Hooking for Trouble

by Betty Hechtman

  My mother noticed us and hurried over with a frantic expression. “Molly, I’m so sorry for all this, but it’s an emergency. We’re going to rent a space to rehearse, but in the meantime we were going to use the rec room where we’re staying. But it’s booked out all week and the girls and I have to do some run-throughs before the bookstore event. You wouldn’t want me to embarrass you in front of your people, would you?” She stopped for a breath. “You understand, don’t you? Samuel said you wouldn’t mind.”

  The doorbell rang, and my father let the two other She La Las in. There was a bunch of gushing and hugging. Mason and I looked at each other and put up our hands in helplessness.

  “How is it that we have two big houses between us and we can’t find a quiet corner to have dinner?” he said when we’d retreated to the kitchen. Samuel had already started playing some chords on the keyboard, and I could hear the She La Las doing vocal exercises as my father tapped on the microphone and said, “Testing, testing.” He kept repeating it, apparently not realizing the sound was booming all over the house.

  “It’s works,” I yelled toward the living room—not that he heard me over all the ruckus. Mason chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. But then his eyes lit up.

  “I have a plan.”

  A few minutes later, we closed the kitchen door behind us and left all the chaos behind. We’d carried the bags of food with us, and we settled them on the umbrella table in the yard. Mason put some wood in the fire pit I’d had for years and never used. He lit it and it instantly gave off warmth.

  “There’s nothing like a nighttime picnic,” he joked. “And we can play with this for entertainment,” he said, holding the box with the detective set. I hadn’t noticed that he’d grabbed it on our way out the door.

  While I set out the food, he opened the box and looked inside. “What’s all this?” he said, looking at the cards, bags and containers that I’d been dropping into it.

  “My evidence,” I joked. I picked up one of the booklets that came with it and showed him the line that said the set encouraged the junior detective to gather evidence to get experience examining it. “I got some of the fingerprints at my party. Except for this one.” I extracted the plastic bag with the chocolate smudge I’d put inside a paper one, hoping to keep it intact. “And the fibers are from some horrible yarn Adele was using. I picked the pink strands off my sweater and the chairs at the class.

  “And that,” I said, pointing to a plastic bag within another one. The inner bag had the dog hairs I’d collected. I smiled, thinking of what else it had. “Barry found it in the yard behind us when he was checking things out the second time. When he handed it to me, I realized it was a chance to see what it was like to get a fingerprint off a plastic bag and get a sample of his. I don’t think he realized what I was doing when I had him set it on the table instead of handing it to me. Then I used tweezers to drop it inside the other bag. I haven’t had time to try to dust it yet.”

  Mason thought it was too funny that I had snagged Barry’s fingerprints without him realizing it.

  We put the set aside and finally got down to eating. With our jackets and the fire pit going, it was actually quite comfortable outside. “I think there are some cookies in the kitchen,” I said. “And I could make some coffee.”

  Mason liked the idea, and I went into the house. My mother had made pitchers of her green drink and there was a tray with hummus and vegetables. I could hear singing coming from the living room as I quickly made a pot of coffee and put together a tray of cookies.

  “Ah, the peace out here,” I said when I rejoined him. He was looking over the backyard to Cheyenne’s house. The trees blocked some of the view, but the patio and balcony were still clearly visible.

  “I’m hoping when they put up a solid fence, it will be better,” I said.

  Mason shook his head. “With the way they created that hill, a fence won’t do much good. We’ll have to figure where to plant some strategic privacy bushes.”

  I poured the coffee and we had our dessert while looking back toward Cheyenne’s house. I pointed out the balcony. “That’s where all the action was. The so-called dancing couple and the spot where the chaise cushion came from.”

  I looked through the chain-link and the scraggling of ivy on my side. It was invisible in the darkness, but that part of Cheyenne’s yard was almost on the same level as mine. I had a good view of the workmen when they worked on the yard. “At least the workmen and their music aren’t there now. It’s not bad enough they play the radio—they sing along, too.”

