“It’s some special soothing tea I picked up today. Nicholas recommended it.” We declined, but she went to the kitchen to pick up her cup. Dinah and I immediately looked at each other. Nicholas Hartman was the proprietor of a lifestyle store that was next to the bookstore. It had everything from unusual clothes and decorator items for the house to spices, teas and coffees. If there was one thing everything had in common, it was each item was stylish and unusual. I knew what Dinah was thinking. What was Emily doing shopping when her husband was missing? I sat down on the couch but realized I’d sat on something. It turned out to be a cloth doll that no doubt belonged to one of Emily’s girls. I went to set it on the bleached-wood table, but Dinah surprised me by picking it up. Generally she wasn’t that much of a toy person. She commented on how, with the skirt and head wrap, it looked like it came from some island.
“More like an imitation island,” I said, pointing to a tag on the doll’s foot that said Island Encounter in Las Vegas. I was going to ask Dinah why she was suddenly so interested in dolls, but Emily came back in the room.
She slipped into a low easy chair, sniffed the tea and then took a sip. “The tea is called When the Going Gets Tough. Nicholas said it’s some kind of cure-all. I hope he’s right. I certainly need something to help me.” Dinah and I nodded with understanding expressions but said nothing.
She turned to me. “I don’t know if the officers told you, but Bradley has gone missing.” She sat back and held on to the teacup, taking small sips.
“They might have mentioned something about it,” I said.
“He went to the office yesterday like always. When he didn’t show up at dinnertime, I called his cell phone and got his voice mail. I tried the office and just got voice mail there, too, since it was after hours. I kept thinking he’d show up, but he didn’t. When he wasn’t home by this morning, I called the police. I was much more worried before they came.” She explained that one of the officers actually knew Bradley. “His daughter is on the girls’ soccer team that Bradley coaches. He asked me a bunch of questions. Mostly he wanted to know if we’d been fighting.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t call it fighting exactly. You know what a nice guy Bradley is. Well, all of a sudden he seemed upset about everything. He fussed that the girls were making too much noise, he didn’t like what I’d made for dinner. I can understand him being upset that his watch wasn’t ready. It’s the only thing he has left from his father. I forgot to take it in to be serviced until a couple of days ago. But to be upset about the afghan his sister gave us.” Her gaze stopped on me. “That’s the one I lent you. You said you wanted to figure out how it was made.” She waited until I nodded with recognition before continuing. “When he made a fuss about me lending it out, that’s when I knew he was upset about something else. If he cared so much about it, why keep it shoved away in a drawer? He probably only noticed it was missing because he was pulling out Christmas decorations.”
The phone ringing cut into our conversation. She got up to answer it and came back a moment later, looking upset.
“Bad news?” I prodded.
“It’s hard to keep covering for Bradley. You and the police are the only people who know the truth. The story I’ve given everyone else is that he had a last-minute business trip.”
I got her back to talking about what the police officer had told her. “He said Bradley probably just went somewhere to cool off. He seemed sure that Brad would come back in a day or so. Of course, in the middle of it all the gas meter reader mentioned the smell at your house.” She looked at me intently. “There wasn’t really a body at your place, was there?”
I told her the real identity of the corpses and she rocked her head in sympathy. “And you ended up with your front door broken again. What a shame.”
Suddenly we all looked at our watches. I had to get to work, Emily had to pick up her daughters from school, and Dinah had to get home.
Emily thanked us for coming over and we all stood up.
“Do you want the afghan back?” I offered. I certainly didn’t want to be caught in the middle of their problems. I’d seen it when I came over with a package I’d taken in for them. Emily was cleaning out drawers and had left it sitting on the dining room table. I’d been enchanted with it at first glance. She, on the other hand, had no use for the green afghan with the scattered flowers. It reminded me of a meadow, but all she said was that it didn’t go with their decor. I explained it was crocheted and asked if I could take it home to examine out how it had been made. When I couldn’t figure out how the three-dimensional flowers were done, I had passed it on to Adele to figure out. I was going to tell Emily that Adele had it, but I realized she didn’t care.
She shook her head and her mouth was set in anger. “I’m sure he could care less about it. He was just upset with everything I did. You said you wanted to figure out the pattern. Keep it until you’re done and then give it to some charity. I never liked it, and after the way Bradley acted about it, I don’t ever want to see it again.”
As she walked us to the door, Emily gritted her teeth. “At first I was worried about Bradley being gone—that something might have happened to him. Now, I’m just angry. How childish to run off because we had a fight. Why couldn’t he just have told me straight out what was bothering him?”
I only had a shrug for an answer. I told her to let me know if I could do anything. For a second her anger returned to worry. “I know the officer said just to be patient and let Bradley show up on his own, but it would be great if you could find him.”
“Branching off into locating missing persons?” Dinah asked as we crossed the lawn toward my place.
“All I said was that I would keep it in mind.” A thought occurred to me and I stopped just before we got to my driveway.
“Don’t you think it’s odd that she told me to give away Bradley’s afghan. It’s as if she knows he’s not coming back.”
“And maybe she just reported him missing as a cover-up,” Dinah said.
