You Better Knot Die cm-5

by Betty Hechtman

  “Where should I put this?” a male voice said behind me. Nicholas Hartman, owner of the store next to the bookstore, caught up with me and held out a menorah. A table sat adjacent to the tree and I pointed to it. “Mind if I put a small sign next to it, saying it came from my store?” Nicholas asked.

  Mr. Royal and I both said it was fine. As he stepped back to get a better view of the position of the menorah on the table, Nicholas knocked over the cardboard cutout for Caught Under the Mistletoe. He viewed it with distaste as he picked it up. “The vampires are taking over.”

  Nicholas’s store was called Luxe. It was best described as a lifestyle store and featured an eclectic array of items. I thought every item in the store had charisma, whether it was a scented candle in a silver cup or the brick red shirt with the crinkly texture that I’d gotten there. Nicholas was like the things he carried in his store—different. I didn’t know all the details, but I’d heard he had a whole different life before the store. Now it appeared the store was his life. Talk about putting all your eggs in one basket. But the store seemed to be doing okay. All he needed was to get some young hip celeb to shop there and tell the paparazzi.

  To me, Nicholas was all about the expression in his earthy brown eyes. They carried his smile and a little touch of uncertainty. His face was long and his brown hair had the ruffled and gelled look that seemed so popular. Once upon a time, it would have been considered messy.

  No, I wasn’t falling for Nicholas. But I liked him and I liked his store.

  Once he’d gotten the okay for the menorah placement, he turned toward me. He viewed me with concern. “Hard night, huh? I have some tea that might help.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with a red-eye, though my neighbor said some tea you sold her really helped,” I said.

  “Who’s that?” he said.

  When I mentioned Emily, he nodded. “She was pretty upset. Has her husband showed up?”

  I was surprised he knew. Hadn’t Emily told me she’d only told the truth to me and the cops? He listened attentively as I went through the whole chain of events, along with the latest update. It was hard to read how he was taking the information. He seemed to be absorbing it, but not reacting.

  One of the new Hookers, Rhoda Klein, came in and saw Nicholas. She was a gruff, opinionated person with dark short hair and a sharp jaw. But all her edges melted when Nicholas greeted her by name.

  Sheila Altman rushed in the door and then screeched to a stop when she saw him. She pulled out a blanket from her tote bag. “Is this what you had in mind?” she asked.

  Nicholas laid it on the table and looked it over. I was almost drooling. Sheila had outdone herself this time. She was known for making shawls and scarves that were mixtures of yarn textures and colors. She tended to stay with blues and greens and her pieces had an impressionist feeling about them. This one was a soft teal blue that mixed with lavender and then green. The yarn had a halo and looked like it would be cuddly to the touch.

  Nicholas pronounced it as being just what he had in mind. They made arrangements for her to bring in a few more and negotiated the price. Sheila looked like she was waiting for a problem to show up. It was no wonder. She’d sold some of her work before through a local consignment store and been stiffed for some of the money owed her.

  “Stop by if you change your mind about the tea,” Nicholas said to me as he took the blanket and walked toward the door.

  Sheila and I continued on to the yarn area. With the table always set up, our regular start-up time had gotten kind of soft around the edges. Translated—no matter how early I got there, there were always people already at the table.

  As we got closer, I heard the conversation already in progress. Rhoda had only stopped in the front for a moment and then gone back to the crochet area. Her voice stood out above the others.

  “You call that a vampire,” she said in a voice that still carried a tinge of New York even after twenty or so years in L.A. “He’s too foofie for me. Next they’ll have him joining a group like us.”

  “Do you think he might actually join us?” Elise Belmont asked. She had a soft birdlike voice and was another new member.

  “Who might join us, dear?” CeeCee Collins said, taking her seat at the head of the table. CeeCee was the unofficial leader of the group. Along with being a well-known actress and host of a reality show, she was a fabulous crocheter.

  “That vampire, Anthony,” Elise said in total sincerity. “Wouldn’t we be the hottest group around if we had him as a member?”

