Ashley-Angela told Bob she wanted hot chocolate and E. Conner said he wanted hot cider. The almost five-year-old fraternal twins were the children of Dinah’s ex, Jeremy, and his now ex-wife. If you were looking for a definition for irresponsible, Jeremy was it, although his newly exed wife was a close second. Dinah had ended up taking care of the kids a while back, and even though, if anything, she ought to resent them, she’d gotten attached. As she explained it, they were her son and daughter’s half siblings. Jeremy had finally taken over their care, but the damage was done. Dinah worried about them, along with missing them. She had invited them to spend the holidays with her.
“Jeremy is such a snake. I’m sure he was relieved about not having to worry about buying them any presents.” Dinah spoke in a low voice, so the kids off getting napkins wouldn’t hear.
“What does Commander think about them?” I said. Dinah didn’t say anything and I thought she hadn’t heard me, but she finally answered.
“He doesn’t exactly know yet.”
Commander Blaine was Dinah’s current male companion. Her choice of description. We were on the same page about the boyfriend term. I thought male companion sounded older than dust, which is why I didn’t use it. He owned a local mail-it center that catered to the many people working out of their houses.
Their relationship almost hadn’t happened. Dinah had found him too fussy about his clothes (think knife-sharp creases in his pants), too enthusiastic about everything, but his worst offense was that he was too obvious about liking her. She’d finally given him a chance, though I thought she was still having some trouble with the last part. She was the first to admit that she seemed to be attracted to jerks.
“But he does know Bradley Perkins,” she added quickly. “I was going to tell him about the kids, but I stalled and started telling him about what happened at your house.”
“What did Commander have to say about Bradley?” I asked.
Dinah scanned the area, then leaned a little closer. “You know how everybody keeps saying what a great guy Bradley is. Well, Commander didn’t seem so sold.” I was going to ask for specifics, but Adele sailed in the café and stopped at our table.
“Pink, where are the snowflakes I gave you to starch?” Adele didn’t even give me a chance to explain that they were drying on my dining room table. “We need them now.”
I looked out into the bookstore. Mr. Royal had finished putting the lights on the tree and had gotten on a ladder and started arranging the pine boughs around the windows—the big empty wall of windows where the snowflakes were supposed to hang. Mrs. Shedd joined us and Adele informed her I was the holdup in the snowflake department.
“Molly, I hate to ask you to do this, but could you go home and get them? Joshua is anxious to hang them up.”
I looked at Dinah and she responded with an understanding nod. We’d catch up later. I grabbed my jacket and headed for my car.
Generally my street was quiet in the middle of day. The dog walkers and exercise people came out in the morning and evening. So when I turned the corner I was expecting a big nothing.
Not quite.
A fire department ambulance facing the wrong way was pulled up in front of the Perkins’ house. The dark blue- uniformed paramedics were bending over a figure on the ground. I noticed a dark sedan facing the right way was parked behind the ambulance. A man and woman in business attire stood a little back from the scene.
I pulled into my driveway and ran across my lawn toward the group. By now I could see the figure on the ground was Emily and one of the paramedics was helping her up. She looked shaky and pale.
“What happened?” I said to the group. The woman in the suit stepped toward me.
“She was at her mailbox and suddenly she just collapsed.”
The man came forward. “It looked like she might have hit her head. We called nine-one-one.”
I pointed to my house and explained I was a neighbor.
I approached Emily, who seemed dazed. Her eyes were locked in a stunned expression. When she saw me, she reached out for my hand.
“Bradley’s dead.”
CHAPTER 6
“HERE YOU ARE,” BARRY SAID, WALKING INTO THE yarn department. “Did you forget our plans?” I looked up slightly dazed. The worktable was littered with yarn, hooks and knitting needles. I had been switching between crocheting and knitting swatches, along with reading over the plans for the two upcoming bookstore events. A ball of thread along with a silver hook and a partially done snowflake was off to the side.
Barry appeared to have gotten some sleep and the jeans and dark green pocket tee shirt with an open flannel shirt over it were not his work clothes, and I recalled that he’d had the day off. I didn’t know what plans he was talking about until he mentioned our parting remarks in the morning after I made him breakfast. “Remember we were going to have dinner and . . . ?” The heat coming off his eyes made it pretty clear what he meant by and. It seemed the distant past now. Particularly after the events of the afternoon.
Barry suddenly realized I wasn’t alone and he grunted as he saw my company. His irritated sound wasn’t aimed at Sheila. Ever since the table had become a permanent fixture, so had she. Who could blame her? She lived in a rented room in a house in Woodland Hills. All his irritation was aimed at Mason, who was sitting next to Sheila and working on the red dog sweater for Spike.
“I thought you had the evening off,” Barry said to me.
“I would have if it hadn’t been for this afternoon,” I said, sitting up and trying to stretch the kinks out of my back. Barry gave Mason a dark look, apparently assuming my afternoon’s problems had involved him.
Mason put his hands up in innocence. “I had nothing to do with it. She forgot our plans, too.”
Barry glowered at the last comment. “I called your cell a bunch of times but just got your voice mail. What’s going on?”
