If Hooks Could Kill Read online

  “It figures that Adele would suggest that she go as our representative. I don’t know what she thinks is going to happen. That Kelly will pop out of her casket and tell everybody that Adele is hiding the pieces she made for the sale because she doesn’t want to admit that she can’t do a bullion stitch.”

  “Knowing Adele, that’s what she could be thinking,” Dinah said. “But now that she’s so busy playing detective, maybe she’s forgotten.” Dinah sat forward in the chair. “You know any day she’s going to show up in a deerstalker hat a la Sherlock Holmes and start carrying a magnifying glass.”

  “And she’ll probably crochet herself a badge. Maybe a big gold star with her name embroidered on it,” I said and we both laughed. And we both knew Adele might really do it.

  “I was already going to go to the funeral,” Dinah said. “Kelly is a neighbor or was a neighbor.” Dinah’s good humor faded. “I hate to bring up scary things again, but do you really think Dan killed her?”

  I stopped for a moment and straightened. It was a pleasure to be able to discuss it without Adele jumping in every second with something motor officer/security detail Eric had told her. Then I caught my friend’s concerned expression and realized why she was asking.

  Dinah lived down the street from Dan. And she lived alone.

  “I’m sure even if he did it, he’s not a serial killer. It had to be something between them. From what we’ve heard, they were kind of a mismatched pair. He with his boxes of Rice-A-Randy and she with her high-end English soap. Maybe he got mad that she was spending all their money. And remember, they were both married before. Maybe he got creamed on his last divorce and decided never again.” I went back to combing the bins for the balls of thread. “And despite what Detective Adele said, it might be someone else entirely. There were lots of people coming and going since they were setting up the backyard for a scene.” I told Dinah about the conversation I’d overheard between the prop guys and North Adams. “Fred and Zeke both knew Kelly from before. Think about it, they’re prop guys on a cop show. They probably know all about weapons. And don’t forget her neighbor. Miss PTA prez was very angry at Kelly. She seemed to think Kelly was ruining the neighborhood.”

  My best friend looked at me. “You’re going to get involved in this aren’t you?”

  “Don’t tell Adele. I’m already on it. I asked Mason to see what he could find out.”

  Dinah nodded and looked relieved. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

  I loaded up a tote bag with a bunch of orbs of thread in jewel-like colors along with several black ones. Then I searched through the box of hooks and found a selection of steel ones.

  “Now how about we stop by the dollar store tomorrow and pick up some information along with the prize Dan promised you,” I said as we stepped back into the walkway and I pulled down the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Look,” Dinah said, pointing at a white banner reading “More Bang for Your Buck” that hung across the storefront. “Dan really did take my suggestion about the name.” Dinah shook her head in disbelief. “I thought he was just being polite when we saw him in Le Grande Fromage. And it makes me have serious doubts whether he killed Kelly. If you were planning to kill your wife, would you really be worried about a new name for your store? But English teachers everywhere must be offering up a prayer of thanks.”

  I looked at the sign again and shuddered. “Yes, but if you were devastated because someone else killed your wife, would your store not only be open, but sporting a new name?”

  We had waited until the next morning to make the trek to the store and were wearing the bracelets we’d made during the prior evening. The dollar store was located in one of the older storefronts in Tarzana and had previously housed an indoor play lot for kids.

  “It looks like he made good use of the old decorations,” I said looking through the large windows. The owners of the kids’ place had decorated the walls with murals of stylized trees and hills with big flowers on them and a train full of animals chugging by. Dan had painted over the animals and replaced them with giant jars of Sucker’s jam, Jerkmans hand cream and Tried detergent.

  “And it looks like life has gone on,” I said as we went inside. The store seemed to be bustling with aggressive shoppers and I almost got sideswiped by a woman racing her cart toward a display of cans of “krab” meat. We decided we should try to blend in and took one of the shopping carts to push while we walked around for a few minutes, checking out the merchandise. Dinah picked up a plastic bottle of Belcher’s grape juice, made a face and put it back.

