Weave of Absence (21 page)

Marnie helped pull me up. “Talk about rude. You could have tumbled down those stairs and really hurt yourself,” she said. “Did you see the way she grabbed her bag? As if she was afraid we'd steal it from her.”

“Considering I did report her to the police, I'm just glad she didn't throw me down the stairs.”
Seeing the look on her face, I added, “It was an accident, Marnie. Trust me.”

We made our way to the registration desk and I took some bills from my wallet and dropped them into the donations box.

“Welcome to the exhibit,” the girl behind the table said, handing us a couple of cards. “If you wouldn't mind filling these out.”

“Marnie. Della. There you are.” I looked around to see Liz approaching, all gussied up in a red skirt and jacket and pearls.

“Good grief, she looks like she's dressed for Christmas,” Marnie whispered, and then giggling, she added, “But, who am I to talk?”

“I was afraid you wouldn't come,” Liz said, throwing her arms wide. “I can't wait for you to see your flag on display. Look at all the people!” Her excitement seemed rather exaggerated, since there were no more than half a dozen visitors waiting in line to go in. Liz continued. “We usually only allow four or five guests in at a time because we don't want the displays to be too crowded. But since Marnie so generously lent us her flag, that makes you two very special visitors. Come with me. I'll bring you directly in.”

She escorted us into the first area, called the fiction room. There, in the center between rows of bookshelves, stood an antique printing press, complete with dozens of metal stamps.

Marnie approached it. “Imagine how long it must have taken to typeset an entire book.”

“That's why books were so expensive. Only the rich could afford them,” Liz said. “Now, with modern printing, not to mention public libraries, reading is for everyone.”

We moved on to the next exhibit, a group of local photos from the early twentieth century that were taken inside the Belmont newspaper printing plant. They were grainy black-and-white shots of workers in an industrial room. The next one presented century-old newspapers. The paper in the center was dated 1912 and featured an article about the sinking of the
Titanic
, complete with photos of the great ship.

“You've done an excellent job, Liz,” I said. “This is fascinating.”

“Thank you, but Helen had already planned most of it. All I had to do was finish what she'd started.” We moved on from one display to the next until at last we reached the one featuring Marnie's flag.

“So what do you think?” Liz asked.

Marnie looked at it, frowning. “Did you send it out to be cleaned or something?”

I came in for a closer look. “What are you talking about?” Liz asked.

“Look. It used to be yellowed with age, but now it looks—I don't know—brighter.”

“That's because it's under a neon light,” Liz said. “I would never send a fragile piece of antique linen to be cleaned. The process could destroy it.”

Marnie looked relieved, but only for a moment. She leaned closer. “That can't be my flag,” she said suddenly. “Look. The top edge with the stars was worn, and now it looks perfect.”

She was right. This flag looked very similar. It was also made of slubbed linen. It had the same circle of stars in the top left corner, but the fabric was brighter and less damaged. Now that I was looking at it more closely, it seemed like somebody had attempted to fray one of the corners, but it was the wrong corner.

“This is not my flag,” Marnie said, her voice rising with every word. “What happened to my flag?”

“Are . . . are you completely certain?” Liz asked, shocked.

“Completely,” Marnie replied.

“She's right,” I added.

“Oh, my.” She looked around desperately. And then she ran to the entrance, where she whispered something to the girl behind the counter. Then she faced the room and made an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have to ask everyone to please proceed to the exit. We have a small emergency. We'll reopen in a few hours. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.”

People looked at one another, more curious than upset, and then slowly migrated to the door. As soon as the last person had left, Liz came running back.

“I got one of the staff to call the police.” I turned
around, and sure enough, the girl behind the table was on the phone, speaking excitedly.

“What happened to my flag?” Marnie asked again. “You said it would be safe, that nobody could get to it. But look.” She pointed to the display, a glass box with a hinged door. “There isn't even a lock on this thing. Anybody could have opened it.”

