Behind the Seams cm-6

by Betty Hechtman

  I asked Bob for details about the funeral. For some reason, I’d thought it would be small and poorly attended. Maybe it had something to do with Nell’s complaints about her and what I’d seen with my own eyes. It turned out to be just the contrary.

  “The chapel was full,” Bob said. “Barbara Olive Overton was there. I’m not sure who everyone else was, but I think they probably worked for the production company.”

  “Was Talia Canon there?” D. J. asked. “I know the show must go on and all, but she certainly stepped into Robyn’s shoes quickly.” The author ruffled his hand through his dark hair. “I admit I was concerned with thinking how Robyn’s death was going to affect my appearance, but when Talia called to tell me she was in charge, I expected her to sound more distraught somehow.”

  Bob didn’t know who Talia was and couldn’t say if she was there or not. I asked about Pierce Sheraton. Bob knew who the entertainment reporter was and nodded.

  “Did he try to interview Barbara?” I asked.

  “No,” Bob answered. “No cameras, no sticking his face in the middle of things. He didn’t even bother the movie-star couple. I almost forget they were there.” He thought a minute. “Becca Ivins and Derek Trousedale.”

  I was surprised about the celebrity couple being there, but then I remembered the big board in the production office. Robyn was in charge of their appearance on the show. They must have come out of respect.

  D. J. hung his head. “I probably should have gone, too.”

  Bob looked toward the counter and started to separate himself from us, apparently assuming I had finished with whatever I wanted to talk about. Dinah and I exchanged glances and I followed behind him, while she stayed at the table. I heard her reassuring D. J. that it was okay about not going to the funeral.

  Mr. Royal took off his apron and handed it and the counter back to Bob. As they made the transfer, Bob looked sideways at me, apparently assuming I was there about a drink. “Give me a minute and I’ll make you a red-eye.”

  He looked at the empty cookie trays and opened the refrigerator. He’d left rolls of butter cookies ready to be sliced and baked. He set the oven and pulled out the cookie sheets.

  I didn’t want to think he had anything to do with anybody’s death, but there was the glaring fact that the clerk had described him as the customer who bought a box of Nature’s Sweetie, and the store was the return address on the package. He could have picked up one of those business cards in the store and stuck it on the package as a return address.

  I must have been breathing funny, because Bob looked up from his slicing. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m surprised you went to Robyn’s funeral. I guess you were more involved with her than I realized.”

  He kept slicing the cookies and laying them out on the tray. “I wouldn’t say I was involved with her. When she started coming in, she noticed me typing on my laptop and asked what I was working on. I showed her a scene from my script.” Bob picked up the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven. “She really got the concept of a werewolf planet. She even suggested I might want to add some other kinds of aliens. Whenever she came in, I showed her another scene. She made some good suggestions, and I was hoping when I finished it, she might help me get it in front of the right set of eyes. I wanted her to keep coming in. So, I . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked guilty.

  “So, you what?” I prompted.

  “You won’t tell Mrs. Shedd, will you? I gave her free drinks.”

  “I know about the Nature’s Sweetie,” I said finally. He put up his hands defensively.

  “I bought it with my own money. It was the only kind of sweetener she would use.” He leaned behind the counter and pulled out the box to show me. He even handed me one of the weird little pyramid-shaped packets.

  “How many boxes did you buy?” I asked.

  “Just one. Are you kidding? That stuff is expensive,” he said. If he’d only bought one box, and it was here, then he didn’t send the tainted box to Robyn’s office. That is if he was telling the truth. I really wanted to believe him. Yes, I wanted to get Nell off the hook, but I didn’t want Bob to be a murderer. I hugged him and thanked him for the information.

  He seemed uncomfortable with my sudden show of affection, and I certainly wasn’t about to explain. I let go abruptly and stepped back. I was still holding the packet.

  “Keep it,” Bob said. “Try it in your red-eye.” He’d filled a cup with the day’s brew and pushed the button on the espresso machine.