  Across the table Eduardo Linnares stifled a laugh. The cover model was amused but mannerly enough to hide it. Despite his large build and hands, he was an expert at delicate crochet. His grandmother had taught him well. The group was working on the gifts to be sent over to the women’s shelter. Everyone was making something different, from baby blankets to scarves and shawls. I took out the gray yarn and began to add on to the rounds I’d already done, moving a stitch marker each time I reached the end of one round.

  Of course, Adele jumped in to the conversation. “Elise, Anthony is only a fictional character. Vampires aren’t real. Understand?” Without waiting for an answer, Adele continued. “I’m going to tell my boyfriend, William, he ought to do a vampire book. Maybe like Koo Koo Interviews a Vampire.”

  “But you just said vampires aren’t real. I thought all of Koo Koo’s books were nonfiction, like Koo Koo Goes to the Dentist,” Sheila said.

  Adele glared at Sheila. “I was thinking William should branch out.” I was surprised that she didn’t get the words my boyfriend in the sentence. Adele rarely said his name without adding my boyfriend. I think she hoped William’s next book would be Koo Koo Gets Engaged.

  Elise gave a knowing nod. “That’s what they want you to believe—that they’re not real. Personally I think this A. J. Kowalski really is a vampire and the books are autobiographical.”

  Elise focused on me. “You know the author’s real identity, don’t you?” All eyes were glued to me. I noticed Adele had a look of horror, no doubt thinking it might be true and once again she’d been left out.

  “No,” I said. “Nobody but the publisher knows who A. J. is. And please spread the word that I am just as much in the dark as everyone else about who the author really is.” I gave them a recap of what it was like waking to find an intruder in my house. Adele interrupted to talk about how my house had been a crime scene when we returned from San Diego.

  “So, who’s this neighbor of yours who took off?”

  I said his name, expecting blank looks; instead, I heard a lot of sucked-in breaths of surprise.

  Elise spoke first. “Bradley Perkins took off. That doesn’t seem like him.” Elise nodded to herself. “His wife must have done something really bad to make him that angry.”

  I asked Elise how she knew the Perkins. “We’re what I’d call business friends,” she said. “I wonder if Logan knows about Bradley. Logan thinks he’s some kind of financial genius.” Logan was Elise’s husband and a member of the Tarzana Chamber of Commerce. He was one of the top real estate people in the area.

  “That wife of his ought to thank her lucky stars for him,” Rhoda interjected. “The way he just stepped in and acts like a father to her two girls.”

  “He’s not their father?” I said, looking up from my work. The body was taking shape.

  “You don’t know?” Rhoda said, surprised. “They’ve only been married a couple of years. Emily’s first husband died.”

  How odd that Emily had never mentioned either of these facts to me. Elise said Logan had sold them their house and he’d been taken from the beginning about what a great couple they were. “You have to give Bradley a lot of credit. He stepped right in as father to the girls. He even coaches their soccer team. I hear he’s at every PTA meeting. He ran a booth at the spring carnival at Wilbur Avenue Elementary. Logan said he always comes to the chamber of commerce meetings. He’s just this outgoing friendly guy. It’s hard to imagine him hav
ing a big argument. Emily is kind of moody. I bet she started the fight and is just telling everyone it was him,” Elise said.

  So I wasn’t the only one to wonder about Emily’s story. All I had to go on was Emily’s version, and as Barry kept telling me, people lied.

  Dinah came in at the end. I was going to bring her up to speed, but when I saw she wasn’t alone, I stopped.

  All of a sudden I was pretty sure I knew what her news was.

  CHAPTER 5

  “DINAH, YOU DIDN’T,” I SAID AS WE HEADED TO the café. The crochet group had dispersed. I had held back from saying anything until we were alone. My friend’s dangle earrings jangled as she hung her head.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I missed them, and what are holidays without kids?”

  She had a point about kids and holidays. Since my boys had grown, I’d let the holidays go. We had always celebrated everything so we’d made ornaments for our Christmas trees and lit Hanukkah candles and made donuts and potato pancakes. The last vestige had been our yearly Christmas Eve party and I’d let that go when Charlie died. Decorations and events at the bookstore had become my only way of acknowledging holidays lately.

  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.”