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Sunday dawned bright and breezy. I was glad I’d grabbed a light sweater to wear over the simple periwinkle shift I’d quickly pulled on for church. I’d hit the snooze button too many times and almost missed the service, but I managed to slip into a back pew at the last minute. The pastor’s hopeful message about the coming of Easter was exactly what I needed to hear. With the sorrow of Tina’s death fresh on my mind, I latched on to that message. I also said a prayer for Tina’s family. Sadly, they were probably busy planning her funeral.
As I was about to leave the church, Michele Fairchild, whose gift shop, the Feathered Nest, was just a few doors down from the Silver Squirrel, grabbed my arm. “Hey, are you doing okay after what happened Friday?”
“What? Oh yes, I’m fine, but—”
“But I imagine Carleen’s pretty shaken up.” Michele dropped her hand. “Is she?”
“I think we all felt a little on edge on Friday. It’s frightening, to say the least, to think that it could have been any one of us.”
“I hear ya,” Michele said. “I’ve got a security firm coming out tomorrow to upgrade my alarm system. I mean, I know Tina had a few enemies in town and all, but—”
“Mom, can we go home now? I’m hungry.” A cute little towheaded boy pulled on her sweater.
“What? Oh, sorry, son. I know you’re hungry. I told you to eat your pancakes this morning, didn’t I? Listen, I’ll catch you later, Emma!”
Tina had a few enemies? Really? I would have to contact Michele later and see what she meant by that.
After I got home from church, I changed into jeans and a lightweight aqua knit top. Then I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and some wheat crackers before heading to Making Memories on a rhinestone-recovery expedition.
Harriet’s daughter, Holly Harris Burke, a twentysomething mother of twin boys, was minding the counter when I arrived, if her halfhearted attempt at work could be called “minding.” She looked up from the teen vampire novel she was reading only long enough to offer a bored nod in my direction. That was fine by me. I wanted to get my business done and get out. Heading directly to the booth where I’d bought the Christmas tree pins, I was surprised to look down the aisle and see that the seller appeared to be there. An attractive blonde in her early-to-mid-forties, she wore her long hair tied in a loose ponytail. Her pale-blue T-shirt had black smudges on it, probably from all the newspaper she’d been using to wrap the small glass-topped jewelry cases she was packing up.
“Moving day?” I asked.
“I’m afraid so,” the woman said. “Sales have been slow, so I’m moving to another antique mall where the rent and commission aren’t so expensive.”
“Anyplace I’d know?” I was always on the lookout for a new honey hole for costume jewelry.
The woman nodded. “A new antique mall is opening on the bypass, part of that building where the old Piggly Wiggly used to be. The owner, Teri LeMann, said she’s thrilled to have found the space and hopes to fill the whole building in time.”
Another antique mall? Harriet wasn’t going to like that. But the owner’s name was what really caught my attention. “Teri LeMann? Do you happen to know if she’s related to the LeMann woman who was killed in town two days ago, Tina LeMann?”
“That was Teri’s sister,” the woman said with a frown. She paused long enough to wipe her hands on a paper towel. “She was going to let the sellers in early this week to start setting up our booths. Then yesterday, she sent an email blast saying there’d been a tragedy in her family and she wouldn’t be able to have us in until next week. She didn’t actually tell us that it was her sister, but when I read the obituary in the newspaper this morning, I saw Teri’s name listed among the survivors.”
I could have kicked myself. I had worked at that newspaper for eight years and some change, yet I’d forgotten to look at the Sunday obits. When I got home, I would be reading Tina’s, pronto.
The seller returned to the task of breaking down her costume jewelry displays and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy packing that I didn’t even ask if there was something I could help you with. I’m Cindy. And until the end of the day, at least, I’m still a seller here.”
“Thanks, Cindy. I’m Emma. And this is going to sound strange, but I need to crawl under your table for a minute.” I pulled out the pin that was missing a stone. “I bought some of your Christmas tree pins yesterday, and the girl who got them out of the case for me accidentally dropped this one. When I got home with it, I discovered a stone was missing.”
“Sure thing.” Cindy stepped back into a corner of her booth. “Let me know if I’m in the way.”
I fished around in my purse, pulled out my iPhone, and turned on its flashlight app. “If you don’t mind my crawling around here for just a moment, I’m usually pretty good at finding wayward stones.”
