Hooking for Trouble Page 16

  “Jennifer, it’s me again. Your replacement. Just calling to get an address where we can send you your things.” Then I clicked the end call icon and turned to Dinah. “That sounded okay, didn’t it?”

  My friend nodded. “So what did you and Barry fuss about?” she asked.

  I made a face. “I’m not sure exactly how it came up, but when I told him about finding the blood spatter on the ground, he just dismissed it. Imagine him telling me that the Blood Detector in the detective set was probably just glow-in-the-dark paint.” I looked at Dinah, expecting her to agree with me, but she seemed to be holding in a laugh.

  “Did you listen to what you just said?”

  “Yes,” I said defensively, and then I actually did think over what I’d said. “Defending a kids’ kit. I guess that does sound pretty lame.”

  We’d decided to be adventuresome and not order our usual drinks. We’d both gotten double espressos with a swirl of milk. I took a sip of mine, and the hot, strong drink was a jolt to my taste buds.

  “The box had all these instructions on how to mix the Blood Detector and how to use it. I’m sure he’s wrong,” I said. I took another swallow. “But what if he’s right? Then maybe I’m wrong about everything.” The caffeine and the upsetting thoughts were working together, and I was getting a little panicky. Dinah read my expression and reached over, grabbing my arm.

  “Calm down—there has to be something we can do.”

  The strong drink sped up my thoughts, and the obvious answer appeared. “Of course—we just have to test it on something with real blood and something with no blood.”

  “Maybe we should do that before we go shopping,” she said. “You seem so upset about it, why not get it off your mind?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said with a knowing smile. “You’re just looking for an excuse not to shop for your dress.”

  “Guilty as charged,” she said, draining her small cup.

  We were already discussing how we were going to get some blood to use as a test for the spray as we walked through Topanga Mall. Since Dinah was adamant about not wanting anything resembling a traditional wedding dress, we weren’t concerned about finding an actual bridal shop. We passed a bunch of stores, and Dinah kept pointing out ridiculous possibilities, like a pair of board shorts and halter top, or a micro mini skirt topped with a long coat.

  “I don’t see why I have to get something new. I could just wear something from my closet,” she said.

  “No you can’t. Once you get past the wedding you’re going to look back on it as a special day that was a whole new beginning in your life. You don’t want to look at photos and see some old dress of yours and say, Why didn’t I wear something special?”

  I heard Dinah let out a low chuckle. “That’s pretty funny coming from you. You, who said she never wanted to get married again.”

  “Never is an awfully long time. Maybe I didn’t really mean never. When Charlie died, I needed time to get over it, and then I wanted some time to be on my own. I can’t say what I’ll do in the future.”

  “Are you just saying that to appease me?” she said.

  “Maybe, but also maybe I’m being realistic to know that I might change my mind.”

  “Okay then, I do see your point about looking back at photographs and being upset that I didn’t wear something nicer. It’s time to get serious. Let’s really start shopping.” We went into Nordstrom, and Dinah began to thumb through the racks. She seemed to have done a complete about-face and was okay with holding up dresses to herself. Maybe not one hundred percent, though, since when I asked if she and Commander had decided if they were going to live at her place or his, she got nervous again.

  A saleswoman saw us going through the dresses and offered to help. “What kind of occasion are you shopping for?” she asked. I heard Dinah try to talk, but her mouth seemed to have dried out and her words came out in an unintelligible croak, so I answered for her.

  “She’s getting married, and she needs a dress for the wedding.”

  The saleswoman began to coo with congratulations and say how wonderful it all was. She never added for a woman your age, but since she was somewhere in her twenties, that was what she was probably thinking.

  She made an appraisal of Dinah and said that, with her petite size, there were a ton of options. She led us to a dressing room and said she would bring in something for Dinah to consider. “This is like the old days,” Dinah said, “when you actually got service.” Her voiced wavered a little bit, and I could tell my friend was back to being anxious about the whole situation.

  She did what all of us do when we’re nervous—she began to talk all over the place about something else.

  “Does it need to be human blood?” Dinah said just as the door to the dressing room opened and the saleswoman came in with an armload of beautiful dresses. To say she did a double take was an understatement.

  * * *

  “Well, that’s done,” Dinah said when we were walking back to the car. The cream-colored dress she’d chosen was in a garment bag. It was ballet length and made out of silk cut on the bias so it draped beautifully. She could have gotten a jacket to wear over it, but instead decided to make herself a long scarf out of fingering weight yarn with some tiny pearls crocheted in.

  With the dress shopping done, Dinah relaxed and was quick to bring up my reaction when the saleswoman heard that I was the maid of honor. “I can’t believe you said exactly what I’d said about wearing something in your closet.”

  “Yes, and you used my own words against me,” I said, smiling as I remembered her giving me the speech about looking back at the wedding photos and regretting that I hadn’t gotten something special.

  I looked at the garment bag I was carrying, imagining the dress inside. It was mocha-colored silk made into cascading ruffles, and when I had tried it on I felt like I was wearing air.

