Free Thread End: An Embroidery Mystery by Amanda Lee

alarm system?”
    “It didn’t go off at all,” she said. “That’s why no one knew about the theft until after you found Professor Vandehey wrapped in a rug taken from the exhibit. It was disabled also.”
    “That really sounds like an inside job, don’t you think?”
    “It seems that way. I believe Manu and Ted are spending the day interviewing all the staff and reinterviewing the security guards they spoke with yesterday.”
    “What about the art collector, Mr. Padgett?” I asked. “I mean, the collection was undoubtedly insured, but he has to be upset about the loss.”
    “I imagine so. I haven’t heard anything about that yet, though.”
    “Is the museum offering a reward?”
    “They want to,” Reggie said. “The board of directors suggested that to Manu first thing when he spoke with them yesterday. They thought it would be a good way to pacify the collector and get the public to speak up if anyone knew anything about the heist or the missing items.”
    “I get the feeling there’s a
but
in there somewhere,” I said.
    “Manu told them to wait. He said it would only muddy the waters at this point.” She added more apple slices to her plate. “He told the board they should wait to see if the collection is ransomed back to them.”
    “You mean, like a kidnapping?” I asked.
    “Exactly like a kidnapping. Art is usually stolen either to resell or to ransom back to the victim,” she said. “If the thieves plan to ransom the textiles back to the museum, they’ll call and make their demands within the next day or so.”
    “So Manu thinks that offering a reward would hinder the investigation somehow?”
    She nodded. “Everyone and his or her brother would want that reward. Our police department is too small to follow every possible lead, especially those pulled out of thin air in the hope of reaping some of the reward money.”
    “I see.”
    “But if the leads they’re pursuing don’t pan out, he’ll let them go ahead and post the reward.” She bit an apple slice in half. “Maybe some students from the academy or the criminal science program at the community college will help out at that point.”
    *   *   *
    After Reggie left, I spent the rest of the afternoon working on my latest project, a floral bouquet pillow. The piece had fuchsia lilies, white tulips, and pink roses. It would look lovely when it was made into a pillow. I had two quandaries, though: Did I want to put a gold tasseled border or a braided dark green border on the pillow? And did I want to keep the pillow here at home and place it on the white, overstuffed chair in my living room, or did I want to take it to the Seven-Year Stitch and place it among the candlewick embroidery pillows on one of the navy sofas? I was leaning more and more toward the gold border and displaying the pillow in my living room.
    As I stitched and listened to the crunching noises Angus made while gnawing on his granola bone, I thought back to the conversation Reggie and I’d had over brunch. Could she be right about Professor Vandehey? Had he been killed because he’d interrupted the heist? Or had he been part of the robbery team from the very beginning and been killed so that the thieves didn’t have to give him his share? The latter scenario made more sense to me. And yet I couldn’t shake my feeling that the professor had been a good man at heart. Maybe that was it—maybe he’d agreed to take part in the robbery but had backed out, and the thieves had killed him to ensure his silence.
    I determined to find out more about Dr. Geoffrey Vandehey. I’d start with a computer search later tonight or tomorrow morning. If that didn’t satisfy my curiosity, I’d talk with Paul Samms.
    I continued working on the pillow until Ted called.
    “Hi, beautiful,” he said when I answered.
    “Hi, yourself. You sound exhausted.”
    “I am pretty beat. I just got home and I’m going to take a shower. Would you mind if I take a quick nap before