One for the Hooks

by Betty Hechtman

  “I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” she said.

  “Kits are all the rage now,” Rhoda said. “This is even better because we’re going to have a demonstration of how to use one.”

  Mrs. Shedd lowered her voice. “What about Adele? What part does she have?”

  I laughed to myself, remembering her reaction when I’d reminded her about helping. “She prefers to stay as a crochet advisor-at-large so she can be free to be adored by her followers.”

  “I hope her followers are also buyers,” Mrs. Shedd said. “It seems you have things under control.” She started to leave and then turned back. “The list for the book club seems to be missing a page. Could you see if you have it?”

  That book club list had become a real pain. First Mrs. Shedd had seemed in a hurry to get it, which was why I’d ended stuck in the secret garden. And when I gave it to her, it was suddenly not so urgent. Now it was obvious she hadn’t even looked at it until now. I promised to check. I stopped what I was doing and went to get the tote bag out of the cabinet.

  I turned it upside down, hoping the sheet she wanted would fall out. It did and something else fell out with it and hit the floor. “I forgot all about this silver bracelet I found the other day.” I turned to Mrs. Shedd. “Has anybody said they lost one?”

  “Let me see it,” Sheila said, reaching out her hand. She looked it over and nodded. “This is from Luxe. I remember selling it. Remember, I said that we do inscriptions,” she said to me as she pointed to the inside of it.

  I took it back and checked the inner portion. It said: “Allergy Alert Shellfish.” I asked Sheila who had bought it, but I already knew the answer.

  “It was Sloan. I didn’t pay a lot of attention at the time, but I think she said she wanted something more stylish than the typical alert bracelet.” Sheila’s expression crumpled. “If only she’d been wearing it, maybe they could have saved her.”

  I didn’t say anything to Sheila, but I looked at Dinah and gave her a little nod. What I’d told Barry was correct. It wasn’t a random nuisance prank. It was premeditated murder.

  “I bet you can’t wait to tell Barry,” Dinah said. She’d stayed after when the rehearsal ended, and we’d gone to the café to sample the refreshments we were going to provide. Coffee and tea along with some of Bob’s milk-chocolate-chip cookie bars. I hadn’t said anything to the others. The Hookers all knew what had happened to Sloan, but I hadn’t told anyone I was investigating. Only Dinah knew everything.

  “Yes,” I said, “but it’s going to have to wait. I can’t do anything that will distract me from the event. You heard Mrs. Shedd. She’s nervous about the outcome. And so am I. I keep thinking we should have advertised more. I put something on our Facebook page. I’m hoping that we can start offering more kits, with events in conjunction. But this one has to work first.”

  “It may not be your concern anymore,” Dinah said, looking at me directly.

  “You thought of that too,” I said. “It makes me too upset to even consider it.” I ate a piece of cookie bar and washed it down with a slug of coffee.

  “Yes, but on the other side, you’ll have a whole new exciting beginning. You and Mason springing the innocent from jail while being stylish and having fun.”

  “He said we’ll be like Nick and Nora Charles. I have to say that the timing is good for me to go off with him. My mother’s tour is ending, and Samuel is coming home. He doesn’t even know that his brother is living in his room. My mother is probably expecting to use my living room so she and the girls can keep sharp for their next tour. And Barry is claiming Cosmo. The ER nurse suggested it.”

  “Oh,” Dinah said. “And I suppose he’ll give you your key back.” I nodded. “And that will be that. You’ll both get on with your lives.” She dipped her cookie bar in the coffee. “So when are you going to tell Barry?” she asked.

  “What, that I want my key back?” I said, confused.

  “No. Tell him that Sloan was the intended victim.”

  Someone walked past our table, and I looked to see if they’d heard what Dinah said. No way, the man was too involved with the carrier full of whipped-cream-covered frozen coffee drinks. “I’ll wait until he gets in touch. He got all upset when I contacted him.” I finished my coffee and cookie bar. “But for right now, all I’m worried about is tonight.”

