Behind the Seams (15 page)

“I spent the afternoon with Rhoda,” Elise said, showing off the cell phone sock she’d made. “I call it the Anthony,” she said, referring to the vampire who crocheted. It was black with a red corkscrew hanging off it. She handed it to CeeCee. “I was hoping you could give it to Hugh Jackman next time you see him.” There was swoon in Elise’s birdlike voice.

Everybody started working. CeeCee watched her niece and helped her with the first row and took out a stitch marker and stuck it in the last stitch so she’d be able to see where a row ended.

I started on a change purse. The group became silent as our hooks flew and objects grew right in front of our eyes. For the first time since the incident, the worry disappeared from Nell’s face. I would bet money that, at least for a moment, she’d forgotten all about being a murder suspect. I, however, couldn’t forget and, while I was working, kept my eye out for Bob.

“SIMI VALLEY?” DINAH SAID. “HE WANTS YOU TO move to a condo in Simi Valley?”

“It’s not exactly the ends of the earth,” I said. “And he just had some info on a couple of condo developments. It’s not as if he put down a deposit or anything.”

Dinah looked at me with concern. “Are you so sure?” She mentioned a trip to Hawaii Barry had planned to the point of buying nonrefundable tickets without consulting me. “He just seems to act on things,” she added.

“He wouldn’t,” I said. I hoped the tinge of doubt I suddenly felt didn’t show in my voice.

When the group had broken up, Dinah and I had gone to the café. Mr. Royal was still manning the counter and I was determined to wait for Bob. I assured Nell I’d let her know as soon as I talked to our barista about his sweetener purchase. She and CeeCee left to go shopping for buttons and beads to put on their impatient crochet creations. Adele rolled up her fancy wooden hooks and went back to the kids’ department. Rhoda couldn’t wait to tell her Hal about the success of her crochet idea. I think Elise went to the movies to see
Caught By a Kiss
again.

“We might as well have a coffee while we wait,” I said. I wasn’t totally brokenhearted that Bob wasn’t back yet. I was glad to have some time to catch up with my friend. The whole condo concept was new to her. Ever since she and Commander Blaine had become a couple, it seemed like she had less and less time to hang out. Was I jealous? Jealous that she didn’t have time for me or that the man in her life made plans and kept them? Commander was his nickname. I never got it straight where it came from other than his real name was Sylvester. You could say he was the other extreme from Barry. Commander always seemed to have something planned, usually involving doing something nice for other people, like the senior karaoke event. But then it was easier for him to figure his time. He owned the local Mail It center and had regular hours.

It wasn’t Barry’s fault. It was part of being a homicide detective that dead bodies, clues and runaway suspects came up when they came up, with no regard to convenience. Still, it was hard to deal with and even harder now that my best friend wasn’t around as much.

I was truly happy for Dinah. After a long line of jerks, she’d finally connected with a winner. It showed in her face, too. Her eyes were always animated but seemed even brighter now. The way she wore her short hair gave her a playful look, and the way she’d swirled the pink-and-brick-colored scarves together added a rakish touch.

The café was busy, which was a saving grace for the bookstore. It had been genius on Mrs. Shedd’s part to come up with the idea of having freshly baked cookies. Bob had come through by being a fabulous baker. He might write about aliens in his spare time, but his baking was definitely down to earth. The trays of cookies in the display case were almost empty.

I noticed Dinah surreptitiously glancing at her watch as we discussed Barry’s plan for our future together.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” I asked finally, and she looked up with a guilty smile.

“Commander volunteered our services at the square dance and ice-cream party at the Tarzana Park Recreation Center, and I promised to help set up. You ought to come.”

I started to automatically say no, but she worked on me until I said I would try to make it. Why not? It sounded like fun. Right? Saturday night was when people went out and did fun things or at least stayed home together and did fun things. Not like Barry and me. More often than not, I’d end up crocheting in front of an old romantic comedy and he’d end up at the morgue.