  “No, thank you,” I said, dropping it back in the box. “I only drink my coffee straight.”

  As it turned out, it was a lucky choice.

  CHAPTER 15

  DINAH HAD VAMOOSED WITH AN APOLOGETIC WAVE as I picked up my coffee. I noticed that D. J. had retreated to his computer as I headed into the bookstore. Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal were standing over the best-seller table rearranging books. His hand brushed hers and she looked up at him. The look they exchanged was out of a romance novel and spurred me to action. Maybe I could stir up a little romance for Barry and me. I tried to avoid making personal calls at work, but I called Barry and told him about the square dancing Dinah had talked me into. “I thought it would be fun. Would you like to go?” I asked.

  He laughed—in a good way. “Babe, I’m on the way to Santa Barbara to talk to somebody.” He didn’t have to say more; I got it. He was gone for the duration, and if I wanted to go, it would be alone. Or almost. I called Barry’s son and asked if he was interested. Jeffrey was, but there was a hitch. OMG, Jeffrey/Columbia had a girlfriend. Yes, I used the text talk I was always making fun of. What can I say—you have to move with the times.

  When I stopped home, I finally got out of my dreaded suit and into a pair of khaki slacks and a white shirt. I folded up the jacket and put it into a shopping bag. Did I need my head examined? I’d agreed to let Adele add some crochet edging to it.

  I took care of the animals and I was off to pick up Jeffrey and then his date. I tried to keep a straight face as I acted as chauffeur. I knew Barry had no idea about Autumn. That was her name, and they were just too adorable sitting in the backseat of the greenmobile. Jeffrey was so unlike the other boys his age. He was gentlemanly and sweet. He’d actually brought a flower for her, though I think he picked it out of a neighbor’s yard. I’d barely parked near the playground when he jumped out and came around to open the door for her. I was pretty much old news as he took her hand and they walked toward the recreation building.

  They were already clear of the entrance as I got inside. It was hard to believe this was technically part of L.A.; the setup in the multipurpose room felt strictly small town. Bales of hay were spread around the edges for display and someplace to sit. There were streamers and balloons and a whole ice-cream setup at the back. Dinah and Commander were handling ticket sales at a table by the entrance. The small price of the tickets was going into a fund for the kids’ basketball team uniforms. Commander’s thick white hair stood out in contrast to the new-looking jeans and a red and white checked shirt. He even finished the look with a bolo tie. I think Dinah was a little embarrassed when she stepped from behind the table. Gone were the slacks and scarves she usually wore, replaced by a light turquoise dress with so many crinolines under it, it almost stood straight out. Her spiky hair made a funny contrast.

  She apologized for rushing off and wanted to know what Bob had said. She was relieved to hear the explanation for his box of sweetener. “Look who I convinced to come,” she said, pointing toward the sundae station. D. J. Florian, the blogoir author, was looking over the ice-cream offerings.

  “Good,” I said as I began walking toward him. “I didn’t get to explain how we’re doing his book signing bit when I met him in the café. Telling him in person is better than a phone call.” Dinah called after me not to spend my whole time talking shop. It was a dance after all.

  D. J. was just paying for his ice cream when I joined him. I passed on the treats but sat on one o
f the hay bales with him while he ate his.

  “Dinah sold me on coming when she told me there’d be homemade ice cream,” he said, wiping some fudge off his lip. “Though who knows,” he said, looking toward the several squares of dancers. “Maybe I’ll join them.”

  “I don’t know if Talia told you about how we’re going to handle the pretend book event,” I said. It was impossible to hear in there, so he took his ice cream and we walked outside and sat down on the steps. I explained about tagging it on to a real event and gave him the date and time.

  “I guess it’ll be fine,” he said in a voice that implied he wasn’t sure. “This is a big moment for me,” he began. “Being on the Barbara Olive Overton show is every author’s dream. I hope this doesn’t sound cold, but I just hope that Talia doesn’t mess anything up. What about the books I’m going to be signing? Who’s taking care of that?”

