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VEILED IN DEATH

Tabitha picked at her newly arrived razzleberry pie. The server had placed the pies on the table with a warmed dollop of French vanilla ice cream running in rivulets through the red-and-blue baked fruit.

“Mallory.” Her voice grew even more serious. “I love history. I love material culture. But I saw a man die over it. That veil is trouble. I want you to get it out of your possession.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” The veil was seeming more like a curse at this point than a boon. I thought of the psychological damage keeping such a secret had wrought on my friend. I recalled how the Pierces’ machinations and power had ruined good people’s lives. I didn’t want to get messed up in that. I gave my friend’s hand another squeeze.

Tabitha took in a restorative, if shaky breath, and tried to drink some coffee, but only succeeded in spilling several sloshes on the table. “What I can’t figure out now was how the veil, missing these twenty-five years, got in our shop.”

“Your store is the perfect hiding spot,” I mused. “Or someone could be trying to frame you guys. But it looked like that hatbox had been in the basement of the Antique Emporium for a long time.” I stared into space, feeling good enough to eat most of my pie. “What I can’t get is whether what happened at Cordials and Cannonballs had something to do with this.”

“Just promise you won’t go all Nancy Drew and try to solve this, Mallory.” She held out her pinky and made me swear not to intervene. I joined in her laughter. No way would I touch this . . .