Dinah sat back and said she still had time before she was supposed to meet Commander. “It was so different when I was just involved with jerks. They all seemed to always have one foot out of the door. Commander actually wants to spend time with me, and he wants me to be part of the things he does.” Dinah rolled her eyes as if even she couldn’t quite believe what she was about to say. “He even likes to talk. And talk about us.”

We both laughed. Wasn’t that the universal complaint about men? As much as they didn’t want to talk to their girlfriends, they wanted to talk about their coupleness even less.

“Men, go figure,” I said, throwing up my hands.

“Who’s talking about us?” a male voice said. I looked up, and a man with an impish smile and tousled brown hair leaned on the chair back next to me. “Can’t live with us or without us,” he said with a good-natured twinkle in his eye.

“Something like that,” I said.

“Sorry for jumping into your conversation. I have a bad habit of eavesdropping and then adding my comments. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m D. J. Florian,” he said. “Molly Pink, right? Mr. Royal pointed you out. He said you’re the one to talk to about the setup for the faux book signing.” He’d caught me off guard, and instead of explaining the whole thing about Salute to Chocolate, I just asked him for his phone number. Nobody could find a piece of paper, and then he pulled a scrap out of his pocket and wrote his information on it. He smiled at Dinah and said he didn’t mean to ignore her, and they introduced themselves as I slipped it in the pocket of my suit. He looked around as he turned the chair he’d been leaning on and straddled it, facing us.

“I’ve gotten to love this café. It’s certainly a lot better than the donut shop I hung out at when I was on the skids. What a great place to do my blog.” I noticed a laptop set up on a table near an outlet, and I realized I’d seen him in here before. I just hadn’t known who he was. “Any idea of when Bob will be back?”

“Soon, I hope,” I said before explaining to Dinah about D.J.’s blogoir.

Dinah, forever the English instructor, made a face at the word, and D. J. rushed in to explain that he’d coined the word to describe a new literary form.

“I describe my book as a blog mixed with a memoir,” he said. Dinah was curious what it was about. I tried to be diplomatic and say that he’d turned his troubles into something good, but he laughed and took over. “Molly is being too kind. I was a mess. There’s a reason I call the book
Back from Hell
. Because that’s where I made it back from.” He explained how he’d lost everything and hit bottom, but the blog and the comments he’d gotten from people had helped him turn his life around. “I turned it into a book that I hope is inspirational. Something like, I did it, so you can, too.” He looked toward the entrance to outside. “And there’s Bob.”

Bob was wearing a suit and he looked about as comfortable in it as I was in mine. I got up and blocked his path. “I need to talk to you.”

“Be there in a minute,” he said, nodding toward Mr. Royal, who seemed to be perfectly happy making coffee drinks.

“Well?” he said to me in a worn voice.

Dinah had joined me and I was all set to grill him about the sweetener, but first I had to find out what was wrong. The obvious opener was to ask about his attire.

“I went to Robyn’s funeral,” he said. Not what I expected.

“You did?” D. J. said from the table. “Sorry, my eavesdropping habit,” he said. He got off his chair and joined our little circle. “I still can’t believe she’s dead. I just talked to her last week about my appearance on the talk show,” the author said.

I asked Bob for details about the funeral. For some reason, I’d thought it would be small and poorly attended. Maybe it had something to do with Nell’s complaints about her and what I’d seen with my own eyes. It turned out to be just the contrary.

“The chapel was full,” Bob said. “Barbara Olive Overton was there. I’m not sure who everyone else was, but I think they probably worked for the production company.”

“Was Talia Canon there?” D. J. asked. “I know the show must go on and all, but she certainly stepped into Robyn’s shoes quickly.” The author ruffled his hand through his dark hair. “I admit I was concerned with thinking how Robyn’s death was going to affect my appearance, but when Talia called to tell me she was in charge, I expected her to sound more distraught somehow.”

Bob didn’t know who Talia was and couldn’t say if she was there or not. I asked about Pierce Sheraton. Bob knew who the entertainment reporter was and nodded.

“Did he try to interview Barbara?” I asked.

“No,” Bob answered. “No cameras, no sticking his face in the middle of things. He didn’t even bother the movie-star couple. I almost forget they were there.” He thought a minute. “Becca Ivins and Derek Trousedale.”

