Hooks Can Be Deceiving

by Betty Hechtman

  They were all hushed as she began to read. “‘Dana looked out the small plane’s window at the blue water below. She was anxious for the flight to be over and looked forward to being safely on the ground and on her way to the resort. She knew it wasn’t fair to blame all men for the way Josh had dumped her, but for now she wanted no part of the other half of the species. She looked over at the other passenger. She knew his name was Alexander something or other. There was something stiff and proper about his crisp khaki pants and button-down shirt.

  “‘He’d tried to make conversation, but she’d rebuffed him. Everything about him was a turn-off, particularly that he was a man. She looked out the front window of the plane, hoping for a sight of the coast, but instead all she saw were towering dark clouds as the plane began to pitch…’”

  My mind started to drift back to my job, and I vaguely heard something about a plane crash and the two passengers being left on a small island. I looked over the crowd and counted heads. It was going to be a chore to get them to keep moving through the line while Missy Z signed their books. I’d have to stand next to her and make sure no one started a conversation with her that would hold things up. How to be firm, but not rude?

  I’d tuned back in, as I sensed by the tone of her voice that she was getting to the end of her reading. “‘“The only way we’re going to survive is if we stick together,” Alexander said. He’d managed to make an enclosure out of driftwood and palm fronds. She was soaked to the skin from the unrelenting rain, and the thought of being someplace dry won out. Dana accepted his invitation and went inside.’”

  “Where’s the hot stuff?” someone from the audience called out.

  Missy Z seemed to look at the crowd. “You’ll have to buy the book for that,” she said with a laugh.

  I shifted over to her as the crowd got out of their seats. Mr. Royal helped arrange the line, and I heard him telling them how to page their books. It made it quicker to move people through if they had their copies already open to the signing page.

  Missy Z had her pen ready, and I began to let people through while keeping an eye on them to make sure they didn’t dawdle. Because of the low light, I couldn’t see who was who until they had handed her their book. She was gracious and accepted compliments as she scribbled her name. I had to step in only a few times when someone started telling the author their life story.

  Rhoda came through with a nervous giggle. She and Dinah had decided to share a copy. She said Dinah had left already and had asked her to say good-bye to me. Marianne was right behind, clutching her copy. I realized it must have taken a lot of determination for her to do anything because of the cloud of medication. She set down her book, and Missy Z gave her hand a squeeze before she wrote something. Then the next person moved up.

  The line seemed to go on forever. I went to see where it ended and noticed Adele edging along the side with a copy of the book in her hand. When she got almost next to me, she turned to the next person in line and said she was a bookstore employee, as if that gave her a special privilege. The woman shrugged and Adele moved into position to be next.

  “There you are. I knew you were up to something when I saw the drab clothes. It’s my duty to keep an eye on things,” a voice called out. My head shot up, and I saw that Lenore Humphries, aka Mother Humphries, had come into the event area and was staring directly at Adele. “Wait until I tell Eric you’re hanging out with people who write smutty books.”

  Missy Z must have thought the outburst was aimed at her and stood up and moved away from the table defensively, not realizing that Adele had somehow stepped on the veil. The dark covering pulled free, and the whole world got a view of her purple T-shirt with a dancing cat on the front before she darted back into the enclosure.

  I gave Adele a dirty look and left her to deal with the crowd while I grabbed the veil and followed the author.

  The woman Adele had butted in front of had grabbed my coworker’s arm. “You said you were a bookstore employee. Your better fix this.”

  I looked back as Adele dithered between making a run for it and being the center of attention. Apparently running won. “Gotta go, folks. I’m sure Molly will fix everything,” Adele said as she took off.

  Missy Z was cowering in the corner, trying to hide her face, but I could see enough of it to realize that the so-called publicity person was really the author. I held up the veil, which had been ripped in the accident, and we had a short conference on how to proceed. I managed with the help of a stapler to repair her shroud for the time being, and she reemerged from the enclosure. The line of people still waiting gave her some excited applause.

  When the last person got their book signed, it was past closing time. Missy Z went back into the enclosure and seemed at a loss for what to do. “I can’t go out like this, and if I take off the veil, the people outside will know it’s me.” She looked down at the purple cat T-shirt and grumbled at herself for wearing something so noticeable.

  I told her to stay put for the moment and I’d work it out. I found Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal at the front of the bookstore. They both seemed elated about the success of the event and also worn out from dealing with it. They were relieved when I suggested they could leave and that I would lock up.

  When I’d made sure the place was empty, I told the author she could come out.

  “You’ve seen my face, so there’s no point trying to keep this on,” she said, tossing the veil off to the side. “Memo to me, always bring a spare.” When I’d met the so-called publicity person, I hadn’t paid that much attention to her, but now that I knew I was speaking to the one and only Missy Z, I looked her over more carefully. She was a plain-looking woman who, frankly, would have gotten lost in a crowd. She told me she’d just walked in with the others and then detoured to the enclosed area, where she’d put on the veil. “I had expected to exit the same way.”

  I suggested she just give it a little more time to make sure everyone had cleared the area outside and then we could leave together.