  He was a little on the scruffy side, with the jeans, tee shirt and worn leather jacket. The only part of his attire that seemed to go with the square dancing were the cowboy boots. But there was something definitely likeable about D. J., and I tried to reassure him that she seemed very capable and I was sure she was on top of getting the books.

  I asked him how well he’d known Robyn.

  “It was just a business relationship. Since she was in charge of my appearance, we talked over the background piece they were putting together. She wanted it to show my story with the worst and the best. We filmed a piece downtown in the area where I’d hit bottom. The piece at the bookstore is supposed to show how far I’ve come.” He wanted to know why I was so interested.

  I told him about being there when she died and how Nell was the cops’ chief suspect and I was trying to help.

  “So you’re one of those amateur sleuth types,” he said. “Since you’re talking to me, does that mean I’m one of your suspects?” His tone was joking, and a friendly smile danced in his eyes.

  “Hmm, maybe you should be. Did you have something against Robyn?” If he could joke, so could I.

  “Believe me, I wish she was here. I’d feel better about my appearance going well.” He looked toward the inside. “Maybe I will try one dance.” He got up and picked up his empty sundae cup.

  “One thing before you go. Did you notice a photograph on Robyn’s desk? A photograph with someone cut out of it.”

  “You saw that?” he said surprised. “She told me she was going to throw it away.”

  “So, you knew who was in the picture?” I said, feeling the excitement rise in my voice.

  He shifted his weight a few times. “Right after I first met her, she broke up with her boyfriend and decided to cut him out of all her photos. When she told me about it, I thought she was giving me a little too much information but figured maybe she had nobody else to talk to. So it’s her ex who was in the picture.” His eyes lit up. “If you’re looking for a hot suspect, I’d check him out.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  D. J. shrugged with a smile. “Afraid not. She just referred to him as the jerk.” He gave me a little good-bye salute and headed back inside.

  I sat on the step for a minute thinking about Robyn’s ex. There was no point in even mentioning it to Barry. I thought about calling Heather myself and realized it would be a waste of time. I’d have to find him on my own.

  I could feel the cold concrete through my khaki pants now. While I was talking to D. J., it had gotten dark and chilly. I dusted myself off and went inside.

  A man in a cowboy shirt and jeans was in the middle of the crowd, calling the dance. D. J. was already do-si-do-ing around one of the squares. He looked like he was having fun. Jeffrey and Autumn were in another square and were all smiles, too. There were Tarzanians of every size, age and shape.

  I was admiring the dancers when my cell phone started to go off. I would have never heard the “ring” over the din, but somehow it had set itself to vibrate and I felt it jump around in my pocket. I picked up and said hello.

  “Hello?” Mason said. “What’s all the noise?”

  I explained the noise and he explained the call or tried to, I could barely make out what he was saying, though apparently he could hear me just fine. I mentioned being at the dance alone.

  “Be there in a few minutes,” he said in a loud voice. “We can talk then.”

  I half expected Mason to show up in some cowboy shirt, but he didn’t. He was wearing jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and a big smile.

  “Okay, what were you saying?” I said as he looped his arm in mine. It was between songs and some of the squares were reforming. Before I could protest, Mason was pulling us toward one of the squares.

  We took two vacant spots and waited for the music to begin. I repeated my question and Mason leaned close. “I had a thought about the Crown Apothecary. We ought to check it out.”

  Before I could tell him I already had, the music started and the caller began to call the dance. No surprise, Mason, a man of many talents, was adept at square dancing, and all of a sudden I started to have fun.

  The evening went by in a whirl of dances, with a few glasses of punch and a shared caramel sundae. In between it all, I told him about my trip to the drugstore and the ultimate dead end. He wasn’t so sure about letting Bob off the suspect list so quickly.

  “But it’s Bob,” I protested. “And he showed me the box of sweetener.”

  Mason wasn’t convinced. “Sunshine, just because you know him doesn’t mean he couldn’t kill somebody.”