  “Have you thought about what we’re going to say to Dan?” Dinah said. “We could say ‘Oh by the way, I heard that you have the golden triangle of means, motive and opportunity, and Detective Adele is closing in on you.’” Dinah saw a display of Leon’s brand yarn and pushed the cart toward it.

  “I’m sure the golden triangle line will get him to throw up his arms and confess to us,” I joked, following along with her.

  While we went through the bin of yarn, Dinah found some lightweight cotton in a pale yellow she thought would be perfect for one of the long scarves she favored. As she was dropping the skeins in the cart, she looked up at me. “I wonder if Kelly used any of this yarn.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Everything I saw about Kelly makes me think she was purely a real-brand girl, and fancy brands at that.” Once Dinah had gotten the yarn she wanted, we went back to discussing how to talk to Dan.

  “We could bring up that we stopped by his house the day Kelly was shot,” I said.

  “And imply that we saw him there,” Dinah said.

  “Good idea,” I said. I had been avoiding thinking about the visit because it made me feel like a jinx, but now that it was out in the open we talked back and forth about what time we’d gone there and agreed that it was right around midday.

  “Remember, the prop guys were taking off for lunch when we got there,” I added. I mentioned the visit had been very short thanks to Adele. Our conversation was interrupted by a noise coming over the loudspeaker in the store. A bell rang and was followed by a voice.

  “Hello shoppers. Just five minutes until the dollar-of-the-hour special starts. The mystery boxes are already in the back of the store.” At that, there was a rush of carts trying to get past ours. I heard several shoppers suggest that they should have just bumped my cart out of the way.

  The sound of the bell triggered something in my mind. “Kelly’s doorbell rang while we were there,” I said.

  Dinah nodded in recognition. “She said it was a real estate agent or something. And then she hustled us out of there.”

  “What if it wasn’t just someone wanting to leave off an advertising brochure?”

  The voice returned to the loudspeaker interrupting our conversation again. The frenzy toward the center of the store got wilder when the voice announced the boxes had been brought out and were being opened. Our curiosity won out and Dinah and I joined the stream of carts heading toward the center of the store. Though we ditched our cart when we hit a traffic jam and held on to each other as we threaded through the mess.

  The stack of unmarked cardboard boxes was like an island in the middle of a sea of carts. I could have taken off all my clothes and jumped on one of the displays and started dancing and no one would have noticed.

  A clerk was cutting open the boxes and unloading their contents while eyeing the encroaching crowd nervously. The area around where he was working was roped off. But as the carts kept jostling for a better position, the poles holding the ropes fell over. The carts moved in like sharks on a sea lion. He left his post with the boxes half-open and squirmed through the crowd. I didn’t see where he went because there was a crowd of people squeezed around the barricade of carts. I just heard the sound of boxes being opened, the thud of something being thrown into the carts and a lot of angry voices, complaining the people in the front were getting everything.

  A well-dressed
woman with recently styled hair stopped next to Dinah and me. “They should put some kind of a limit on how many you can buy. The people in the front take everything.”

  “What is it?” I asked, and the woman shrugged.

  “Who knows, or cares. All that matters is that it’s a bargain.”

  Dinah and I held our ground far back from the fray. I noticed the crowd begin to disperse and the victors headed for the checkout, guarding the contents of the carts while being harassed by people who’d gotten there too late. Even so, a tussle broke out because someone snatched the sale item out of another person’s cart and said it wasn’t fair that she got to buy ten and some people hadn’t gotten any.

  “It’s a free country,” the woman with the cartful of merchandise said, trying to get back the snatched item.

  Dinah stood on her tiptoes and tried to see what the fuss was about. Then she started to laugh and nudged me. “You won’t believe what the dollar-of-the-hour item is.” She knew how to use a pause to build up suspense. “Cotton candy makers.”