  Mason chuckled. “Maybe they’re hoping that Garrett Mackenzie gets them a record deal.” I was already back to thinking about the chaise cushion.

  “If only I could get a look at it again. If there was blood underneath, I bet some got on the cushion.”

  “Whoa, Molly. You can’t sneak up on that balcony. I don’t want to have to defend you for being a stalker.”

  “That’s practically what Barry said to me,” I said.

  “When?” Mason said, sitting forward and turning to me. I mentioned that he’d come with Jeffrey for their dog care duties.

  “That’s something new. I thought Jeffrey usually came alone.” Mason seemed agitated, which was unusual for him.

  “Barry said he’s trying to turn over a new leaf with his son.”

  “As long as it’s only his son he’s trying to work things out with,” Mason said. “Maybe they should just keep Cosmo at their place.”

  Now I sat forward. “Aside from everything else, like the fact that they’re not really home to take care of him, he’s really my dog. Cosmo just goes along with the program when they come over, but believe me—he never tries to leave with them. That dog knows where his home is.”

  “Sorry,” Mason said, putting up his hands to fend off my attack. “What was I thinking? I know how I feel about Spike, so I should understand your feeling for Cosmo.”

  “I might occasionally complain about the menagerie at my house, but I love each and every one of them, no matter how they ended up living with me.” Mason made an understanding sound.

  I knew it was not the dog he was really concerned with.

  CHAPTER 12

  I was dragging the next morning when I came into the bookstore. The night before, the fire in the fire pit had burned itself out and we’d taken everything back inside. The music had still been coming from the living room as we decided to call it a night. When I went across the living room to my bedroom, the three She La Las were still gyrating across the floor. Maybe there was something to my mother’s green drink after all.

  Now I’d barely dropped off my jacket and bag and was checking some things at the information counter, which was as close as I got to an office, when I heard a commotion coming from the direction of the children’s department. When I looked toward the noise, I saw Adele fussing with another woman.

  My eyes stopped on Adele—the other woman was really an afterthought. I always thought that Adele couldn’t get any more outlandish with her story time outfits, but once again she had proved me wrong. She had on some long white thing that I had a feeling was a bedsheet she’d turned into her impression of an ancient Egyptian dress. She had cinched it with a gold belt and made a necklace out of the jangling pieces belly dancers wore around their hips. She topped it off with a stylized black wig and makeup I could see across the room. Her eyes were outlined in heavy black and she had eye shadow on practically to her eyebrows. She’d been generous with the blush and lipstick, too.

  I didn’t recognize the woman she was fussing with. She seemed a little old to be a mother bringing young kids to story time, but too young to be a grandparent. It was obvious from their body language that she and Adele had reached some kind of impasse. I didn’t see Mrs. Shedd or Mr. Royal and decided that it was my duty as assistant manager to step in and see if I could smooth things over.


  As I approached, I saw that Adele was holding a sheet of paper that I assumed was one of her membership forms. She looked up as I reached them. Apparently, she thought it was her outfit that had brought me over, since she flashed her heavily made-up eyes and said she was going to read Aunt Ellie Meets Cleopatra. Now it made sense.

  Adele read a lot of books from the Aunt Ellie series, probably because of the opportunities for different costumes. Aunt Ellie had a time machine and zoomed around history meeting up with famous people. I chuckled, inwardly remembering when Adele had read Aunt Ellie Meets Abraham Lincoln.

  “Excuse me, are you in charge?” the woman said. “I was explaining to her that I’m just the temporary nanny for the Mackenzie children, so there is no reason for me to fill out anything.” She waved her hand toward Adele. “She keeps insisting she needs my cell phone number. I will be standing right outside here, waiting for the children.”

  I looked at her with new interest. She was a lot closer to Mrs. Doubtfire than Jennifer Clarkson was, with her serviceable dark slacks, white polo shirt, and long blue sweater. She had a broad face, no makeup, and light brown hair pulled into a low ponytail.