“Really?” I said, fishing around for my cell phone. It had gone to silent, again. The screen flashed on and the message icon flashed. I put the phone on the table so I wouldn’t miss any calls, but it was kind of like shutting the door after the chickens got out. I looked at Barry. “I’m sorry that I forgot our dinner plans.” I nodded at Mason. “And I’m sorry I forgot I offered to help you with Spike’s coat.” I looked at both of them. “And I’m sorry I apparently made double plans. I’m sorry I didn’t answer my cell phone, too.” I let out a heavy sigh. “I’m tired,” I said, bringing up my aborted night’s sleep on top of a killer day on top of a two-day trip with Adele. “I thought I’d work through the afternoon and go home and crash. But life had other plans.” The three of them had concern in their expressions by now. I sounded pretty close to cracking.
“Okay, what happened this afternoon that changed everything?” Barry said, leaning on the table.
I explained about going home in the middle of the day to pick up the snowflakes, which as it turned out never got picked up. I described the scene with Emily and the paramedics.
“She told me that Bradley was dead, and then as they were loading her in the ambulance, she said her daughters needed to be picked up from school.”
“And you volunteered,” Barry said.
“What else could I do—leave the girls stranded at school? The couple in the suits certainly weren’t going to do it. They were already in their car.”
“Who were they?” Mason asked. I didn’t have an answer. They were gone before I had a chance to ask them and Emily had a few other things going on.
“So, what happened to the Perkins guy?” Barry prodded.
“I didn’t find out until later. I picked up her girls and went by the hospital. Emily was ready to be released. They’d determined she hadn’t hit her head and had just passed out from shock.” I described driving them all home with a side stop at a fast-food drive-thru.
“She told her daughters she’d taken a misstep off a ladder while trying to finish putting up the Christmas lights. She didn’t say anything about
Bradley to them, so I guess they still thought he was away on a business trip. They bought the story about the ladder and she got them to take their merry meals into the den. When we were alone she dropped the cheerful pretense and took a letter out of her pocket and handed it to me. The torn envelope looked benign. It was addressed to her and postmarked Long Beach. The letter was anything but benign. Emily began to cry as I read it over.”
I took a deep breath, feeling my stomach clench at remembering the note. “It was a suicide note. He said by the time she read it, he’d be gone. That’s why he bought the one-way ticket on the Catalina Express. He knew it would be dark and not crowded and nobody would notice him go off the back of the boat. And why? He said he’d gotten in over his head with his business and this was the only honorable thing to do.”
I described how helpless I felt watching her holding herself and rocking back and forth. How I wished there was something to say to comfort her. Charlie’s death had been sudden and it had been hard to deal with, but he’d had a heart attack. Not the same as choosing to die.
“She had a momentary glimmer of hope. The note had said what he planned to do. Maybe he’d changed his mind. But when she checked her phone messages, there was one from the customer service people at the boat company. A wallet and cell phone had been found left on the evening boat the night before.”
I told them that Emily called the police officer she knew. He was the one who’d been there when the meter reader had mentioned the smell coming from my house. Since he knew Bradley from his daughter’s soccer team, she thought he could help her. I leaned back in my chair and tried to summon some energy. “I didn’t get back to the bookstore until this evening.” I didn’t mention how I had doubted Emily’s story before. Her reaction to the letter seemed genuine and the balance went toward believing her.
In my peripheral vision I noticed William had come up to the table.
“Somebody probably got in touch with the coast guard. I imagine they made a sweep,” Barry said. “But after that amount of time, and that amount of ocean, and sharks ...” Barry’s shrug said it all. They wouldn’t find anything. I was surprised when he offered to check it out to be sure. Mason didn’t take that information well. I think he was happier when Barry told me to stay out of things and Mason got to be the ear I turned to and my source for information.
Barry pulled out his phone and went off into the corner. William was too polite to interrupt and only now, when there was a lull in the conversation, said hello.
“If you’re looking for Adele, she isn’t back here,” I said.
“She’ll probably show up here any minute,” the clown author said with a knowing smile. “What’s going on? I heard you say something about the coast guard.”
I started to explain about Bradley, but as predicted Adele swept into the department and latched arms with his. I finally got it all out, even what was in the suicide note.
“That’s terrible,” William said.
“You’re so right, honey,” Adele added. “Those poor little girls, even if he wasn’t their real father. He won’t be there to take them to your next Koo Koo event.” She gave William’s arm a tug. “We better go if we’re going to make our dinner reservation.”
Barry returned just as they were walking away and said the coast guard had initiated a search by boat and aircraft for a possible person in the water and so far had found nothing. “There’s nothing more for you to do.”
Mason nodded in response to Barry’s comment, though Barry was trying to ignore his presence. Sheila had stopped crocheting as she listened to the story and the tension showed in her eyes.
“How strange. I just heard somebody talking about Perkins this morning, Sunshine,” Mason said. “I was getting a coffee to go at the French café and overheard two guys at one of the tables. One of them had funny hair and was telling the other one that Perkins had some magic system with investments. I remember thinking it sounded like the guy with funny hair worked for Perkins. You know, drumming up business.”
