard,” Grandpa Dave said, looking at the crowbar he held.

  Officer Cranston hurried over and cuffed Brett, whose eyes were rolling back in his head.

  “Is he going to be all right?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Officer Cranston said. “He’ll just have a whopper of a headache. Good job, Dave.”

  I looked over toward the bushes. “What—?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll need to find your TV remote.”

  I smiled when I realized that’s what he’d thrown into the bushes and deflated against his shoulder. “Thank goodness you were here.”

  “Thank goodness I got your text.”

  “What text?”

  “The text you sent telling me Brett had your address and you were afraid you were in danger.”

  “I didn’t send a text.” I looked to make sure Officer Cranston was out of earshot. He’d hoisted the wobbly Brett Meacham to his feet and had taken him over to sit in the back of the squad car. “Do you think Max sent it from the tablet I gave her?”

  “I guess anything’s possible.”

  WHEN I WALKED THROUGH the door to Shops on Main on Tuesday morning, Ford was there. I got the feeling he’d been watching for me because he enveloped me in a bear hug.

  “Good morning to you too,” I said.

  “Here.” He took Jazzy’s carrier. “Let me get this for you.” He walked with me to Designs on You.

  I unlocked the door, walked inside, and reached for the carrier. Ford sat it on the floor, and I let Jazzy out. She gave him a wary look as she walked away from him.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” Ford said.

  “I am too.” I frowned slightly. “Is what happened to me last night common knowledge around here already?”

  “I’m sure it will be soon. Reese Cranston, the officer who arrested Brett, is my brother-in-law. He’s had me keeping an eye on Janice since Mark’s murder.”

  “Because they were romantically involved?”

  “No, because Mark had a file on his computer indicating he’d discovered a piece of expensive jewelry in her shop. When questioned about it, Janice told Mark she’d acquired it at an estate sale for a wealthy client. Mark pressed her on the matter, but he couldn’t get her to disclose her client’s name.”

  “Let me guess. No client?”

  “No one who was above board at any rate. Mark did a deep web search for that particular piece of jewelry and learned that it had been reported stolen. Mark then went to Janice and demanded twenty-five percent of the profits from the sale of the stolen jewelry to keep silent about what he’d found.”

  “Gee. He was more reasonable than most people would’ve been,” I said.

  “Really. But Mark had noted that twenty-five percent of the proceeds at the jewelry’s projected sale price would have paid his father’s assisted living expenses for three months.” Ford blew out a breath. “He wrote that the day before he was shot.”

  “That’s incredible. And sad to think that if Janice and Brett hadn’t been so greedy and Mark so desperate to care for his father, Mark would still be alive.”

  “And they’d still be in business, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  I lowered my eyes. “I thought you were involved.”

  “I know. But I couldn’t risk Janice finding out I was working against her.” He spread his hands. “I told Connie when Reese first came to me because I felt I had to tell somebody. And I’d known Connie longer than anyone else here.”

  “You were coming to tell me yesterday afternoon?” I asked.

  He nodded. “After Connie told me Janice had threatened you, I’d come down to caution you. Reese said that although they were closing in on a suspect, they still didn’t have enough evidence to make an arrest. But then I kept quiet because I thought that since you were going to be with Jason, you’d be all right.”

  “What about the hollowed-out books?” I asked.

  “I used those to pass flash drives to Reese.”

  “That’s clever.”

  He grinned. “We thought so. You were even wise to that. How did you know?”

  I shrugged. “A little bird told me.”

  Ford laughed. “Well, I’m glad you’re all right. I’d better get to work.”

  MAX HADN’T MADE AN appearance all morning, and I was concerned about her. It wasn’t unusual for her to be absent in the mornings, but I wondered how much energy it had taken her to send that text to Grandpa Dave.

  Mrs. Meacham called me at about ten-thirty that morning and asked me to come to her office at my earliest convenience.

  I took a deep breath before I
started up the stairs. This is it. She’s going to make me leave because Grandpa Dave beaned Brett with a crowbar.

  I tapped lightly on the office door and entered when I heard Mrs. Meacham’s curt “Come in.”

  “How’s Brett?” I asked her.

  She waved her hand toward one of the chairs facing her desk, indicating I should sit. “He’s fine. He has a slight concussion. The hospital kept him overnight for observation. I’ve just come from there.”

  I sat and folded my hands in my lap. “I’m really sorry. Grandpa tried not to hit him too hard.”

  “Well, I appreciate that. I’m sorry your grandfather had to take that action and that Brett behaved so abominably.” She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I’m disappointed in Brett and furious with that Jezebel who lured Brett into this criminal behavior.”

  I nodded. I’d already heard from Grandpa earlier that Officer Cranston had called and let him know that the gun Brett had at my house was suspected to be the same one that killed Mark Tinsley. Cranston felt certain that the ballistics report would confirm that suspicion. The police had also turned up the pouch of stolen jewelry at Brett’s apartment along with an addition—the necklace taken from the estate sale on Sunday. But if Mrs. Meacham wanted to see Janice as the villain in the entire affair, I couldn’t blame her. In her position, I’d rather think some pillowcase was responsible for a man’s murder than my own grandson.

  I told Mrs. Meacham that if there was anything I could do to help to please let me know. We’d later learn that Brett and Janice had both taken plea deals in exchange for reduced sentences. When I found that out, I was relieved I wouldn’t have to testify against my landlord’s grandson.

  Jason’s door was open when I left Mrs. Meacham’s office, and I stopped by to say hello.

  He hurried over to me. “Ford just told me what happened. I was on my way down to see you. Are you okay?”

  I smiled. “I’m fine.”

  He kissed me then—our first real kiss—and he didn’t stop until someone cleared her throat. It was his client, and although I could feel my cheeks turning redder than a tomato, Jason didn’t seem to mind.