On the Hook Read online

  “I don’t know how he segued into the workshop business, but I’m sure he used the success of his two coaching clients, along with his own credits, to attract students. Word is that he was just about to increase the number of workshops he put on.”

  Mason let out a breath as he turned onto his street. “And that’s the end of what I found out so far,” he said. He left the SUV in his driveway instead of pulling into the garage, since he’d be driving me home later.

  “You don’t sound like you think much of him,” I said. It wasn’t the words he’d used as much as the tone.

  “It’s not fair of me to judge, because I don’t know for sure, but I’m sure it was a sketchy operation. It’s not hard to play on people’s dreams. It’s fine for the two people who got something big, but I’m sure there are others who just kept paying him and getting nowhere.”

  “Actually, I just met his current group of students. They’re definitely an emotional bunch.”

  “And probably at least one of them was involved romantically with him.” Mason beeped the lock, looked at me, and saw I was surprised by his comment. “You have no idea what fantasies they probably draped on him. He knew their dream from the inside and could somehow magically make it happen for them—something like that.”

  “You could be right. Adele was all aflutter at the idea that Timothy had discovered her and seen that her true talent was to be a ‘personality.’ She thought she was special to him. Who knows what she would have done if she was single.”

  Spike started barking from inside Mason’s house. The toy fox terrier clearly knew who was outside the door because they were barks of joy, not warning.

  Though for the most part Mason lived alone, his house was huge. The outside of the ranch-style house was all dark wood that at night seemed to blend and become barely visible. The window with a lamp in it seemed to be floating in space.

  As soon as the door was open, Spike danced around Mason’s feet until he picked up the tiny dog. Spike looked over Mason’s arm to check me out. He started to bark at me, then realized who I was. I reached over and gave his head a soft pat, and he licked my hand.

  We passed by the living room and followed a hall to the back of the house. A huge den faced the backyard and pool and was the living center. It looked just as I remembered it. The furniture was leather and comfortable. A big-screen TV sat against one wall. A doorway on the other end led to the kitchen. Mason pulled the bottle of red liqueur out of the bag and set it on a bar cart against the wall.

  “Take off your coat and make yourself comfortable,” he said.

  I looked around for evidence of his daughter Brooklyn. The last time I’d seen him, she had been living at the house while she went to law school. It seemed that whenever I came over, she’d had her work spread out in the den and glared at me for intruding.

  There were no papers or law books sitting around. Other than Spike, the house seemed deathly quiet.

  “See, I told you. I’m living alone now,” he said. “And as you can see, no interior decorator has touched the place.”

  But there was something else he wasn’t telling me. If Jaimee was out of the picture, why was he acting nice, but distant?

  He went into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of ice and some cream in a small pitcher. “Let’s see what I can come up with.”

  He began measuring and pouring the ingredients into a shaker and added some ice. The cubes banged against the metal as he made a production about shaking the drink.

  “And now we strain out the ice,” he said, putting some gadget over the top of the open shaker and pouring the frothy pink drink into two cocktail glasses. I started to reach for one. “Wait. This is the most important part.” He dropped a maraschino cherry into each glass, which immediately sank below the surface of the creamy drink.

  “To research,” he said as we clinked classes.

  As I lifted my glass, I got a whiff of the almond scent, and it reminded me of the Bobaccino. I considered sharing how Barry had snatched my drink. But it seemed awkward somehow, so I just took a sip. “Wow,” I said. “This must have a million calories, but it certainly tastes good.”

  I lifted my glass to drink some more, but Mason put his hand on my arm. “Slow down. It’s pretty light in the alcohol department, but it will still pack a wallop for you. Why don’t we sit down?” he said, pointing to the cushiony couch.

  I agreed and then took another sip of the drink. I was already feeling a buzz. I suppose it gave me the push to say what was on my mind.

  “So, what happened? Are you seeing someone new?”

  “Huh?” he said with a puzzled expression.

  “I’m just wondering why you never called.”

  He took a sip of the drink and made a face. “Clark must have liked them, but this is too girly a drink for me.” He set the glass on the coffee table and went in the kitchen to get a beer.

  “You broke up with me, remember?” he said when he returned. “And I did try to call, but you never picked up or returned my messages.” He set the beer bottle on the table. “You broke my heart.” I looked to see if he was joking, but his face was dead serious.

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I thought stuff just rolled off of you.”

  He seemed surprised. “Geez, you make me sound like some lounge lizard. I have feelings, and they were hurt. I have the empty whiskey bottles and worn-out Adele CD to prove it.” For a moment his expression lightened. “Yes, I still play CDs.” I took another sip and put the drink down, too. The buzz had intensified, and it was beginning to feel like my brain was stuffed with velvet.

  “Maybe now you understand why I had been trying to keep my family away from my social life in the first place. Even with Jaimee out of here, I know that unless she marries again, issues with her will keep coming up. You can end a marriage but you can’t erase a relationship.”

