For Better or Worsted Page 18

  “It sounds good,” I said.

  “Why wait? How about tonight. I have to go to a charity dinner. It would be easier to stomach the rubber chicken and the rounds of speeches and awards if you were there.”

  I’d gone with him to something similar in the past, and it had been fun, but Dinah and I had sleuthing plans. So I tried to say no without telling him why. There was no way he would take it well that I was questioning what his daughter had said.

  “Dinah and I made plans to have an evening together.”

  “That’s fine. Just bring her along,” he said. I wasn’t expecting that and didn’t have an answer at first. Then I said that neither of us wanted to have to get dressed up and hoped he’d drop it. But he didn’t. Suddenly he turned into Mason the Interrogator.

  Where were Dinah and I going? What time were we meeting? I tried to laugh it off. “You almost sound like you don’t believe me,” I said finally.

  Mason let down his defenses. “Sorry, I just thought you might be meeting the detective.”

  “If I was, I would tell you. Remember, we’re all just friends.”

  Mason let out a laugh. “Is that what he’s saying? At least I’m up front with my intentions.”

  Inwardly, I sighed. Being able to keep both Barry and Mason at arm’s length might have just been wishful thinking on my part.

  “I’ve always said you and I are after the same thing. A casual relationship not leading to anything more,” Mason continued.

  “But I like things just the way they are now. I can go out with Dinah or whoever and not have to answer to anyone.”

  “I’m a patient man, Sunshine. I know you’ll come around.” I thought he was going to say good-bye, but instead he told me he had the information on Felix Rooten. “I don’t see anything here that shows how your paths would have crossed,” Mason said.

  He read me the notes his assistant had made. “Felix Rooten was the product supervisor at Kingsley Industries for a long time.” Mason made a surprised sound. “No gold watch for him. I’m surprised they have his picture. He was convicted of embezzling from the company and went to jail.”

  “Well, I couldn’t have seen him at the wedding, that’s for sure,” I said.

  “Excuse me,” a voice said behind me. “I really need some help with this sock yarn.”

  “Do you want to know the rest of it?” Mason asked.

  “It’ll have to wait,” I said, turning to a woman holding several skeins of yarn. “I have a customer.”

  * * *

  DINAH WAS WAITING OUTSIDE THE BOOKSTORE WHEN I finished my day. She was bristling with energy and excitement. “You have no idea how I need this. My freshmen class is particularly bad this semester. They’re all addicted to their phones. I insist they turn them off, but they still need to have them in view.” Dinah had on a camel-colored blazer over some black jeans. It looked like she’d re-gelled her short salt-and-pepper hair into the spiky style that gave her a contemporary fun look.

  I looked down at my outfit and suddenly felt underdressed. I was still in my work clothes. As usual, I was wearing khaki-colored pants and a shirt. Today’s was a teal blue, and I had added a crocheted cowl in a complementary shade of blue.

  In anticipation of the evening chill, I’d brought along a shawl in beautiful shades of blues, greens and lavenders that Sheila had made for me.

  “C’mon, Watson, time to talk to Ben and see what we can find out.”

  “What’s the name of the restaurant where he works?” Dinah said as we walked to the greenmobile.

  “You don’t know what I had to do to get the information out of Mrs. Shedd,” I said. “Apparently he gave the Storybook Cabaret as a reference, but said he didn’t want anyone to know he worked there. I can see his point. Just like not wanting to admit to working as a robo server at the wedding. I’m sure he tells people that his profession is writer not waiter.”

  “But he’s working in a public place. It’s pretty hard to stay incognito,” Dinah said. We got into the car and I headed down Ventura Boulevard to Sherman Oaks.

  Neither of us had been to the Storybook Cabaret, and we weren’t sure what to expect as I handed my car over to a valet. I remembered the place as being an old-time supper club, but the freestanding building had been redone to look like a castle, complete with a drawbridge over an inky-looking moat. Inside it was dark and noisy. A woman dressed like Alice in Wonderland was manning the reception booth.

