If Hooks Could Kill (4 page)

“I had a gig up at the country club. All sixties music for a wedding anniversary,” he said taking off his sports jacket. Samuel’s move back home was only supposed to be temporary, too, but recently he’d gotten his hours cut on his barista job and his night gigs as a musician were undependable, so I didn’t think he was going to be moving out anytime soon. He tucked the jacket under his arm and focused in on me.

“Tell me you didn’t tackle some TV actor with a fake gun,” Samuel said. When I looked embarrassed and made a little nod toward Barry, trying to tell my son that Barry didn’t know and I wanted to keep it that way, Samuel rolled his eyes and he shook his head with disbelief.

C
HAPTER
5

“Only you would have been enticed by an offer to see a murder book,” Dinah said with a laugh. We’d met for breakfast at the Le Grande Fromage, the French café down the street from the bookstore, and I’d told her, no strike that, more like confessed, about the cup of tea with Barry.

“I just want him to go home so I can get my stuff back from the storage unit and have my crochet room again,” I said. “It’s too confusing with him there. I’m angry at him for being so stubborn. If I wouldn’t marry him, we couldn’t even be friends? What kind of logic is that? I should never have offered to let him stay at my house.”

“It sounds like he wants to be friends now,” Dinah said.

“No, I think he appreciates that I let them live at my place and I think he was bored last night and had no one to talk to. Remember, he’s used to keeping crazy hours. He told me he’s working nine to five now.”

“Did you tell him about the incident on the
L.A. 911
shoot?” Dinah asked as one of the counter people brought over our food. I had a red eye and one of their freshly made cheese croissants. Dinah had ordered café au lait and a plain croissant. As usual, the airy place, with its round tables and black-and-white-checkered floor, was busy, and there was a line of people at the counter waiting to place their orders.

“No. I just left a big silence after Samuel’s comment,” I said picking up the red eye and checking to see if it was too hot to drink. “Then I rushed inside and left Barry sitting under the stars.” The coffee drink needed a few minutes to cool, so I broke off a piece of the cheese croissant. “I suppose having the tea was okay. We just talked about the cases he’s working on. It wasn’t like it was anything personal. I’m just as ready to shut the door on our relationship as he is. Once he moves home, that’s it, we’re done.”

“You had a busy night. Dinner with Mason first. How’s that going?” Dinah simultaneously poured steamed milk and hot coffee into her mug. I told her about Mason’s problems with his daughter’s wedding. “But did he say anything about inviting you?”

I made a face. “No.” I tried the coffee again and took a small sip. I started to defend Mason saying he had a lot on his plate, but Dinah interrupted me.

“You know you could just tell him you want to be invited.”

“I want him to do it on his own.” I explained what he’d said about taking baby steps. “At least, he’s trying.”

“I’m just curious,” Dinah began. “You said Barry had a lot of people visiting him while he’s been staying at your place. Was Detective Heather one of them?” Heather Gilmore was a homicide detective and if she was aiming for perfect, she was succeeding. She was smart, beautiful and I heard she was great with a gun. She’d always had an eye on Barry.

“I don’t know. There were all kinds of people coming and going—home health care workers, his cop friends, pizza delivery guys. I think he even got flowers. It’s not my business anyway.” I pulled off another piece of my roll.

A dark-haired man with a quick gait came into the café and went directly to the counter. He grabbed a coffee, and as he headed back toward the door I caught sight of his face and recognized the sharp features of Kelly’s husband, Dan. I didn’t really know him, other than he shopped at the bookstore and liked spy novels, but when he looked in my direction, I said hello.

“The bookstore lady,” he said, setting his cup on our table as he checked to make sure the top was secure on his coffee. “And Kelly does some kind of activity with you, right?” He seemed a little overly cheery. The kind of cheery that grated on your nerves in the morning. I mentioned the crochet group and introduced Dinah. He picked up his coffee and seemed about to go, but then set it down again. “I want to run a few names past you. I’d like to get input from the locals. I’m not so sure Hollar for a Dollar is the best name for my store. I could feel Dinah twitching in her seat. It bugged her no end that he had misspelled
hollar
so it rhymed with
dollar
. Any day now she was sure some hapless freshmen in her English class would spell holler with an
a
and use the store as the reason why.