“And asking me to look for him is some kind of setup,” I said, my voice rising in excitement. Then we both looked at each other and rolled our eyes. “Or maybe he really did just take off and we have crime on the brain.”
We finally got to the greenmobile and I drove Dinah back to her car and then went on to the bookstore. It was only when I was walking into Shedd & Royal that I realized Dinah had never told me her news.
CHAPTER 2
WALKING INTO SHEDD & ROYAL BOOKS AND More was like going to my second home. The smell of books and coffee was comforting. Riding over the top was the scent of something chocolate, and I guessed Bob, our main barista and cookie baker, must have just taken some cookies out of the oven. As I crossed the front of the store, I looked in the café. A plate of brownies was sitting on the counter and the scent had drawn in some customers. One of the other counter people was waiting on them, while Bob sat at a table with his computer open. Whenever he had a break, he pulled out the computer and worked on his screenplay. He was secretive about the story. All any of us knew was that it was some kind of science-fiction piece. I stopped by Mrs. Shedd’s office. She used to come in to do her work mostly when the bookstore was closed. But lately she’d been spending more and more time there when the store was open. And now that it was our busiest time of year, it was all hands on deck. Particularly since Adele and I had been gone for two days, checking out the yarn store in San Diego. I laughed at the framed poster on the wall. It said I and then had a big red valentine-shaped heart before the word Vampires. The poster was a hot item among readers since vampire books were white-hot. It had a different meaning for Mrs. Shedd. She wasn’t a vampire lover. She loved what vampire books did for sales. We had a whole display set up for vampire books by different authors. They all did well, but for now the Anthony books were the star sellers and had their own table in the front.
Even though Mrs. Shedd had told me I could call her Pamela, it felt too strange. Kind of like calling your doctor by their first name. So, m
ostly I avoided calling her anything, but when I had to say something, it always came out as Mrs. Shedd. She was just clearing off her desk and shutting off her computer when I walked in.
I guessed she was somewhere in her late sixties, but her dark blond hair didn’t have even a strand of gray, and I was sure it was natural. Something about the pageboy style seemed timeless. I was a little on the breathless side from rushing. My tote brushed her desk and the knitting needles clanged together. Mrs. Shedd wasn’t into crafting, but she recognized the needles and chuckled.
“I’m glad you don’t share Adele’s obsession. She reacts to knitting needles like a vampire does to a stake.” Mrs. Shedd glanced up at my face and looked suddenly concerned. “Molly, are you okay? You look a little frazzled.”
In my rush to get to the bookstore, I’d forgotten to stop and check my appearance. Instinctively I reached up and touched my hair. I could tell by feel that it wasn’t laying flat. I was still wearing the clothes I’d put on in the hotel in San Diego. The khaki slacks were wrinkle proof, but the white shirt was a little worse for wear from the car ride and the animal pick up. I pulled a vest out of my tote bag and put it over the shirt and tried to pat my hair into order while I detailed my arrival home.
Mrs. Shedd’s eyes widened when I got to the part about the broken front door. “Molly, you certainly lead an interesting life.” When I got to the real story, she listened with interest. “This neighbor that disappeared—is it anyone I know?”
“You might have seen him in the bookstore. His name is Bradley Perkins. He’s on the tall side, reddish brown hair with a friendly smile,” I said, expecting a dismissive nod.
“What do you mean Bradley Perkins disappeared?” Mrs. Shedd said abruptly.
“You know him?” I said, surprised.
“Yes, I do,” she said. I waited for more details about how she knew him, but none came. I repeated what Emily had said about how he’d gone to work and just not come home.
Mrs. Shedd’s placid expression had changed to agitated. “That’s hardly a full story. Did she call his office to see if he showed up there? Was he there all day, or did he leave early?” I shrugged, realizing I didn’t know. She seemed so concerned, I tried to calm her by telling her that it seemed most likely it was what the cop had said—he and his wife had had some kind of argument and he’d gone off to cool down. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me posted,” Mrs. Shedd said as she gathered up her things. Mr. Royal stopped in the doorway and looked in.
“Ready, Pamela?” he said. I thought of Mr. Royal as the world’s most interesting man. He’d been away for several years, and in that time, he seemed to have gone everywhere and done everything. Trekking through the Himalayas, driving a snowplow in Minnesota and training dolphins were only a few of the many adventures he’d had. He wore his charcoal gray hair long and I’d heard he cut it himself. I guessed he was close to Mrs. Shedd in age, but he moved with the agility of a young man. And now that he was back, he was lighting up Mrs. Shedd’s life. It seemed funny now, but before his return, I had wondered if he really existed. I started to say I’d let her know if I heard any more about Bradley, but she gave her head a fast shake with a quick glance toward Mr. Royal. I didn’t have to be a genius to figure out whatever connection she had with Bradley, she didn’t want Joshua Royal to know about it.
“We’re off to get a tree for the store. I was going to pull the artificial one out of the storeroom but Joshua convinced me we ought to have a live one. I was worried about it drying out and being a hazard, but leave it to Joshua to come up with a solution. We’re going out to a Christmas-tree farm to get a truly fresh one.”