  “How about a drink while you wait?” I led her to the café and opened the door. She was going to follow me in and then noted all the windows, realizing someone could see in. I sent her back to the yarn department, since it was in the back and had no windows, before going behind the counter and making us coffee.

  I snagged some leftover cookie bars and brought everything back to the yarn department. She had idly picked up a crochet hook and some of the cotton yarn left on the table and began to make a chain.

  “You crochet?” I said, surprised, and she nodded.

  “It’s a nice hobby,” she said.

  “Is the name you gave me before your real one?”

  She nodded with a regretful expression.

  “So then you’re Frances Allen?”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t think that through. It’s lucky I’m not trying to write spy novels.”

  She thanked me as she took one of the coffees and a cookie bar. I realized I hadn’t asked her how she took it and was relieved she drank it black like me. I congratulated her on the crowd she’d drawn.

  “It must be exciting to be such a big success.”

  “I’m still getting used to it,” she said. “To think, not so long ago this was a dream.” She had connected the chain into a circle, and I could tell she was making a flower.

  “You said something about writing at night,” I said. The coffee and cookie bar were giving me a much-needed lift.

  “It was really all thanks to the job I had. It came with a guesthouse, a salary, and time to write.” What she said struck a bell, and then I remembered something odd that she’d done during the signing.

  “You didn’t happen to work as some kind of companion?” I asked. She seemed surprised and nodded. Then she seemed a little worried.

  “I hope it wasn’t that obvious from what I said. I tried to be vague.”

  “Did you work for Marianne Freeman?” I said, and the color drained from Missy Z’s face.

  “H
ow’d you know?” She seemed dumbfounded.

  “I saw that you squeezed her hand when you signed her book. I didn’t see you do it to anyone else.”

  “It was an automatic reaction when I saw her. I’m going to have to think before I do stuff.” She’d begun working on the petals of the flower.

  “I suppose you heard about what happened to her recent companion?” I asked, and she shuddered.

  “I walked that same way all the time,” she said. “I haven’t been able to get it straight. Was it an accident?”

  I wasn’t sure how much to say, and really what I wanted was to get her talking. “I think it’s still undetermined,” I said finally.

  She asked me if I’d ever seen the property, and when I said yes, she shuddered again. “I always parked my car right in front of the entrance to the lawn where it happened. It was the shortest way to get to the guesthouse.” She thought for a moment. “It’s lucky it wasn’t Marianne. She always ended her day with a nightly walk around the whole lawn.”

  She wondered how I knew Marianne, and I mentioned that she had joined the Hookers.

  “I’m the one who taught her the basics of crochet. It never occurred to me to bring her to a group. I wish I had thought of it.”

  “It sounds like you really cared about her.” I thought of Connie and Janine’s indifference to their charge.

  “We were both new to it. I’d never been a companion before and she’d never had one.” She mentioned that her previous job had been teaching preschool. “Now you understand why I don’t want to go public with my identity.” She rolled her eyes. “You never know the future, and I might need to go back to it.”

  I steered the conversation back to Marianne. “Maybe I can ask you. Do you know why she’s on such heavy medication?’

  “I was told that she was suffering from anxiety and depression. She’d had some bad life events and had fallen apart.” She finished the last petal and fastened it off. I handed her some scissors to cut the yarn. “It used to break my heart to see her trying to find her way through that drug fog. I can’t say I blame her for not wanting to take them. I hated being the warden, but her brother made it clear that she couldn’t function at all without them. I sometimes wondered if it was something else. Something physical maybe, but I suppose she just snapped.”

  I asked why she’d stopped working for Marianne, and she sighed. “I felt bad about leaving her. I’d worked for her for over a year, and it was like I was living her life the whole time. I was grateful to be able to finish my book, but I was burned out and needed to have my own life again. My boyfriend suggested I move in with him, and I had some money saved up. I needed to have more freedom, too, while I finished up the arrangements for The Hot Zone. When you self-publish, there’s a lot to do.”

  “Did you know Connie Richards?” I asked.

  “Sure. I trained her. Well, really she didn’t need any real training. She’d had a couple of jobs as a companion before,” Frances said. I asked what kind of person Connie had been, and she shrugged. “I don’t think she planned to make a career of being a companion. She said something to me once about wanting to save up her money and then travel.” She’d already begun making another chain of stitches.

  I suddenly felt sad for Connie. The author’s comments were the first that made me think of the dead woman as a whole person with dreams and aspirations, all of which had ended.

  I asked about Errol, and she sighed. “I didn’t know what to make of him, to be honest. I never could figure if he was a concerned sibling or if he was trying to control her. They both had trust funds, but she has control of that house and property.

  “I’m eternally grateful for the chance that job gave me. It’s too bad I couldn’t just tell Marianne to her face. If there’s anything I could ever do for her.”

  She looked around at the darkened bookstore and out one of the large windows that faced Ventura Boulevard. “Do you think the coast is finally clear?”

  I offered to go outside and check. There was nothing like a mystery to fire up people’s curiosity, and when I went outside, there were still a few people hanging around the parking lot, talking. I heard a few wisps of their conversations and got that they were waiting for her to come out. I pretended to be getting something from my car, and as soon as they saw me, I was swarmed by them.

