Killer Hooks, page 17
“How terrible. What happened?” I said, pretending to be surprised.
“But then you already knew that,” he said. “An officer noted that you called.”
I fumbled around trying to cover myself. “It was just such a shock that I’m still in disbelief.”
I couldn’t tell if what I said pacified him, but he continued on. “Of course, we’re still investigating Daisy Cochran’s death. You know that once someone has killed one person and crossed that threshold, it’s easier a second time around.” He glanced up at me and looked me in the eye. “There’s some debate about what exactly happened to Leslie Bittner. It could have been a burglary gone wrong. The condo belonged to Daisy Cochran and it wouldn’t be the first time a deceased person’s place was ransacked, but it also wouldn’t be the first time a murder was made to look like a burglary. I was just wondering if you had any thoughts,” he said.
“I barely knew Daisy Cochran and her assistant even less.”
“Really?” he said, peering at me. “One of the neighbors remembered seeing two women leaving the residence carrying a box. They recognized one of the people as CeeCee Collins, who was there the night that Daisy Cochran died, and the other one sounded a lot like you.” He peered at me.
“Was it you?” he asked. I saw where he was going and I didn’t like it. The whole spiel about a second killing being easier once you had done the first one. And me leaving with a box of something. I wanted to tell him what was actually in the box, but then he’d probably twist it and think I’d killed Leslie so I could steal her cat. I felt a pressure to answer his question and I was stuck as to what to do, but then I remembered something I’d done before.
“Did they say which day they saw the two women?” I said finally. I had learned it was a cop trick to answer a question with a question. He did not look pleased. Barry had told me that cops liked to be the ones to ask the questions. It was information in for them, not out.
“What difference does that make?” he asked with a flash of annoyance. So much for his friendly approach, and so much for me being cooperative. I decided to exercise my other option.
“I really don’t think I can help you,” I said, and got up and left. I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. It seemed the same as taking the fifth or asking for an attorney—moves that made you look guilty. I did not look back as I walked away, and I knew he would be back.
The first thing I did was call CeeCee and let her know what Detective Carlson had said. She squealed, upset. “I can’t be a murder suspect. I want to be known as an Academy Award–nominated actor who leads a crochet group, not prisoner number 249. It doesn’t matter if you’re famous anymore, they’ll ship you off to jail anyway. I’m calling an attorney before that detective shows up at my door.” She didn’t say who the attorney was, but I knew exactly. She was going to call Mason Fields.
I certainly couldn’t call him. With the way he had looked at me, I was sure he hoped they would cart me off to jail. My only option was to find out who killed Leslie, who I bet also killed Daisy. All while taking care of everything else, including breaking the news about the podcast to Mrs. Shedd.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was two days later and I was back in the yarn department cleaning up the mess made by a bunch of try-before-you-buyers, and worse still they were knitters. I had told Mrs. Shedd about Leslie’s demise and with it the podcast. She had taken it better than expected and I was feeling relieved until she said that just because that podcast hadn’t worked out, there was no reason to give up on the whole thing and floated the idea of the bookstore doing their own. She thought it was an event and therefore something for me to handle.
This group of knitters had really taken trying the different yarns to the hilt. There were skeins all over the table with strands that had been pulled out and knitted in swatches. I wanted to get all the stitches pulled out and the skeins rewound before the Hookers got there.
I was focused on what I was doing until a noise startled me. “Psst.” I looked out into the bookstore to see where the hissing sound meant to get my attention was coming from, but saw no one and went back to what I was doing. I heard another psst. This time it sounder even louder and more insistent. I stared out into the area of bookshelves with a sprinkling of easy chairs and display tables. This time I saw an arm sticking out from behind the bookcase devoted to cookbooks. The hand waved me over. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was such a wise idea to follow the beckoning of a disembodied hand, considering how things were going.
But curiosity won out and I walked out of the yarn department to the cookbook shelves. When I was close enough the hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into the dark space between the bookcases devoted to cookbooks and the one behind it filled with diet books. It wasn’t my idea to arrange them that way, but whoever did either had a sense of humor or figured they all had to do with food.
An overhead light must have burned out because the opening between the one-sided bookcases was fairly dark and the space felt narrow. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust and then I felt a little claustrophobic.
“CeeCee?” I said, surprised to see who the hand belonged to. She was dressed in a dark velour tracksuit and almost blended in with the darkness. “What’s with all the cloak-and-dagger?”
“You have to ask?” She sounded indignant. “Any minute that detective is going to show up and want to grill me,” she said, shaking her head with concern. “I rue the day I let myself get involved with that unpleasant woman. I wanted to host a crime podcast, not be the subject of one.”
“I’m sorry I let you get involved,” I said, giving her a hug. “We know we didn’t do it, and what evidence could they have to say we did?”
“You’re right. You said she was stabbed.” The actress let out a squeal. “How up-close and personal. It’s certainly not how I’d kill somebody,” CeeCee said. “I’d use poison.” She froze. “What am I saying. Isn’t that what happened to Daisy?” She looked around in a panic, worried that someone might have heard her.
