One for the Hooks

by Betty Hechtman

  “Nothing more than usual,” I said. “I was just thinking about what would happen if I started working with Mason.”

  “And Adele was in charge?” my friend said, and I nodded before asking how her office hours at the community college had gone. She smiled. “Nobody showed up so I spent the time grading papers.”

  The rest of the Hookers arrived just then ending our conversation and we took our seats at the table. I waited until everyone was situated before bringing up the yarn.

  “Some of you know about this already,” I began. I explained about the yarn Sloan wanted to sell and the plan we’d come up with to use it. “I talked to Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal, and they like the idea.” I looked around at the group. “I kind of volunteered your services as crochet teachers for the event. I’m going back for another look at the yarn tomorrow to make sure it will work for the kits. I wanted to run this idea by you before I committed to buying the yarn.”

  “Pink, you better let me come along,” Adele said, popping out of her chair and speaking to the group, “since I’m going to be the chief teacher.”

  I started to tell Adele that I was going alone, but gave up the fight and said nothing. I would just slip away without her.

  When it was time to go home, I was thinking about enjoying an evening by myself. Maybe watch a romantic comedy and eat the leftover lasagna I’d made a few nights ago. All those plans dissolved when I walked into my yard and remembered that an evening alone wasn’t an option. Nor, apparently, was the leftover lasagna. When I walked through the kitchen door, Peter and Gabby were sitting at the built-in kitchen table finishing the last of it.

  Chapter Seven

  I was still feeling like an intruder in my own house the next morning. Peter and Gabby were in the kitchen, making espresso drinks, when I came in for my coffee. They seemed to be blocking my every move, so I finally unplugged my coffee maker, grabbed all the supplies and took everything across the house to the master suite. There were two sinks in the bathroom, and one of them had a long tiled counter meant to be like a dressing table. It now became my coffee station. I took my mug and let the dogs out through the French door in the den. The morning was still cool, and I sat at the umbrella table while they had their morning spin.

  Mason had called the night before to tell me his return to Kansas might have just been temporary. He didn’t go into detail, but just said it had turned out that the district attorney hadn’t given up the investigation of the college admissions. He was glad to hear about my idea for the yarn and the event I wanted to put on. He was interested in hearing about the cul-de-sac and Miami’s plans for her house.

  “Be careful,” he warned. “Who knows what those neighbors might do.”

  “I’m just going there about the yarn. Nobody’s going to bother me,” I said. The call ended with him telling me how much he missed me and me telling him the same.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said.

  “I know. I’m thinking about it,” I said with a sigh, and then we hung up.

  I thought about Mason’s warning as I got ready to go look at the yarn again the next morning. I appreciated his concern, but whatever trouble there was had nothing to do with me and was really between Miami and her neighbors. Adele was tied up in story time, and I’d hoped to slip out before she finished. But as I was heading to the door, she came rushing after me. Thankfully, she was out of her story-time costume and back in regular clothes, if you could call anything Adele wore regular. Since she was always taping for her vlog, she had amped things up. Today, she wore another tank-style dress. The top was a cotton fabric, but the bottom third was crocheted in thread, giving it sort of a 1920s flapper look. She carried out the look with a cloche hat with a large red flower attached to the side—all done in crochet.

  I drove this time and a few minutes later pulled into the cul-de-sac. I tried to ignore the feeling that there were eyes on us as I got out of the car. But I was sure that I saw someone half hidden behind a curtain in the house at the end of the short street.

  It was not my problem that Miami’s neighbors were unhappy with her. That might have been an understatement, I thought as I noticed the Holiday House sign had letters painted over and now read “Ho House,” and the sign had been knocked over again too.

  Sloan opened the door, with Miami next to her. She looked out and saw the sign and made an annoyed sound. “Live with it, people,” she said in an angry tone.