  “Why don’t you let me handle this?” I said to Adele. Just then an athletic-looking young man came out of the children’s area and handed Adele a sheet.

  “It’s all there,” he said. “See you in an hour.”

  “Harumph, a manny,” the nanny said.

  “Excuse me? Who is Manny?” I asked, confused. She put her hand on her hip and turned to face me.

  “I wasn’t speaking of the name, but rather the position. That’s what they’re calling male nannies. Personally, I think it’s a sexist remark. The nanny title should go with everyone who does the job, although I would prefer a more formal designation, like full-time child supervisor.” She looked toward the young man, who was headed toward the café.

  “He just started taking care of the Mackenzie children’s cousins.” She made another dissatisfied sound. “I understand he’s the second replacement in six months, and the first male one. Maybe he’ll work out better. I heard that their father is a country singer and quite the flirt. I wouldn’t have gone there if they’d offered it to me.” She drew a circle in the air with her finger, pointing at herself. “This is strictly off-limits to anyone I work for.”

  I had to hold in a laugh. With her formidable appearance, I didn’t think she had to worry. Adele looked into the children’s area. She’d arranged the kids on the floor in front of the story throne, as she called her highly decorated chair. But they were getting impatient and had begun to roll around and tease each other.

  “I’d better get in there,” Adele said. “Pink, I trust you to get what we’re after.” She pushed the paper on me and then, amid her swirling sheet dress, marched in, clapping her hands to get their attention.

  “Thank you for stepping in,” the nanny said to me. “I think all that eye makeup must have gone to her brain.” She held out her hand for me to shake it. “Ursula Johnson, at your service.”

  “Molly Pink, at yours,” I said, accepting her handshake. It was hard for me to contain myself. I felt like a kid in a candy store of information. I was sure Ursula could be a great source of information if I could get her to talk.

  “It must be difficult stepping in at the last minute,” I said. I made sure she knew that I had heard Jennifer had left suddenly.

  “I’m used to it. I’m like a transplant surgeon—on call twenty-four-seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Things happen. Nannies get sick, or quit and walk out. Someone has to be able to step in with no warning. I certainly had to hustle to get over there. The shuttle had just pulled up when I was getting out of my car. I barely got a chance to ask her the most basic of questions.”

  She shifted back and forth and muttered something about being on her feet all the time, and I offered her a chair at the yarn table. She seemed a little hesitant, but I explained that she’d be able to see the children’s department from there and she accepted the seat. I saw her glance at the paper in my hand. The way her eyes fluttered I figured out that she was hoping I’d forgotten about it and was going to do whatever she could to distract me. All fine with me.

  “You’re right. I have a clear view.” Ursula kept her eyes glued on the spot where the carpeting changed to the cows jumping over the moon. “Some of us take the care of children very seriously,” she said. “More seriously than their own parents.” She shook her head, as if she’d thought of something disagreeable.

  “That house is an absolute danger zone. I don’t understand why they moved in there before it was all finished. They can’t even put the cars in the garage. Apparently it’s full of the workmen’s supplies. Their mother has no sense. She lets them go in there and help themselves to ice cream treats. I was going to overrule her. Letting small children eat unlimited ice cream treats is a recipe for future problems. I was so glad when the husband stepped in and told them there was too much stuff in the way. If this job wasn’t temporary, I would get that household into shape.”

  There was a pause in the conversation and she looked down toward the paper. I realized I could probably ask her anything if she thought it was keeping my mind off getting her to fill out the sheet. “What is Cheyenne Chambers really like?”

  Ursula was glad to talk, though she prefaced it by saying she didn’t believe in gossiping about the people she worked for. “There’s definitely something going on there,” she said. “The husband keeps looking at her like he’s worried about something. I’m staying in a room off the kitchen, but I can hear someone pacing upstairs at night.”