I followed them back into the main part of the bookstore. They went on to the door and I stopped by the cashier stand. Our main cashier, Rayaad, had a couple of young men behind the counter with her and was showing them how to ring up books. Not that there was much to show anymore. The computer did all the work. I introduced myself to the new recruits.
“I’m going to be in the yarn department, if anything comes up,” I said to Rayaad, then headed toward the back of the store. The store was quiet and it seemed like a good time to get some work done on the new department. We’d all agreed it was essential to have swatches of each of the yarns hanging on their bins. Some of us—as in me and Mrs. Shedd—had also agreed there should be both crocheted and knitted swatches. Adele had practically stamped her foot and had steam come out of her ears at the mere idea, but she was being ignored. The crocheted swatches were being done by both of us, but the knitted swatches were all in my court.
Adele would never admit it, but I was pretty sure she knew how to knit. Not that it mattered. No way was she going to pick up the needles. Luckily I had learned the basics while getting information during our creative retreat at Asilomar last fall. Knitting felt awkward and slow compared with crocheting, but I didn’t want to alienate knitters, the way some yarn stores ignored crocheters.
Even though it was only partially completed, I loved the yarn area. The back wall had been outfitted with bins that were beginning to fill up with yarn. When we got everything put out from the store in San Diego, most of them would be filled. We were organizing them by color and the effect was beautiful.
Adele was already sitting at the table and looked up from her work as I approached. “It’s about time, Pink.” Her eyes narrowed. “What took you so long? Did you get arrested?” Adele stopped with her hook in the air over a strand of soft blue sport weight yarn.
I threw her my best don’t-be-ridiculous expression and set my tote bag on the table. Now that we had the yarn department, the worktable stayed up all the time. Before I’d had to put it up and down every time the Hookers met. I heard Adele almost growl when I took out the needles attached to the beginning of a swatch of a thick off-white wool from Peru. In addition to the blue yarn Adele was working with, she had a ball of white thread and a fine steel hook. Next to it was a pile of limp snowflakes.
I started to repeat the story for the zillionth time. Just when I got to the part about the bodies, William Bearley walked up to the table and distracted Adele. She jumped up and hugged him and then made a whole production about straightening his jacket and knocking some lint off it. She told anyone who would listen that he was an important children’s author, but never explained that he wrote the Koo Koo the Clown series about common childhood experiences like going to the dentist. When William did book signings or story time, he dressed up in a clown outfit complete with giant red shoes. But in his normal persona, he was bland looking and reserved. His receding sandy hair and pale skin appeared practically colorless next to Adele in her fuchsia-trimmed electric blue jacket.
“I’ll be ready in a minute, honey,” she said. Whatever his day job was, it didn’t seem to require his red shoes. He wore a dress shirt, pressed jeans and some kind of tan tie shoes.
“Molly was just telling me about her house getting raided by the police.” William regarded me with more interest, and I started to explain the real details. Adele didn’t like losing the floor and interrupted me. “Her neighbor just jumped the gun about calling the cops. Her husband has only been gone a few hours.”
“Bradley’s been missing for more than a day,” I said. “Though, from what Emily said, it sounds more like Bradley might have run away.”
“Bradley who?” William said. When I said Perkins, his face showed recognition.
“You know Bradley, too?” Before I could ask for details, Adele stepped in.
“Of course William knows your neighbor. He brought his daughters in to all the Koo Koo events.”
When Adele stopped talking, William asked what made me think Bradley had taken off. I told him about the cop getting it out of Emily that they’d been arguing and all. Adele intruded again. “I know what you’re doing, William. You’re doing research for another book.” She turned toward me. “William is always gathering information and ideas for his next book.”
I smiled. “Right. It’ll come in handy in
case you decide to write Koo Koo Goes Missing.” Both Adele and William seemed serious to the extreme about his books. Neither of them came close to cracking a smile at my comment. In fact, Adele seemed in a huff when she started gathering up her work. It only got worse when I picked up the knitting needles. She actually covered her face. Personally, I thought it was more for effect than any real horror at seeing me handle the tools of the other yarn craft. Eventually she took her hands down, though she still made a point to look away from them as she pushed the pile of finished snowflakes in my direction.
“Pink, these need to be starched and William and I have plans.” It wasn’t an unreasonable request. We were making them to decorate the bookstore, and in all fairness, she had made many more than me, but in typical Adele fashion, she came across as high-handed and annoying. Adele often acted as though she were in charge; however, the minute there was any kind of trouble, she would throw her arms around me and expect me to take care of everything. I gathered her thread creations up and put them in my tote bag.
When they left, I finally went to work on the swatch. I had learned the basics of knitting during the retreat but not enough to be comfortable. Casting on and doing rows of knit stitches felt awkward. The swatch didn’t have to be that big, did it? As soon as I’d done ten rows, I laid down the swatch, anxious to crochet.
I thought of the discussion the group had had about making things to give to a shelter we supported. I pulled out the list of suggested items we’d come up with. My eyes stopped on toys. Yes, that was definitely what I wanted to work on. What could be better than making a holiday gift for a child? It would also be my first attempt at Amigurumi—small toys crocheted in the round using single crochet stitches.
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