Knot Guilty Page 6

  I thanked him and said I’d check back later when all the donations were there.

  I started down the main aisle and saw that everything was still in setup mode. There was an open space at the back of the room. Some chairs had been scattered around rather randomly, and there was a snack bar and a coffee wagon. I was glad there wasn’t a line and ordered my drink.

  The smell of the red eye was perking me up as I turned to go back. For the first time I noted there were some booths on the ends of the aisles that faced the open area and was glad we weren’t stuck back here. I recognized the rack of knitted pieces in one of the spots. Maybe Adele was right about Rain Bergere just pretending she was supposed to have part of our space. This was yarn show Siberia.

  Mr. Royal was standing in the entrance to our booth when I returned. “I’m just about finished,” he said, showing off his work. I knew he wanted to get back to the bookstore. With me and Adele both gone, Mrs. Shedd was going to need his help.

  “You can go now, if you want,” I said. “Adele should be back any minute.” I glanced toward the entrance to see if she was on her way in. There was no Adele, but my mouth fell open when I saw who had walked in.

  Mason Fields? Was I seeing things or was the solidly built man in the beautifully tailored gray suit really him? And if it was him, what was he doing here? I’d told him that I was tied up for the weekend with some yarn thing for the bookstore, but I hadn’t given any details. Had he somehow tracked me down? When I saw the lock of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead, I knew for sure it was him. I always thought it made him appear hardworking and earnest. He said it was just what his hair did on its own.

  It had been months since I’d seen him in person, even if we had been talking on the phone for the past couple of days. I was all set to catch his eye and then do one of those movie things, where you see each other and are drawn together like there is this giant magnet at work. In the movies it’s often in slow motion, but in real life, I thought I’d just run into his arms. But then I saw that he wasn’t alone. A tall, elegant-looking woman accompanied him.

  I felt a pang of jealousy until I got a closer look and recognized her as Audrey Stewart. She’d been the “It” girl for a while and starred in a string of romantic comedies with titles like Love, Really?, Sweet Home Iowa, Sleepy in Cincinnati and You’ve Got a Tweet. Now that I thought about it, the only thing I’d heard about her lately was that she’d gotten into some kind of trouble. It was one of those really non-news items that got stuck in with real things like a typhoon hitting India. Now I was sorry I hadn’t paid attention to the details since she was obviously the client Mason had referred to.

  It was impossible to miss K.D.’s mane of silvery hair, and I saw her come to a stop next to Mason and Audrey. Delvin had rejoined her, but it seemed K.D.’s daughter had gone off to tweet or post on Facebook by herself.

  All I could see was their body language. Mason got ready to speak to K.D. and appeared a combination of calm and friendly. But Audrey moved a little in front of him and said something first. Whatever the actress said, K.D. seemed to be annoyed and actually shook her finger at Audrey. Mason physically stepped between them and took over. Even at this distance, his effort to smooth things over was apparent. And just as apparent was that it wasn’t working.

  Thea Scott had come out into the aisle and was watching with me. “Any idea what’s going on?” I asked, noticing that the Knit Style Yarn Studio manager appeared worried.

  Thea muttered something to herself about K.D. being so hardheaded before she turned to me. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. Audrey Stewart is part of our celebrity circle who meet at the yarn store. And she shoplifted one of those sets of jeweled silver knitting needles you were admiring.” Thea paused for a moment, shaking her head as she thought it over. “She claimed it was an accident. That she just happened to drop the satin roll of needles in her knitting bag and forgot to pay.”

  The three of them seemed to be at a standoff, and Thea let out a sigh. “I thought we should let her pay for them and forget about it, but K.D. sort of snapped. She took it way too personally and insisted we press charges against her. I’m guessing that Audrey and her lawyer are trying to change K.D.’s mind.” As Thea said that, things seemed to get worse between the three across the room. Audrey appeared angry and actually stamped her foot. “I tried to talk K.D. out of it, but she absolutely wouldn’t listen. Audrey’s lawyer is wasting his time.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, feeling protective. “I know Mason Fields, and he is very persistent.”