I was going to try to calm her, but then I had a sinking feeling as I remembered something. I had gotten so distracted with taking care of the cat, I had forgotten all about rescuing the knife from the sink. I had wiped the blade with a paper towel, but my fingerprints had to be all over the handle. I tried to calm myself by thinking there was nothing to say that it was the murder weapon anyway. Wouldn’t the killer have come equipped with their own?
“Why are you being so quiet?” CeeCee said. “Is there something I don’t know?”
“No. I just thought about something with the cat.” The knife didn’t involve her anyway. The fingerprints would be all mine.
“Right after I talked to you, I called Mason Fields,” she said. I felt my stomach clench at the mention of his name. I could only imagine what he had to say about me. “He told me that as long as the police weren’t trying to question me, there was nothing for him to do. He was very reassuring and told me not to worry. As soon as he heard you were involved, he said that you’d figure a way to get us out of trouble.”
“He said that?” Here I was expecting him to trash me and he’d expressed confidence in my abilities. I’m not a crier, but I felt my eyes well up in remorse, regret and . . . I couldn’t think of something else that started with an R that would have completed the thought.
I finally got her to come out of hiding and join me in the yarn department. She was glad to help me clean up the balls of yarn, and by the time the group got there, the table was clear.
She showed off what a good actress she was during the time the group met. She seemed her normal self and spent the time making normal conversation. I told Sheila that Lily seemed thrilled with the idea of hand-knitted cocoons. Adele looked up at the word knitted and it seemed like her nostrils flared. If anyone brought up knitting it was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. I was glad that CeeCee stepped in and got Adele onto something else.
“How is your party business coming, dear?” CeeCee said in a friendly voice.
It might not have been the best choice as Adele still had a stormy expression, which seemed at odds with the black sweater decorated with crocheted sunflowers. If there was such a thing as a happy flower, it was the sunflower. Even the crocheted version made me smile.
“I shouldn’t have gone with your idea—” There was a pause before she added, “Molly.” She still seemed to be having a hard time saying my first name, but it was becoming a little more natural and she was slipping up less. “That woman keeps changing everything, except what she’ll pay. She’s got the successful business selling those cocoons for ridiculous prices and her husband is rolling in cash from his family’s business and she’s trying to stick to the price I gave her based on our original proposal. Everything she’s demanding costs more. But she doesn’t want to pay more.” Adele seemed to deflate. “She knows it’s the first party I’m doing and that I can use doing her party as a reference.”
“It’s not the price that attracted her to Adele’s business,” I said. “It was the idea that she would be doing something original, be a leader instead of a follower, and the time factor. That couple is so concerned with what people think of them. But then so is Taylor Palmer. She goes on every time about that house.”
“It is a historic house with lots of stories connected to it,” Dinah said.
“I’d love to get a listing for a place like that,” Elise said. “I think I’ll do a little research.” Looks were deceiving when it came to Elise. Her bird-like voice and wisp of brownish hair made her seem like her mind was somewhere else, when really she was always on point.
“When I hear about a house like that, all I can think about is that I’m glad I don’t have to clean it,” Rhoda said. Eduardo was silent for most of the time, only asking the group what they thought of making fondue a theme for the restaurant he had in the works.
The group broke up and CeeCee hung back. As soon as it was just the two of us, she reverted to a look of worry and I had to reassure her that she wasn’t going to end up being prisoner 249.
Dinah and I had already arranged to get together. Beth was trying to make up for her early exit the other night and offered to take care of Marlowe, free of charge. I think it had something to do with Samuel being there as well. He had said she was someone who worked at the coffee place when he pitched her as a babysitter, but I had sensed all along there was something more.
I made a pit stop at home to make sure everything was going as planned. Samuel and Beth were in the living room with plates of food. Peter was in the kitchen making himself a plate and Marlowe was cruising around the living room in the seat she propelled with her feet.
Everything seemed peaceful and I was relieved that neither of my sons had any idea I was a person of interest in another murder.
I picked up a pizza from Paoli’s on the way to Dinah’s. She lifted the lid of the box and took a deep inhale of the pizza scent. “Good. You got the half alfredo and half traditional cheese,” she said, shutting the box and taking it from me. She led the way to her she-cave. I was surprised to see Commander sitting in one of the chairs. He looked up when I walked in and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”
Dinah gave me a helpless shrug, as if she wasn’t sure how she felt about his being there. She appreciated the effort he was making to stay up, but not so sure about him being included in our girl time. “It’s fine with me. There’s plenty of pizza,” I said.
He went off to get some plates and Dinah pulled me aside. “I love that he’s trying to stay up, but this is our time and you said you have a lot to tell me.” Her voice dropped and she seemed to be having an inner conversation with herself. “But how can I not let him stay when he’s trying so hard?”
I got it. Despite him being a day person and her being a night owl, she didn’t regret marrying him. She focused on what made him dear to her. As in the way he used his Mail It center as more than a place to have a post office box or to deal with shipping a package. In addition to realizing that a lot of his customers worked from their homes and arranging events to get them together, he also volunteered at a retirement place and arranged fun night activities. As long as everything ended by eight, he was good.