  They both did a double take when they saw Adele with me. Sloan seemed about to object, but I said that Adele was my yarn consultant. She motioned for us to come inside, and shut the door quickly. Nothing seemed to have changed. The furniture pulled into the center of the main room was just where it had been. Sloan saw me looking at it. “It’s all still available. The best pieces I’ve placed on consignment. We can make a deal on any or all of that,” she said in a bright tone to me and Adele. It was lost on Adele as she’d already put her phone on a selfie stick and was preparing to record. As I followed Sloan and Miami through the sliding glass door, I heard Adele begin. She had made the yarn into a story and was saying she’d come back for another look because she had come up with an ingenious way to use it.

  Adele got waylaid in the yard while the rest of us went into the guesthouse. I tried to hide my feelings, but I couldn’t wait to have a look at the yarn. I poked through all of the boxes, checking for damaged strands, and then began holding some of them together, imagining how they would work up. Adele finally came in and got a shot of what I was doing and said something about how the secret plan would be revealed soon, and then she went back out into the yard, saying the light was better. Sloan urged Miami to follow her.

  “Well?” Sloan said when we were alone.

  I had seen enough to realize the plan for the yarn would work. Now it was a matter of the deal. We went back and forth a few times, and finally she made an offer I knew Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal would be happy with. I agreed to bring a check when I picked up the yarn.

  I went outside to find Adele so we could leave. When I got out there, I saw that Adele was almost inside the house, and Miami was tapping something into her phone. I heard a buzzy sort of whine and looked up just as a drone flew over the grassy area. It was bigger than the one I’d seen before, and this time a shiny black bag hung below it, swinging in an ominous manner.

  Miami heard it too and looked up. It took a second for it to register, and then she ran toward the drone.

  “Not again,” she said. She’d grabbed a broom and was trying to swat at it, but it was high enough to be out of reach. “I know what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work.”

  It seemed like a futile move, and she was more likely to get hurt than damage the drone. I looped my arm in hers and pulled her toward the house. I could hear the drone making more passes behind us, but I didn’t want to take the time to look back.

  I let out a sigh of relief when we were inside. Adele had her back to the yard and seemed to have no idea what was going on outside until we rushed in. Miami was still yelling at the drone as if it would make a difference.

  “They’re going to drop whatever is in that bag,” she said. “Did you smell it? It stinks.”

  I turned to look back into the yard and saw Sloan coming across it. Her attention was focused on her phone. I opened the glass door to shout out a warning. Just as she looked up, the drone flew over her and the bag slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. Whatever was in it poured out and all over her.

  “We have to help her,” I said, rushing out the door. As soon as I was outside, the drone turned and flew toward me, with the ragged bag hanging below. It dipped, getting low enough that I felt the bag brush my hair. The smell of rotting garbage was overwhelming, and I thought I was going to throw up. Undaunted, I tried to keep going, but every time I made a move, the drone flew at me again.

  I was about to give up when it suddenly lifted and flew off. With the threat gone, I rushed forward.

  Sloan was on the
ground covered in something with a lot of red in it. I rushed to find a hose to wash it off her. I dragged the hose toward her and tried to direct the stream with my thumb. I didn’t even hear the sirens or realize help was coming, until two uniformed officers rushed past me and pushed me out of the way. One of them barked at me to go inside.

  A few minutes later a pair of EMTs wearing N95 masks and gloves came through the yard, pushing a gurney. More uniformed officers arrived at the same time, and a pair of firefighters. By now there was the thwack of a police helicopter flying low above us.

  It was hard to tell what was going on with all those people, but then I realized something disturbing. Everything seemed to have slowed down. The EMTs weren’t loading Sloan onto the gurney. Nobody seemed to be doing anything. It could only mean there was no reason to rush because it was too late—she was dead.

  It had barely registered, when two cops came inside, and one of them shut the curtain on the sliding glass door.

  The other one took a look at the three of us. “We better separate them,” she said to her partner. She glanced back at us. “We don’t want any influencing of stories.”

