Hooking for Trouble

by Betty Hechtman

  Mr. Royal nodded a greeting and then went back to the music department. Barry read the sign and seemed a little surprised that my mother’s group was on there along with ChIlLa. “Does this mean you and Cheyenne Chambers are friends now?”

  I made a shushing sound and pulled him over to the side. I quickly explained that Mrs. Shedd was very excited about the upcoming evening and didn’t know that I had sent him to Cheyenne’s twice, but would have a fit if she did, because she’d worry that it was going to mess things up. And Cheyenne still didn’t know that it had been me. “And that’s the way I’m trying to keep it.”

  “Your life is a web of deception,” he said with a tease in his voice. “As long as you’re done with your poking around their backyard, my lips are sealed.”

  My immediate response was to insist that there was something going on back there, and there was a long pause while I thought of all the things I could say. There was the fact that the Blood Detector really did detect blood, which meant I had found the real thing. Or I could tell him about all the personal stuff Jennifer had left behind. Thinking it over again, it seemed all she’d taken was her phone and her wallet. I could mention Ursula’s claim that her room had been gone through. I could bring up the supposed visit of Matt Meadowbrook to look for Mr. Snuggles. I stopped on that thought. I was not going to mention a famous country singer looking for a teddy bear.

  “So if you’re not after a perp . . .” I left it hanging and he shook his head.

  “At least get the terms right. Nobody really calls them perps. I stopped by to pick up something for Jeffrey. He called it in. Do you know where I could find it?”

  “Let’s try the information desk,” I said, leading the way. It was a small enclosed area in the heart of the store. Stepping behind the desk, I tried to act like Barry was just another customer, but I still felt an awkward vibe.

  “There you are, Pink,” Adele said, coming into the small area. She had taken off the Rapunzel wig and changed into her normal attire. I was expecting some kind of reproach from her about offering my number instead of Ursula’s, but she seemed to have forgotten all about it. “As my matron of honor, you have to come with me.”

  I was trying to figure out what she was talking about when a woman bustled in behind her. “Adele, you shouldn’t have rushed on ahead,” she said, sounding both annoyed and breathless. It was Leonora Humphries, aka Mother Humphries.

  Adele grabbed my arm. “Sorry. I was just gathering up my best friend Molly so she could come with us.” She caught my eye with a pleading expression. “I want Molly to see this place you picked for us.”

  I was mildly stunned that she’d called me by my first name, but I managed to call her shenanigans to a halt while I looked for Jeffrey’s order. Adele had been too wrapped up in her moment to even notice Barry’s presence. As I handed Barry the book, I saw that his eyes had gone skyward and he had an amused smile. “I forgot how crazy your life is.” He turned to go, and it sound like he muttered, “And I miss it.”

  Adele had already gotten the okay from Mrs. Shedd for us to leave, so I was on the way out the door with the two women before I knew it. Adele wanted me to sit in the front seat with her, but Leonora claimed she had to be there to direct the way. Personally, I was glad to be in the backseat, as far away from the action as possible.

  Poor Adele. She had been so thrilled about getting engaged to Eric and had thought her happy ever after had already begun. But first there was the news that Eric’s mother had moved in with him—permanently, as in forever, even after they were married—and then the wedding venue went under, taking both her dreams of a romantic wedding and the money she’d paid in along with it.

  “Mother Humphries, just tell me the address,” Adele said. I couldn’t believe that Adele missed how that woman cringed every time she was called that name.

  “Turn right at the next stoplight,” Eric’s mother said, ignoring Adele’s request. And so it went, with Mrs. Humphries instructing Adele to turn here, go there. The headrest blocked my view and I couldn’t tell where we were, other than noting that we’d turned off Ventura Boulevard and were on a residential street. Trying to get my bearings, I leaned around the headrest and recognized our location. The cross street ahead had businesses on it and they spilled around the corner.

  “Turn right at the driveway,” Leonora commanded, and Adele pulled the car into the parking lot of a cream-colored single-story building that had “Parisian Banquet Hall” written on it in white letters that looked like frosting. The arched windows that faced the street had been filled in, just leaving their outlines. In an effort to give the plain building a more romantic appearance, light fixtures were spaced around the front. The poles, with their lanternlike tops, looked like a scaled-down version of something you’d see in Paris.

  Adele pulled her Matrix into a parking spot that faced the entrance to the hall. Here, the arched windows had been left intact.

  “It’s a famous place. Eric will love it,” Leonora said, leading us to the door. She knocked, and a man in a dark suit opened it. He introduced himself as Tony and invited us in. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The curtains over the windows cut down the natural light and the few overhead fixtures barely illuminated the large open space. There were columns spaced around the room, and I was sure they were more about holding the ceiling up than about looks.

  The walls had a combination of murals of trees in pots and fake ones in pots. The fake ones were strung with tiny white lights.

  “Don’t you recognize it?” Leonora asked. Adele looked stricken and shook her head.

  “I understand you’re interested in a wedding package and your budget is limited,” Tony said. He called over to another man skulking in the corner and told him to bring something out. A moment later, the man rolled in an archway covered with fake foliage. “This is what we use for the ceremony.”