  “What a mess,” Thea said as Audrey stamped her foot again and Mason grabbed her hand and led her away. She seemed unhappy with him and pulled free. He glanced back for just a moment, and this time he saw me. His face broadened into a smile. He stopped, and I thought we were going to have that movie moment, but then he saw Audrey marching toward the door. He held his thumb and forefinger to his ear, mimicking a phone call, and then pointed at me before rushing after his client.

  “It was mission definitely not accomplished,” Thea said before going back into her booth.

  “Pink, our booth has been vandalized,” Adele said, arriving back just as I walked into the interior. She appeared horror stricken as she stared at the front table. “They’ve stolen our logo and taken our banner.” Joshua Royal had his tools all packed up and left quickly. I’m sure he didn’t want to be there when Adele heard what happened.

  “Not exactly,” I said, pulling out the box where I’d stowed the things before explaining why.

  “No,” Adele said in her most dramatic form as she grabbed the pair of crochet hooks and held them against herself in a protective manner. “That’s just nonsense. We have every right to put what we want in our booth as long as it isn’t offensive,” my coworker said.

  The problem was that K.D. found Adele’s handiwork offensive. I was trying to find a way to explain it when we were interrupted. Rain, the woman who’d tried to claim we were in her space, had returned. She was holding a dress form wearing a white knitted jacket. A sign hung around its neck with her business name and a number on it.

  “I wonder if I could leave this here. So people looking for my booth will know where I am.” She said it in a polite way, but this was not the time to wave anything knitted in front of Adele or ask for any help.

  “Have you seen the schedule?” Adele said to me. “It’s one knit fashion show after another with a bunch of knit demos in between. There’s brioche knitting and intarsia, whatever that is. Do we really need to help the enemy by having a dress form modeling a knitted jacket in front of our booth? We are the beacon of crochet in the knitted darkness.” Before I could mention that what Adele had said didn’t quite make sense, she’d plunked her crochet logo on the table, before pulling over a chair and rehanging the banner. “That’s it. I’m going to go talk to K.D. Kirby and tell her these things are staying.” Both Rain and I stepped back as Adele rushed out of the booth.

  “You can leave the dress form,” I said when Adele was gone. Not only was I not as nuts about knitters, I felt for Rain after I’d seen the location of her booth. Though after Rain left I did push it over to the side so it was at the very edge of our spot. Things had begun to quiet down as the vendors finished setting up. I did a little rearranging of our area. I made sure the supplies were ready for the granny square pin venture, along with a sign to put up when we were featuring the activity. I did take out the sign announcing free crochet lessons before I opened the tin of Bob’s Oatmeal Power Squares and made sure the café menu was visible. I did a little rearranging of the yarn and the crochet tools, and then the booth was ready for the opening.

  When I looked around, I noticed the aisle was empty. Apparently everyone else had finished setting up and left. I had lost all sense of time and was surprised to see that it was almost four. The kickoff of the show was at six thirty.

  Al
though Adele and I along with the other Hookers were all sleeping at home, we’d gotten a mini suite to act as a place for us to take a break during the weekend and to keep some extra stock. Mr. Royal had taken care of checking us in and provided keys for Adele and me. It had already been arranged that the rest of the Hookers would meet up in the room and I’d hand out their badges. I left a note for Adele and went there to freshen up.

  I walked through the lobby and took the elevator. The carpeted hallway was silent and empty as I looked at the room numbers. I expected an empty room and was surprised to find Adele already there redoing her makeup. I quickly discovered the operative word in the suite was mini. It was really one large room with a seating area in addition to a bed.

  I was going to castigate her for not coming back to help, but she was all discombobulated.

  I asked if she’d talked to K.D. and Adele gave me a funny look.

  “Let’s just say it’s taken care of. The banner and the crossed hooks are staying. I’m even thinking we should add another banner that mentions the free crochet lessons and the granny square pin,” Adele said, but she seemed somehow preoccupied.

