Behind the Seams cm-6 Page 5

  Mrs. Shedd said Mr. Royal had hung around, and between the two of them, they’d managed okay. He’d been a silent partner and out of the picture when I first started working there, and even though they were equal partners and both my bosses, I always thought of her as the one really in charge. Maybe it was because for a long time Mr. Royal had been such a silent partner I’d doubted that he really existed.

  I laughed at that concept now. Once I’d gotten to know Joshua Royal, he seemed like the world’s most interesting man. It turned out he’d been everywhere and done just about everything during his time away.

  “It’s already so late, Molly, take a little more time and get something from the café. You look like you need it.” I appreciated her concern and took her up on the offer. Mason’s coffee and roll had only been a stopgap, and I needed a second round.

  Bob had done a double take when I placed my order but didn’t say anything about how I looked, though as he pushed the coffee with the shot of espresso across the counter, he’d added several chocolate pieces on a napkin. Facing him made it hard for me to ignore that hair growth below his lower lip. Should I call it a beardette?

  “Alain Des Plaines brought the chocolate in,” Bob explained, referring to the guy who wrote the cookbook Melts at Body Heat, which was the centerpiece of Salute to Chocolate. “He wants to know what everybody thinks about him doing a demo of making these. I’ve tasted them, and they seem to be just what you need.”

  Bob watched while I ate one. I bit into strong bittersweet chocolate before hitting something sweet with a smack of heat. “It’s chocolate-dipped candied ginger,” Bob explained, and I nodded with recognition at the flavor of the inner portion.

  Bob was right about it being just what I needed. The kick of the ginger picked me up right away. I took a slug of the coffee and all the flavors blended nicely. “Alain gets a thumbs-up on these as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Alain wanted me to tell you that he’s been getting some strange e-mails complaining that he’s only doing a chocolate demo. He said they even sent him a list of alternative recipes,” Bob said.

  I put up out my hands in a gesture of disbelief. “That’s crazy. It’s called a Salute to Chocolate.”

  “That was just about what Alain said,” Bob said. “I’ll pass along your agreement when I see him.”

  I was about to leave the counter when Rhoda and Elise came in and dropped their canvas bags full of their crochet supplies on one of the tables. I called out a greeting and they suddenly noticed me.

  “What happened to you?” Rhoda said. “We saw you get dragged out of the audience with Adele, and then as soon as the show finished, all these cops came in and started taking down everybody’s name. I must have asked five different officers what was going on, but all they gave me was the silent treatment,” Rhoda said. She gave off an air of authority, and I was surprised she hadn’t managed to get an answer.

  Elise seemed a little distraught by the incident. “It was obvious something serious had happened. We decided the best thing to do was come here,” she said in her birdlike voice. “Sheila’s already back in the yarn department. I saw her when we walked in.”

  “So, are you going to tell us what happened? What could Adele have possibly done to bring out all those cops?” Rhoda asked. I took my coffee and came over to their table, not wanting to broadcast everything over the café. A number of the tables were occupied and several people had already looked up and were eavesdropping on our conversation. A guy in jeans and boots passed me carrying a coffee mug. I was surprised to see him walk behind the counter and help himself to a refill instead of having Bob get it. But then the café wasn’t really my domain, so I didn’t know what kind of arrangements Bob had with regular customers.

  Rhoda and Elise leaned close over the table as I repeated the chain of events in a low voice. Both of them looked like their eyes were about to fall out when I told them about what happened to the segment producer.

  “Poor CeeCee, she takes in her niece and then Nell turns around and murders somebody. And of all times, when her aunt is doing the show,” Rhoda said.

  “If she really did it,” Elise said.

  Rhoda snorted. “Like who else could it have been? It was just Molly, Adele and Nell in there.”

  Elise shrugged uncomfortably. “Remember, somebody is innocent until proven guilty. It’s not nice to jump to conclusions.” Elise had been on the other side of conclusion jumping and so was ultrasensitive. Rhoda gave her a hopeless shrug, and the two of them went to order their drinks.