“I—I . . .” She shook her head, at a loss for words.

“You said that you only allowed a few people in at a time,” I said. “Maybe somebody was able to take it out without being noticed.”

“Well, we did have a power outage for about two minutes, just before you came in.”

“Two minutes? That's not very long, but maybe long enough for an experienced thief to make the switch,” I said.

“It must have been Melinda,” Marnie mumbled. I stared at her, hoping she would get the message and keep her mouth shut. She caught my look. “She was leaving when we got here,” she added defensively, and described the scene at the entrance. “She didn't even make sure Della was all right. She just grabbed her bag and ran away. I bet my flag was inside. And to think I walked right by her, never imagining—”

I cut her off. “We don't know who took it.”

Liz started to say something, but then stopped.

“What were you going to say?” I asked.

She hesitated. “I really shouldn't say this, but . . .
Melinda was in this room when the power went out. I can't be one hundred percent sure, but I think she might have been standing right where you are,” she said to Marnie. “Right near the door to the display.”

“Listen, ladies,” I said. “We don't know anything for sure. She could have had anything in that bag. So let's not get ahead of ourselves. I suggest we tell the police the facts, not what we think or imagine.”

Marnie and Liz must have agreed, because neither of them made another comment about Melinda.

W
hen the police arrived, I was not surprised to find it was Officer Lombard and her partner, Harrison, again.

“This is turning out to be a bad habit,” she said. “Every time I get a call, I wonder if it'll be you.”

“This time it's me,” Marnie said. “Somebody stole my flag.” She explained about her flag, its provenance, and the approximate value attributed by the museum curator. “And now it's been stolen.”

Officer Lombard turned to Liz. “Can you tell me who had access to the flag?”

Liz looked as if she was about to burst into tears. “I was the one who picked it up from Marnie. I brought it here and I kept it locked in my office until this morning. I came in at seven to prepare for the opening. That's when I put the finishing touches on all the displays. Nobody had access to it but me.” Her eyes moistened. “I feel so awful. This is all my fault.”

“Did anybody else have a key to the office?”
asked Officer Harrison. He had taken out his notebook and was ready to jot down the details.

“No, only me.” And then her eyes lit up. “I just remembered something. The front door was open when I got here yesterday morning. Do you think they could have stolen it during the night?”

“Could be. But we'll have to consider all possibilities,” Lombard answered. “Where do you keep the key?”

“At the counter.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. It didn't occur to me before, but I guess any of the volunteers could have taken it. I can't believe any of them . . .” She shook her head. “It must have been during the night.”

“I'm going to need a list of all the volunteers.”

“Liz said there was a power outage earlier,” I said. “Somebody might have taken it during that time.”

“When was this?” the officer said.

“About forty minutes ago,” Liz said, glancing at her watch.

“Where is the electric panel?” asked Officer Lombard.

“It's right over here,” Liz said, leading the officers to the counter, a few steps away. She pointed at the wall. Right below the panel was a book cart.

As if reading my mind, Officer Lombard said, “Somebody could have been hiding behind the book cart and pulled the master switch at just the right moment. And then it would have taken only seconds to get to the display, remove the flag, and put in the replacement.”

“But how could they do that in the dark?” Marnie asked. “Look at that display. It looks professionally done. The flag is perfectly fanned out. All the folds expertly done.”

“Night goggles,” I said. “While everybody else was in the dark. Whoever did this would have been able to walk around and see what they were doing. This was no amateur. Whoever did this was experienced.”
And Melinda's bag would have been big enough to carry those.

“You're telling me a professional thief took my flag?” Marnie said. “But how did it come to their attention?”

Liz covered her mouth. “Oh, no. That was my fault too. I gave the
Belmont Daily
an interview. I wanted word to get around about the exhibit, so I mentioned your flag and how valuable it is.” For a moment I thought Marnie was going to burst into tears, but instead she turned on her heel and stormed out.

“If you don't need me, I'd better catch up with her.”