“Be my guest.” Cindy had an amused look on her face, so even if she thought I was a weirdo, at least she didn’t have a problem with letting me search.
Down on my hands and knees, I swept the phone’s light slowly back and forth and was rewarded with not one but two glittering rhinestones. “Found it.” I stood up and dusted a hand off on my jeans. “There’s a second one too, but the clear one is my match.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the plastic bag with the Hollycraft Christmas tree pin. “See? Perfect fit and perfect color. And here’s the other one.” I handed her the tiny ruby-colored stone.
“Take it if you’d like,” Cindy said. “With your sharp eyes, you’ll have more use for it than I ever will.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that. And I hope to see you around sometime at the new antique mall.” I tucked the pin and stones back into my purse and turned to leave. As I walked past the front counter, Harriet’s daughter still had her nose stuck in her vampire book. This time, she had the book propped in one hand while she used the other to fish Cheetos out of a bag on the counter. She didn’t bother saying goodbye.
Finding the missing rhinestone was a small victory, and I was gratified to be leaving with the item I’d been searching for. But I couldn’t help thinking I was leaving with something much more valuable than a stray rhinestone—the news that Tina’s sister was opening a new antique mall in town.
* * *
THE SUN WAS STILL OUT when I got home. Miriam complained loudly when I walked into the living room, no doubt telling me that she didn’t appreciate being left alone once again. I gave her a hug, pulled aside the living room curtains, then slid the ottoman close to the window so she could watch the birds flitting about on the lawn. Miriam took the bait and seemed happy to watch the goings-on from her favorite perch.
I put away my newly rescued rhinestones and headed to the foyer to retrieve the Sunday edition of the Daily Tribune. After turning to page six, the usual home of the obits, I scanned the names and found the announcement for Tina:
LEMANN, TINA RENEE: Tina Renee LeMann, 35, of Roseland, passed away suddenly on Friday. Ms. LeMann was the daughter of Mrs. Etta LeMann and the late Mr. Anthony LeMann Jr. of Atlanta. A graduate of the University of Georgia with a degree in art history, Ms. LeMann was assistant manager of the Silver Squirrel, an antiques shop in Roseland. In addition to her mother, she is survived by a brother, Anthony LeMann III, of Atlanta, and a sister, Teri LeMann, of Marietta. The funeral will be Monday at 11 a.m. at McKinsey and Sons Funeral Home in Roseland. In lieu of flowers, the family has requested that memorial donations be made to the Foothills Humane Society.
Huh. I never knew that Tina was officially the assistant manager of the Silver Squirrel. I was also intrigued to learn that both her brother and sister lived fairly close to Roseland.
I walked into the kitchen and opened my laptop, which was still sitting on the dinette table where I’d left it the night before after checking for new jewelry orders. I opened the browser window and typed “Anthony LeMann III” into the search field. Up came listing after listing for LeMann, Mason & Lee in Atlanta. The law firm had received numerous five-star ratings and accolades for its up-and-coming young lawyers, including Anthony. The company website proudly noted that he had just been named to the 40 Under 40 list in a popular Atlanta magazine.
But if Anthony was an attorney—and he was obviously a successful one—I wondered why he wouldn’t have helped with the assisted-living expenses for his mother. Why did that responsibility fall to Tina?
Then I Googled “Teri LeMann” and “Marietta.” Her name popped up on a number of websites for design firms and antiques shops in the town, and she’d been named to the Best of Marietta list for several years running, mainly for her upholstery and design work. A high-end lifestyle magazine had run a brief profile of her, and it mentioned that Teri’s design business had grown so much that she’d had to hire two assistants. Unlike the articles I’d found on Tony, though, Teri’s didn’t include a photo. I wondered if she looked at all like her sister, who’d had gorgeous auburn hair.
But as with Tony, I wondered why Teri hadn’t been able to help Tina if her design business was doing so well. Surely a woman who could afford to buy the old Piggly Wiggly building was financially secure enough to help make sure her mother was able to stay in her assisted-living facility.
Shaking my head, I reminded myself that families had all kinds of complicated relationships and situations I knew nothing about. Besides, I knew better than to make snap judgments regarding someone I’d never met. For all I knew, Anthony and Teri had helped. Perhaps that help still wasn’t enough to cover Mrs. LeMann’s daily living expenses.
