You Better Knot Die (9 page)

 

 

“THAT SOUNDS BAD. WHAT DOES SHE EXPECT YOU to do?” Dinah asked me later as I sat down at the table at the bookstore café. Mrs. Shedd had asked me to keep everything she’d told me to myself, but telling Dinah didn’t count. My friend had called about meeting and for once I actually noticed that my cell was ringing. Dinah said she needed my help with something.

But before I took a break, I made up the sign for the holiday event. We put it on every year to coincide with Santa Lucia Day.

The celebration was a carryover from Mrs. Shedd’s childhood. She was Swedish and every December thirteenth, as the eldest daughter, she donned the traditional long white dress, red sash and crown of candles and served coffee and buns to her family. There were various interpretations to the origin of the holiday, but to Mrs. Shedd it kicked off the holiday season.

I made up the countdown sheets and attached them to the cardboard cutout of Anthony. Mrs. Shedd was right about it being a good idea. They attracted immediate attention. I waited on customers and, when there was a lull, went back to the yarn department and attached the completed swatches on the bins.

Bob was baking something with cinnamon and the air smelled delicious. He said he’d bring over our order when it was ready.

“Mrs. Shedd didn’t say exactly, but I think what she really wants me to do is to get her money back. I can’t see where Emily will be much help. She kept telling me that she didn’t know about Bradley’s business,” I said with a sigh. I smiled at Ashley-Angela and E. Conner, who were sitting at the bistro table with Dinah. They were sharing a box of crayons and drawing. It was amazing to see how they’d calmed down compared to their first visit, thanks to the Dinah effect. She’d worked the same wonders on the kids that she did with her students.

“But I came here to help you out,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

“Molly, Dinah, hi,” a chirpy voice said before Dinah could answer. Our fellow Hooker, Elise Belmont, passed by, carrying a shopping bag from Nicholas’s store. She walked over to a corner table, where I noticed that her husband Logan had set up his portable office. He had his papers, his cell phone and minicomputer set out on the table. Logan was the go-to guy for real estate in Tarzana and Woodland Hills. The bookstore café and Le Grande Fromage were favorite spots to hang out among the Tarzanians who worked out of their houses.

Bob brought over Dinah’s order. He handed me a red-eye and a container of fruit and cheese the café had just started carrying. Dinah had a café au lait and a bagel and cream cheese, which she cut up for the kids. Bob gave them each a mug of steamed milk and honey. I mouthed a thank-you to Dinah. As usual she’d ordered right. But I was more interested in Logan than the food.

“Mrs. Shedd kept mentioning Logan and how he was the one who’d turned her on to investing with Bradley.” I watched the action at the corner table for a moment. Logan appeared upbeat as his wife pulled out a chair and I had a feeling he didn’t know about Bradley. “I’m going to go talk to them,” I said, getting up.

“Go for it, Molly,” Dinah said.

I greeted Elise and Logan when I reached their table. I thought I’d begin with a little small talk, but Elise took care of that.

“I think I figured out who A. J. Kowalski is,” she said with her eyes so bright they practically sparkled. “I know you said you won’t tell, but if I guess right, you could blink twice. That wouldn’t be telling.”

I was beginning to realize it was useless to keep repeating that I didn’t know who the vampire author was, so I just listened and let her think whatever she wanted based on what she thought my eyes did.

“It’s Adele’s boyfriend, isn’t it? All that stuff she said was just a cover. Pretty smart of me, huh?” She turned toward her husband as he worked on his computer. “Logan said William took a lease with an option to buy on a nice little house over in College Acres.”

Elise was staring at my eyes, trying to count blinks, while I restrained a laugh. Koo Koo as the vampire author? Right. He reminded me of a glass of warm milk. I couldn’t picture him writing the smoldering undercurrent that surrounded the Anthony character. Even the way Anthony stroked a crochet hook as he drew it through a loop was sensual.

Logan nodded in agreement. “Bearley’s writing career must be going well. His big concern was finding a house that had a room for a writing studio that he could keep separate from the rest of the house.”

Since Logan seemed to be in the know about William/ Koo Koo, I asked if he knew what his day job was.

“He teaches English at a private school and does a lot of tutoring. He dropped a few hints that he might be making some changes in his life soon.”