  My mind seemed to be moving in slow motion. I wanted to say something about where all this left us, but before I could form the words, he continued. “But the wound healed, and frankly, I never, ever want to feel that bad again. Besides which, I don’t think the Adele CD could take it. So I went back to my old ways. Casual, fun, and no strings.”

  “Then, you met someone?” I said, finally able to put some words together.

  He had the teasing grin I remembered as he said, “A gentleman never kisses and tells.” He checked for my reaction, but the truth was, the few sips of the drink had made me immobile. I was such a cheap date.

  When I didn’t say anything, he shook his head and reached for the glass. “I told you to go slow. It went right to your head, didn’t it?”

  I nodded, and he picked up the other glass and took both of them to the kitchen. He came back a moment later with a cup of steaming coffee. “Maybe this will help,” he said as he handed it to me. “And you’ve obviously met someone. The voice at your house. Who is he? Someone special?”

  “You mean Leo?” I said with a laugh. “Hardly. He’s Rhoda’s husband’s brother, and somehow I’ve ended up doing some sort of Pygmalion thing with him. He’s a widower and clueless about dating or the world. Can you believe he’s never even had Chinese food?”

  “That’s the way it starts, but then you turn him into the perfect man for you and fall into each other’s arms.”

  “You haven’t met Leo or you wouldn’t say that.” Now that I knew the truth about Mason’s situation, I didn’t want to talk about relationships anymore. There was a moment of dead air. “We really ought to get back to why I’m here,” I said, maybe too abruptly. “What about his family?”

  It took Mason a moment to catch up to my thoughts and realize I was talking about Timothy Clark. I think he was as relieved as I was to let the whole other line of conversation go, too. “In a totally not unique story, his wife dumped him when his show got canceled. She took their daughter and moved to New York. I’m sure the cops are talking to her, but my source said there seemed to be peace between them. There were no problems with custo
dy or alimony. It appeared that she got what she could from him and moved on.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “Spouses are usually such good suspects.”

  “The cops will probably take a while before they come to the conclusion that she’s not involved. By the way, I gather that Clark having a pink squirrel to end the day was common knowledge.”

  “So pretty much anyone who knew him could have planned it,” I said, and he agreed. “If only I hadn’t gone with Adele and Elise, I wouldn’t be in this mess,” I said with a sigh. “Sorry, I guess that sounds kind of cold. But you know what I mean. I wouldn’t be personally involved.” By now, whatever effect I’d felt from the alcohol had worn off completely.

  Mason leaned forward. “I would never think you were cold. And I get it. Who wants to be a possible suspect in a murder of someone they don’t even know?” He touched my hand briefly. “Anything I can do to help, just call my cell anytime.” I got up to leave. “And if you need backup, getting bailed out of jail, picked up if you’re stranded, anything at all—just call. I mean that as your attorney and your friend.”

  I laughed as we walked to the door. “See, I would have been fine to drive myself home.”

  “But only because I took the drink away. As your lawyer, I couldn’t take a chance on you getting a DUI.”

  I got it. When he had said he was my lawyer and my friend, he’d been giving me the limits of our relationship. I’d certainly made a fine mess of things, and I guessed there was no way to ask for a do-over.

  * * *

  I felt like I was in the song about raining men. Mason had barely dropped me off—no, he didn’t walk me to the door and there was just a friendly pat on the shoulder as he bid me good-night—when my landline rang. It was Barry wanting to know if he could speak to me for a few minutes.

  When I opened the door to let him in, he was already on the front porch. Since the doorbell hadn’t rung, Cosmo and Felix didn’t realize someone had come in. At first anyway. But then both dogs started to bark until they recognized Barry.

  Barry was doing his best to be all serious cop while the dogs jumped at him, wanting attention. Keeping a somber expression, he bent down and gave both of them a few pats.

  When he straightened, he didn’t make a move toward the living room.

  “So, you were with Mason,” he said. “Is that on again?”

  “He’s my lawyer,” I said, not wanting to get into any details about whether Mason and I were in any sort of relationship.

  “Your lawyer?” Barry said with interest. “Now why would you need a lawyer?”

  “Oh, you know it’s always good to have a lawyer. You never know when some question will come up about whether your neighbor’s fence is encroaching on your property.”

  “That would be a real estate attorney. Last I heard, Mason was defending criminals.”

  “Whatever,” I said lightly. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  “I’m sorry my taking your Bobaccino upset you. It wasn’t about your figure.” He blew out a breath, and I could tell he felt awkward. “I’m sure you must realize I always thought you were perfect just the way you are.” He stopped and seemed to be measuring his words. “I thought the drink was tainted. That’s why I took it.”

  I felt heat rising to my face as I put the pieces together. Of course, Barry knew Timothy’s pink squirrel had been laced with cyanide. Even without me admitting anything, he knew I was probably looking for the killer. I swallowed hard, thinking about what would have happened if I’d drunk it. What was it Mason had said about cyanide being an awful way to go? Detective that he was, Barry was excellent at reading facial expressions. He put his hand out and touched my arm.