  “Is there something else?” I asked.

  “It’s Mother Humphries,” she said. “She’s staying in the hotel for the whole weekend. I know she is going to be watching me. I know she wants to mess things up with me and Eric,” Adele said. She seemed close to tears, and I was glad she didn’t give the usual speech about how he was the yin for her yang—her soul mate.

  Adele took off the crocheted sweater with all the flower embellishments and said she was going to wear it again on Saturday. She had brought something else for the show opening. She took out a long white vest that was embellished with hearts in different sizes and shades of red and pink, many of which had a lot of sparkle. Adele was crochet crazed, but she certainly made some stunning items, though I’m not sure I would have been comfortable wearing the vest. Something like that guaranteed you the spotlight—her favorite location.

  The Hookers began arriving and it was hugs all around. Rhoda and Elise came together. Elise had a carrier on wheels with the crochet kits for the booth. She’d brought the one to make her vampire-style pieces and the ones she’d helped Sheila put together. This was the first time Sheila had assembled a kit to make a scarf in her trademark style of muted blues, greens and lavenders. Eduardo made quite an entrance. He’d done as we asked and dressed in the pirate outfit from his cover model days. The leather pants and billowing white shirt unbuttoned most of the way down along with his abundant black hair tied into a ponytail would definitely attract attention to our booth.

  Dinah came in a few minutes later. I was so glad to see my best friend and wanted to tell her about seeing Mason, but there was too much confusion as I tried to straighten up my appearance and hand out the badges. Elise said she needed one for her husband. She was vague about what he was going to be doing, but she assured us his being in the booth was going to be a help.

  “I hope he doesn’t mind being Joshua Royal for the night,” I said, handing over my boss’s badge as a loan.

  “I’m sure Logan won’t mind,” she said in her birdlike voice. None of us had seen much of her husband lately, so I was surprised that he was going to be hanging out at the yarn show.

  “Where’s Sheila?” Rhoda said in her matter-of-fact manner. She always got right to the point of things and wondered if our other Hooker was lost and having an attack of nerves somewhere in the hotel. Sheila had been handling her anxiety a lot better, but not finding her way could definitely set off an attack. I volunteered to go look for her.

  The corridor of the hotel seemed quiet after the clatter of voices in the room. I was relieved to see Sheila coming down the hall. It wasn’t her round face or chin-length dark brown hair that I recognized her by; it was her wrap. From a distance it reminded me of an Impressionist painting. When she saw me she picked up her pace.

  “At last I found you,” she said in a frantic tone. I assured her that Elise had brought her kits and pointed her toward the room. I was going to follow her when Delvin Whittingham came down the hallway behind her.

  Apparently, the afternoon outfit had been his more casual attire and he’d changed into what I suppose he must have considered something more formal. The hint was the white dinner jacket, which was in direct contrast to the collarless knit shirt he wore underneath. I’d call it a T-shirt, but the fabric seemed too fancy for that lowly term. It was shiny black and seemed like an exotic blend of fibers. He’d changed his hat again to a white fedora with a black band and a rather large red feather stuck in it.

  He picked up his pace when he saw me. “I’m glad I ran into you,” he said. “I got a message that K.D. wants to speak with you about your coworker.”

  I saw him give me the once-over, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t think much of my khaki pants, white shirt and black sweater, even if I’d been stylish enough to let the tails of the shirt hang below the sweater and had added a red cowl with a dash of sparkle.

  “You mean Adele?” I asked, as if there could be any question who the Great One meant. What was it now? Maybe she wanted to cancel Adele’s class or bar her from the show. I told him to lead the way.

  He pointed toward the end of the hall and an alcove in front of a double door. “That’s her suite. She has a before-show ritual of sipping a glass of champagne while she takes a bubble bath with her special blend of oils, but I’m sure she’s done by now.”