  * * *

  By seven o’clock I had transformed the yarn department into the backdrop for the gathering. There were cases with the kits so that the bags could be examined to see the selection of yarn. Some had shades of the same color with a skein of something contrasting. Some were hodgepodges of colors and textures. If I said so myself, the packaging looked great.

  Rhoda was at the table, ready for our winner. Sheila and Dinah would go to their stations once I’d done the presentation. There was a nice crowd around the table, and I’d already had to send Dinah to the café for more refreshments.

  “Hello, everybody,” I began. I felt a little self-conscious with the microphone, but it was worth using it because I didn’t have to worry about everyone hearing me. “Usually this sort of thing ends with a raffle, but we’re going to begin with ours. The lucky winner will get to pick one of the scarf kits and will have the expert help of one the Tarzana Hookers, Rhoda Klein. No problem if the winner doesn’t know how to crochet. Rhoda will have them up and running in no time while we watch. Tonight’s event is all about introducing our scarf kits. Everything you need to make a one-of-a-kind scarf. The pattern is easy enough for a beginner. The combinations of yarn have been picked by the Tarzana Hookers, some of whom are here tonight. Dinah Lyons and Sheila Altman will be glad to help anyone start their scarf or teach them how to crochet, and as a bonus, if you purchase one of the kits, you can always come into the bookstore for help or just to hang out for social crocheting.”

  I reached deep in the bowl and pulled out a ticket. As I read the number, I heard a squeal from the crowd. I scanned the assembled group until I saw an arm waving wildly as a woman stepped forward. I recognized her right away, and I almost called her Mayonnaise. That’s one of the problems of using something to remind you of someone’s name. You remember the something more than the name. “Lucky you, Anastasia,” I said as she reached me. “She’s a member of one of our book clubs,” I said to the crowd, but to myself I was adding that she was a homeowner in the cul-du-sac.

  “I can’t wait to tell the rest of the book club that I won,” she said.

  I took off the microphone and took her over to the display of kits. I showed her how she could see the yarn through the back of the bag. She looked at a number of them and then turned to me. “What if I wanted to make the whole thing in the same yarn?”

  I tried to explain the point was that no two scarves would be alike, but then I just told her we’d bought the yarn in a special way and the skeins were all different.

  “This is the yarn from the house on the corner. That Sloan was telling you about when book club met,” she said, suddenly figuring it out.

  “Then you knew Sloan?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t say I knew her. She came around periodically, dropping off a pumpkin for Halloween, or an American flag for the Fourth. There’d always be one of her cards attached, reminding everyone that she could do so much more than just list a house. All her experience as a set designer gave her skills to turn every house into something that would spark a buyer’s imagination.”

  Anastasia’s expression had gone from the excitement of winning to troubled. “She tried to present herself as someone who knew the area and cared about it. But obviously she didn’t, or she wouldn’t have been helping bring a short-term rental property to our street.” She shook her head in annoyance. “There was more trouble. Someone was creeping around the flood control area, looking over fences. The land is actually owned by all the neighbors, but it can’t be used because it floods in the rainy season. “There were cops and a helicopter. I was relieved that TV reporter didn’t show up that time.�
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  You and me both. I pictured Peter’s face if Kimberly Wang Diaz had gotten a shot of me being taken away in handcuffs. “Were you the one who called the police?”

  “No,” she said. “We were just getting home when the police cars were pulling away. Bitsy is the one who told me what happened, but she said she didn’t call the cops, and the Yanas said they didn’t either. It couldn’t have been the O’Malleys because they’re out of town. Maybe it was neighbors on the other side.” I was going to ask for a name, but I heard Adele’s voice announcing her arrival. She moved through the crowd doing a royal wave.

  “Welcome to all my followers. The Adele is here,” she said, taking a bow. The crowd reorganized themselves around her and began reaching out to touch her.