  “What about arguing? Do Cheyenne and her husband get along?”

  “I’ll just say this. She’s the one with a temper. I can’t hear words, but I have heard her voice—it sounded like she was in a fury.”

  “What about dancing?”

  Ursula’s mouth fell open in surprise. “All I can say is that they don’t as far as I’ve seen.” We talked a little more, but it was mostly about how she operated as a nanny and of no use to me. She kept her eye on the entrance to the children’s department and let out a sigh of relief as the kids began to come out. “Time to go,” she said, getting up quickly. “It was nice talking to you.”

  She thought she had gotten away with something. But actually she had given away a lot of information.

  Adele wasn’t happy when she realized the sheet of paper was still blank. “She’s only there temporarily, until Jennifer Clarkson comes back, and you have a sheet on her,” I said. Adele made a face and then collapsed at the yarn table. “Everything is falling apart. You let the first person slip through without filling out one of my forms. Any minute now Susan or Cheyenne is going to call Mrs. Shedd and complain about the Tunisian class.

  “And now this,” She looked toward the front door just as Eric Humphries, also known as Cutchykins, came in. He was wearing his motor officer uniform, which made the tall, barrel-chested man seem even more imposing. “You have to help me. I haven’t told him about the wedding disaster yet.”

  “I don’t know if I can help you with that, but I think I can help with Cheyenne,” I said. What I left out was that it might be a solution for me, too.

  CHAPTER 13

  “My best friend, Molly, has come up with a way for me to keep Cheyenne happy with the class,” Adele said. She was standing next to me with her arm around my shoulder. The happy hour group had gathered in the yarn department and was already working on their toys. I was surprised when Adele gave me the credit. When I shared the idea, I was sure she’d claim it as her own. Adele never ceased to surprise me.

  “I thought the only problem was with your wedding,” Rhoda said, and the whole group prepared for Adele’s onslaught of wailing, but she maintained the same expression.

  “Molly helped me break the news to Cutchykins.” She looked at me. “Tell them what happened.�
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  Being considered Adele’s best friend seemed to come with a lot of duties. “Eric was very understanding. He said that all he cared about was being with Adele and how it happened didn’t matter. He also promised not to tell his mother.” A wave of awws went through the group, and Adele basked in the attention.

  “What about the other thing? I didn’t know there was a problem with Cheyenne,” Rhoda said in her nasally voice. “Did I miss something?”

  Adele looked around the area surreptitiously, and when she was satisfied turned back to the group and turned the floor over to me. “You tell them, Pink.” Apparently my best friend status only came with my first name sometimes.

  “Those of you in the Tunisian class probably remember that Cheyenne didn’t come to the first class and left in the middle of the third one. Adele was afraid that she would think she was so far behind that she would give up the class.” I was going to leave it at that, but Adele urged me on.

  “Tell them about Pamela,” Adele said. She had picked up the flying pig that she was crocheting and was beginning to stuff the body. She thought it would give someone feeling down and out hope because of the saying when pigs fly.

  Adele was the only one to call Mrs. Shedd by her first name. She had actually encouraged all of us to do it, but the rest of them agreed with me that it somehow felt wrong to call her anything other than Mrs. Shedd.

  “Mrs. Shedd seems to be delighted about having Cheyenne be part of the group,” I said. “She’s excited about their event next week, and she would be upset if anything made Cheyenne back away from it.”

  “What about her sister? Isn’t Lauren in the group, too?” Elise asked. I wasn’t sure how the toys she chose to make were going to be received. In accordance with her passion for Anthony, the fictional vampire who crocheted, she kept making little vampire dolls. She used sparkly white yarn for the head, added a frizzle of black hair and made the body out of sparkly black yarn. The faces were all smiling, and thankfully she didn’t have any red yarn stitches coming from the mouths. She did, however, add a bright red scarf to each one she made. The best possibility was that whoever we donated them to wouldn’t realize what they were.