“Okay, you’re not going to argue with me, or okay, you want the guitar?” I said.
Sam held up both hands. “Okay, you win, and okay, yes, I want the guitar.”
I grinned at him across the table. “Good. It’s beautiful and I wanted somebody to have it who would play it more than a few times a year. The man who owned it didn’t think he played well enough to get it out very often so it spent most of the time in a closet.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s criminal.” He took one last look at the guitar and then pushed the phone back across the table to me. “A great instrument like that is meant to be played and enjoyed.”
“You’re just going to have to play it a lot to make up for that,” I said. I wondered if Sam was thinking about my father’s guitar that hadn’t been out of my closet in more than a year. If he was, he didn’t give any sign of that on his face.
Sam leaned against the back of the booth. “So, how did you come to find that Fenety man’s body?” he said.
“I drove Charlotte over to Maddie’s house.”
Elvis had finished eating. He climbed over my lap, jumped down and went around to the other side of the booth, settling himself next to Sam.
“Had you seen him around town?” I asked, starting in on my second pancake.
“A few times.” He tented his fingers over the top of his cup. “And Fenety and Maddie Hamilton were in here for lunch a couple of days ago.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“What is it?” I asked.
Sam shook his head. “There was just something about the guy that I didn’t like. He was just a little too perfect, if you know what I mean.” He leaned forward, both elbows on the table. “I saw the paper this morning. Do you think she knew?”
“That Fenety was a polygamist?” I said. “She didn’t say anything. And it’s kind of hard to imagine they’d be having a cozy little brunch for two at Maddie’s house if she’d found out he was just scamming her.”
“That’s true,” Sam said.
I swallowed the last bite of pancake and checked my watch, snagging a chunk of apple from the bowl at the same time. “I have to get to the shop,” I said. Elvis’s head came up when I said shop. He shook himself and jumped down to the floor. I stood up, as well.
Sam got to his feet and hugged me. He smelled like coffee and Old Spice aftershave. There was something very comforting about that combination.
“Thanks for breakfast,” I said.
“Anytime,” he said. “Thank you for the guitar. It’ll probably be tomorrow before I can come get it. There’s another fall-foliage tour scheduled for a late lunch here this afternoon.”
Elvis was already headed for the door. He settled on the passenger’s side of the front seat as I pulled out of my parking spot, and looked out the side window as though checking for oncoming cars. I wondered how he’d liked the new—well, new to me—SUV that I was planning on trading the truck for. He seemed to like driving around in the truck, which fit with the theory that he’d used to belong to the guy in the camper van.
I stopped at Legacy Place to pick up the tables the ladies had dipped the day before. I wrapped them carefully in the tarps I’d brought with me and set them in the back of the truck. Mac was already at the shop when we got there. He helped me carry the tables inside and I helped him carry a long farm-style table out and set it on a drop cloth.
“Are you sure you want to strip off the old paint?” I said, standing back to look at the table. It was painted olive green.
“I am,” Mac said. “I’m almost positive it’s oak. There’s some beautiful wood underneath all those layers of paint.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said.
Elvis had been circling the table and now he stopped and meowed loudly at me.
I laughed. “Okay, so you’ve convinced him.”
“Good to know you have my back, Elvis,” Mac said to the cat.
Rose was heading toward us. “I’m going to open things up,” I said. “Rose can handle the shop and—”
Elvis meowed again.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Rose and Elvis can handle the store, and I’m going to work on an offer for the pieces I want from the Harrington place.”
Mac was already rolling up his sleeves. “I think we could do something with that sleigh bed.”
“Me too,” I said. “And I think I’ll make an offer on those quilts we saw.”
“Good idea,” Mac said. “They always sell.”
I nodded in agreement. “Oh, and Sam’s buying the new guitar, the Rickenbacker. I’ll take it up to my office. And Jess is going to try to come get those boxes this afternoon.”
He nodded. “All right.” He was eyeing the table and I knew his attention was already there.
I walked over to meet Rose and took the quilted bag she was carrying.
“Good morning,” I said. “How’s Maddie?”
“She’s still upset, although she’s trying to hide it. She stayed the night with Charlotte.” She looked up at me. “How long do you think it will take to settle all of this?”
“A few days, at least. They’ll be an autopsy to figure out just how Arthur Fenety died.” I didn’t say that once the police knew what the man had died from, things might just get a lot more complicated.
The quilted tote bag was a lot heavier than it looked. “Rose, what do you have in here?” I asked as we walked over to the back entrance, Elvis leading the way.
“Tea bags,” she said. “And a cherry coffee cake.” She smiled. “And coffee, of course, because I know Mac isn’t that crazy about tea. Oh yes, and some cloth napkins. I really don’t like using so many paper ones. And my fertility-goddess statue.”
I had been just about to unlock the door. I paused, keys in one hand. “Excuse me?” I said. “A what?”
“A fertility-goddess statue,” Rose repeated.
“Why are you carrying around a fertility-goddess statue?”
She looked at me like I was just a little bit dense. “Well, for Avery, of course.”
I sighed, figuring I was probably going to regret asking my next question. “Why does Avery need a fertility statue?” I knew I couldn’t think of any good reason. I unlocked the door, flipped on the light switch and let Rose and Elvis go ahead of me into the storage room.
“It’s for her history class,” Rose said over her shoulder as I hurried to catch up with her and Elvis. She moved surprisingly fast for a woman who was almost seventy-five.
I was already in deep so I decided to ask the next obvious question. “And why does Avery need a fertility statue for her history class?”
Rose bustled ahead of me into the store, stopping to turn on the overhead lights. I went across the room to switch on the tall floor lamp with the elegant cranberry glass shade that sat by the cash register. It cast a warm, rosy glow on that part of the store.
I set the bag down and Elvis started sniffing at it.
“Well, dear, it’s a little complicated,” Rose said as she unbuttoned her jacket. “Avery is studying religious artifacts and symbols in her history class, and you know how she likes to put her own stamp on things.”
I smiled. “Yes, I do.”
“She decided she wanted to write about fertility statues. The problem was, she’d never actually seen one.” Rose gestured at the bag by my feet. “So I brought mine for her to see.”
She came over to me, rummaged in the bag and pulled out what I was guessing was the statue, wrapped in a big blue bath towel. She unwrapped it and handed it to me. It was clearly the figure of a woman, robust, with heavy breasts, an ample belly and wide thighs. It stood about four inches high, and was carved from a single piece of rust-colored stone.
“It looks old,” I said, turning over the little figure in my hands. Its curves and edges had been worn smooth by time and weather.
“I think it is,” Rose agreed. “I found it in a little open-air market in Vienna twenty years ago. The man who sold it to me didn’t seem to know anything about its history.”