  The three of us took our drinks and headed for the back of the store. The café might not be my domain, but the yarn department was. At least if I was back there, I would feel like I was working. Ever since we’d added the yarn department and left the table up all the time, it seemed like there were always people around it crocheting. And even knitting, when Adele wasn’t around. Though right now, the only one at the table was Sheila. She was hunched over her work, and I was concerned that she was having an attack of her nerves, but when she sat up and I saw her work, I was relieved to see that she had nice even stitches on the heathery blue shawl in progress. Previously when Sheila got tense, her stitches turned into little knots and we’d had to get her a smaller hook to pry them open. She pushed her blunt-cut dark hair behind her ears to get it out of her face.

  Her eyes were like saucers when she looked up at us. “I didn’t know what else to do but come here,” she said. “I couldn’t find Adele or anybody when the cops let me go.” She said she’d gotten a ride from some other audience member who was headed for Woodland Hills. Sheila held up about a foot of crocheted shawl with skeins of blue, green and purple yarn hanging off it. “I did this while I was waiting,” she said. Apparently she had turned her nervous energy into speed, which was more productive than the old tight stitches. She put down her work and jumped up to hug us all. “I was so worried. Where’s everybody else?”

  Eventually Sheila thought to ask what had happened. I was getting tired of repeating the story and was actually relieved when Rhoda took over for me. The story lost a little in her rendition, but it was close enough. I tried Dinah’s phone again and was relieved when she finally answered. I told her we were all gathering at the bookstore and she said she was just minutes away.

  I hadn’t thought to ask how she’d gotten back, but when she came in, I realized I had the answer. She wasn’t alone. Commander Blaine had his arm linked in hers. The slender man with thick white hair shared the same high energy of my best friend. They explained together how he’d come to rescue Dinah when she’d discovered she had lost her ride. His eyes were shining, and it was pretty obvious he had enjoyed playing the white knight. He seemed stuck to Dinah’s side like there was glue involved. I was still surprised to see my very independent friend so connected with someone. She didn’t like the title boyfriend any more than I did and referred to Commander as her relationship partner. I wasn’t so cool on that title, either, but it wasn’t really my affair.

  Before Dinah even asked, Rhoda was repeating the story of what had happened. Dinah sucked in her breath and looked toward me. I felt a sense of relief. Together, Dinah and I would make some sense out of what was going on. We’d played Sherlock and Watson before. But then I noticed Commander tug her arm slightly, and Dinah sheepishly said she’d just come to find out what had happened and make sure everybody was okay.

  I said, “Everybody hasn’t shown up yet,” but Dinah just averted her eyes and said they had to go.

  What? I screamed in my mind. Someone died in front of my eyes and my best friend wasn’t going to stay while I tried to figure out what was going on.

  Commander took over for her, and as his gaze moved around the group, staying the longest on me, he explained, “We agreed to help with a wine-and-cheese karaoke thing at the Tarzana Senior Center.” Dinah started to walk out with him but ran back and whispered, “I’ll call you later.”

  I had mixed emotions. I was glad that Dinah had fina
lly met a really nice human being. How could you fault someone for volunteering their services to help a bunch of seniors have a fun evening? Commander had learned to deal with his own loneliness by thinking about other people and putting on social events for them. Dinah had an equally big heart. Who else would have had their ex-husband’s children with his newly exed wife keep coming back to visit her? I knew it was selfish, but I missed my best friend.

  For about sixty seconds, they all sat and crocheted in silence, but then Adele showed up with her hat sitting way back on her head, which was not an improvement. She dropped into one of the chairs with a dramatic sigh.

  “They tried their best to get me to confess, but I wouldn’t do it,” she said before letting out an even bigger sigh.

  “What?” Rhoda said.