I was surprised about the celebrity couple being there, but then I remembered the big board in the production office. Robyn was in charge of their appearance on the show. They must have come out of respect.

D. J. hung his head. “I probably should have gone, too.”

Bob looked toward the counter and started to separate himself from us, apparently assuming I had finished with whatever I wanted to talk about. Dinah and I exchanged glances and I followed behind him, while she stayed at the table. I heard her reassuring D. J. that it was okay about not going to the funeral.

Mr. Royal took off his apron and handed it and the counter back to Bob. As they made the transfer, Bob looked sideways at me, apparently assuming I was there about a drink. “Give me a minute and I’ll make you a red-eye.”

He looked at the empty cookie trays and opened the refrigerator. He’d left rolls of butter cookies ready to be sliced and baked. He set the oven and pulled out the cookie sheets.

I didn’t want to think he had anything to do with anybody’s death, but there was the glaring fact that the clerk had described him as the customer who bought a box of Nature’s Sweetie, and the store was the return address on the package. He could have picked up one of those business cards in the store and stuck it on the package as a return address.

I must have been breathing funny, because Bob looked up from his slicing. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m surprised you went to Robyn’s funeral. I guess you were more involved with her than I realized.”

He kept slicing the cookies and laying them out on the tray. “I wouldn’t say I was involved with her. When she started coming in, she noticed me typing on my laptop and asked what I was working on. I showed her a scene from my script.” Bob picked up the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven. “She really got the concept of a werewolf planet. She even suggested I might want to add some other kinds of aliens. Whenever she came in, I showed her another scene. She made some good suggestions, and I was hoping when I finished it, she might help me get it in front of the right set of eyes. I wanted her to keep coming in. So, I . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked guilty.

“So, you what?” I prompted.

“You won’t tell Mrs. Shedd, will you? I gave her free drinks.”

“I know about the Nature’s Sweetie,” I said finally. He put up his hands defensively.

“I bought it with my own money. It was the only kind of sweetener she would use.” He leaned behind the counter and pulled out the box to show me. He even handed me one of the weird little pyramid-shaped packets.

“How many boxes did you buy?” I asked.

“Just one. Are you kidding? That stuff is expensive,” he said. If he’d only bought one box, and it was here, then he didn’t send the tainted box to Robyn’s office. That is if he was telling the truth. I really wanted to believe him. Yes, I wanted to get Nell off the hook, but I didn’t want Bob to be a murderer. I hugged him and thanked him for the information.

He seemed uncomfortable with my sudden show of affection, and I certainly wasn’t about to explain. I let go abruptly and stepped back. I was still holding the packet.

“Keep it,” Bob said. “Try it in your red-eye.” He’d filled a cup with the day’s brew and pushed the button on the espresso machine.

“No, thank you,” I said, dropping it back in the box. “I only drink my coffee straight.”

As it turned out, it was a lucky choice.

DINAH HAD VAMOOSED WITH AN APOLOGETIC WAVE as I picked up my coffee. I noticed that D. J. had retreated to his computer as I headed into the bookstore. Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal were standing over the best-seller table rearranging books. His hand brushed hers and she looked up at him. The look they exchanged was out of a romance novel and spurred me to action. Maybe I could stir up a little romance for Barry and me. I tried to avoid making personal calls at work, but I called Barry and told him about the square dancing Dinah had talked me into. “I thought it would be fun. Would you like to go?” I asked.

He laughed—in a good way. “Babe, I’m on the way to Santa Barbara to talk to somebody.” He didn’t have to say more; I got it. He was gone for the duration, and if I wanted to go, it would be alone. Or almost. I called Barry’s son and asked if he was interested. Jeffrey was, but there was a hitch. OMG, Jeffrey/Columbia had a girlfriend. Yes, I used the text talk I was always making fun of. What can I say—you have to move with the times.

When I stopped home, I finally got out of my dreaded suit and into a pair of khaki slacks and a white shirt. I folded up the jacket and put it into a shopping bag. Did I need my head examined? I’d agreed to let Adele add some crochet edging to it.