“What do you think of
The Dollar Den
or
Dollars to Donuts
?” Before we could answer he went into an explanation. This store was his chance to tweak the concept before he turned them into a chain or franchised them. He was bright-eyed and enthusiastic and said something like every journey starts with a single step or in his case it was a chain or franchise starting with a single store. “Think about the names and come into the store when you’ve made up your mind. I’m putting a box in the front where you can vote for one of them. Before I even count the votes, I’m going to do a drawing. The winner gets a whole year of shopping at my store, whichever name wins.”

“How about calling it More Bang for Your Buck?” Dinah said. “And all spelled the traditional way.” Dan’s face brightened even more if that was possible.

“That’s it. I don’t even need to have a contest. Your idea says it all.” He hugged Dinah and then took one of our napkins and scribbled the name on it. “When you come in, you’re getting the prize. A whole year of shopping. We’ve got Paul Noman’s products, Gray Pooponit mustard, and Conniption dairy products. Just before he left, he pulled out a couple of coupons and gave them to me as a consolation prize.

He left a whirlwind in his wake as he rushed out the door.

When we finished our meal, we headed up the street to Shedd & Royal. My start time wasn’t until later in the day, but the Tarzana Hookers were having an official gathering in the morning. Dinah and I walked through the store to the yarn area. Almost everybody was already there and the table was covered with a colorful mélange of yarn and projects.

Dinah and I took seats next to Eduardo and started to pull out our projects. Even though I’d been crocheting with Eduardo Linnares for a long time, I was still amazed to see how this former cover model with huge hands could work a small steel hook with such precision.

He nodded a greeting to us, while I admired his work. Eduardo could crochet with any kind of yarn, but he preferred working with thread. He’d learned Irish crochet from his Irish grandmother and it was natural for him. He laid the white lacy bookmark in progress on the table and stretched.

Rhoda Klein eyed him from across the table. She was a real no-nonsense sort of person. Her hair was brown and short and she didn’t wear makeup or trendy clothes. Loose pants and loose tops in neutral shades gave her a rather cylindrical shape. It was hard to judge her age, and I was too polite to ask, but I’d guess she was somewhere in her forties, though she was the type who looked older when she was young and ageless when she got older.

“I don’t think the bookmarks are worth all that effort. Not enough perceived value. People want to buy something they can wear,” she said. She held up a summer weight shawl she was working on. She was using a thin cotton yarn and a big hook, which gave the shawl a lacy look and let lots of air through.

“Where’s Sheila?” Rhoda asked. CeeCee said Sheila hadn’t been able to get away from the store down the street where she worked.

Elise was sitting next to Rhoda. The two of them couldn’t have seemed more different. Elise was slight with a frizzle of brown curls. I always felt there was something a little scattered about her. Her tiny features and bright eyes went perfectly with her wispy, birdlike voice.

“But a shawl takes much longer to make. Eduardo turns out those bookmarks in no time,” Elise chirped. She glanced at Eduardo’s work. “I bet you could make some of those vampire style.” Elise was still hung up on Anthony, the vampire who crocheted and was featured in a series of books and now a movie, and everything she made was what she called “vampire style.” It meant that she used black and white yarn, with a touch of red. And what she called the vampire stitch, which was really a half double crochet, but looked a little like a fang. Thanks to her obsession, Elise had taken to dressing vampire style, too, which meant all she wore was black, white and red. Eduardo just smiled and went back to his bookmark.

CeeCee Collins sat at the head of the table. She was the official leader of the group, no matter what Adele said. CeeCee was our resident celebrity and was far more done up than the rest of us. Her mink brown hair was perfectly colored and styled. She’d gone from being referred to as a veteran actress, which was a nice way of saying over with, to being referred to as the comeback kid. It had started when she got the hosting job of
Making Amends
, a reality show about righting old wrongs, but the real change came when she was cast in the crocheting vampire movie
Caught by a Kiss
. The fact that there was Oscar buzz about her performance had put her back into the spotlight.

“What do you think of this look,” she said, standing up so we could see the mint green linen pants and long white tunic. “This new stylist has a pallet of colors for me she calls pastels, but I call them candy colors. When I looked in my closet it was like looking at a box of those French pastel mint patties.”

Nobody said anything, which I think was based on the idea if you can’t say something nice . . . Adele was a latecomer to the group and came in as we were all looking at CeeCee’s clothes.