  Jeffrey and Autumn stayed on their own far away from me throughout the evening.

  Finally the square dancing ended and they began winding down the evening with some slow songs. I was going to sit down on one of the haystack benches, but Mason pulled me on the floor with him. It officially felt strange. Square dancing was one thing. You were really dancing with all the other people in the group. This was up close and personal. Most of Mason’s and my contact was mental, and this was definitely physical. I didn’t know where to look or how to hold myself. My breathing seemed a little off, too.

  I sensed a presence near us and saw a hand tap Mason on the shoulder none too lightly. In fact, the fingers seemed to almost dig in his shoulder. Mason let out a disappointed sigh and stepped away. We were both surprised at who was cutting in.

  “Barry? What are you doing here?” I said. He took over and danced us away from Mason.

  “I sensed this was important to you,” he said. “I got through my interrogation and then I lead footed it back here.” He pulled me a little closer, and I could smell the leftover scents of his day, coffee mixed with car freshener.

  “I’ll take it from here, Mason,” Barry said in an alpha male tone when the song ended and Mason rejoined us. I started to tell Barry that Mason and I were discussing the situation with Nell, but then he saw Jeffrey sitting on one of the haystacks with his arm around Autumn.

  I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Mason and I each took one of Barry’s arms and steered him into the corner, while I mentioned my chauffeuring duties.

  “He’s got a girlfriend?” Barry sputtered. “He didn’t tell me. Why didn’t he tell me?” I figured it probably had something to do with how Barry was reacting and Jeffrey knowing that’s how it would be. “This means I have to have the talk with him.”

  Mason laughed and said, “I guess you don’t remember being fourteen. Your son seems like a pretty smart kid and probably knows whatever he needs to know.” Barry answered him with a glare. Barry the homicide detective, who could pin a suspect against the wall with his endless questions, was coming undone over the news that his son was on a date.

  In the end, Mason drove himself home, I drove the greenmobile alone and Barry acted as chauffeur for Jeffrey and friend. Oh, to be a fly on the car wall.

  CHAPTER 16

  I WAS GLAD TO HAVE SUNDAY MORNING OFF. I’D certainly packed a lot into my Saturday. I’d gone from the charade at the production office to the square dance and ice-cream social wi
th no time to catch my breath. But a good night’s sleep had done wonders. The two dogs and two cats trailed me across the house. I was surprised at the scent of brewing coffee and to find Barry working on the shelving unit. He looked up from his work when I stuck my head in. Instinctively, I felt my hair and checked my outfit. The hair felt like a mess, but the gray knit pajama pants and the long rose-colored tee shirt were fine.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you. I was just hand sanding,” he said, putting down the sand paper and coming to join me. He laughed at the parade behind me. I opened the door in the kitchen and the menagerie took off outside.

  “I thought we could spend the day together,” he said.

  “Can’t do it. I have to work this afternoon.” With all the time I’d been away from the bookstore, I’d fallen behind in the final prep for the chocolate event. Sunday’s were always pretty peaceful, and I was planning to get caught up.

  The coffee finished brewing and I poured us each a cup and we took it to the built-in table. Barry seemed disappointed, but recovered. “You don’t have to be there until late afternoon, right?” I nodded. “No problem then. We can do what I planned, just end it a little early.” He told me to finish my coffee and get dressed, so we could get going. He wouldn’t give details.

  My hair was still wet when we left. And he still wasn’t telling where we were going as he backed the Tahoe out of my driveway. He headed north on Corbin Avenue. I thought at first he might be heading to Porter Ranch, but then he got on the 118, heading west. By the time we were passing through the barren rocky mountains in Santa Susana Pass, I knew where we were headed even before I saw the Simi Valley sign.

  Our first stop was the new outdoor mall, where we had brunch at a restaurant with a patio. I had to admit it was very pleasant. Though it seemed Barry was trying too hard and kept pointing out all the shopping options.