The officers nodded their approval. “We'll give you a call if we have any other questions,” Lombard said, and I darted after Marnie.

“Wait,” I called out on the library steps. She was wearing her granite face. We walked in silence until we reached the store.

“We both know who did this,” she said.

“You mean Melinda?”

“Yes. I'm sure she stole my flag. But you're
right. We'd better keep this to ourselves. It would be just my luck to get sued for defamation of character and have to pay a huge fine—on top of losing my flag.”

“I don't know that she actually stole it herself,” I said. “But I think she was involved. Furthermore, I think she had something to do with Bunny's stolen painting, too.”

Marnie froze with her hand on the doorknob. “I swear I'll get my flag back if it's the last thing I do.”

“I hope you do.” Through the glass, I could see Winston wiggling his butt excitedly at our return.

As we walked in, he threw himself at me, delirious with joy.

“Down, boy.” I patted him until he became calmer. And then I went directly to the coffee shop and picked up two coffees and a couple of muffins.

“How was the exhibit?” asked Jenny from behind her counter.

“It would have been better if Marnie's flag hadn't been stolen.”

“What!”

“You heard me.” I looked around. There were half a dozen customers in various stages of breakfast. I whispered, “Come over when you have a break. I'll tell you all about it.” I returned to the front, where Marnie had settled at her loom. She was walking those pedals with a fury.

“Thanks,” she said, as I set the coffee and muffins down. I went to the counter, picked up the phone, and punched in Matthew's number.

“Hi,” I said, when he answered. “How are you feeling?”

“All right,” he said. “I'll do some writing soon and then maybe take a nap before I pick up Winston.”

“How would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I'm planning to make my mother's chicken Parmesan.”

“It's a date,” he said.

“It's a date,” I repeated. I was on the verge of telling him about Marnie's flag, but decided to end the conversation on a personal note. Marnie had often pointed out that all I seemed to ever talk about with Matthew was crime. Not this time.

After hanging up, I went to my own loom, next to Marnie's.

“You haven't even touched your coffee,” I said.

“I'm not thirsty.”

I pulled my chair next to hers and sat. “Marnie, I have a feeling they'll find it. Now that we told them everything we know, they'd be crazy not to suspect Melinda. It's just a question of time before they find enough evidence to search her place.”

“It's driving me crazy that there's nothing I can do but wait. I want to break into her place right now and get my flag myself.”

“The police will arrest her, and when they do, they'll find your flag and Bunny's painting. I wouldn't be surprised if you got it back before the end of the day.”

Her sigh was long and heartfelt. “I wish I could believe that, but it's not even guaranteed that they'll search her house—a judge would want some strong evidence before authorizing a search warrant. So what are the cops going to do if they don't search? Place her under surveillance? This small town has no budget for stuff like that.” She shrugged. “And for all we know, she's probably got a warehouse or a locker someplace where she stores all her stolen stuff.”

I was very much afraid Marnie was right. “Worse comes to worst, at least you had it insured.”

She spun around in her chair and faced me. “Oh. I called the insurance broker, all right. But the insurance was only taking effect after the value of my flag was confirmed by an independent appraiser. Until then the insurance was in a waiver period.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh, Marnie. Why did you let Liz borrow it? You should have said no.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda. I know. It was stupid. I mean, nothing ever works out for me—not when it comes to money, and obviously not when it comes to love.”

I put down my shuttle. “You can't say friendships never work out for you.”

Winnie must have sensed how she was feeling, because he came lumbering over and rested his head in her lap. His big innocent eyes worked their usual magic.

This time her sigh was more sorrowful than
angry. “I love you too, Winnie,” she said, picking up her coffee cup and breaking off a piece of muffin.

Good boy, Winnie
.