  He walked us to the front. “We set up a wine toast and some appetizers, followed by a pasta buffet.” He demonstrated where a long table would be placed. “You just say go and we take care of everything.” The other man handed Tony a floral centerpiece, which he waved in front of Adele. “All included. They look so real you can almost smell them,” he said with an oily smile.

  He stepped back into the open space. “We can set up the tables any way you want. When we know it’s for a shooting, we set it up so the important people can see the door.”

  Shooting?

  “Can’t have a wedding without a cake, can we?” he said. “We roll in a plaster one with a layer of real cake on top for photos. Your guests are served from the finest sheet cake, baked fresh that day at the grocery store around the corner.”

  Leonora gave Adele a sharp look. “I say grab this place. It’s such a deal.”

  Adele was almost in tears. It was not the beautiful place she’d imagined, where the trees were real and the dinner was served in a room with windows looking out on a pond with swans.

  “What about music?” Adele asked, clearly looking for anything to stall.

  “Provided by my nephew,” Tony said. He took us over to a table set up in the corner. “That’s Victor. When he’s not working here, he’s doing a gig in Vegas.” He pointed out a photograph of his nephew dressed in an Elvis jumpsuit. “If you want, he can compose a song just for you—for an extra fee, of course. He’s gonna be a big star any minute.”

  I saw some CDs in boxes on the table. “Are these his?” I asked.

  “You mean like for sale?” Tony said. “Hey, that’s a good idea, we should do that. Those are for him to send in to that rights place. He knows all about that stuff. How you gotta send a CD of him performing it, and the lyrics and music written down. You know, to protect his rights. You should hear the songs he writes. So much emotion it will make you cry.” He looked at the three of us. “So, can we get down to business?”

  He pulled out his ph
one and pulled up a calendar. “We don’t have any weekends left in the next few months. People love the authentic ambience and the fact that we’re famous now. I understand you have a budget crunch. I could give you a real deal on a Thursday, though we might have to slide it one week either way. We give first priority to a shooting.”

  “What do you mean a shooting?” I asked, and Tony looked at me as if I’d asked a stupid question.

  He mimicked shooting an automatic rifle. “It’s kind of like a double meaning.” He laughed like he was making a bad joke. “That’s why you came here, right?” He looked over the three of us. “If you want we can even set up an ambush, like that detective does.” He gestured around the place with a proud smile.

  “No, thanks, Mr. Tony,” I said, putting my arm around Adele’s shoulder and leading her outside. “Don’t worry, Adele. We’ll find some other place.”

  “I don’t understand what’s wrong with you two,” Leonora said, following behind us. “I tried to help you. I found a special place at a price you could afford.”

  Adele was sniveling all the way back to the car, and I had to carry the conversation.

  “You do know your son is a police officer and that man was talking about arranging killing people,” I said sternly. Leonora began to cackle.

  “The ambushes are all fake, like the trees in that place. When he said shooting he meant shooting the Jack Hunter show. That’s what I meant when I said the place was famous.” She turned her attention to Adele. “That’s Eric’s favorite show. I would have thought his fiancée would know that. But I’m just the mother-in-law-to-be.”

  * * *

  Adele spent the rest of the ride back to the bookstore trying to explain why she didn’t know what Eric’s favorite show was. I didn’t say anything, but I certainly knew it was one that Mason watched whenever the series was on. It wasn’t my cup of tea, but Mason was enthralled with the exploits of the low-life detective with family problems.

  * * *

  Later when Mason and I met up, he wanted to hear all about it. “You were actually there? I didn’t realize it was a real place. That’s the spot Jack Hunter was supposed to meet up with Lucky Louie,” Mason said, all excited.

  “Was supposed to?” I asked.

  “It was in the middle of Lucky Louie’s cousin’s wedding. The Kenter brothers came in the door just as they were rolling out the cake.” Mason shook his head, reliving the moment. “Blood spatter everywhere.”

  I remembered what Tony had said about shooting having a double meaning. Now I got it.

  “That would have been an interesting place for Adele’s wedding,” he said. “Or at least Eric would have thought so.” Then Mason took in our surroundings. “This is ridiculous, Sunshine,” he said. “Here we are again, outsiders in our own places. Relegated to hanging out in a restaurant.” We’d gone to a new open-air mall that had a lot of places to eat and a nice place to take an after-dinner stroll. We’d picked a so-called casual dining eatery. It was a wait-on-yourself kind of place, but the food was prepared to order.

  My mother was having another rehearsal at my house, and the energy around it was becoming more and more frantic as the actual event approached, making my place off-limits. Jaimee had a date, and Mason didn’t want anything to stand in the way of its success, so when she mentioned she’d invited the man over for drinks before they went out for the evening, he wanted her to have the place to herself. Luckily, Brooklyn was studying with some friends. “I’ll have to hide out in my room when I go home,” he said. “In case they come back for a nightcap.”

  But then it was as if he’d just heard what he’d said, and he shook his head at the absurdity of it. “I hope her date is a big success and she and this guy ride off into the sunset.”

  We had taken an outside table next to a heat lamp. The days had gotten warmer, but nighttime still had an edge. Mason pushed around a piece of his braised short ribs.