  We got to the greenmobile and laid our dresses across the backseat. Dinah was restraining a laugh as she got in the passenger seat. “The look on the saleswoman’s face when she came back with more dresses just as you said maybe the best option was just to use some of our own blood. I don’t think she realized you were joking when you said we could cut our fingers and dribble the blood on a plate.”

  “While you were trying on that violet number with the spangles on the hem, I checked my smartphone. The substance Blood Detector is supposed to be reacts to the iron in blood—any blood. So we can get a steak and squeeze out the blood and use that.”

  Squeezing a steak didn’t seem very appealing to us, so we opted instead to buy some prepared roast beef that had a lot of juice around it. The deli clerk had given me an odd look when I asked for assurance that there was blood in the juice.

  “Just imagine if Elise had come along. All the talk of blood would have gotten her going about Anthony and how he crochets to handle his blood lust. The clerk would have really thought we were a bunch of loonies,” Dinah said with a chuckle.

  “Maybe we are. We’re going to my house to spray something from a kids’ kit on a spot with blood and a spot with none to see if only one of them lights up.”

  I realized the obstacle to our plan as soon as we got to my house. We needed darkness to see the glow. We were slowed, but not stopped. We simply moved the experiment into my closet. We followed the directions on the kit and mixed up another batch to put in the spray bottle. We re-created Cheyenne’s patio by putting some river rocks on two saucers. Getting the juice from the roast beef turned out to be easy, as it had gathered in the paper it was wrapped in.

  “I think I might become a vegetarian after this,” I said as I poured the reddish liquid into a small cup, then poured it over the rocks on the saucer I had marked B. “It never fully registered before what the juice was when someone offered me a juicy steak.”

  We put everything on a tray and carried it to my closet. It wasn’
t one of those giant closets that was like a room, but it had plenty of space. The rod ran down one side, and the other side had shelves. Three overhead lights illuminated it. I cleared off one of the shelves that was at a level that would be easy to see. I had been concentrating on the logistics until now, but as it got closer to the moment of truth, I started getting nervous all over again.

  All of my proof that there had been a body was based on having found blood on the ground. I set the two saucers on the shelf, with the Blood Detector bottle next to the one with the blood-soaked stones.

  “Are you ready?” Dinah said. She was standing by the door and the light switch, ready to create the complete darkness I needed.

  I was telling myself it didn’t matter if I turned out to be wrong. Everybody already thought I was anyway. But still . . . I took a deep breath and prepared for my fate. “Okay,” I called.

  The light went off, and it was so dark I really couldn’t even see my hand in front of me. I had to do it all by feel. I lifted the spray bottle and spritzed it over the saucer with the blood, then felt my way to the other saucer and did the same. Dinah had felt her way through the narrow space to join me.

  “Well, this is it,” she said. “Maybe we should hold hands for luck.” She grabbed mine, and we waited.

  “Oh my gosh,” Dinah exclaimed as the eerie blue glow showed up on the saucer to our left. We turned our heads in unison to check the other one. It was lost in the darkness.

  “It works. It really works,” I said, almost wanting to jump up and down. “I can’t wait to tell Barry.” The words were out of my mouth before I thought about it. “Maybe I should just leave it alone.”

  CHAPTER 17

  My mind was clicking as I walked from the parking lot to the bookstore. I was right; I really was right. I did find blood spatter, which meant there had been a body on the ground. I knew that still wasn’t enough, though. Barry had told me the cops needed to have a body to believe there had been a murder. I didn’t need a body—the blood was enough for me to believe there had been one. I had a whole new resolve to unravel the mystery of who had died and to produce their remains.

  Dinah had taken her dress and we’d parted company in the bookstore parking lot. It was just a short walk to her place. As she said good-bye, she said she couldn’t wait to look through her stash and see if she had some appropriate yarn for the long scarf. Like the rest of us, she had accumulated more yarn than she could use in a lifetime, so there was a good chance she did. She was sure she had some little pearls, if only she could find them.

  It always felt a little strange to me when I started work in the afternoon. It was like walking into the middle of a story. Mrs. Shedd grabbed me as soon as I came in the door. “You have to see,” she said in an excited voice. She practically dragged me to the music and video department. “Look at all the customers,” she said. “Joshua is so happy, and he’s giving me all the credit, because I gave the okay for ChIlLa to perform here.” I’d never seen my boss so happy, and I definitely sensed it was because of Mr. Royal being pleased more than because of the store having more business. “Joshua said so many people want to come, we’re going to have to give out tickets. Joshua never makes any fuss about it, but you know, he’s a musician, too. He plays the harmonica.”

  Two twentysomething women were looking at the sign. “I love them,” one of them said. “Their songs are so inspirational. Pretty cool they’re doing something here.” Mrs. Shedd pushed away from me and told the pair they could pick up tickets at the front.