  Before I could speak, Alice asked if we had a reservation. When I said no, she gave me an ominous shake of her head and said there was a two-hour wait. I looked around the interior of the restaurant hoping to catch sight of Ben, checking each male face that went by with a tray. He wasn’t the Great Gatsby, Prince Charming or Tom Sawyer. But in my sweep, I noticed the bar.

  “How long for the bar?” I asked Alice.

  “Immediate seating,” she said, holding out her arm in a welcoming gesture.

  “It’ll give us a chance to figure something out,” I said as we walked along the edge of the restaurant to the long bar. We went to the far end, away from the other people seated there.

  “Food or just liquid refreshment?” the bartender said in a strangely formal tone as he approached us. I glanced at him. The lighting was very dim, but he appeared nice-looking in a model sort of way. He was dressed in a black shirt and black slacks. Without waiting for our answer, he stepped closer to the bar. “We’re having a special on Bloody Marys,” he said with a strange emphasis on the bloody part. His face was caught in the light coming from the recessed lamps in the ceiling, and it began to sparkle with iridescence.

  “You’re in a costume, too,” I blurted out. “I didn’t notice at first. But who are you supposed to be?”

  He let down the aura he’d been trying to project and took something out of his shirt pocket. The recessed lighting glinted off a crochet hook, and he had a pretty sad-looking swatch of red yarn coming off it. “I told them, even with the fish-scale powder it was too subtle.” He gestured toward his sparkly face. “I’m supposed to be Anthony, the vampire who crochets,” he said before reeling off the titles of the books in the series. I stopped him and told him we were familiar with the books and that I worked in a bookstore. He instantly seemed to relax.

  I turned to Dinah. “I wonder if Elise knows about him,” I said. The bartender overheard. “If you mean Elise Belmont, she’s been here, a lot. She even made this for me, though management said it isn’t part of his official costume.” From below the bar, he produced a long black-and-white striped scarf with a bloodred tassel. I asked him if he knew how to crochet.

  “Anthony” rolled his eyes and said no. “This is just a job until I get my big break. I’m reading for a new sitcom next week,” he said, letting go of the weird speech pattern. We both ordered boozeless Bloody Marys, and he gave us a basket of peanuts to go with them.

  “Do you know a waiter named Ben?” I said as Prince Charming brought a tray of food to some people at the end of the bar. The bartender surveyed the restaurant and pointed in a discreet manner. I almost choked when I saw which of the costumed waiters he’d pointed out. Now I understood why Ben wasn’t worried about being recognized. He was dressed as Pinocchio, complete with the pointy hat, shorts, tunic and long nose. Dinah and I exchanged stifled grins, thinking of how serious he was at the bookstore.

  “I wonder if his nose will grow if he doesn’t tell the truth,” Dinah said under her breath.

  “Could you call him over?” I asked the bartender. “I’d like to say hello.” The bartender shrugged and waved Pinocchio over. When Ben saw it was me, his eyes got big.

  “Ben, I know it’s you,” I said. Though to be honest, if “Anthony” hadn’t pointed him out I don’t think I would have.

  “Ah, hello, Mrs. Pink,” Ben said with a look of doom. “I hope this doesn’t make you change your mind about adding the adult wri
ting group. I assure you, nobody knows it’s me.”

  “I’m not here to out you,” I said. “I had Anthony here call you over because I want to order some food to go for my houseguest, Thursday Fields Kingsley.” I watched him for a reaction, and there was a long pause as if he was thinking about something. I didn’t wait for him to come up with an answer. “I know you worked as a server at her wedding.”

  “Right,” he said, “I did work that wedding.” He looked up at me, almost poking me with the long nose. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention either of my jobs to anyone. They’re only temporary. Like I told you, I have a bunch of things in the works, and if I get a go on anything I have out there, then this all ends.” He made a sweeping glance across the restaurant. “But in the meantime . . .” He handed me a menu.

