If Hooks Could Kill

by Betty Hechtman

  Barry nodded with approval. “That sounds reasonable. Why don’t you try to think back to what you saw in the street when you left Kelly’s.” He suggested I close my eyes and try to picture the scene. I was surprised how well it worked. After noting that the sidewalk was empty, I began to see a line of cars and commercial vehicles parked along the street.

  “Let’s see, there was a plumber’s van, several cars, a cab, the truck with the wooden slates that the prop guys used and the Crown Victoria, North Adams drove. But they were all just parked there for the production.”

  When I opened my eyes Barry’s face was lit up in a smile.

  “It doesn’t sound like your remembrance changes anything. And who would be more likely to show up at her house than her husband? Ah, we’re back to what Heather thinks.” He rolled his eyes, while shaking his head in good-natured disbelief. “I can’t believe you got me to play clue with you,” he said as we both got up to go inside.

  * * *

  I never knew quite how to dress for a funeral. The day of everybody wearing black dresses and veils was long over with, if it every really existed anywhere but in my imagination. Besides, with the temperature in the high nineties, long sleeves and heavy clothes were even less appealing. Couple that with my helping at the house afterward, and I felt even more confused about what to wear. Who would have thought Barry would have ended up helping me?

  As a homicide detective he’d been at far more funerals than I had and when we went inside after our tea, I made a comment about my clothing dilemma. He took both our mugs and put them in the dishwasher and offered his assistance.

  It was weird showing him my closet, but then we were just housemates now, right? He stood next to me as I pushed clothes down the rack. Close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body.

  “How about that,” he said when I got to a linen dress that had tiny black-and-white checks. From a distance it appeared gray. It was sleeveless and loose fitting. “Do you need help with shoes?” he said with a teasing smile. “I’ve become quite an expert thanks to Heather. Those heels sure do something with the way a woman walks.”

  I pulled him out of my closet and said I could handle the shoes myself. I should have left it at that, but the whole heels comment had annoyed me. “Sorry I didn’t have that tart walk going when we were together,” I said.

  Barry stifled a laugh and I asked how the work was coming at his apartment.

  “Huh?” he said as I walked him back toward his side of the house. I repeated the question and he threw up his hands. “You know workmen. It was too hot to paint, so there’s a delay. They brought the wrong carpet. The one I wanted had to be special ordered so there’s another delay. If it’s such a burden having us here, I could find someplace else to stay. Heather’s building has an elevator.”

  “It’s okay if you stay here until your place is decorated,” I said. I knew the comment about Heather was a setup, but I fell for it anyway. Frustrated with myself I shut the door to my wing of the house and called it a night.

  Barry’s clothes choice for me turned out to be perfect. Kelly’s funeral was held at a small chapel at Forest Lawn. The cemetery was set on an expanse of green hillside with a view of the eastern Valley and there was no shade to soften the blinding sun. Dinah and I arrived together. Commander was off getting the things for the reception in order.

  Inside, we found CeeCee. She was the only one decked out in a black sheath dress and a wide-brimmed black hat with a veil. In her mind there might be paparazzi anywhere and she was always ready for her close-up. Rhoda and Elise were next to her. Both of them had a small crochet project in their laps. I think just like some people always carry a book, they carried crochet.

  Eduardo hadn’t been able to make it. Then Sheila came in and took the seat next to Dinah. “Funerals make me nervous,” she said in a breathy voice. Adele plopped into the seat next to Sheila and launched into the benefits of them sharing an apartment, which Adele was pushing for.

  “If we get a place together, I’ll throw in confidence lessons. In no time you’ll own every room you enter, just like me,” Adele said as she adjusted her hat. I didn’t say anything, but I thought Adele’s concept of owning a room was really more like kidnapping it.

