Seams Like Murder Page 2

  “I swear, nobody makes coffee at home anymore,” I said when I saw the long line to the counter. Bob, the barista, looked up with an apologetic smile.

  “That’s because we’re all hooked on lattes and espresso drinks,” Dinah said. “A cup of plain coffee seems so yesterday.” I had to admit the smell of brewing espresso was intoxicating, and a shot of it definitely offered more of a jolt than a plain cup of coffee.

  “Thanks for all you’ve done with Sheila already,” I said, thinking of our newest teacher. “At least she has a class plan, but I wish you were going to be there this morning. Just in case she has trouble.” Dinah was an English instructor at the local community college. She was known for taking freshmen who were still immature—big babies, as she put it—and turning them into real college students.

  “I doubt anybody in a crochet class is going to give her problems like my students. They insist on wearing their baseball hats in class and throw fits when I tell them to put away their phones. Sheila just needs to be in front of a group and have it go well, then she’ll be fine for the actual class.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Or I hope so. Sheila’s class has the largest number of sign-ups.” It was easy to see why. Even in the small photo on the flyers, the beauty of her project was evident. It wasn’t that the shawls and scarves she made had intricate stitch patterns—it was all about the colors. She mixed shades of blues, greens and lavenders, and the results were pieces that had a soft, hazy coloration similar to an Impressionist painting.

  “Anyways, I’d rather be spending the time hanging out with the Hookers than giving a pop quiz to my class. Can you believe that they keep asking for do-overs? All I can say is I hope none of them become surgeons.” As soon as Dinah stopped speaking, her expression faded and she seemed upset.

  “What’s wrong? Can’t think of what to order?” I teased as the line moved up a bit. “It looks like we’ll have plenty of time to decide.” I glanced past the people ahead of us as a man in white shorts and white cable-knit sweater draped over his shoulders stepped up to the counter.

  True, it was March and the weather had gotten milder, but the mornings were still chilly, and I shivered seeing his bare legs and arms. The man leaned on the counter and scratched at his arms. Even from this distance, I could see he had a rash. Bob saw it, too, and instinctively backed away. The man picked up on Bob’s reaction and seemed annoyed.

  “Relax, man. It’s just an allergy. You’re not going to catch anything,” the guy in shorts said.

  “I don’t think Bob bought it,” I said to Dinah, motioning to where Bob had taken another step back from the counter as he took the guy’s order.

  “Huh?” Dinah sounded mystified. Her reaction surprised me, as it wasn’t like her to be oblivious.

  “Okay, I’m guessing there’s more on your mind than whether to have a medium or large café au lait,” I said.

  She let out a heavy sigh, and I felt something big coming.

  “I’ll tell you when we sit down.” The three people ahead of us placed their orders quickly, and suddenly we were at the counter. Bob saw the small shopping bag on my arm and eyed it suspiciously.

  “What’s in the bag? Are you bringing in your own treats again?” he said in mock annoyance, gesturing toward his array of freshly baked breakfast bars. “Mrs. Shedd frowns on such things.” I opened the bag and took out one of the biscuits.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t. Here’s your payoff,” I said, offering him a biscuit with a conspiratorial grin.

  He took a tiny taste, and his eyes opened wider. “You’ll have to give me the recipe. We’re definitely adding these to the menu.” He asked Dinah and me for our orders. I opted for my usual tall red eye—the coffee with a shot of espresso would definitely open the blinds of my mind. Dinah almost ordered something different, but in the end she got her usual café au lait. It seemed almost counterproductive to dilute the caffeine with steamed milk. Wasn’t hot milk something you drank to fall asleep?

  As soon as we got our drinks, we gathered up some packets of honey and a lot of napkins and found a table. I was waiting for Dinah to say something more about whatever was on her mind, but so far she hadn’t started to talk. Dead air always made me nervous, so I tended to fill it with chatter.