  When we got to the door, he knocked and we waited, but nothing happened. He tried calling her on his cell phone, but it went right to voice mail.

  “If she’s still in the tub, she might not have heard either the phone or the knock,” I said. “Maybe we should come back.” I wasn’t that happy about the summons and certainly didn’t want to tick her off more by interrupting her ritual.

  Delvin shook his head in response and said she’d been specific about wanting to talk before the show opened. His knock had been on the soft side, so I suggested I try. He had used his knuckles, but I gave the door a pound with the side of my fist. Both of us were surprised when the door slipped open a crack.

  He pushed the door open wider and walked in with me following. “Hello,” he called out. “K.D., it’s Delvin.” There was just silence as an answer.

  We’d walked into the living room of the suite. There was nothing mini about it. The floor-to-ceiling windows had a panoramic view over the eastern San Fernando Valley. It was just getting dark and the sky was a soft pastel lavender. The lights were just coming on in all the houses and buildings below. Off in the distance the Verdugo Hills and the San Gabriel Mountains looming behind them were a darker shade of the color of the sky.

  The room was lit with recessed lighting and had a coffee table between two small couches. A bucket with a green champagne bottle sat on the coffee table next to some balls of yarn and other stuff. I wanted to step closer to have a better look, but Delvin pointed me toward the open door to the bedroom.

  “Would you mind? In case she’s undressed.”

  “K.D., it’s Molly Pink from the bookstore,” I said, taking a tentative step into the bedroom. The bed was made but strewn with clothes. I saw that the bathroom door was ajar. Delvin had come in behind me and glanced around the room. I heard him swallow as he touched my arm and urged me to check the bathroom.

  It was too quiet, and I knew there had to be something seriously wrong. I took a deep breath and crossed the room to the open door. I didn’t step in but rather leaned in tentatively. I was going to call out a greeting, but the room appeared empty.

  I stepped in all the way to get a full view of the room. It was a luxury bathroom with an oversize tub in front of a window. At first all I saw was a mound of white bubbles and a champagne glass on the ledge. When I looked closer, I saw that some of the light color was actually hair. K.D.’s iconic silvery hair. I started to rush in, but then I saw some
water on the floor and the black cord that went from the tub to the wall socket.

  “You better come in here,” I said.

  Moments after Delvin called the hotel operator, there was a flurry of activity as two hotel security men rushed in and pushed us back, letting a pair of paramedics pass by. I trailed behind them as they went through the suite to the bathroom. The action stopped when they reached the doorway and saw the black cord still plugged in.

  “I think it’s a hair dryer,” I said, pointing out that it seemed the most likely appliance, since all hotels provided them. The group turned and glared at me.

  “We can handle it from here,” one of the security men said, taking my arm and leading me back to the living room. Delvin was standing in front of the window with his back to me. This had to be a terrible shock to him.

  A man in a gray uniform came through, and when he met up with the others, I heard some conversation about making sure the wire was dead. A man in a suit with furrowed brows came in followed by a bunch of uniformed cops. The security man who’d grabbed me came into the room and conferred with the man in the suit, who I assumed was the hotel manager. A moment later all eyes turned to Delvin and me.

  I started to say something but was shushed by the officer who had taken charge. He directed another officer to take charge of me. I saw he did the same with Delvin. The next thing I knew we were both being led out of the suite as yellow tape was strung across the double doors.

  It was weird the stuff I noticed. I’d passed right through the small alcove on the way in without a thought, but now it occurred to me that this area set apart from the rest of the hall was a deliberate attempt to give the suite an entryway and make it seem more exclusive. There were a couple of chairs and a cabinet that seemed to be for decoration.

  My cop took me into the main hall, and we stopped against the wall. Delvin’s cop apparently thought the sitting area was for real and had him sit on one of the chairs. I watched, wondering if the chair would collapse when it was actually used. It only wobbled a little. It was hard to see Delvin’s face in the shadow of his hat, but the color seemed to have drained from it. I imagined I probably looked about the same.