  No surprise, Adele didn’t wear black. All I could think of was that she looked like a block of butter. She wore a long yellow dress that appeared to be cotton, but had a sheen to it. She had added a scarf of crocheted flowers, all creamy yellow as well. No big hat for Adele this time, she’d worn another tiny yellow fascinator on the front of her head. It had a snippet of yellow veil and seemed to be erupting tiny flowers on long wire stems. Every time she moved, the flowers bobbed. Adele was big on wearing things with moveable parts.

  The Hookers began to talk among themselves while Dinah and I checked out the rest of the crowd. I noticed Detective Heather slip into the last row. What did she think—that Dan was going to jump up and confess in the middle of the service?

  Dinah and I turned our attention to the first row. Dan was already seated in the first seat on the end.

  “I bet that’s Kelly’s mother,” Dinah said as a slender woman in a classic black dress walked along the front row. I could just make out her expression as she approached Dan.

  “It looks like she’s on the same page as Detective Heather and thinks Dan killed her daughter,” I said. She scowled at Dan as she offered him a cursory greeting before she took a seat at the opposite end of the row.

  “I’m actually beginning to feel sorry for him,” Dinah said. “It’s not like he’s been convicted. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  “What happened is everyone thinks he did it and is getting away with it. Detective Heather will keep investigating and trying to get him to confess, but if he doesn’t, it’ll be shelved like the cases Barry’s working on. He said in one of the cases they knew the maid did it, but could never get enough evidence to charge her. There’s no statute on murder, so Dan will forever be in limbo unless they get evidence that he did it, or evidence that he didn’t do it. In the meantime, they might be treating him like he’s guilty, but he’s still a free man.”

  “But the important thing is, are we convinced he’s the guy?” Dinah asked.

  “I keep going back and forth. With no real evidence, I’m not sure who did it,” I said as we went back to watching the first row. Even from a distance I recognized the family dimples of the two little girls who walked in with their father. The girls seemed confused and unhappy and the man with them seemed distraught. “He must be Kelly’s first husband,” I said. His greeting to Dan consisted of an angry head shake as he kept his arms protectively around his daughters.

  “How about him for a suspect?” Dinah said.

  “No motive. Even Dan said there was no problem between her first husband and Kelly. The divorce has been settled for a while and there weren’t any custody issues.” I continued to watch the family drama in the first row. An older man had joined the group. He had the trademark dimples and I was sure he was Kelly’s father. He was a little wooden in greeting his granddaughters. It might have had something to do with the young woman with him. By the rock on her finger and the way she was hanging on to him, I was guessing she was his wife and also guessed he probably didn’t like being called “Gramps.”

  Stone came in last. I was glad to see he’d worn long pants and a dress shirt instead of his usual shorts and Aloha shirt. He’d even replaced his sandals with loafers. He moved down the row talking to his father and then his mother. The only seat left was next to Dan.

  A few more people came into the chapel. I noticed Nanci Silvers take a seat in the back. The service was short and referred to a life cut off in the middle, but made no mention of her death being murder. I wondered who’d planned it.

  Dinah and I left early to meet up with Commander who had picked up the food. We’d just pulled up in front of the Donahue house when Dan drove into the driveway.

  He seemed distra
cted as he let us in. More cars arrived and the living room filled up with neighbors, the Hookers, Dan’s store employees and some of Kelly’s family. I had wondered if they would even come, but I suppose it was more out of respect for her than sympathy for Dan. Dan sat on the couch staring off into space and didn’t act as the host. Commander was particularly good at playing host and worked the room to make sure everyone went into the dining room and helped themselves.

  I had hoped to get a chance to talk to Kelly’s family, but they stayed only long enough to make an appearance and then left en masse.

  I looked around the living room and wondered if anyone would notice if I took a little side trip. I had never been alone in Kelly’s crochet room and I wanted to poke around in it without watchful eyes.