  Before I opened it, I tried to get the subject back to Thursday and asked him if he knew her.

  “I just do my job and never pay much attention to the guests.”

  “So I guess that means no,” I said, and he nodded in agreement.

  “I’d love to stay and chat, but . . .” He pointed to the menu he’d handed me before giving “Tom Sawyer” a nervous glance. “For now, I need this job and I’m getting the evil eye from my boss. So if you could order the food.”

  I looked down at the menu. “I think I’ll get Thursday a burger. I wonder which one I should get,” I said, noting that there was a long list of them. By now, Ben was in a hurry to get back to his station. He tapped his finger on one at the bottom, and I ordered it to go.

  “I guess that was a bust,” Dinah said a little while later as we walked across the drawbridge to the street. The smell of the burger and fairy-tale fries wafted up from the to-go box I was carrying.

  “Not at all. Ben tipped his hand. No matter what he says, he knows Thursday very well,” I said, not able to contain my smile. While we waited for the valet to bring the greenmobile around, I opened the food container and lifted the bun. Dinah still didn’t get it until I explained that Thursday had been very quiet about her food choices; even her father didn’t know she was a vegetarian.

  “But Ben knew to get her a veggie burger,” Dinah said. “Excellent work, Sherlock!”

  “Yes and no,” I said. “It doesn’t make me happy to know they’re lying. And it’s one thing to know they know each other, but it’s another thing to prove it.”

  CHAPTER 24

  “WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT PAXTON Cline?” Barry asked.

  “What?” I said, looking up startled by Barry’s sudden appearance and his question. It was the next day, and I was working in the yarn department, putting away some yarn that had come in. Truth be told, I was lost in admiring the gorgeous shades of pumpkin, rust and brown as I separated the skeins into their own sections.

  As I set down the yarn, Barry repeated the question. I checked his expression. There was definitely an edge to it.

  “How did you find out about him?” I said, disgruntled. I had been so proud of how I had found the dropped best man, but didn’t want to turn the information over to Barry until I had more evidence. Barry stopped, closed his eyes in resignation.

  “You’ve been hanging around me too much—answering a question with a question,” he said.

  “Actually, I learned it from The Average Joe’s Guide to Criminal Investigation. Remember, you didn’t used to share information about cases.” I hadn’t even thought about it, but just automatically answered that way. I was so pleased with myself, I wanted to give myself a high five.

  Barry muttered some disparaging remarks about the book I viewed as my own personal bible when it came to learning sleuthing. “We’re getting off the subject,” he said. “Or was that your plan?” I was relieved to see he was cracking a smile. I looked closer and saw he had a five o’clock shadow. His tie was pulled tight, and he was wearing his suit jacket, but his shirt showed some wrinkles.

  “You’ve been up all night, haven’t you?”

  “That’s beside the point,” he said. “So, you still haven’t answered my question.”

  “And you haven’t answered any of mine,” I said. I moved a skein of rust-colored yarn away from the edge of the table. “Your question was really more a rhetorical one, while mine was a real question. And your answer would be much more interesting. It’s a chance for me to see behind the curtain of your superior investigative skills.”

  Barry rolled his eyes. “You don’t really think I’m going to fall for that, do you? I mean, you really laid it on thick. I just want to know why you didn’t tell me about Paxton Cline.”

  “Okay,” I said, finally capitulating. When all else fails, go with the truth. “I haven’t found out much yet, and I wanted to have it all tied up before I gave it to you.”

  Barry had his arms folded now and was looking at me out of the corner of his eye, as if he didn’t quite believe me. “So then, why not just tell me what you know.” His tone had lightened into something almost playful.

  This was a whole new-and-improved Barry as far as I was concerned. I liked that he seemed to value what I had to say.