  “I brought some biscuits for the group,” I said. “And another bag of them for Mason. I’m going to stop by on the way to Sheila’s practice class.”

  Mason Fields was the man in my life. I had thought that once I made the choice that he was the one, it would be all clear sailing. But life never seemed to sail clear for me. Just when we were about to go off on a wonderful trip, he’d had a car accident. His car had been totaled, and Mason had almost been totaled, too. I still got a sick feeling when I thought about seeing him in intensive care, hooked up to a bunch of machines. And yet I also got a warm feeling when I remembered the look in his eyes when he saw me there. It was amazing how much emotion he managed to pack into his gaze.

  He’d had a whole laundry list of injuries, from a punctured lung to a broken leg and foot. Luckily they were all things that would heal. By the time he’d been released from rehab, he was already back to his usual upbeat self. He was doing the last of his recovery at home—his home. We’d used his dog Spike not getting along with my assorted animals as an excuse, but I don’t think either one of us was ready for him to move in to my place or for me to stay at his. I shook my head just thinking about the complications of middle-aged relationships. Anyways, Mason was getting stir-crazy from being housebound for so long, so I knew the baked goods would be a nice treat.

  “Okay, I can’t take it. Whatever’s on your mind, please spill it now before I ramble on anymore,” I said. “What is it? Another student trying to pass off text talk in an essay?” I meant it as a joke to lighten things up, but it was something that definitely bugged Dinah. Her students were so accustomed to using shortened versions of words on their phones, they didn’t seem to understand that it didn’t work in a paper. Dinah said she felt like a code buster sometimes, and that was without considering the slang they threw in. “Sick” was supposed to be a compliment now?

  I was relieved when she smiled. “No, it’s not a student. It’s Commander.” Commander Blaine was the man in her life. None of us knew if his first name was really Commander, or if it was a nickname or a title, but we did know that his wife had died a few years ago and he owned the local Mail It Center. Dinah had been divorced when I met her—her husband had been a jerk, and so had most of the men she’d met after they had separated. So even though Commander was a total non-jerk, she had trouble believing it.

  “You’re not breaking up,” I said, looking at her with concern.

  She laughed at my furrowed brows. “Quite the opposite. He says he wants us to make a commitment.”

  This time I laughed. “You mean like going steady, or is he going to give you his class ring to wear on a chain around your neck?”

  “Actually, he’s talking about putting a ring on my finger.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers to make sure there was no doubt about what he meant.

  “He wants to get marr—” I couldn’t get out the whole word before she shushed me.

  “I can’t even say it out loud,” she said, and her expression got serious. “I don’t see why we can’t leave things the way they are. I like his company, but I’m used to my life, my house, having my ex’s kids over.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said. That had been part of the problem with my ex Barry. He’d wanted to get married, and I was still figuring out my life after Charlie died. “What I have with Mason is perfect. Or it will be, when a few things get straightened out.”

  “Commander is really serious about it. He said he needed time to get over his wife’s death, and now he’s ready to move on. And we all know he’s a proper sort of guy, down to the way he dresses.”

  I nodded in ag
reement, thinking of how Dinah had been put off at first by the razor-sharp creases in his khaki pants and the way his oxford cloth dress shirts were tucked in so perfectly that there wasn’t even a stray wrinkle.

  “I wish he wanted what you and Mason have,” Dinah said. I knew what she meant. Mason and I had started out as friends. He was a fun person and never seemed to take anything too seriously, including relationships. He’d said he was just interested in something casual. No titles, no strings. But when it came down to it, we’d both realized that just being ships that passed in the night—or I guess the more contemporary term was friends with benefits—wasn’t really what either of us wanted, and so we’d agreed to belong to each other.

  “What did you say to him?” I asked. She took a sip of her coffee and grinned.

  “I used to see old movies where women responded to proposals this way, and I thought it was silly and something I would never do.” She shrugged with a sheepish look. “I told him I’d think about it.”