He was holding back a yawn as he came back with the plates. I wasn’t about to start talking about Daisy and Leslie’s deaths and Detective Carlson’s treating me like a person of a lot of interest, but it seemed okay to talk about the job Peter had given me. I explained the situation to Commander, adding that Peter was getting pressure from Miles Langford to make a decision about accepting his investment in the project Peter was putting together. “If Peter accepts the money, Miles will get an executive producer credit.” I explained the situation with Miles and his brothers and how he was trying to make his own way and gather producer credits, and that I hadn’t had much to pass on to Peter about Miles other than he and his wife appeared to have paid big bucks for an imitation farmhouse that had clones all over Encino and Tarzana.
“Maybe he is what he appears,” Commander said. “There are people who don’t have dark secrets hidden away. I can understand Peter’s concern, though. I have to be sure who I rent post office boxes to. I don’t want to be connected to someone using a post office box to run an illegal business.” Commander asked what else Miles had worked on and Dinah told him about the western.
“A western, huh, I haven’t seen one of those in a long time,” Commander said. He had picked up the remote and asked for the exact name of it. A moment later, the opening scene appeared on the screen. Dinah and I traded glances and shrugged as he looked at the screen with interest. As the movie continued, we both kept stealing glances at him, expecting that the carbs in the pizza and the lull of the TV would send him off to dreamland, but he was alert until the end and insisted on keeping it on until the final closing credit. Then he stopped it and got up, yawning and stretching.
“I did it,” he said triumphantly. “It’s ten o’clock and I’m still awake.” He collected the pizza plates. “But I reached my limit. If you’ll excuse me, my pillow awaits.” He leaned down and kissed Dinah and left the room.
She watched him go. “What a sweetheart.” Then she turned to me. “Now spill.”
It felt like I’d popped a cork on a champagne bottle as I told her everything about the detective’s visit and the neighbor who had seen me and CeeCee leaving Daisy’s condo carrying a box. “And what’s worse, I realized that my fingerprints are on a knife.” I told her that I’d been trying to save the knife from getting ruined by sitting in water and taken it out of the sink and wiped it off.
“Did the detective say anything about the knife?” my friend asked.
“No. He just asked questions and threw out that we had been seen leaving the place. The only reason I knew she had been stabbed was that Barry told me.” I took a moment to think back to Carlson’s visit. “He did imply that there was a connection between Daisy’s death and Leslie’s and done by the same person that just might be me.”
“We know it wasn’t you. Any ideas of who it really was?” Dinah asked.
“I think it’s connected to the podcast,” I said. “Leslie had made it sound as if Daisy had left an outline for some of the shows. Though all I saw were some notes that seemed pretty vague.”
“What was in them?” Dinah asked.
“I was distracted with the cat and concerned about getting caught. All I remember was a heading for the first case. I think it said something like house or home.” I strained to remember the rest and came up blank. “Barry said the place was ransacked. You can bet those notes are gone now. If it’s all about information that was going to be divulged in the podcast, whoever did it feels safe now.”
Dinah nodded and offered me a cup of tea. “I had to tell CeeCee about what the cop said. He pointed out that she had been there when Daisy died and was seen leaving Leslie’s place. Poor CeeCee came unglued. She was going on about celebrities going to jail. She rushed and called a lawyer.”
“A lawyer? Who?” Dinah said, pouring herself a cup of tea.
“Who else? She called Mason.” I felt myself blushing when I remembered the rest of it. “You won’t believe what he said.”
Dinah put down the cup and gave me her full attention. “He said something nice about me. He told her something like I would take care of getting her out of trouble.”
“Wow,” Dinah said.
“But you were there at the pet store. You saw how he looked at me. He still probably hates my guts personally. Though it’s nice that he recognizes my skill. Or maybe he was just trying to make CeeCee feel better.” I drank the rest of the tea and set down the empty cup. “Time to call it a night.”
I wanted to help her clean up, but she said she would take care of it.
The menagerie was waiting for me when I got home. I let the dogs out, and after greeting me Mr. Kitty and Cat Woman, as we’d come to call the two cats, went off into another room. Buttercup stuck close to me as I went into the living room. Samuel and Beth were watching TV in the den and Marlowe was asleep nearby in the portable crib. I transferred the baby to the crib in my room and got ready for sleep myself.
I was just settling in when the phone rang. It was Dinah with some startling news.
Chapter Twenty-five
“I’m sorry I didn’t think of this before,” Dinah said. I was in her office in the English Department of Beasley Community College waiting for her star student. Dinah explained to me that after I had left her the night before, she’d decided to watch the late news. The TV was still paused on the very last credits of the western, which turned out to be an in memoriam for someone named Billy Erickson. She had tried to turn it off and had hit the wrong button on the remote, and the credits started going backward. While she was trying to stop it, she recognized the name of her star student and recalled that she had written her extra-credit paper on working as a production assistant on a movie.
