Behind the Seams cm-6 Page 11

  “We just got the supply in a few week ago. We don’t keep those kinds of records, only how many we’ve sold for inventory purpose.”

  I opened my mouth to ask about that, but she beat me to the punch. “Personally, I only had one customer.” The three of us leaned closer to the woman as I asked if she remembered their name or what they looked like.

  “A lot of people go through this place,” she said, starting to shrug off my question, but then she stopped. “I do remember it was a man and there was something odd about him. He had this ball of hair growing below his lip. I don’t even know what that’s called.”

  The three of us traded glances. Bob?

  CHAPTER 13

  NELL, DINAH AND I MARCHED INTO THE CAFÉ ready to confront Bob, but we all deflated when we looked at the counter and saw Mr. Royal was acting as barista. He’d pulled his shaggy multicolored hair into a tiny ponytail and wore an apron over his long-sleeved green shirt and jeans. He moved with the agility of a much younger man, and I noticed he had a wooden bead meditation bracelet wound around his wrist. Nell got to the counter first.

  “Where’s Bob?” she demanded. Dinah and I almost crashed into her. I think the three of us came across as a little frantic.

  Mr. Royal looked up from the metal pitcher of milk he was foaming for a cappuccino. “Don’t worry, ladies, I am an excellent coffee mixologist. Any drink you can name, I bet I can make.” I’m sure he was right, too. Mr. Royal had been everywhere and done everything. No doubt tucked in all the other jobs he’d had, he’d probably served up espresso drinks in Rome or something.

  When it was clear the question really concerned Bob’s whereabouts, Mr. Royal said he’d be back in a couple of hours. I told Nell not to worry, and that as soon as Bob returned, I’d talk to him.

  “C’mon, Nell,” Dinah said, putting her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Molly has to work.” As a community college instructor, Dinah was an expert at dealing with hysterical people Nell’s age. Dinah gave me a wave and then escorted Nell to the yarn department.

  When I looked back there, I saw that some of the group was still around the table.

  I started to go back into the bookstore, but Mr. Royal stopped me.

  “I wonder if you could give me an update on the Salute to Chocolate event.” He poured the steamed milk expertly into a mug with a couple of shots of espresso, then spooned fluffs of foam on top and finished by swirling a pattern with it. The customer waiting took it and walked away. Was he worried because I’d been missing so much time lately?

  I told him all the books we were going to feature had been chosen and I’d been hearing from the different stores in the area. The plan was they would do their own setup. All we had to do was provide them with tables. “Alain Des Plaines is going to have a demo dipping things in his special chocolate blend.” Mr. Royal nodded and then asked me to check the signs around the store.

  “There seems to be some graffiti on them,” he said. I promised to check it out first thing and left him to his drink duties.

  Sure enough as I checked the free-standing signs we had spread around the store, they all had something scribbled on them. Right next to the photo of Alain Des Plains holding a handful of chocolate bars like they were a fan, someone had made a couple of lines next to a stick figure holding up one of its arms. I glanced toward the kids’ department. Somebody must have escaped Saturday-morning story time and gone wild. But they obviously didn’t know about permanent ink. A little wipe with a damp paper towel and all that was left was a smudge.

  Mrs. Shedd saw me working on the signs and gave me a nod of approval. I couldn’t help it, I kept looking toward the table longingly. Finally, with the excuse to myself of needing to straighten up the yarn department, I headed back there.

  Adele was standing at the end of the table with a piece of bright quilted material in front of her.

  “Hey, Pink,” she said, waving me over. “You have to see these hooks I got on eBay.” I stepped closer and realized the material was actually a holder for the hooks. I’d never thought too much about hooks and had just used the metal or plastic ones that every craft store sold. These were like a different species.

  Adele was savoring the spotlight as she took the hooks out one by one and showed them off. They were all made of wood. Some were dark and had fancy shapes on the nonhook end, and some were plain except for the hook. She started rattling off the different kinds of wood they were made out of. Rosewood sounded lovely, but bloodwood?

  “Dear, you’re hooks are lovely,” CeeCee said in a dismissive tone before turning to me. “Molly, if Nell said anything to hurt your feelings, I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” From across the table, Dinah did a tiny nod. She must have spilled the beans about Nell’s desire for a real PI.

  Nell hung her head. “It’s my life on the line here. That blond detective is out to get me. She’s going to find something, and then bam, I’m arrested.” She got up like she was thinking of leaving and directed her next comment at me. “I decided if that happens, I’m calling your lawyer-friend.”