  The room seemed dimmer than I remembered and I realized the sheer curtains had been drawn across the sliding glass door. It seemed eerie and still and I suddenly wished Dinah had come with me. The computer was sitting on the library table and when I hit the power button, it came on. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I was curious about her business. Nobody seemed to know the name of it. I sorted through the folders and came across one called online store. When I clicked on it, two folders appeared. I clicked on the one labeled “Crochet.” There was a long list of files with unintelligible names. I clicked on a few and saw that each had a picture of a crocheted item and a brief description and whether she’d sold it, and for how much, along with how long it had taken her to make it and how much the yarn had cost.

  She had spent a lot on yarn, but she’d also sold the pieces for a lot. The fact that they were one of kind and almost art pieces was probably why she got her price. I wondered about the other folder under the “Online Store” heading and backtracked until I got there. It was marked “Non-Crochet Items.” Kelly must have been selling more than just things she made. I clicked on the folder and a list of files with numbers instead of names showed up.

  I was about to open the first one, when Adele sashayed in. “Pink, I thought I’d find you in here. What are you doing?”

  I took it as a rhetorical question and didn’t answer it. “Did you find anything else made with the bull—” Adele looked around to see if anyone was listening. “You know that special stitch.”

  Adele moved further into the room and began looking around. She noticed a pillow that had fallen off the couch. It had a three-dimensional design with rows and rows of different-size bullion stitches.

  She picked it up and was touching the stitches as if they could impart the magic of how to make them.

  Suddenly CeeCee swept into the room. “There you two are. I’m going to have to leave. The atmosphere in there is terrible. All those people staring at Dan. He finally got up and went outside.” CeeCee saw Adele clutching the pillow and took it from her to examine it.

  “Dear, those bullion stitches are lovely.” She commented further on how perfectly the stitches laid next to each other before turning to Adele. “The Hookers should make something using that stitch. Of course, we’d probably have to teach almost everybody how to do it.” She looked at Adele again. “What do you think, dear?”

  Adele squirmed and looked to me for help. I shrugged as an answer. CeeCee was busy looking at the pillow and around the room and didn’t notice Adele’s look of panic.

  “I had no idea that Kelly was such a fine crocheter,” CeeCee said. Adele had plastered herself against the back of the couch with the terrified expression as if any second CeeCee was going to make her prove she knew how to do the tricky stitch. CeeCee apparently had other things on her mind, because she didn’t seem to notice that Adele had never answered her comment. She checked her watch.

  “I have to get across the Valley to a meeting,” she said moving toward the door. “Success has its drawbacks,” she said in a feigned upset tone. “Everybody wants you in their project.” She waved her hand toward the yard. “I’m surprised the L.A. 911 people haven’t asked me to do a guest spot.”

  When she was gone, Adele let out her breath. In panic mode she grabbed a hook. She made a foundation chain and the next thing I knew she was wrapping the yarn around the hook and then trying to pull the hook through it with no luck. I thought Adele was going to cry and did my best to console her as I pulled her out of the room and shut the door.

  “Pink, you really are the best friend I’ve ever had,” Adele said. She had lost her usual look of bravado and appeared vulnerable as she hugged me. But typical Adele, she was back to her usual self by the time we reached the living room and she made her way through the people standing around. I didn’t see Dan anywhere.

  I picked up some used dishes and carried them into the kitchen. The window over the sink faced the driveway. Dan was standing there having an animated conversation with Nanci Silvers. Abruptly she put her arms around him and hugged him tight.

  Not exactly the sign of a grieving husband.

  CHAPTER 23

  “You’re drinking tea with the detective every night now?” Mason said. “What happened to the idea that he was just a boarder? The whole ships passing in the kitchen thing.” Mason didn’t sound happy.

  “It’s nothing. We don’t talk about anything personal.” I noticed that there was suddenly a furrow of worry in Mason’s brow. “Don’t worry, he’s not trying to start things up between us. From what I gather, Detective Heather has been a frequent visitor.”

  Mason’s face relaxed and he laughed. “I’d like to see you call her that to her face.”