According to Tina’s obituary, the funeral was coming up sooner than I’d expected, early Monday. I figured I’d better make plans to attend. I scrolled through my phone’s contact list for Carleen’s number and tapped the call icon. She picked up on the second ring. “You busy?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Carleen said. “I was sitting here reading a new book about eighteenth-century silver hallmarks. I hoped something arcane would help take my mind off...”
“I know,” I said. “Keeping your mind occupied is good. And listen, have you read the newspaper today?”
Carleen sighed. “I have. I guess you saw that Tina’s funeral is coming up tomorrow morning.”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you about. I’m planning to go, and I’m assuming you are too. Do you want to go together?”
“I’d like that. Where should we meet?”
“At your shop at ten thirty? How does that sound?”
Carleen agreed on the meeting time, and I said I’d see her in the morning then clicked off the call.
* * *
THAT NIGHT, I LAY IN bed with Miriam Haskell curled up beside me and attempted to read a new mystery. I ended up skipping entire paragraphs as I mulled over the past few days. I debated whether it was too late on a Sunday night to make a call. Finally, I picked up my cell phone, but I looked at the hour and placed the phone back on the nightstand. Then I couldn’t stand it anymore and called Jen’s number. When she picked up, I asked, “Are you at home or at the office?”
“The office, unfortunately,” she said. “I was trying to get a jump on some things before our Monday morning meeting. But the servers are down for some reason, so I can’t get to the stories I wanted to check on. And since it’s a Sunday night, there’s no one up here who can do anything about it. Right now, I’m waiting on the IT guy to get here. He said it’ll be at least thirty minutes before he arrives, so please, distract me.”
“Good,” I said. “Well, not ‘good,’ but—”
“What is it, Emma? Something’s up, or you wouldn’t have called me at... good grief, it’s ten twenty-seven already. It’ll be midnight before I get home.”
“You know Harriet Harris, right?”
“That old grump who used to be a teacher at Maple Street Elementary?”
“Right.”
“Yeah, I know her. Or at least I know of her. She used to call up here and complain if we didn’t get the kindergarten class’s Jell-O day feature in the newspaper fast enough for her. Did she die?”
“No, no.” I snorted. Jen had a wicked sense of humor, and she always made me laugh, often inappropriately. “I was at her antique mall today, and one of her vendors told me something interesting. It seems that Tina LeMann, the murdered woman, has a sister who’s opening an antique mall of her own out on the bypass.”
“Is that what’s going in the old Piggy Wiggly building?”
“Yep. It seems that Teri, the sister, sent an email telling her vendors there had been a tragedy in her family. She said the sellers wouldn’t be able to move in as soon as she’d hoped. And when I looked her up online this afternoon, I found out she’s been selling her custom vintage furniture in Marietta. She’s even been written up in a few of the lifestyle magazines there because of her work. She got all five-star reviews on her business page on Facebook, and apparently, her customers adore her furniture designs.”
“With your curiosity, you’d make a great newspaper reporter, you know that?” Jen teased.
I ignored my wisecracking friend and continued. “So I was wondering, has the Trib heard anything about a Teri LeMann opening an antique mall here in Roseland? Has she contacted you about a feature story or a business brief yet?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Jen said.
“I was afraid that would be the case, but on the other hand, if a feature was coming out about her, you’d know, right?”
“Yeah, I would. And that last name would’ve definitely jumped out at me because of Tina’s death. In the morning, I’ll see if the features editor has come across that name in any of her calendar listings in recent weeks. And I’ll be sure to talk to the cop reporter about it tomorrow to see if he’s heard anything new on the murder. Speaking of murder, I’m going to kill that Alan Shelton you’re so fond of. I had one of the reporters call him yesterday morning. We heard something on the scanner about a person of interest being served with papers and then leading police on a wild-goose chase. Shelton wouldn’t say who it was or what it was about, but I can guarantee you he knew who it was, and—”
A muffled conversation ensued on her end of the call.
“You still there?” I asked after a too-long pause.
“Listen, Emma, my IT wizard has arrived, and I need to get busy here. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
I was about to tell her that that would be fine, but I looked down at my cell phone and realized my friend was no longer on the line. At least I knew not to take it personally.