  “It was just almond flavoring, but there was a note attached to the bottom.” I waited for him to hand it to me, but instead he took out his phone. “It’s evidence now,” he said as the screen lit up. The note said, BUTT OUT OR NEXT TIME YOU WON’T BE SO LUCKY.

  I stared at it until the screen went dark. “So, now do you want to talk?” he asked.

  Well, actually I did. I wanted to thank him for the earlier compliment and for looking out for me, but I also knew that any acknowledgment of the drink and the note would give him an opening, and I was afraid he would get me to unravel the whole story. So I just looked up at him and said no.

  He blew out his breath in consternation. “At least will you be careful?” he said as he went out.

  “I always am,” I said with far more confidence than I felt as I shut the door behind him.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Tell me everything,” Dinah said. I had Saturday off and we’d met for brunch, and for once neither of us was in a hurry. Commander was busy at the Mail It Quick center that he owned, and my mother and the girls were practicing at my house. The rain had ended and the whole weekend was supposed to be dry. It was warm enough for us to take an outside table at the restaurant that looked out on Los Encinos Park, though we did choose a table with a heat lamp nearby. We’d brought the baby blankets we were working on. The deadline was approaching quickly and we tried to work on them every spare moment we had.

  As our hooks moved through the cotton yarn, I told her about the previous day. Her mouth was open by the end. “How do you pack so much in one day?” she asked. “Barry, Leo, Mason, and then Barry again.”

  “I feel kind of bad, giving Barry such a hard time. He did sort of save my life … well, if the drink had been tainted.”

  “And he said you were perfect the way you are,” she added.

  “But Mason told me not to say anything.” I looked at Dinah, and her expression grew sympathetic at the mention of Mason’s name. “I was an idiot to assume he’d gotten back with Jaimee. What can I say?” I shrugged sadly. “Who could blame him for going back to his superficial dating?” The server brought our food, and we put down our hooks. “I really need to concentrate on who left the drink and the note, anyway.” I had already filled Dinah in on cyanide being the murder weapon, so she understood the meaning of the almond scent in the drink left for me. “It could be a shortcut to finding the killer, don’t you think? I’ve obviously got them worried. It would be great to wrap this up quickly.”

  “You should talk to Bob and see if he remembers who ordered the drink.”

  “I already did. The drinks are super-popular, and he had no idea who ordered what. The only thing I know for sure is that he didn’t add almond flavoring to any drinks.”

  “Who was in the bookstore?” she asked, and I laughed.

  “A lot of people.” I mentioned that more girls had come in and seemed excited about the bookstore.

  Dinah’s face lit up. “Teenagers excited about a bookstore and physical books? Maybe there’s hope for them yet. I wish that influencer would fall in love with dictionaries.”

  “Lara-Ann did say that a woman came in looking for me but didn’t leave a name.” I thought it over for a moment. “That could be anybody.”

  With no leads to go on at the moment, we returned our focus to our food and our crocheting.

  * * *

  Sunday I was back at work at the bookstore. I grilled Bob about the drink again, but he had nothing new to add, and in the end I had no more to go on.

  Monday I was busy with bookstore chores. There were new books to put out, displays to be straightened, and customers to help. Before I knew it, the afternoon was fading and it was almost time for our group gathering.

  I was just finishing putting out a stack of flyers for upcoming events on the information booth counter when Lara-Ann came up with a customer in tow.

  “Molly, maybe you can help her. She’s looking for someone named Lydia. She says she works here.”

  As soon as I saw her straw hat, I recognized her as one of the women from the workshop. She glommed on to me right away. “I remember you from the other night. You’re the detective person Lydia said is working on finding out who killed Timothy. We met the other night.” She held out her hand and said,
“I’m Deana Lewis.”

  “Right,” I said, and took her hand. Then I turned to Lara-Ann and whispered, “Was she the one from the other day?”

  Lara-Ann just shrugged and said, “Maybe,” before she walked away. Deana was wearing a white coat with her name embroidered on it and, below it, WILGREN PHARMACEUTICALS. She noticed me looking at the coat.

  “I didn’t realize I still had this on.” She slid it off as she talked. “I work in research. But I’ll probably have to quit if I get the drug commercial. They’re a competitor.” She let out a sigh. “It’s not the kind of job I really want, but it’s acting and it would pay the bills.”

  Just then, Adele came out of the children’s department and saw me talking to Deana. Adele went into crisis mode and rushed up to join us and then to pull us off to the side as she saw some of the Hookers coming in the door.

  “Lydia, I sent you an email, but there was no response. I didn’t have any other way to reach you. I was hoping you might know something. It seemed like you had some inside information about what happened to Tim.”

  Deana looked at me when she said the last part. Adele was biting her lip, no doubt to remind herself to be quiet even though she was probably dying to share that she’d been to Timothy’s house. Finally, Adele shrugged.

  “Have the police talked to you yet?” Deana asked. I heard Adele suck in a mouthful of air. “Well, they found me,” she said in an annoyed voice. “Tim was pretty careless with the records he kept, but there was a list of the people in the workshop somewhere with contact information. I’m guessing the cops found it.”