Thread on Arrival by Amanda Lee

fur trader tokens too.”
    “But those items wouldn’t make a person rich, would they?” I asked. “Besides, wouldn’t you think everything that had been lost would have already been found by now?”
    “Not necessarily. In June of 2011, divers off the Florida Keys found an antique emerald ring worth about half a million dollars—along with several other artifacts—thought to be from the
Nuestra Señora de Atocha
. It was one of the most famous Spanish ships of its day, and it sank in 1622.” Jack took another drink of his coffee. “Most of the wreckage was recovered in 1985, but there was still enough hanging around to give someone else a payday. I think the same might be true of the
Delia . . .
although no one that I know of has ever reported finding any of its treasure.”
    I made a mental note to check out the
Nuestra Señora de Atocha
on the Internet to validate the veracity of Jack’s information. “So there really could be something out there—something that somebody might kill Chester Cantor to get their hands on.”
    Jack raised his brows. “Now, don’t go thinking I did Chester in! My son and I needed Chester and his map to help us know where to begin.”
    “Oh, I know. I didn’t mean that at all,” I said. “I was just thinking out loud. Did you know Chester very well?”
    “I’d say I knew him fairly well. Why?”
    “Do you know of anyone who’d want to hurt him?”
    “Only that boy of his. One time Chester had this bruise on his left cheek.” Jack shook his head. “Man, it was nasty looking. I asked him what happened, and he said Adam had hit him. My boy wanted to have it out with Adam over it, but Chester asked him not to. He said that Adam hadn’t meant to do it and that confronting him about it would only make things worse.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. I just met him briefly, but Mr. Cantor seemed like a terrific person.”
    “Yeah, Chester was a real stand-up guy.” He took one last drink of his coffee. “You don’t happen to remember what the map looked like, do you?”
    “I’m afraid not.” I was telling the truth. I
didn’t
remember what the map looked like. He didn’t ask if I had photographs of the tapestry. I wasn’t ready to tip my hand to Jack Powell just yet. I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted him.
    * * *
    After Jack Powell left, I called Ted. My call went to voice mail, so I thanked him for last night’s dinner and asked him to give me a call about a treasure hunter I’d spoken with earlier this morning.
    I then decided to start from scratch on the Fabergé egg project. When I’d first hatched this idea (pun intended!), I’d had no clue that it would be so difficult. I took the photograph I’d printed out and carefully traced the outline of the egg and its design. I uploaded my black-and-white image onto my computer and once again imported it into my cross-stitch software. Using the photo as a guide, I used the program’s library of thread colors to re-create the image. I was really pleased with the end result and printed out my new and improved pattern.
    I was walking out of the office when Ted came into the shop.
    I smiled. “Hi, there.”
    “Hi.” He held up his phone. “I was in a meeting with Manu when you called. What’s this about your conversation with a treasure hunter?”
    We went over to the navy sofa facing the window and sat down. Angus followed and placed his head on Ted’s knee. It was spring and Angus was shedding, so I was glad for Ted’s sake that he was wearing jeans and a dress shirt today rather than a suit. The jeans would be easier to brush off.
    “Yesterday I got on a local treasure hunter discussion forum and asked if anyone had talked with Chester Cantor about helping him find a treasure off the coast of Tallulah Falls,” I said. “This morning, my sole respondent showed up to talk over his previous plans with Mr. Cantor.”
    Ted rubbed his forehead. “You asked him to meet you here?”
    “No, of course not. He