“Sounds like he might be getting married,” Elise said, and I suddenly had an image of Adele as a bride. No question, with her sense of style she wouldn’t be wearing a white dress. More likely purple or magenta.

Logan shrugged. “I listen, but I don’t ask.”

“You didn’t blink twice, did you?” Elise said, her voice heavy with disappointment, for a second, anyway. Her mind started working again and her eyes brightened. “What about Nicholas?” She focused on my face, trying to keep track of my blinks again, while I tried to change the subject. I noticed something black and white was overflowing from her project bag on the chair next to her.

“What are you making?” I asked, touching it.

She pulled it out and displayed it on the table. “It’s a vampire scarf.” When I didn’t get it, she explained. The white stripes were pale and chalky like a vampire’s complexion, the black ones were for their color of choice for clothes. Anthony was big on black turtlenecks and black fine wool slacks. Even the half double crochet stitches looked like tiny fangs, she said, indicating the pointy edges of the stitches. She was going to add pointy edging with a fanglike shape at the ends of the scarf and the final touch—a red tassel. She didn’t have to tell me why anything scarlet reminded her of vampires.

“And think of it,” she said, “what is the most vampire-centric part of the body? The neck,” she said, stroking hers in an exaggerated manner.

I’d gotten sidetracked from my real purpose. I’d already thought it out and decided to ask questions first, because once I told Logan about Bradley’s suicide, I didn’t think he’d be interested in answering.

Logan was on the short side, with an aura of cheerful-ness, which worked well for being in real estate. He had a weird hairline that made it look like he was wearing a cap. It was a little touchy figuring out how to mention Bradley without bringing up the suicide, but at the same time not making it sound like he was alive. I finally just said, “You know Bradley Perkins, don’t you?” Then instead of continuing, I let it hang in the air.

“Know him?” Logan said with a laugh. “You could say so. He’s the best thing that happened to us.” He smiled at his wife and she nodded in agreement. “You joined his fund, didn’t you?” When I said I hadn’t, he seemed surprised. “If you want, I can help you get in. The investment club has become so popular Bradley had to limit who he would let join.”

I mumbled something about having to think about it. Logan took my comment to mean I didn’t know enough about the fund to want to put my money in and he began what seemed like a sales pitch.

“I met Bradley and Emily when I sold them their house,” Logan said. He detailed how he and Bradley had gotten talking and Bradley had mentioned making a lot of money on stocks. “The guy has a knack for buying and selling securities. It’s amazing. He has some secret system. He calls it Strike and Split.” Logan let the comment sink in before continuing on. “I don’t remember exactly how it came up, but I asked him if he’d be interested in letting me put some money in with his.” Logan said Bradley had been hesitant at first, but then thought it was a good idea. “I just threw in a little money and in a few months he gave me a check that covered just the profit on my money. It was a nice hunk of change,” Logan said. He turned to his wife. “That’s what we used to remodel the kitchen, remember?”

“Like I would forget. It’s not every day you get your dream kitchen. Thank you, Bradley,” she said before taking a bite of Logan’s cheese plate.

“So, then I gave him more of our money and I’d told some other people about Bradley and they wanted in, too. He started calling it a club and it seemed like everybody wanted in. Finally, he made up some rules about whose money he would take. I’m always hearing from somebody around here, asking me to put in a good word for them.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” I said when he finished. Who would have guessed, looking at the Perkins’ house? It was nice and all, but hardly fitting someone who was that successful. Logan said that was part of Bradley’s appeal.

“Bradley charges a small fee for handling the fund—just enough to cover his expenses. He doesn’t go in for fancy offices and an extravagant lifestyle. He’s one of us.”

Now I’d come to the hard part. It was obvious Logan was done giving out information and I had to break the news about Bradley. “When was the last time you talked to Bradley?” I asked.

Logan thought a moment. “I don’t know, maybe a week ago.”

“Did you know that he went missing a few days ago?”

Logan made a dismissive shrug. “Elise mentioned something. She heard he and Emily had some kind of argument and he’d taken off for a few days. I was going to call him, but I decided it was best to stay out of it. I was kind of surprised, though. They are such a perfect couple. I can’t imagine them having that big a fight.”

I swallowed hard. “So, if something were to happen to Bradley, who would take over this fund you were talking about?”