  Then I heard someone squeal, “I got one.” A hand waved above the crowd holding one of the crocheted flowers that had been on Adele’s sweater. Someone else said something about wanting a piece of The Adele too.

  “You said if we came we’d get a souvenir to remember meeting you,” someone else said. “We love you The Adele!” another voice cried.

  “Pink, save me,” Adele cried, surrounded by fans that loved her too much. I grabbed the microphone and put it back on before pushing my way through the crowd. When I reached her, I put my arms out to hold the crowd back from their idol. Was I really acting as her bodyguard now? I looked toward the front and saw Mrs. Shedd watching what was happening with a worried expression. And then I had an idea.

  “The Adele will sign any kits you purchase and you’ll each get a moment with her.” I heard Adele let out a whine, and I whispered to her, “It’s that or I step away and let them have their way with you.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “But I need someone to guard me. I thought it was bad when they demanded content, but now they’re actually taking a piece of me.” She looked at her sleeve and a dangling piece of pink yarn that had anchored a crocheted flower in place.

  I was never so glad to see Eric Humphries arrive. The barrel-chested super-tall motorcycle officer was only too glad to act as his wife’s bodyguard. And I was only too glad to let him.

  Then Rhoda gave Anastasia her lesson while Sheila and Dinah helped some of the purchasers start their scarves. The refreshments had to be refilled again. Adele was besieged with one fan after another telling her their life story, but they all bought kits.

  When the last of them cleared the yarn department, I saw that Mason had been hanging at the back.

  “You had quite a night, Sunshine,” Mason said, coming up to me and giving me a warm hug. “Can I help you with that?” He pointed to the overfull tray of empty cups and the remnants of the refreshments. He grabbed the things that were about to fall off before I could say a weary yes.

  “You were here. I didn’t see you.”

  He pointed at a post. “I wanted to stay out of your way. Nobody can say your events are dull,” he said, adding a chuckle. We dropped everything off in the café. “It’s Saturday night,” he said. “I finished with my clients and, like I promised, the rest of the evening is ours.”

  Mrs. Shedd let the last of the shoppers out the door and then locked it, letting out a sigh of relief. Adele insisted that Eric bring the car around to the back door so she wouldn’t be accosted in the parking lot. I would have laughed at her request before, but after what I’d seen, she might have been right.

  Dinah smiled at Mason as she and Sheila walked to the front. “Have fun, you two.”

  Mason put his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “We will,” he said.

  Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal looked over the bins of kits that were now largely empty. “Good job,” Mr. Royal said. “You can leave everything. Pamela and I will clear up.”

  I didn’t argue and let Mason lead the way to the door.

  “I had thought of doing something splashy, but honestly I’m pretty tired,” he said. “What do you say we get a pizza from Paoli’s and take it home?”

  “I’d say yes, and be sure to get the half red sauce and half white sauce.” He opened the passenger door of his Mercedes SUV for me. Some women complained it was an old-fashioned custom that was demeaning, but I thought it was gallant. He called in the pizza order, and by the time we got there, it was ready. My mouth was watering from the smell all the way to his place.

  Spike gave me a big welcome and followed us as we walked down the hall. “I can’t wait for Princess and Spike to have a playdate,” I said, looking at the tiny dog.

  We went into Mason’s den and he put the pizza on the coffee table. I got plates and silverware. Then we both flopped on the couch and took our shoes off.

  The pizza was the best, with a thick crust and oozing with toping. The white sauce was insanely rich, but worth every calorie, and the red sauce added a contrast to the thick layer of cheese.

  “I’m afraid that wasn’t exactly a Nick and Nora Charles meal,” Mason said, putting his empty plate on the table.

  “Maybe if we’d had martinis,” I said.

  “We still can. I can whip some up.”

  “Are you kidding?” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said with a grin. I was known for my lack of tolerance for alcohol. I could smell it and get tipsy.