  “Dear, you need to calm down. Molly will figure out something.” Adele kept making loud sighing noises to get the attention back on her hooks. Well, really, on her. I didn’t look, but I’m sure she wasn’t smiling when Rhoda and Elise arrived. Before they’d even reached the table, Rhoda was already taking something out of her bag.

  “Girls, I’m glad you’re still here.” She stopped between CeeCee and Nell. “I know you want your niece to get into crochet,” she said, looking toward CeeCee. “And I know you keep resisting.” Rhoda was usually very matter-of-fact, but this time she was literally flushed with excitement. “Wait until you see what I’ve come up with.”

  She urged everyone to sit down. It was a hard sale with Adele.

  “Rhoda, I know you mean well. I know you all mean well, and I really like the way you all care, but like I told you before, why should I start making something when I know I’ll never finish it?” Nell said.

  “This is different,” Rhoda said. “I call it impatient crochet.”

  Nell actually smiled when she heard the title. “Well, that sure describes me.” CeeCee nodded in agreement.

  Adele was practically jumping out of her seat. She and CeeCee still hadn’t worked it out about leading the group, and she was upset that Rhoda was directing all her comments to CeeCee. “You should have explained it to me before you brought it to the group,” Adele interrupted.

  CeeCee sighed. “Adele, will you stop making a scene. None of us need an okay before we bring something for the group.”

  Rhoda thanked CeeCee and continued. “My Hal thought it was a great idea. The whole point of this kind of crochet is not to make a big production out of it.” She emptied her canvas bag on the table, and a bunch of small colorful items fell out. Everyone started to grab something and look at it.

  “Not only will this work for Nell, but for the things we’re making for the donation box. These items would be great to give for a Hearts and Barks bazaar.” She held up an eyeglass holder. It was black with a bright orange fabric lining and a multicolored yarn corkscrew as decoration. There were cell phone holders and some small change purses. “The key is in the finishing.” Rhoda pointed out the silver heart-shaped button on the coin purse. It made the purse, as did the flower with a bead in the center on the cell phone holder. “They all start out the same.” Rhoda explained she was going to demonstrate with a big hook so we could see how it worked. She made a chain of large loops with some terra-cotta-colored yarn and then went back across them, making single crochets in the front loop. When she got to the end, she held it up. “Here’s where the trick is, girls.” Instead of going back over the row she’d just made, she made an extra single crochet in the last chain and, starting with that same chain, made a row of single crochet stitches in the other side of the chain stitch foundation. When she reached the end, she made two single crochets, saying that the extra stitches on both ends gave it shape. Then she kept g
oing around. In no time, she began to make a tube.

  Personally, I was mesmerized and couldn’t wait to try it. Something about the terra-cotta tube jostled my memory and I blurted out that it made me think of something I’d seen in the box of Robyn’s stuff.

  “What was in there?” Nell asked. Rhoda stopped her lesson and everyone turned to me. Well, not Adele. She’d taken out one of the wooden hooks and some cotton yarn and was trying to mimic what Rhoda had started.

  “She had a crocheted cactus. It even had a pot that was that color,” I said, pointing to Rhoda’s yarn.

  “She did?” Nell said. She thought it over a moment and I described how it had white flowers on the top of the cactus.

  “There were some kind of initials on the bottom,” I said.

  “Somebody was signing their work,” Adele said, holding up what she’d done. She seemed distressed that everyone was paying more attention to the talk about the segment producer’s yarn plant.

  Nell’s eyes suddenly showed some recognition. “I remember the cactus now. I made some joke about it once since she didn’t have a window, it was the only kind of plant she could have. She didn’t even crack a smile. That was crochet?” Nell sounded genuinely impressed. “I guess making something like that wouldn’t be as fast as this, huh?” she said, pointing at Rhoda’s demonstration piece.

  “Don’t worry about making anything that complicated yet.” CeeCee pushed a hook and a ball of cotton yarn toward Nell, while Rhoda handed out sheets for everybody with instructions and patterns for the pieces she’d brought in. She’d added suggestions for ways to personalize each piece.

  I took some extra. I knew Sheila and Eduardo would both love the idea. Eduardo had been missing so many of our get-togethers I was really beginning to wonder what was going on with him. I knew he was trying to branch out from modeling. He’d been concerned about the kind of offers he’d been getting. Sheila said she’d heard Eduardo asking the owner of Luxe for some advice about owning a business.

  “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.

  CHAPTER 14

  “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 loo
ked 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.