“What happened to you?” Adele said as her eyes moved up and down CeeCee’s outfit. “You look like somebody tried to erase the color of your pants.” Adele twirled for all of us. “Now this is green.” She wore a long dress with slits up past her knees. I would have called the color grass stain. She’d added a fuchsia-colored crocheted belt that hung low around her hips with a matching headband. Adele stopped the modeling move and looked up and down the table. She pursed her lips when her gaze settled on the empty chair.

“Promised she’d come, did she,” Adele said, putting her hand on her hip. “I don’t think so. No matter what Kelly said, I don’t believe she has any pieces to give us for the Jungle Days Fair. I’m telling you, she’s a crochet pretender.”

“Dear, sit down,” CeeCee said. “I think you’re being a little harsh about Kelly. Though I am getting a little concerned she might be a flake, I would like to see what she’s got. We just have a few weeks before the fair. And since it’s a Tarzana fair and we’re the Tarzana Hookers, we want our booth to make us look good.”

Dinah told the group what she knew about Kelly and all the things she had going on.

“I’m going over there after the meeting,” Adele said. “And I’m not leaving with empty promises. Either she hands over something she’s crocheted, or I say we banish her from the group.”

CeeCee gave me a worried look. “Molly, we don’t want Adele going there alone, do we? Dinah just lives down the street. The two of you could accompany Adele.” CeeCee’s voice sounded cordial, but her meaning was clear. No way was Adele going to be allowed to go alone.

“How about the three musketeers going there together,” I said. Adele had come up with that title for us a while ago.

“Pink, you’re so right. It would be much more powerful if I have backup when I pin her against the wall.”

*   *   *

“It’s only some crocheted items for a street fair,” Dinah said, trying to get some reality going in Adele’s mind. Good luck on that one. The three of us walked outside. The sun had moved up in the sky and was doing away with the last of the cool morning as we went around the corner.

Whoever had planned this area, didn’t like grid-pattern streets. Each of the streets had a curve. I suppose the planner thought it made the area more interesting. The street that went down from Ventura, past Dinah’s house and on to the production area had an S curve and we could only see the beginning of the production equipment. Kelly’s street cut in just before Dinah’s house and curved around before running parallel.

Adele was trying to walk ahead of us, but when she saw Eric sitting astride his motorcycle in the middle of the street, making sure no traffic tried to pass, she made a detour. Despite the heat, his uniform appeared meticulous. Every strand of his short, wavy brown hair was in place. Up ahead, two actors stood in the street as a car drove slowly toward them. The lights and reflectors were positioned around them, and the camera and a bunch of people were in the middle of the street. The caravan of trucks had been moved back and were blocked from view by the curve of the street further up.

This time I didn’t even flinch when I saw the tip of a rifle pointing out of the open car window. It was all just make-believe. Dinah and I had slowed to a stop. There was something mesmerizing about watching the other side of the magic.

Suddenly a voice called “Cut.” Then there were a bunch of angry voices and I heard someone yelling for “Security.” Eric had already popped off his motorcycle and was running to the knot of people. Run might have been the wrong word. It was more like loping. His posture was ramrod straight and there was something proper about him even as he rushed into trouble.

“What did you do this time, Pink?” Adele had rejoined Dinah and me on the street corner.

“Are you kidding?” I said with annoyance in my voice. She countered by saying something to the effect that since I always seemed to be getting into trouble, it was an easy assumption.

Dinah elbowed me and pointed. Eric was coming toward us and he had a kid in tow.

Jeffrey?

“Hi,” he said with a weak smile when they got close to us.

Eric appeared tough and all business. “You know them?” Eric said to Jeffrey in his ticket-giving voice. Then his face softened when his eyes met Adele’s. “See you later, cutchykins,” he said in a sweet voice before he caught himself and went back to gruff Eric. “And don’t you come back,” he said, letting Jeffrey go and returning to his post.

Jeffrey was not the spitting image of his father. Barry had close-cropped no-nonsense hair and was a conservative dresser. It was either suits, slacks and a sports jacket, or well broken-in jeans with a pocket tee shirt, possibly topped with a plaid flannel shirt.

Jeffrey had a “look.” But then Jeffrey wanted to be an actor, no strike that, he was an actor. He’d done some plays with the middle school drama club and had gone on some auditions for commercials. There was a debate going on about his name. He wanted to go by Columbia Greenberg and then just Columbia because he thought it made him stand out. Barry thought the whole idea stunk and dealt with it by ignoring it all together.