BAROQUE AND DESPERATE A DEN OF ANTIQUITY MYSTERY TAMAR MYERS Contents 1 I dreamed the plane was hijacked by Yankee terrorists. It… 1 2 I stared at what remained of my shop. The Den… 10 3 Mama picked up before the phone could even ring. “Abby,… 23 4 The Latham estate was built by slaves. It began as… 36 5 The door to the parlor opened and in flounced Flora,… 50 6 “Aw, come on,” I wailed, “it isn’t that bad.” 67 7 Mrs. Latham stood slowly, with almost exaggerated care. She was eighty-nine,… 77 8 The last thing I remember was Doris Day slapping Rock… 88 9 I felt faint, just like the night Buford announced he… 98 10 “Wynnell’s Wooden Wonders,” the voice said cheerily, and then accepted… 109 11 “We’re sorry,” Rhett rasped. 120 12 Edith answered the door. She made a poor substitute for… 130 13 “Shhh! You’ll wake Grandmother Latham.” 142 14 “Are you sure?” 152 15 I could tell that the sheriff was a loving family… 163 16 “So what? It was clearly a setup. You saw what… 173 17 “You’re sure?” 185 18 “Hey, good-looking,” Tradd said, and I stopped in midprance. It… 194 19 205 “He just left,” the waitress said. She paused. “I guess… 20 “Yes?” 216 21 There was no one to blame but myself. It was… 226 22 “It’s the most elaborate Swiss clock I’ve ever seen,” I… 235 23 “And then what happened?” Mama asked. 245 About the Author Praise Other Books by Tamar Myers Cover Copyright About the Publisher 1 I dreamed the plane was hijacked by Yankee terror- ists. It was horrible. They held guns to our heads and made us say the pledge of allegiance in under one minute. They took away our glasses of tea, and forced us to gulp gallons of diet soda. Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, they tried to make us eat corn- bread baked with sugar. Mercifully, I woke up before a crumb could pass my lips. “You had a nightmare,” the young man beside me said. “I didn’t know what to do, so I poked you with my magazine.” I stared at him. He was handsome, too handsome for me to have missed when I boarded the plane. That’s what happens when your cruise ship docks in San Juan on its final night, and you suddenly discover you have a taste for Puerto Rican rum. “My name is Tradd Burton,” he said, and gave me an easy, good-old-boy grin. “Tradd Maxwell Burton.” “Abigail Timberlake,” I grunted. I do not dispense my middle name to strangers. “You from Charlotte?” he asked. I nodded, and my seatmate became a blur. There 1 2 / Tamar Myers was no need to ask where he was from. Tradd Maxwell Burton couldn’t say the pledge in under a minute, even if he taped it and played it on fast-forward. “You been on a cruise?” he asked. “How’d you guess?” “I saw the name of your cruise line on your bag when you put it in the overhead.” “You’re very observant,” I said, and closed my eyes. The young man had a right to be flattered. Usually I re- serve sarcasm for close relatives and other people I care about. “Hey, it wasn’t one of those singles cruises, was it? I bet it was. A pretty woman like you…” I said nothing. My head felt like a nut in a squirrel’s jaws. I certainly wasn’t up to flirting, even with someone as young and attractive as Tradd. He droned while I drowsed. My best estimate is that I slept about an hour. When I awoke he was poking me again. “You can stop it,” I said. “I’m awake.” “Then put your seat forward in its normal, upright po- sition. We’re about to land in Charlotte.” I struggled to open my eyes. At some point my eyes had teared, running my mascara, and fusing my lashes together. “Miss, I mean now.” I pried my right eye open with index finger and thumb. For my effort I was rewarded with a close-up of our stewardess, a battle-ax named Brenda. You owe me six dollars for the drinks,” she barked. “I what?” “When we hit that turbulence the captain asked us to take our seats, so I told your husband I’d collect later.”