  When things went back to normal, I found the clerk who’d opened the boxes. He was half in an entryway that said “Employees Only.” His eyes widened as we approached him and he put up his hands in a defensive manner. “There’s no more in the back, ladies. No matter what you say to me or promise me, everything we had was in those boxes.” He let out his breath. “And I know the store is called Hollar for, I mean More Bang for Your Buck, but the dollar-of-the-hour specials are five bucks.”

  “Really,” Dinah said. “You know that’s false advertising. It should be the five-dollar-of-the-hour special.”

  “I’ll tell the boss.” The clerk started to back away, but I stepped in and said we wanted to speak to Dan. The clerk had put more distance between us before he said that Dan wasn’t there, while mumbling that even if it came with extra pay he wasn’t going to be doing the dollar-of-the-hour item anymore. “He’s in the middle of a family situation,” the guy said, looking Dinah and me over carefully. “I’m the assistant manager. Anything I can do for you?”

  I was tempted to bring up getting one of the bargain items as a joke, but he didn’t look like he had a sense of humor. I told him we’d known Dan’s wife and we’d stopped in to give him our condolences. The man’s demeanor changed and he actually stepped closer to us. Now that he knew we weren’t trying to squeeze more cotton candy makers out of him, he relaxed.

  “So you knew her,” he said with a sad movement of his head. “It’s just terrible and so pointless. If somebody wanted to rob the place, why did they have to kill her,” he said. “I only met her once. Dan kept hoping she’d work here and help out. It’s not easy launching a store,” he said gesturing toward the line at the registers. “It looks like the customers are buying a lot, but you’ve got to remember everything, but the special, is a dollar. Somebody can walk out with two bags of merchandise and only drop ten bucks.”

  After dealing with the crush of crazy customers, the man seemed relieved to talk to us. Or rather unload. He started telling us how until recently it had been hard to get the merchandise for the dollar-of-the-hour special, which it turned out was really the dollar-of-the-day special. “Dan wanted to call it the dollar-of-the-hour special because dollar and hour rhyme.”

  I saw Dinah reacting and he looked at her. “I know it’s false advertising, but nobody else has complained.” The man had a walkie-talkie stuck to his belt, and it began to squawk. “Sorry ladies, got to go.” He took off toward the front of the store where it appeared some kind of fuss had broken out.

  “Did you notice that the assistant manager is the only one who seems to think Kelly’s death was really a robbery gone bad?” I said when we got outside.

  “Can you blame him? Everyone who doesn’t think it was a robbery, thinks his boss did it.” Dinah looked around and then glanced back at the store. “We forgot about the yarn. Should we go back and find the cart?” We both looked at the chaos in the store and shook our heads in unison.

  I was working the late shift at the bookstore and still had time before I was supposed to start. I turned to my friend. “I’d really like to hear Dan’s side of things. What do you say we make a condolence call at his house?”

  I noticed Dinah was smiling as we started down the street and I asked what was going on. “I’m just so happy to be your Watson again,” she said. She had been the first person to be my sidekick in an investigation, but ever since she’d started the relationship with Commander Blaine, her time wasn’t always her own. He claimed a lot of it. Commander ran the local Mail It Center and was a widower. He’d been lonely right after his wife died and instead of wallowing in it, had used his energy to help put on events for Tarzana seniors and other groups. Dinah with her bubbly personality was great at helping out and once she got used to being with a man who wasn’t always trying to ditch her, she enjoyed it. But I was glad she’d worked out some kind of balance, because I missed my friend.

  “Hands down you’re my favorite wingman,” I said.

  We both agreed we shouldn’t show up empty-handed for the condolence call and we didn’t have time to make anything, so we stopped by the bookstore and I talked our barista cookie baker, Bob, out of a batch of his Hurry Up Chocolate Chip Cookie Bars made using my recipe.

  The commotion of the L.A. 911 production disappeared as soon as we started down Kelly’s street. When we got closer, I saw that the production company truck was no longer in the driveway, but the prop guys had left trees and bushes in pots behind, because there was a scene they still had to shoot.