  “They thought because that woman dragged me out of the show, I might have wanted revenge. One of the cops even suggested that maybe I carried a supply of poison in case anybody happened to irritate me.” Adele looked around the table at us. “Can you imagine anyone thinking I’d do something like that?”

  Adele saw that everyone had taken out their current crochet projects and joined them. I had been hanging back, straightening up stray skeins that were laying around the counter at the base of the bins of yarn. I longed to join them and finally gave in. Like everybody else, I had a bunch of projects in the works. I kept a scarf in progress stashed in the yarn department for times like this. I took out the canvas bag with the apricot yarn from the cabinet and joined the group. It was a simple pattern of double crochets and chain stitches and perfect when I needed something that was repetitive and relaxing.

  I’d just settled into a rhythm when CeeCee showed up. She was still wearing the outfit she’d worn on the show and appeared the least discombobulated of any of us.

  “I thought I’d find you all here.” She stopped at the head of the table, which was her usual place since she was more or less the leader of the group. “What an afternoon,” she said in a breezy tone. “Thanks to this Oscar buzz, everybody wants to do an interview with me. My publicist had set up a bunch for this afternoon. I just sat there as one group after the other came in and we had almost the exact same conversation.” She settled into a chair and produced a canvas bag with some yarn and hooks. “I need to unwind,” she said with a sigh. “I think the show went very well, except”—she glared at Adele—“I can’t believe you made a scene. Thank heavens no one knew I had any crochet connection.”

  Adele’s eyes flew skyward. “I can’t believe you’d try to deny your crochet heritage. You should be proud of your talent.” Adele picked through the donation box we’d set up to keep all the things we made for different charities and held up a precious baby blanket made in natural-colored organic cotton that CeeCee had made, to illustrate her point.

  CeeCee touched the blanket and said she was very pleased at how it had turned out. “I’m certainly a proud crocheter, but I don’t have to hit everybody over the head with a hook.” She gave Adele a pointed look. “Whatever you did caused all kinds of problems. As soon as the show wrapped, they whisked me out of there so fast I didn’t even get a chance to pick up my things. They just said there’d been some kind of trouble. And I think we know who caused it.”

  So CeeCee didn’t know what really happened. Nobody said anything, and the tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. For some reason, everybody looked toward me. “You tell her,” Rhoda said.

  “Tell me what?” CeeCee said, suddenly appearing wary.

  “There was an incident when Adele and I were in the waiting room,” I began. I just gave her the facts, but she did an excellent job of filling the blanks and appeared stricken. “They can’t possibly think my niece had anything to do with it. Besides, how could they tell so quickly it wasn’t some sort of seizure?”

  “Cop instinct,” I said. “Just like they decide who they think did it.” I realized what I’d said and wished I could take it back, but CeeCee went pale and pulled out her cell phone. She had her agent on the other end in no time. He didn’t know anything about the so-called incident but promised to find out all the details. “I think he knows more than he’s letting on,” she said to us in a pointed voice as she pushed the button to disconnect. She turned to Adele and me. “When was the last time you saw my niece?”

  I explained about them separating us, and then Adele made things worse by complaining she’d been grilled by the cops and they’d tried to pin the segment producer’s death on her.

  “This isn’t about you, Adele,” CeeCee said with a worried sigh. “I’m responsible for Nell.” She’d picked up her work but wasn’t crocheting. She leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. I said something about her being an adult, and CeeCee surprised me by snapping at me. “I can’t believe you don’t understand. You’re a mother. What if it was your son Samuel or Peter?”

  Okay, I got it. I told her about Mason’s offer to help, and she wanted me to call him. “He’s at a dinner meeting. I’d only want to bother him if . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I would disturb him only if Nell had been arrested.

  Bob showed up with a tray of coffee drinks and more of the chocolate samples.