  We opted for cappuccinos, and he went off to make them while I enjoyed doing nothing for a while. He came back with the foamy drinks and set them down. “I finally, finally finished with my clients. The whole issue has been dropped, and the DA is not going to bother with the rest of the team. It’s not my concern, but they’re probably relieved since I think some ringers slipped in. At least it’s over with.”

  “Are you talking about the croquet players?” I said. “It sounds like much ado about nothing.”

  “I’ll second that,” he said. “Except that the stakes were really high. In that Varsity Blue scandal, some wealthy, powerful people got jail time and big fines. But it’s over with. Let’s talk about you. Anything new about the woman hit by the drone?”

  “Well, actually there is,” I said. “I thought all along there was the possibility that it wasn’t a random accident and that someone was after Sloan. And I found out I was right,” I said. I told him about the bracelet with the allergy alert.

  “Any meetings with Barry to share the information?” he asked. His tone had changed and seemed tinged with worry.

  “I haven’t had time.”

  “You could just phone it in,” he said.

  “Good idea, maybe I will.”

  “And now,” he said, “the perfect end for the evening.”

  He took my hand and led me back through the house to an enclosed patio off the master suite. The whirlpool spa was surrounded by candles, and there were rose petals floating on the water. I choked. It was almost what Barry had described, only there was no champagne and we wore bathing suits.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I awoke by falling out of bed. For a moment I was disoriented, and then I recognized the crocheted cover on my bed and realized I was in my own room—I was just seeing it from a different perspective.

  I pulled myself off the floor, and when I checked out my bed, I immediately understood what had happened. Three dogs and two cats were happily asleep, taking up most of my bed. There was just a sliver along the side where I must have been sleeping before I rolled too far.

  Mason had wanted me to stay, but I said I couldn’t depend on Peter to take care of the menagerie overnight. It was really an excuse. Mason kept referring to his place as “home,” meaning for both of us, but I wasn’t quite ready for that yet. I was sure I’d feel different after our week together. I could only imagine what would happen at my house. Samuel would want his room back, and with me gone for a week, Peter would probably take over my room.

  But for now I needed coffee. With Gabby gone, I was back to having coffee in my kitchen. Peter had said nothing about anything since that first night. I didn’t know how he’d react if I asked, so for now I left it to him to come to me. I did hope they were at least
talking. Whatever their differences, they were going to be parents. And I was going to be a grandparent. For a moment I thought of Charlie and how sad it was that he wasn’t there to be called Pops and spoil the little girl with pink unicorns and ice-cream cones.

  It took two cups of coffee that morning for me to really be alert. I had the tote bag with me and took out the silver bracelet. Before I said anything to Barry, I wanted to get some more information.

  Peter had passed me on his way out the door. He was meeting someone for golf. “It’s business,” he said. “I don’t want you to think that I moved in here and am slacking off.”

  “I never thought you were,” I said. The moment we’d had seemed to have changed him. Before he’d been annoyed at me for embarrassing him by doing anything. His comments were usually curt and meant to shut me up and remind me that I was in a different world than he was. It was crazy, because I was only in my fifties, not closing in on one hundred. But now he seemed to be talking to me instead of at me, which was an improvement.

  “What about breakfast?” I said, reverting to the role I’d played when he was a kid.

  “We’ll get something at the club. It’ll be a chance to talk business.”

  I wished him luck and considered giving him a hug, but I knew that was pushing it.

  With him gone I didn’t have to worry about him walking in on a call. I dialed Donna’s number, and the caretaker, Marge, answered. As soon as she heard it was me, she handed the phone to Donna.

  “It isn’t about Princess, is it? I was hoping you could keep her,” Donna said.

  “No worries. She has a forever home with me.”

  “That’s a relief,” she said. “There’s something else. I know you said you’d be willing to help out, and I wonder if you’d just have a look at my sister’s place and make sure everything is okay. And take in the mail.”