“Interesting question,” Logan said. “Well, Bradley is the club, so no one could take his place. I suppose all the stocks in the fund would be sold and the money divided up to the members. I’m glad you brought that up. I’m going to talk to Bradley about it. He’s a young guy in good health, but it’s a good idea to have all bases covered.”

“It might be too late.” The words slipped out before I could stop them and Logan’s head jutted forward.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

Suddenly I didn’t want to say any more. I knew he wasn’t going to react well. “Maybe you should talk to Emily and get the exact wording in his note.”

“What kind of note?” Logan asked. It was like a shade had been pulled over his upbeat demeanor.

I just repeated that he ought to talk to Emily as I excused myself. He grabbed his cell phone, and as I headed back to my table, I saw him start running his hand over his hair as if he was trying to soothe himself and I realized Logan must have been who Mason overheard. What had Mason said—that it sounded like the guy was working for Bradley. Hmm.

“MISSION ACCOMPLISHED,” I SAID AS I SLID BACK in my chair. There was no joy in my voice. I looked across the bookstore café toward Logan. He was still on the phone and I could tell by his expression he’d heard the bad news. He’d lost his golden goose and there’d be no more golden eggs. I told Dinah what Logan had said he thought would happen in the event of Bradley being out of the picture. “It might take a while since no doubt there will be lawyers involved, but Mrs. Shedd should get her money. At least some of it,” I said. “Bradley mentioned some business problems in his note. I’m guessing it means his special system didn’t work and he made some bad investments.” Dinah seemed preoccupied as I spoke and grabbed my wrist when I’d finished.

“You have to be my wingman.” Dinah’s gaze darted toward the door and then back to me. She straightened Ashley-Angela’s blue shirt and fluffed E. Conner’s golden blond hair. “It’s Commander,” she said. Dinah, who could practically make her freshmen cry with just a look, was not her usual confident self.

“You never told him about Ashley-Angela and E. Conner, did you?” I said.

Dinah slumped forward and shook her head. “I was going to tell him all about them before I invited them, but there was one thing and then another ...” She glanced over toward the kids, who were happily drawing and eating mini-croissants with Swiss cheese. “Okay, I just didn’t. And now it’s really awkward.”

“Showtime,” I said under my breath as the door to the café opened and Commander Blaine hesitated in the doorway. When he saw Dinah, his face lit up like a three-hundred-watt halogen bulb, and with a buzz of energy in his step, he headed toward our table. Commander was a nickname leftover from childhood. His real name was Sylvester, which Dinah thought sounded like some kind of synthetic yarn. I guess that’s what happens when you have yarn on the brain, you see everything in terms of it.

He crossed the space in a few steps and leaned down to give Dinah a greeting kiss before pulling up a chair from a nearby table and sitting down. Commander had thick white hair, which made his complexion appear even ruddier. He had a wiry build that seemed unaffected by his age, which I guessed to be in his late fifties. It was obvious that it wasn’t occurring to him that the kids sitting at the table were with Dinah.

He and Dinah’s gazes met and simultaneously, they both said they had a surprise for the other. I attempted to make my exit, but Dinah had grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let go until I sank back into my seat.

“You go first,” Dinah said, taking the chance to stall. Commander looked at Dinah’s hand on my wrist.

“Molly seems to want to leave,” he said as if he thought Dinah wasn’t aware of this.

“No, she doesn’t,” Dinah said, still holding on to me. “In fact, she wants to ask you about somebody.” I felt her knee nudge me. Okay, telling your male companion that you were hosting your ex’s kids might seem a little hard to understand, but I thought she was making more out of it than necessary. Though as owner of the local mailing center, he did seem to be in the middle of the information flow and she had mentioned that he knew Bradley Perkins.

Commander seemed a little disappointed when I stayed. I’m sure he thought the kids would have left with me. But he knew Dinah well enough to just go along with it. So he forged ahead and brought out some sheets he’d printed off the Internet and laid them out on the table. “My business is at a standstill around the holidays. It’s an easy time for me to take some time off. You and me on a Christmas trip up to Pacific Grove to see the monarch butterflies. No conference center this time,” he said, referring to the place we’d held our retreat. “We’d stay at a cozy inn I know. Fireplaces in every room. How about it?”