  Miami’s face had crumpled into dismay. “What’s going on?” she demanded. She looked at the closed curtain and then at the cops. “Is Sloan okay?” They answered with stone-faced silence, and after a moment she realized what that meant. “No, this can’t be happening,” she wailed.

  Adele seemed stunned, and for once she was speechless. I considered explaining to the other two what was going on, but I didn’t think it would look good that I was so familiar with the drill at a crime scene. A crime scene? Oh no—not again.

  I didn’t resist when the male officer took my arm and led me away. I just wanted to give them my statement and get out of there.

  I felt for the cop dealing with Adele. I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, just the tone, which sounded argumentative. I imagined she was throwing around Eric’s name, saying she was a motorcycle officer’s wife, expecting it would get her special treatment or preferably get her out of there altogether.

  I was taken into the kitchen and told someone would be there to talk to me soon.

  “Soon” was a relative term, which I took to mean whenever. The police helicopter finally left, but I could hear the steady sound of news choppers hovering in the air, replacing it. I was glad I’d been taken into the kitchen, as I’d been curious to see what it was like. I could tell that it had been made larger than the original design. It was all wood paneled, with a built-in booth. The counters were all a pinkish-toned granite, and a small island had been built into the middle. A hallway went off it and led to what I assumed was the private area that Miami was living in. I snuck a look and saw a bathroom with a skylight and a very large room with a vaulted ceiling. It had probably been meant as a den. I resisted the desire to check it out fully, and instead stuck to examining the kitchen. I coveted the stove with the eight burners. I had a weird stove top and a couple of built-in ovens that seemed meant more for show than real cooking. For example, when you opened the oven, nobody could walk by. The refrigerator had gizmos for dispensing ice and water. I had my hand on the handle and was pulling it open when I heard someone come in.

  “Excuse me,” an authoritarian male voice said in a tone that made me feel like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I shut the refrigerator quickly and turned around.

  I expected to see a uniformed officer with a clipboard, ready to take my statement. I absolutely didn’t expect to see the person I was actually seeing.

  I guess he wasn’t expecting to see me either.

  “Molly?” Barry Greenberg said in a tone that was hardly his usual cool, collected detective voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same,” I said. “I thought they’d send a uniform in to get my information. I hardly expected to go right to the big cheese.” I was keeping my tone light, but I wasn’t sure how I felt having to deal with him. Even though Barry and I had been uncoupled for quite a while now, there was something I couldn’t quite get rid of. I’d noticed it when he’d shown up at my house the other night, though I’d barely acknowledged the feeling. It was almost like a buzz went through my body every time I saw him, no matter the circumstance. I hoped I was a master at hiding it and that it would go away.

  After the moment of surprise, he’d gone back to being his professional self. His dark eyes were flat, and his lips were set in total non-emotion. I thought of it as his “just the facts, ma’am” detective pose. Barry excelled at reining in his emotions. I suppose years of being a detective and having to deal with all sorts of things I didn’t even want to imagine had left an imprint on him. And working crazy hours had taught him to ignore feeling hungry or tired.

  There were hints when he was tired, like a five o’clock shadow on his chin and dark circles under his eyes. And as much as he was able to ignore his appetite, if food was mentioned or was in the vicinity, it woke up his hunger. I gave him the once-over. His suit and white shirt looked fresh, and there was no shadow on his chin, so I guessed he hadn’t been up all night chasing down evidence. His dark hair looked neat, but then it was trimmed so close it was almost impossible for it to look messy. I thought about picking up the loaf of bread on the counter and waving it in front of him to see if I’d get a reaction, but it was like he read my mind: “I just had lunch,” he said.

  He looked at me directly. “How did you manage to get in the middle of all this?”

  “Is that an official question, or are you just curious?” I asked.

  He began to shake his head with dismay. “You never make it easy, do you?”