  “Not unless I want her to handcuff me and throw away the key.” I brought up the little pizza party and how she’d been trying to relate to Jeffrey’s drama friends.

  “How’d that go?” he said.

  “I don’t think she could help it. You know how cops have that air of authority. That and she had a way of looking at them as if she thought they were all guilty of something. The topper was when I heard her call one of the girls ‘ma’am’ as she handed her a slice of pizza.”

  Apparently that image tickled Mason and he did a full belly laugh in response. He was good at seeing the humor in most things.

  Mason had come in just as the bookstore was about to close to intercept me before I went home. He’d waited while I got my things and we’d headed down the street for dinner. Mason took my hand as we walked and said how nice it was to be just the two of us. But when I glanced toward him, his brows were furrowed in concern. He suggested we go to the Italian place down the street again. It was a Tarzana fixture and the fragrance of garlic and tomato sauce was comforting, even if Mason’s demeanor wasn’t.

  Since it was late, the place was almost empty and we took a table by the window that looked out on Ventura Boulevard. The sidewalk was deserted and the street had only thin traffic. We ordered a Margherita pizza to share along with a Caesar salad.

  “Okay, what is it?” I said when the waiter left after taking our order.

  Mason smiled. “Am I that transparent?” He put his hand on mine. “Sunshine, I need to ask you a favor.” I looked at him expectantly. “Would you come to Santa Barbara with me?”

  “That’s it?” I said. I hadn’t meant to, but there was a squeak in my voice. Even though Mason and I had been more or less dating since the big break up with Barry, we hadn’t spent a night together. There seemed to be one excuse after another—on my part, anyway. The plan, at least in my head, was to wait until Barry moved back home. But a trip out of town, even to Santa Barbara, which was only a little over an hour’s drive, seemed to be pushing up the moment. Mason picked up on my hesitation.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking. I have to go up there about the wedding and I’m afraid if I go alone with my wife, I might kill her.” He sounded weary as the whole story came out.

  “Jaimee heard about a hotel up there with a cancellation. After all that’s gone on, I’m not committing to anything without seeing it. I certainly can’t trust her to handle it, and she won’t let me handle it alone.” There was pleading in his eyes as he loo
ked at me. “So, will you come?”

  Mason had come through for me on numerous occasions and even though playing referee between him and his ex didn’t sound very appealing, I agreed to go. Hmm, I noticed that he referred to her as his wife. I guess that was the thing with divorce, it didn’t erase the relationship.

  “Good,” he said as relief spread over his face and the usual Mason came back. “And I promise there will be a stop at the McConnell’s ice cream store,” he added with a grin.

  McConnell’s of Santa Barbara was my ice cream of choice. The grocery stores that sold it locally only had the basic flavors, but the shop in Santa Barbara had a whole array of choices.

  “You know my weak spot,” I teased.

  “It’s the least I can do in exchange for keeping me from strangling Jaimee. With that out of the way, Mason leaned back in his chair and turned into the fun person I was used to.

  Mason knew I’d gone to Kelly’s funeral and asked if I’d found anything more about her murder.

  “I saw some of the crochet pieces she was selling online, but I don’t think they had anything to do with her death. I did see something strange outside though.” I mentioned seeing Dan hugging the neighbor he told me he barely knew.

  “So he is still the number one suspect?” Mason said.

  The waiter dropped off our salads and I waited to answer. “Apparently for Detective Heather he is, even though she doesn’t have any evidence and his hands were swabbed and there was no gunpowder residue on them or his clothes. And his gun hadn’t been fired.”

  “Well, there are explanations for that. He could have worn gloves and he could have changed his clothes. As for the gun, maybe he had two. One to shoot her with and get rid of, and one that hadn’t been fired to show the cops.” Mason didn’t say anything, but I had a feeling he knew that from past experience with a client. “Did anybody swab the neighbor’s hands?”