  CHAPTER 2

  A half an hour later I was driving on the back roads of Tarzana with my last bag of biscuits on the passenger seat. The winding road that ran along the base of the hills leading up to the Santa Monica mountains was my route of choice. The houses were all different along this road, rustic with large grounds and trees that made a green canopy. I thought of how much nicer it was than taking Ventura Boulevard even though the busy commercial street was more direct. Finally I turned onto Mason’s street.

  His ranch-style house was done in dark wood that almost seemed to blend in with the trees and elegant landscaping of the front yard.

  I parked in front of the house and went up the walkway. Mason had insisted on giving me a key, but I still felt funny about using it, though it turned out not to matter. The front door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and heard frantic barking coming from Mason’s dog, Spike, a toy fox terrier who thought he was a Doberman. Worried that something was wrong, I started down the hall, following the noise.

  I heard voices above the barking as I approached the living room, though they stopped abruptly when I became visible. Spike even stopped barking long enough to run up to me and give my ankles a once-over. Mason was standing with two women. I recognized both of them. It was no surprise to see his daughter Brooklyn. As soon as she’d heard about his accident, she’d dropped what she was doing in San Diego and moved in to take care of him. That was all I really knew. Mason had never said anything about what she’d abandoned in San Diego or even how he felt about it, and I didn’t ask.

  When I’d first gotten to know Mason, he had a thing about keeping his family separate from his social life. I suppose it was because his relationships had been so casual, with no strings, so there was no reason to involve his daughters. But that didn’t work for me, and eventually he’d introduced me to his daughters. And even his ex.

  The one thing I did know was that Brooklyn didn’t like me. Every time I came over, she treated me like an intruder. If it had been his other daughter, Thursday, there wouldn’t have been a problem. She had actually been pushing for me and Mason to get together. We got along fine and even crocheted together sometimes.

  So, it wasn’t the cold stare from Brooklyn that was the surprise. It was who was with her and why.

  What was Jaimee Fields, Mason’s ex-wife, doing there? And why was there a suitcase next to her? If Brooklyn’s stare was cold, Jaimee Fields’s stare could have made an ice skating rink in hell.

  “Sunshine, you’re here.” Mason was all smiles as he moved away from the group to give me a welcoming hug. His ankle and foot were still healing, and he couldn’t put weight on one leg, so instead of hobbling around on crutches, he’d opted for a scooter. Basically, the scooter had a cushion where he could rest his knee, three wheels, and a basket. Typical for Mason, he’d jazzed it up a bit and added an old-fashioned bicycle bell. He saw the small shopping bag I was holding and looked inside with a grin.

  “Biscuits, my favorite!” he said. He put the bag in the scooter’s basket and gave the bell a pull and it made a happy sound. He was chomping at the bit to be recovered, but in the meantime, he was doing his best to make it fun to use the scooter.

  I wanted so badly to demand to know what was going on, but there was no way I could ask. When Mason had finally opened up to me about his family, he told me the divorce had been peaceful, as far as breakups went. The marriage had ended once their two daughters were on their own and Mason and Jaimee had realized they didn’t have much in common anymore. They were leading separate lives already, so they decided to make them completely separate. It was conscious uncoupling before anybody knew what that meant.

  Jaimee was doing her best to not look at me or at Mason’s arm around my shoulder. Their breakup might have been amicable, but it didn’t erase all the years they’d been together, and she didn’t seem particularly happy that Mason had found somebody else.

  “I’m here to help Brooklyn take care of you. You know I would have been here sooner, but I just had so much going on,” Jaimee said.

  What! I froze at her words. She might have been avoiding looking at me, but I had no problem looking at her. I know it was supposed to be true that people keep picking out the same kind of person, but that couldn’t possibly have been the case with Mason. Jaimee was all boutique clothes, perfectly highlighted hair and expert makeup. And I was in my usual classic khaki pants and cotton shirt, topped with a black V-neck sweater. The orange crocheted cowl had a subtle touch of sparkle and added some zip to my plain outfit. I was happy with my non-highlighted brown hair, and as for makeup, I’d say the best description of my look was subtle.