Barry grimaced both at the nickname Mason called me and the information he was offering.
I sat back and looked at my elephant project. I’d started working on the head, but the last round was inconsistent. “That’s it. Time to go. I can barely see straight and my stitches are horrible,” I said. I packed up my yarn work to take with. Barry said he’d follow me. Mason claimed to be at a crucial spot with his dog sweater and said he needed help and asked if he could follow me, too. Sheila had a forlorn look as the three of us got ready to leave.
“Why don’t you join us?” I said. Before I’d gotten us out, she was on her feet, stuffing her work in her bag.
A short time later the caravan of cars pulled in front of my house.
As soon as we all got inside, Barry made me sit down on the couch. Mason said he’d take care of dinner. Sheila volunteered to take care of the animals. The events of the past few days had caught up with me big time and I felt exhausted. The doorbell rang a short while later and I caught a glimpse of a delivery guy bringing in a box. The smell of hot food wafted across the living room and my stomach responded with a hungry gurgle.
Every time I started to get up to help, one of the three told me they had it covered. Mason had ordered from the local Thai restaurant. Sheila made up a plate of pad thai, curried rice, big noodles in gravy and yellow curry made with tofu and brought it to me. I wasn’t used to being waited on but had to admit it felt good. Mason, Barry and Sheila joined me in the living room with plates of food. The conversation went back to Bradley.
“I don’t know where Perkins got the idea killing himself was the honorable thing to do,” Barry said. “More like the coward’s way out.”
“I wonder if his wife realizes that whatever mess he made is probably going to fall in her lap,” Mason said.
Sheila was quiet and I knew all this was stirring up her own issues. She’d been brought up by a grandmother who had died recently, leaving Sheila feeling abandoned. She always said the Tarzana Hookers were her family now. “Those poor little girls, losing their stepfather,” she said finally.
Barry turned back toward me. “Fields is right. She is going to inherit the mess. I am going to say what I always say and you probably are going to ignore me, but, Molly, you don’t want to be associated with it. It’s great to be a nice neighbor, but you may find out you’ve just stepped into quicksand.” He put up his hands in feigned capitulation. I was stunned. Had Barry just agreed with Mason?
Someone brought me a dish of ice cream after that, but my eyes started swimming before I tasted the first spoonful.
When I awoke I was laying on the couch. My shoes were off and a pillow was under my head and a moss green crocheted throw covered me. I glanced at the coffee table. Someone had cleared all the dishes. I thought back to the last few minutes of conversation before I’d nodded off. Maybe they were right about me not getting involved. But it was too late. I’d already agreed to go with Emily in the morning when she went to Long Beach to pick up Bradley’s things.
CHAPTER 7
I REALLY DIDN’T HAVE THE TIME TO GO TO LONG Beach. I was behind in swatches and snowflakes, and there were the plans for our holiday event and the book launch. That didn’t even count any personal preparations like sending out cards or shopping for gifts. But I couldn’t let Emily go to Long Beach alone if for no other reason than she was too distracted to drive.
“Is there any family you can call to help you out? Or maybe some of your friends?” I said as we set out on our journey. She needed as much moral support as she could get.
“There’s just my mother,” she said. “But she’s in South Carolina and we don’t get along. She barely remembers my girls’ birthdays.” Emily said Bradley’s parents were dead and the only reason she knew he had a sister was because she’d sent the afghan as a wedding present. “That was one of the things that drew Brad and me together. He said we were both alone in the world. I’ll have to look through Bradley’s things and see i
f I can find a phone number for his sister. I think her name is Madison.”
“Then she didn’t come to your wedding?” I asked.
Emily sighed. “It was just Bradley, me and the girls. He said the wedding didn’t matter; it was about all of us being together. Isn’t that romantic?” she said. I nodded, thinking his being romantic hardly seemed an issue under the circumstance.
“What about friends? You seem to have lots of those,” I said.
Emily nodded, looking down. “All the people we know are part of Brad’s investment fund. It might be awkward.” She left it hanging and I understood. They were more likely to be concerned about how his death affected them than to be interested in being supportive to her. I reached over and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. She really was all alone in this.
I asked her about the couple in the suits.
“They’re from the Securities and Exchange Commission. They wanted to talk to Bradley. They came to the house when they couldn’t reach him at the office. They said something about needing to clear something up. I think they called it a friendly interview. Bradley never discussed his business with me,” she said. “I mean I helped with bank deposits and I helped him send out statements, but he never told me what was going on . . . what he was doing. Whenever I asked any questions—you know trying to be the interested wife—he got impatient and said he didn’t want to talk about it. If only he’d told me about whatever problem he got himself into, we could have worked it out.”
I collected a ticket and pulled into the terminal parking lot. We left the greenmobile and walked across the street. The Spartan building had been strung with some colored lights and the counter had several tiny decorated pine trees in pots.
Emily seemed pretty shaky, so I handled things and told the woman behind the counter why we were there. After a moment a man in business attire came out of a back room and a woman in a dark pants suit got out of a seat and joined us. She introduced herself as Detective Brower from the county sheriff’s department.
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