  “Maybe we need to change our relationship status.” He said it in a casual way, and I wasn’t sure what he meant. I also didn’t necessarily want to know. As far as I was concerned, why mess up a good thing? So I did the only thing I could do—I changed the subject.

  “Your mention of blood spatter reminded me of the mystery at Cheyenne’s.”

  Mason chuckled and pushed away the meat. “Such lovely dinner conversation. And I know what you just did. I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. So, tell me, where you are in the investigation?” He leaned on his hand and looked ready to listen. Then he put his hand up. “Wait, let me get us a French press pot of coffee.”

  I organized my thoughts while he was gone. He came back with the glass pot and pushed down the plunger before pouring us each a cup. “This is the best way to drink coffee,” he said, holding up his cup in a toast. “Okay, ready to listen.”

  “Let me see, what developments have you missed in the mystery at Cheyenne’s?” I stopped to chuckle. “Mystery at Cheyenne’s—that sounds like the title of a Nancy Drew novel.” I started with the quarrel between Matt Meadowbrook and his wife, which had made it sound like he had a wandering eye. Then there was his visit to Cheyenne’s the night the nanny left to search for Mr. Snuggles. “I talked to the kids, and the spokesperson of the two said she hadn’t seen him. Which means he must have gone there when they were asleep—which was when whatever happened, happened.”

  “That sounds suspicious. What about Garrett and Cheyenne?” Mason asked.

  “They were at the taping of her show. He said they did back-to-back tapings. He did say he had to go home to pick up something for Cheyenne.”

  “Oh, another possible suspect,” Mason said with sudden interest.

  “No, I don’t think so. It was before anything happened. The kids were still awake and the nanny was there,” I said. “I hate to sound like a broken record, but I know there was a body in the yard. The only thing that makes sense is that it was Jennifer. But everybody believes she’s still alive. I also know there can’t be a murder without a body. So I need to find her body to prove that she isn’t alive, and then figure out who killed her.”

  “I think we need dessert,” Mason said. “How about the citrus olive oil cake?” When he returned with a small loaf of the yellow cake, he brought up something else. “You seem to be going around in circles. Why not focus on who had a motive to get rid of Jennifer and what it was?”

  “What would I do without you?” I said as he cut the cake into small slices. “Of course you’re right.” Then I slumped. “Maybe that gets me out of going in circles, but it puts me back to square one.”

  “I trust you will come up with something,” he said, touching my arm. “Could you tell me more about your trip to the Parisian Banquet Hall? That guy you talked to sounds like he could have been a character in the show.” It was my turn to chuckle at his obsession with the TV show.

  When we finally went back to our cars, we hugged for a long time.

  “Think about what I said before,” he said as he kissed me good-bye.

  CHAPTER 21

  I had shelved what Mason and I talked about regarding the Mystery at Cheyenne’s. As much as I wanted to solve it, for now I needed to focus on what was going on at the bookstore. On Friday, almost all of the tickets had been handed out and Mr. Royal had made more improvements to the Sight and Sound department. He’d created a photo display on one of the walls with the candid shots of Cheyenne and Lauren in the bookstore. There were also some pictures of the group from their rehearsal. He asked me if I could get one of Ilona and some candid shots of the She La Las to finish it off.

  He showed me the boxes and boxes of CDs and vinyl records we’d gotten in and suggested that we have a run-through of our own to practice moving the bookcases back and doing the whole setup of the area.

  I left notes for myself on the information desk and prepared to change gears for the Tunisian class. Though, with all my responsibil
ities, it was hardly a relaxing diversion. Lauren had arrived early again, and she was sitting at the table working with a regular crochet hook and some purple yarn. The babysitter with her kids passed me as I walked to the yarn department.

  “You did the trade-off again,” I said to Lauren, indicating the group going out the door. She let out a sigh of relief.

  “Yes. Thank heavens my ex is going to have them for part of next week, so there won’t be any problem for the gig.” I pulled out a chair and checked the table for stray yarn and tools before bringing out my Tunisian hook with the beginnings of the scarf on it. I hadn’t had any time to work on it other than in the class, and I’d just moved into a third color of yarn.

  “It must be much harder for you than for your sisters, since they don’t have to worry about someone taking care of their kids when they have to do something,” I said.

  “They have their own problems,” she said cryptically. I know I’d told myself that I wasn’t going to spend any time thinking about the Mystery at Cheyenne’s, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “You mean with their nannies?” I said. “Like the one who left so suddenly?”

  “They’re not all as professional as the one Cheyenne has now. A lot of them are looking for a way into our business. Or maybe for a husband.”

  I mentioned it being almost a cliché, and she nodded.

  “That’s because it’s true.”

  “It sounds like you know about it firsthand,” I said, hoping she’d keep talking.

  “Why do you think Ilona has a manny now?” she said. “Don’t you think some aspiring singer or actor wouldn’t like Matt’s help in greasing their way into the business? And if he ended up going off with her, all the better.”

  “Has that actually happened?” Now I was just curious.

  “My sister seems to think so. But she knows how to take care of things before they go too far.”