The Key in the Attic(37)

“Like that Sherlock Holmes story,” Gwen said, “where he pretends the house is on fire to make the woman show where she’s hidden the picture she’s using for blackmail.”

Annie tapped the arm of her chair with the tips of her fingers. “Except we wouldn’t know what to set on fire.”

“Pretend to set on fire,” Gwen reminded her.

“Pretend to set on fire. We’d still have to have some idea where he has the clock before that kind of plan would work. But the basic idea is right. We have to figure out some way to make him give himself away.” Annie shrugged. “Well, no need for us all to sit around all morning. Let’s get back to work, and maybe one of us will think of something. All we have to do is figure out how to light a fire under Mr. Sanders.”





12

Mary Beth carried her groceries into the house that evening, trying to keep from dropping anything. She always tried to carry too much at once, attempting to cut down on the number of trips from her car to the house. Invariably, it ended up being harder and took more time to keep everything balanced and intact than it would have if she had taken more trips with smaller loads.

She managed to get everything into the kitchen and was starting to put things away when the telephone rang. Why did people always have to call just as she got home? She decided to ignore the call, at least for the moment, and kept on putting frozen items into her freezer. The answering machine finally picked up, and she stopped for a moment, listening for the message that would follow the beep.

“Mary Beth, it’s Melanie. I need you to call me right away.”

Melanie again. And as usual, she sounded ticked off. She could wait.

“I told you not to bother Amy with your problems,” Melanie continued. “I mean it. Call me!”

“All right. All right,” Mary Beth muttered as she grabbed one of the grocery bags. “As usual, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ll call you. Give me just a minute.”

She made the mistake of holding the bag at the top rather than supporting it at the bottom. Before she got to the pantry, the paper tore through. Various cans of soup, fruit and vegetables thudded to the floor. A can of spaghetti sauce rolled until it bumped into the refrigerator and came to a stop.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself not to scream in frustration, when the telephone started ringing again.

“Listen, Mary Beth, I can’t imagine why you think Amy should have to deal with—”

Mary Beth snatched up the phone. “What is it, Melanie? I just got home and haven’t had a chance to even catch my breath. What exactly is going on?”

“I knew you were there.” Her sister sounded pleased to be offended. “I’m too busy to play telephone tag with you. I’d appreciate it if you’d just answer your phone when I call. It’s not like I just call up to chat.”

“Heaven forbid.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You know I’m very busy.” Melanie’s voice was frigid. “I certainly don’t have time to keep calling you about this. I told you before to not bother Amy with your problems.”

“I haven’t bothered Amy with my problems. I’ve hardly had time to speak to her since the last time we talked about this. What’s wrong now?”

“She’s still badgering me about buying that building you’re in and renting it out to you. Now she’s even asking me to have some of our designers work on original patterns for crochet and knitwear for your shop to carry exclusively. It’s a ridiculous idea, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop putting this sort of thing into her head.”

Mary Beth closed her eyes. It would be a brilliant idea. Melanie was certainly in a position to arrange that sort of thing, but Mary Beth would never expect it of her. “Listen, it’s sweet of Amy to try to help me, but really, it’s not necessary. I have someone who designs patterns for the shop already, and she does a fabulous job. I know you’re busy, and I know you’re not interested in investing in Stony Point or A Stitch in Time or having your name associated with it. Let me make it as clear as I can: I don’t expect anything from you. You have your own business to run. I’ll call Amy and tell her to leave you alone about this. Will that meet with your approval?”

“I already told her I wasn’t doing anything of the kind. You don’t need to call her. She thinks I’m a tyrant as it is.”

Mary Beth fought the urge to rub in her own rapport with Amy. No need to dump gasoline on that fire. “What do you want me to do? I’ve already said I didn’t ask her to talk to you about this. I can call her and tell her plainly that I’m not asking for anything from you and ask that she not discuss the matter with you again. Or I can refrain from calling her about it. I can’t do both, and I can’t do neither. Which would make you happy?”