  “I know that Paxton was supposed to be the best man, but something happened and Jonah changed his mind and gave the job to someone else. Paxton said he was at a baseball game when Jonah got killed,” I said.

  “Do you know why Jonah fired him as best man?”

  I shrugged. “We didn’t get that far. That could be an understatement. He denied even knowing Jonah Kingsley.”

  Barry seemed distressed that that was all I had.

  “I know he lied,” I said, “but he seems like such a nice guy and he works at his grandmother’s yarn company.”

  Barry was rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “None of which exclude him from killing somebody.”

  “Did you find out why he got dropped as the best man?” I said.

  Barry seemed to be contemplating whether to share. “It took a while to get him to admit that he knew Jonah Kingsley. But when I told Paxton I knew for a fact that he was supposed to be best man, he caved and admitted he knew the groom and was supposed to be best man. He apologized for lying about not knowing Jonah. He insisted he had nothing to do with Jonah’s death and was just trying to stay out of the whole thing.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said. “So then it doesn’t matter that I didn’t mention him to you.”

  “Not so fast,” Barry said. “I’m just telling you what he said, not what is necessarily the truth, anymore than the reason he gave for his not being best man. He claimed it was all for financial reasons, but I have a source who said there was a big argument between Jonah and Paxton and that they’d almost started throwing punches. According to my source, Jonah told Paxton he didn’t want him to be his best man.”

  “Did you confront Paxton with that information?” I asked.

  Barry rolled his eyes at me. “What kind of detective do you think I am? Of course. I used all my tricks, but he wouldn’t budge. He said there was no fight, that he and Jonah were just playing and insisted it all came down to his not wanting to spend the money on a tuxedo, hosting the bachelor party and the rest of the stuff that went with being best man.”

  “Except for one thing. If it was just about the money, and he was on such good terms with Jonah, why didn’t he come to the wedding as a guest?”

  “Very good, Molly. I asked him that very question. He didn’t miss a beat and said he was embarrassed about having to step down from the position and thought it was better if he skipped the whole thing.” Barry sighed. “I don’t care what he says, I think he’s a definite suspect. I think there was bad feeling between them. From the start, we’ve thought it was someone who wanted revenge. Maybe it was Paxton. He’s a bland-looking guy and would have no problem blending in. How hard would it have been for him to find out about the servers’ outfits?”

  “But what about his alibi?” />
  “Molly, I can’t believe you would fall for that. A baseball game, really? And by himself. Nancy Drew would be horrified.”

  “So, you arrested him?” I asked.

  “I need some concrete evidence. We’re combing through all the photographs of the wedding, hoping to find one with him in it. Is there anything you’ve forgotten to tell me?”

  “That sounds like you think I’m holding something back,” I said.

  Barry laughed at my response. “You’ve gotten way too good at not answering questions.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” I said with a little smile of pride.

  “Well, are you going to tell me how you found out about Paxton?” I said.

  Barry mumbled something about how he shouldn’t be encouraging me by giving me lessons. But I guess his pride in his skill won out because he explained, “I talked to the tuxedo-rental guy. The whole blowup between Jonah and Paxton happened when they went for a tuxedo fitting.”

  “Wow,” I said impressed.

  “I’m glad you approve,” Barry said. He put on a stern expression. “Now don’t keep information from me again. Ever hear of interfering with an investigation?” He patted the handcuffs on his belt and made a mock snap of them on my wrists.

  “You wouldn’t,” I said, not sure if he was serious or not. He had his cop face on again, which was enigmatic, and I got it. He wasn’t going to answer.

  * * *

  “DID YOU TELL BARRY ABOUT THURSDAY AND BEN?” Dinah said. The words were barely out of her mouth before she looked around with a worried expression. It was Saturday morning and she had come by since we both had the day off. The weather was soft and clear, and we’d brought our coffee outside.

  I’d let the cats out for some yard time, and both dogs were lying in the grass soaking up the sun.