  “You might want to buy your CD or album now. They’re going fast,” she said. “We may run out the night of the event.” They each grabbed a CD and took them to the front. “Be sure and bring your receipt to show you bought it here.” She turned back to me. “Remember, we’re not allowing in any outside merchandise. They have to buy it here if they want it signed.” She drew her hands together in a hopeful pose. “Just think, if even half the people that show buy, we’ll be doing great. And in the meantime, everyone is discovering we have a music department. I actually had someone ask me when we added it.” Mrs. Shedd put on a world-weary air. “How about twenty-five years ago.” She was all serious as she stepped closer to me. “Remember, we have the rehearsal here tonight. We don’t want anything to mess this up, do we?”

  Why would she even say that? Of course I didn’t want anything to mess it up. After assuring her it would be fine, I went back to the yarn department.

  Elise was at the yarn table, crocheting. She looked up when I approached the table. “I came in here to work on my bear for a while.” She held it up, and I had to laugh. She’d gone from vampire dolls to a vampire bear. “He’s going to have a crochet hook in his pocket,” she said with a smile. She glanced in the direction of the café. “Logan is sitting in the café on his computer.” It wasn’t unusual for her husband to stake out a table in Le Grande Fromage or in our café and use it as his office. It seemed to be the style these days. It reminded me that she had said he knew something about Cheyenne’s house.

  When I brought it up, she shook her head. “I can’t really say anything. I think being a real estate agent is kind of like being a doctor or lawyer; everything is confidential.”

  “Then he sold the house to them?”

  She seemed surprised at the question. “Telling you that would probably break the code.” She did a few stitches on the vampire bear. “I’m really sorry, Molly. You should talk to Logan. He’ll know what he can and can’t say more than me.”

  It seemed like a good idea to talk to him, but a woman came into the yarn department and needed help. When I’d finished assisting her, Elise was gone, and I presumed Logan was as well. There was always another time.

  There was no happy hour gathering that night, so I spent the rest of the time helping Mr. Royal rearrange things. He’d decided not to use our usual event area, but to open up the area near the entrance of the music and video department. The plan was that we would move all the bookcases back and have the groups use the front of the music and video department as the stage area. He’d also decided to make a photo gallery of our celebrity customers in the department alcove. His final touch was to rename it the Sight and Sound department.

  By closing time, we had everything ready except moving the bookcases, which we’d only do on the night of the actual performance. Mr. Royal escorted the last customer out and locked the door but stood in the front waiting for ChIlLa to arrive. As the minutes ticked away, the tension mounted. They’d asked for the rehearsal, but maybe they weren’t going to show. Meanwhile, I noticed a bunch of people gathering around outside the front of the bookstore and peeking in the window. Mr. Royal finally opened the door to see what was going on.

  “We heard Matt Meadowbrook is going to be here and that his wife’s group ChIlLa is supposed to be rehearsing,” a young woman with purple hair who seemed to be acting as spokesperson said. Mr. Royal told them about the group’s appearance at the bookstore and started handing out tickets. I was curious how they knew about the rehearsal. Just then, a black Escalade pulled to the curb. The doors opened, and Cheyenne, Ilona, and Lauren got out.

  The small crowd went into a frenzy, surrounding the three of them, asking for autographs and taking selfies. I saw Garrett trying to hustle them inside, though it seemed that it was more of an act. The frenzy grew more intense when Matt Meadowbrook and another man came through the crowd.

  Matt stopped for a few selfies and signed somebody’s cast before moving past them. Mr. Royal held the door open for the two men to come inside.

  The three women stayed out there for a while before finally letting Garrett guide them inside. Cheyenne glanced over her shoulder and gave a parting wave to the fans. “I bet they all put it on social media or send it to a news station.” She turned to her husband. “We know they use it. It was my tweet that got them here.”

  I was glad we had waited until the bookstore was closed
, because the group totally took over the space. “This is my road manager, Zeke,” Matt said, introducing the man who’d walked in with him to Mr. Royal and the rest of us. “He’s going to be helping the girls out with the technical stuff.” I noticed Zeke was carrying a guitar case and brought it over to the area we were calling the stage.

  Garrett glanced around at the set and asked Mr. Royal what they were going to do about seats for the audience.

  “I thought we should have them stand. It makes it more exciting,” Mr. Royal said. Garrett didn’t seemed impressed with the setup, and I heard him ask Cheyenne more than once if she was sure she wanted to do it.

  “Go on and get a cup of coffee or something,” she said finally as she and her sisters went to confer with the road manager.

  “Oh no,” Mrs. Shedd said. “We didn’t think about refreshments. Do something, Molly.”

  I got the key to the café and went inside to see what I could manage. It felt strange to be behind the counter—and also kind of fun. Or it would have been if I’d had time to play around with all the equipment. I did a quick search for supplies and brewed a pot of coffee. Bob had a pitcher of iced tea made up for the next day, which I commandeered. As for snacks, I made up a small tray of leftover pastries and set everything out on the counter. I was thinking how unhappy Bob was going to be that we’d messed with his domain when Garrett came in asking for some bottles of water.

  I offered to get cups of it instead, and he seemed shocked to be offered tap water, even when I said all of ours was filtered.