I brushed the muffin crumbs off my lap and gathered the empty cups. “What you said earlier got me thinking.” Marnie gave me a bleary look. “Maybe we shouldn't wait for the police to prove Melinda's guilt,” I continued. “Maybe we should prove it ourselves.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“If she stole your flag this morning, she wouldn't have had time to take it anywhere. If she has a storage place, it's probably some distance away. I bet that flag is still in her house, or maybe in the back of her bakery.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I think we should catch her in the act.”

She smirked. “That might work if we had something of value we could use to entice her.”

“I think you should spread the word about the valuable gold-and-diamond brooch your grandmother also gave you,” I said, winking.

She gave me a puzzled look, and then understanding lit her eyes. “Of course,” she said, playing along. “Except it wasn't diamonds. It was rubies. And it's been in the family for generations.”

“Better not make the story too fascinating or nobody will believe it.”

“You're right. So instead of a piece of jewelry,
why don't I make it something like a complete set of some very expensive sterling flatware?”

“Yes. That's way more believable.” At that moment, the door flew open, sending the bell into a frenzy of jingling. Nancy Cutler stepped in and looked around. She spotted us and came over.

“Hi, Marnie, Della,” she said, moving closer to Marnie's loom. “What are you working on?”

“Place mats,” Marnie said. “Della keeps selling out of them. I can't make them fast enough.” I sensed that Nancy was gathering her courage. She cleared her voice.

“Marnie, I came in to apologize. I was sure you had killed Bruce, and now I know I was wrong.”

I turned and stared. “What convinced you?”

“I found out that Melinda was married to him,” she said. “And then, thinking back, I remembered the way they were behaving at your party, having that cloak-and-dagger conversation. I noticed it at the time, but for some reason I'd forgotten all about it. I guess it was the shock of recognizing him.”

“So you admit you recognized him?” Marnie asked. I already knew this, but I kept quiet, wondering if her story might change in this telling.

“Yes. At first I didn't,” she said. “Don't forget, twenty years had gone by, and I'd only seen him in one picture, and not a very clear one at that. But his voice . . . I recognized him in the middle of our conversation. I never left a party so quickly in my life. I was afraid that if he'd killed Sybille and
realized I knew who he really was, he'd come after me. I had nightmares about him for days. I should have gone straight to the police. I'm sorry I didn't.”

“He didn't threaten you, did he?” Marnie asked.

“No. He probably didn't know who I was. I only introduced myself as Nancy. I doubt he would have remembered me as the roommate of a girl he used to date twenty years ago, especially a roommate he'd never met. But I was afraid that if Sybille had shown him a picture of me, he might come after me to keep me from talking. I know that was cowardly of me. I should have said something right away.”

“Don't feel too bad,” Marnie said. “I might have done the same thing.”

“That's nice of you to say. By the way, I heard about your flag too. I'm so sorry.”

Marnie nodded. “Thank goodness I didn't lend Liz my Paul Revere flatware as well. At least I still have that.”

“It might be worth even more than the flag,” I added.

“Paul Revere,” she said. “Is that just the name of the company? It wasn't actually made by him, right?”

“Yes, this set was,” Marnie said with a straight face. “That's why it's so valuable.”

“Oh! I'd love to see it sometime,” Nancy said.

“I keep it locked away in a closet. I don't think I've used it in over ten years.”

“You should use it,” I said. “It's a shame to have something so special and not enjoy it.”

“You're right. I'm just so afraid something might happen to it. I think I'd die if I accidentally mangled a fork in the garbage disposal.”

“I have a feeling you'd be very careful, and you'd keep it in perfect shape.” Nancy looked at her watch. “I should really be going. I just wanted to stop by and apologize.”

“That was sweet of you,” Marnie said, walking her to the door. As soon as Nancy had left, Marnie came hurrying back. “Do you think she fell for it?”

“We should find out soon enough. If she did, it shouldn't take more than a couple of days for the whole town to have heard.”

“A couple of days. When do you think Melinda will try to break in?”

I thought this over. “She'd probably have to get organized somehow, so maybe tomorrow night, or the night after?”

“And we'll be ready for her when she shows up,” Marnie said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.