  “Thank heavens,” CeeCee said, reaching for two of the papers filled with the candy. “If ever there was a time I needed emergency chocolate, it’s now.” As CeeCee was working on saving herself with candy, Bob pulled me aside. He’d figured there was some kind of trauma going on—that’s why he’d shown up with the drinks and samples—and he wanted to know details.

  I gave him the short version and just said a segment producer on the Barbara Olive Overton show had died. I mentioned Mrs. Shedd had said she was a customer of the café. When I gave him her name, he gasped softly and went pale. He mumbled something about knowing her.

  “There’s Nell,” Elise said, standing up. We all looked toward the front as Nell walked like a zombie across the bookstore. Her eyes were glazed like she was in some kind of shock.

  CeeCee sprang into action as Nell got close to the table. “Get her a hook,” CeeCee demanded.

  I’m not sure if CeeCee really believed crocheting was a cure for Nell’s condition or she just felt helpless and it was the first thing that came to mind. Either way, I wanted to help. Bob took off, saying he’d get more chocolate samples and a glass of water.

  I still had Adele’s large turquoise hook and yarn in my pocket and offered it to CeeCee. She did a foundation chain and the first row of single crochets before pushing it in her niece’s hand.

  Nell sank in a chair and CeeCee told her to start crocheting. Whatever objections to crochet Nell’d had before, she seemed to have forgotten them and followed her aunt’s orders. Sheila came and stood next to Nell and had her do yoga breathing in time to each stitch.

  By the time Bob returned with the chocolate-covered ginger and a glass of water, Nell had relaxed her shoulders and Sheila didn’t have to coach her breathing anymore.

  Nell set down the couple rows of crochet and took the chocolates and water gratefully. Everyone was staring at her. Rhoda couldn’t take the tension anymore and leaned toward her.

  “So are you going to tell us what happened to you?”

  Nell set down the glass and took a couple more of Sheila’s yoga breaths while we all waited expectantly.

  She started with what happened to Robyn. Everyone had already heard the story at least once but listened again since it was obvious she needed to talk about it. “If that wasn’t bad enough, these detectives thought that I did it. Me. One of them was called Detective Gilmore, and she kept saying I’d feel better if I just told them the whole story. I did tell them the whole story—over and over. I got Robyn her latte and I went and got the special sweetener. They kept me in a room and keep asking me again and again if I’d poisoned Robyn. I kept saying no, but they didn’t believe me. They asked me about Robyn and I told them I didn’t know much about her. It wasn’t like she shared her personal life with me.” Nell stopped, as i
f considering something. “The only thing she ever told me was that her parents died when she was a kid. And the only reason she told me that was to point out how she’d had to get everything on her own, unlike me, who according to her, had gotten the job just because of Aunt CeeCee.” Nell’s voice had risen in anger as she got to the end and everyone at the table appeared uncomfortable. It sounded a little too much like she might have done it.

  Suddenly it was as if she realized how she’d sounded and she collapsed on the table. “It’s lucky the cops aren’t here. They might have taken that the wrong way.” Nell sat up and appeared composed as she turned toward me. “I told Detective Gilmore that I knew you since you seem to have police connections.” Nell stopped and sighed. “She wasn’t impressed.”

  The color had come back into Nell’s face. “After I’d told them for the zillionth time I had nothing to do with it, they finally let me go. Thank heavens she realized I was telling the truth and all that is over.”

  I didn’t want to tell her, but I had a feeling it was anything but over.

  CHAPTER 6

  FOR ONCE I CAME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE. SAMUEL had left a note. He’d taken care of the animals and had gone to play backup for some singer-friend. Cosmo danced out the door, and the little black mutt ran around the yard while I watered the flowers. Blondie finally joined us, though the strawberry terrier mix wasn’t quite as exuberant. Since it was dark, I made sure Holstein and Cat Woman stayed inside.

  To say I was a little keyed up from the day was an understatement. And, well, the three red-eyes I’d had in close succession hadn’t helped, either. I thought I was immune to caffeine, but I guess all those shots of espresso had added up.