  We walked up to the entrance and I rang the bell. When the door opened, I prepared to say hello to Dan with his dark hair and everyman sort of looks, but the person who answered the door was anything but ordinary looking. I couldn’t see my face, but I had a feeling I had a goofy smile. All I could think was that he was gorgeous. I caught myself and laughed in embarrassment.

  The adorable man looked from me to Dinah and his face lit in a smile that only made him more adorable. When I saw the dimples that matched Kelly’s, I knew he must be a relative.

  “Molly Pink,” I said extending my hand. “And this is Dinah Lyons. We were looking for Dan. We wanted to express our condolences.”

  “Were you friends of my sister?” he asked before introducing himself as Stone Thomasville. There was something golden about him. His hair was golden blond with lighter streaks and his skin had a golden cast as if he’d been kissed by the sun. He wore a red and white Aloha shirt over a pair of khaki shorts. A pair of sunglasses hung around his neck and he smelled of suntan stuff. Then I remembered the remark the prop guy had made. He’d said Kelly had a brother who was a surfer and it all made sense.

  I said how sorry I was about Kelly. Dinah chimed in that we’d been over a few days ago and thought we’d left something in her workroom. I looked over at her in surprise then understood what she was doing and gave her an approving nod.

  Dan came up behind him and peered out as us. It was obvious he was trying to place us. “The bookstore lady and my prize winner,” he said, finally. “More Bang for Your Buck is a great name.” He started to go on about the store until I interrupted him and explained we had come to pay our condolences. The brightness went out of his face and he mumbled something about how he was trying not to think about it, as he invited us in. As I followed Dan and Stone inside I was struck by how differently the two men moved. Dan thrust his head forward, as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere, and had a brusque walk. Stone moved with the energetic grace of an athlete.

  “What is it that you left?” Stone asked when we reached the living room.

  We were unprepared for the question and both began to talk over each other with impromptu answers. I said it was my sweater, which when I thought about it was absurd since it was in the ninties outside. Dinah said she’d left her reading glasses and then did too much explaining about why she’d taken them off in the first place.

  Luckily, neither of the men picked up on our con
fusion. “The cops went through the room and they left me a list of what they took. I don’t remember anything about a sweater or glasses, so they’re probably still there,” Dan said before inviting us to sit down. I handed him Bob’s cookies and told him again how sorry I was about Kelly and reminded him that we’d known her through our crochet group.

  “I don’t know how she had time for a crochet group. Did she tell you we both have kids from previous marriages? Every week was different around here with her kids or my kids staying over.” Before I could ask where all the kids were now, he explained under the circumstances both sets of kids were staying with their other parent.

  I really wanted to ask him about the circumstances he was under. I assumed it was the fact that he was a person of interest to the cops. He seemed distracted and then found his manners and offered us something to drink. We both said we didn’t want to trouble him, but he insisted.

  Stone had positioned himself on the arm of the sofa and I noticed he was drinking something from a small plastic bottle. I looked to see if it was some weird brand from Dan’s store and Stone caught me staring at it. “I’d offer you some but it’s the last bottle.” He explained it was a coconut water energy drink he was involved with marketing.

  “Stone’s a famous surfer,” Dan said. He started to reel off a list of the championships Stone had won and explained what they were. It was all pretty much lost on me since I wasn’t a fan of the sport myself and Stone seemed a little embarrassed by the fuss.

  “The competing is all in the past. Now I just rest on my laurels,” Stone said with a smile. He mentioned that he’d moved to Hawaii awhile ago. Even though I’m not competing anymore, we’re hoping my name still means something,” he said handing me the plastic drink bottle. It was sky blue and had an image of him on a surfboard. He explained they were making it in small batches in Hawaii, but were hoping to take it to a bigger level.

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “I flew into Denver to meet with a drink company. I was going to stop here on the way back to Maui. . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked down. “I had no idea I’d be coming for a funeral.”