  “Is she coming out? You must know her real identity.”

  “She left a long time ago,” I said. “Some mysteries are best left unsolved,” I said. It wasn’t really an answer, but it seemed to satisfy them, and they finally got into their cars.

  I went back inside and got Frances. I wondered what her fans would have thought if they had seen the steamy romance sensation get into a Smart car.

  It had been quite an evening.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After what I’d heard from Marianne’s former companion, I really wanted to talk to Marianne again and preferably alone. But it was going to have to wait. When I got to the bookstore the next morning, I was faced with the cleanup from the night before. I was glad that Sunday mornings were usually quiet, with most of the activity in the café.

  Adele came in as I was folding up chairs. She seemed in a daze as she stopped in the middle of the bookstore, as if she didn’t know where to go. She gave the kids’ department a dismissive shrug and headed back to the yarn department, probably for some therapeutic crochet time. I could only imagine what she’d gone home to.

  Mr. Royal came to help me, and we moved the bookcases back into their original arrangement. He always seemed so youthful and enthusiastic about life. He said that he and Mrs. Shedd were off to brunch and that they’d be back in a couple of hours.

  We’d sold out of The Hot Zone, and there were just empty boxes to flatten. I put away the microphone and book light before setting up the table we’d used for the signing as a display table of beach reads.

  I grabbed a red eye and went to the information booth. I’d barely sat down when I sensed someone standing in front of the enclosure and looked up. Barry? I checked around to see if there was anyone within earshot before I responded.

  “Isn’t it kind of chancy for you to come here?” I said. “Heather could pop out of the café or something.” Though when I noticed his clothing, he was clearly off duty. The well-worn jeans and pocket T-shirt under a flannel shirt soft from countless washings were not work clothes.

  Barry smiled. “I’m not here about that.” He moved a little to the side, and I saw Jeffrey resting his elbows on a table, reading something. Barry leaned a little closer and lowered his tall frame toward me. “Why? Do you know something?”

  “Maybe I do,” I said. I couldn’t help myself and said it in a teasing way.

  He saw that no one was around. “You could probably tell me now.”

  “It’s not like it’s a sound bite,” I said. “It will take some explaining, and I might have more later.” Just then, Jeffrey joined us, and Barry straightened.

  “Jeffrey needs a book for school,” Barry said, before Jeffrey got upset with his father for speaking for him. I saw Barry close his eyes and shake his head from side to side in frustration. It had been a major adjustment when Jeffrey had first come to stay with him. He had been pretty clueless about being a single father and was still struggling with the balancing act of stepping up to take care of him and stepping back to let the boy test his wings.

  I had cared about Jeffrey when Barry and I were together, and I still did. The feeling seemed to be mutual, though because of the breakup it had become awkward, and I only saw him in passing if I was home when he came over to see Cosmo.

  Jeffrey rolled his eyes at his father. “It’s a book on set design,” he said, explaining that he had a part in the upcoming school play and was going to be working backstage. “I want to know how everything works,” he said, sounding very manly. This time it was Barry who rolled his eyes.

  On a hunch, as I led them to the section of books, I asked if they’d seen a movie called The Grass
Is Always Greener. Jeffrey said no and Barry gave me a puzzled expression. I left them to check out the selection of books and returned to my work. A little while later, they passed the information booth on their way out. Barry held up a book and mouthed a thank you as he and Jeffrey went to the front to pay.

  * * *

  When Joshua Royal and Pamela Shedd returned from their brunch, I told them I was taking lunch and had a few things to take care of, so I might be gone a little while. They were fine with that. After Barry and Jeffrey left, I’d called Marianne. I’d come up with a ruse to get her to invite me over. I’d offered to give her some personal help with making one of the bracelets so it would be smoother when the show finally taped.

  Marianne seemed aware that her crochet skills were a little shaky, and she accepted my offer without hesitation.

  By now, the drive to Marianne’s house had become routine, and I had no trouble knowing where to turn off Wells Drive. The gate across the private road was open, and I wondered if it was ever closed. There were several cars parked at the top, and I parked behind a Toyota. The area where Connie had died was uncovered this time, and I saw that the grass had been dug up and it looked like they were putting in a stone walkway.

  Marianne must have been listening for my car, because she had the door open as I came up the short front walkway.

  She seemed more in a fog than usual, and her movements were stiff as she led the way down the hall with Janine walking behind her. I flinched when the clock in the living room began to sound the hour. Marianne noticed my reaction. “Sorry, it’s not even accurate.” I checked my watch and saw that she was right. It was already ten minutes past the hour.

  We ended up in the den, and both of us sat on the couch. I put my tote bag on the coffee table and looked out the window across the lawn to the guesthouse. If the public only knew that this was where Missy Z had written her sizzling book.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Marianne said to Janine. “I don’t need two companions.” There was a moment of silence, and Marianne glanced from Janine to me. “That was supposed to be a joke.” She shook her head regretfully. “I have no sense of timing anymore.” Then she groaned and leaned back against the couch. “And no energy either. It feels like weight lifting to pick up a crochet hook.” She repeated her request to Janine. “I’ll call you when Molly leaves.”