  “You’d be disappointed if I did,” I said with a smile.

  “Maybe not. Why don’t you try me? Just try answering my questions without any editorial comment.”

  “That’s kind of boring,” I said. “But okay. You wanted to know how I got in the middle of this?”

  “That was really a rhetorical question.” He had a clipboard and began to fill in information. “I’m assuming that nothing has changed.” He glanced up at me and I nodded, and he went back to writing in my information. “You’ve been involved with so many crime scenes, maybe we should have sheets printed up with your information.” He glanced up again, and I saw the hint of a smile.

  “Ha ha,” I said.

  He stopped writing and the almost smile vanished as he went back into true detective mode. “Okay, you want to tell me what happened?”

  I was tempted to say “no” just to tease him, but really I wanted to get this over with and get out of there. “A drone flew in the yard and dropped a bunch of stinky stuff.” I was pretty sure of the answer, but I asked him anyway “What about Sloan—that’s the woman who the stuff landed on?”

  Barry let out something along the lines of a worn sigh and shook his head in answer.

  “I was hoping I was wrong,” I said, telling him how I’d noted that nobody was rushing. “How? What happened?”

  Barry was in official mode now and gave me only standard answers. Yes, the paramedics had called it, and there’d have to be an investigation as to the how.

  “You must have some idea. You know, your cop’s gut instinct,” I said.

  He put up his hands in a helpless manner. “I don’t know anything about that gut business.”

  “Yes, you do,” I argued.

  “But even if I did, I don’t have to tell you. And it’s a little too soon anyway—that is, if there even was such a thing.” Then he went back to asking me what I was doing there.

  “I’m going to give you a freebie. An answer to a question you didn’t even ask,” I said. He stopped writing and looked up.

  “Okay, shoot,” he said with a disbelieving expression.

  “The woman who inherited this house is turning it into short-term rentals, and her neighbors seem very upset about it. Upset enough that they’ve already committed minor vandalism. I think the drone thing is connected.”

&
nbsp; Barry had a self-satisfied smile. “Thanks, but I already knew that. You were going to tell me why you’re here.”

  There was no reason to hide it, so I explained the yarn acquisition. He seemed disappointed that it wasn’t something more nefarious, and tucked the clipboard under his arm and unclicked his pen. “I guess that’s it, then. You’re good to go.”

  It felt anticlimactic, but I was glad to get out of there.

  As I went back through the house, I looked for Adele. It was too quiet, and I was sure she was gone. Maybe they’d actually called her motorcycle officer husband, and he’d come and gotten her.

  I saw that the curtains had been opened, and a white tent had been set up where Sloan had fallen. Somewhere underneath, she was still lying there. Barry was already out there, talking to a couple of what I assumed were investigators. Now that I wasn’t verbally dueling with him, the reality of what had happened set in. Sloan was dead. Just like that. She’d gotten up in the morning like it was any day, and now she was dead. I thought back to when I’d seen her at the bookstore, and suddenly I remembered the small white dog. What if the police went to her house and found the dog? They’d probably have the pound pick it up.

  The poor thing had just lost her owner, and to be put in a cold enclosure at the pound seemed too cruel.

  Miami was leaning against the pile of furniture, staring into space. She had to be more shocked than any of us. I made sure that Sloan hadn’t brought the dog with her, then asked Miami if Sloan had a purse with her.

  Miami took a moment to collect herself. “The cops asked me the same question, and I couldn’t think straight. I told them I didn’t know. But she always carried a bunch of stuff. You know, canvas tote bags and those recycled grocery bags.

  “Could you look now?” I said. “Before the cops ask to go through this place.”

  I knew I was breaking all the rules, but all I could think of was getting the dog out of there. She stumbled around and came back with a black canvas bag that had a small purse inside. I grabbed the keys, used her driver’s license to get the address, and left. As I was going to the door, Miami came up behind me. “You still want the yarn, right?”