  “I appreciate your offer,” Mason said. “But as you can see I’m almost one hundred percent.” He did a little cha-cha with the foot that was on the ground to show off how well he was.

  Jaimee’s face clouded over and she looked perturbed. “I can’t believe you’re turning down my offer. You’ve probably run poor Brooklyn ragged. She needs some help.”

  Brooklyn stepped a little closer to her mother and nodded in agreement. I tried to keep a benign expression so I wouldn’t give away how ridiculous I thought the comment was. I knew for a fact she hadn’t been run ragged. The biggest thing she did for him was to act as his driver. I actually had the feeling Mason was letting Brooklyn stay more because she seemed to need it than for any help he required.

  Mason cut right to the chase. “Jaimee, why are you really here?”

  Jaimee seemed offended by his comment. “I thought it would be a win-win sort of thing. I could help look after you and have a place to stay while my house is being redone.”

  Mason still seemed skeptical. “What about Todd? Can’t you stay at his place?” Even though their divorce had been amicable, there was a certain level of hostility in Mason’s voice when he said her boyfriend’s name. I didn’t think it was jealousy, but more irritation at what kind of person she’d chosen to take Mason’s place. I’d seen him once from a distance. All I remembered was that he was younger than she was and some kind of tennis pro. Personally, I thought her money had a lot to do with her allure. Maybe Mason was thinking the same thing. Either way, I don’t think he wanted to consider that he and Todd were alike any more than I wanted to believe Jaimee was like me.

  Mason and Jaimee had been married a long time, and it seemed that there was bound to be emotional residue. I just didn’t want to be in the middle of it. I tried to pull away, but Mason held on tightly to me.

  Jaimee threw Mason an exasperated glance before she continued. “If you must know, we broke up. Well, actually, I broke up with him.”

  This was starting to get more and more uncomfortable. “I just came to drop off the biscuits, really,” I said, managing to pull free this time.

  “Please stay,” Mason said with a smile. “I’ll make cappuccinos.” Jaimee seemed impatient with our little moment and started talking again.

 
“I’m pretty sure Todd was cheating on me,” Jaimee said. The comment had the desired effect, as all three of us turned our attention to her.

  “You tend to overreact sometimes,” Mason said. “I’m sure you can work things out.”

  Jaimee made a face. “I should have figured you would say that. I don’t overreact. I don’t know why you keep saying that. He went somewhere Thursday night. He said it was business, but he wasn’t dressed for a lesson. Besides, he’s been cancelling students, saying he doesn’t have the time. I know because I answered his cell phone a few times and these people started yapping at me—he’s such a great teacher, their game is going to suffer if they don’t have their weekly session, blah, blah, blah. When I brought it up to him, he got mad at me for answering his phone. Then he said he had invested in some kind of business and had a partner and that was why he wasn’t doing so many lessons anymore. He wouldn’t give me any more details than that. The final blow was when I suggested staying at his place while the work was being done at my place. He said no, so I said go.”

  “What about a hotel?” Mason said. “I’ll even make the reservation.” He was already pulling out his cell phone.

  “No,” she said vehemently. “I can’t be in some public place. I need to hide out.”

  Brooklyn held on to her mother’s arm sympathetically.

  Jaimee seemed to sag. “I was dropped from The Housewives of Mulholland Drive. The producer said there wasn’t enough drama in my life to keep the audience interested. Once they heard I broke up with Todd, I was just an overdressed woman remodeling her house.”

  I couldn’t see Mason’s face, but I had a feeling he was rolling his eyes. I was sure he was about to talk Jaimee into going to some spa in the desert to hide out, but Brooklyn stepped in.

  “Dad, you should let her stay here. This house is huge. She can stay in the room next to mine, and you’ll never have to see each other.”