For Better or Worsted

by Betty Hechtman

  Dinah stepped close to him. “We know what you did and we understand why. But you need to do the right thing. You need to face up to the facts and not keep hiding.”

  Ben appeared stricken. “It wasn’t like I had a choice. I just took advantage of the situation. What’s done is done. I don’t see any reason to say anything.”

  “It’s going to keep haunting you unless you face up to it,” Dinah said. “I’m sure if you take the first step, you can make some kind of arrangements. Some kind of deal.”

  “I don’t know,” Ben said, looking woeful. “I think it might be better just to leave everything as it is. Nobody knows, except you two. What will it take to keep you from talking?”

  “We’re not going to keep it quiet,” I said, jumping in. “It’s better if you handle it yourself, but if you don’t, I will.” I looked him in the eye. “Now tell me you will take care of it.”

  Ben sighed and finally nodded. “Just give me a few more days of freedom.”

  When he walked away, Dinah and I looked at each other wide-eyed. “Did he just confess?”

  CHAPTER 30

  “NOW YOU CAN TRULY FOCUS JUST ON THE PARTY,” Dinah said after Ben left the bookstore, and she was heading out for her afternoon class.

  I tried to do as Dinah said and put all my attention on the party. Once again I went over the details in my mind. Laurie Jean was delivering the sandwiches the next day just before the party. It was only a small job, but she was glad to have gotten it. I was going to bring in the kits for the crochet project and party favors. Then I’d go pick up the cupcakes at the last minute.

  Adele and I had both made a Party Scarf using Rhoda’s directions, and they’d been as easy and fast to make as she’d said. I had called Isa Susberg and she was also going to drop by during the party. If all went well, she’d give me a deposit for the shower. Thursday promised to come by, too. I was almost glad that Mrs. Shedd wasn’t going to be in the bookstore. If she was, she would be sure to hover, which would make everyone nervous.

  It seemed like I had everything in order.

  Mason was leaning against his black Mercedes when I came out of the bookstore at the end of the day. He hugged me in greeting and I felt uneasy, thinking of everything that he didn’t know. I hadn’t wanted to meet him for dinner, but he’d talked me into it.

  “You have to eat,” he said after I’d told him no the third time. One thing I’d known about Mason from the start was he didn’t like to lose—at anything. So I just gave in and said yes. At least I’d gotten him to agree to someplace close. I didn’t want to have a long car ride, worrying about what I said.

  We walked down the street to the neighborhood Thai restaurant. Mason spent a long time looking at the menu. “This would be a good place to take Thursday.” He pointed out all the vegetarian options. Then he looked at me. “You knew for a while, didn’t you?”

  I flinched with guilt and was having a hard time looking him in the eye. I was glad when the waitress came by to take our order. When she left, Mason went back to talking about Thursday being a vegetarian and how she had underestimated him. He would be accepting of what she ate or didn’t eat and never say a word, but he had bought her a bottle of vitamin B12 just in case.

  He didn’t say a word about Jonah’s murder, and I think he had just settled on Paxton being the killer. It was easier than thinking the murder was connected to a case of his. Instead, Mason described what Jaimee’s reaction would be when she found out that her daughter was a vegetarian and hadn’t told her. My mind had wandered back to the party and all that it meant. It had to go flawlessly. But something was nagging at me. I looked at the setup on the table, the condiments and the vase, for a long time.

  CHAPTER 31

  THE DAY OF THE PARTY FINALLY ARRIVED, AND DESPITE all my careful planning, I was still rushing around my house like a chicken with its head cut off. It was a cliché, but also accurate. There were so many details to pull together at the last minute, and the pressure of having only one chance to get it right was hard to manage.

  The Hookers had gone above and beyond by helping with the preparations, but now it was up to me and Adele. I was pretty confident that since all Adele had to do was teach crochet—and it was the one thing I had no doubts about with her—it would be okay.

  I loaded up the car with the kits, party favors and sample scarves Rhoda had provided. Thursday had stopped what she was doing and helped me.

  “Remember, I’m going to come by,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do, I’m happy to do it. You’ve done so much for me.”

  There was a moment of silence as I thought back to all she’d told me and what I’d done about it. I wondered if she knew we’d talked to Ben, but decided if she didn’t, I wasn’t going to say anything.

  I got to the bookstore just in time to set up. I’d purposely waited until Adele completed her author event before I left, so, luckily, all the kids were already gone from story time when I arrived at the bookstore. Adele rushed out of the kids’ department when she saw me. She seemed very agitated. Apparently Eric’s mother had come to observe and things hadn’t gone well. My mind was really on the party and since what she was saying really didn’t have much to do with me, I tuned out most of it. I just got that the author was rather elderly and had gotten sick during the event.

  “But I took care of everything,” Adele said. I said something about going into the storage room to bring out a rack of folding chairs to put around the table, but Adele insisted on doing it.

  I was thrilled that she had offered to help and thought maybe she was turning over a new leaf.

  The storage room opened off the yarn department, and Adele pulled the chairs on their carrier near the worktable. When we’d unloaded them all, I started to push the rack back to the storage room, but Adele swooped in before I got very far and said she’d do it. It was almost too good to be true, but I wasn’t going to ask questions.

  Mrs. Shedd had said she wasn’t going to be at the bookstore the day of the party, but she did stop in just long enough to give me a thumbs-up when she saw how we’d fixed the table.

  Emerson and Lyla arrived first. They looked at everything and seemed to approve. The others filtered in after. Dinah and Rhoda came in, but stayed in the background to offer help if needed. I was surprised to see CeeCee walk in, until she explained that she wanted to handle the pet mat go-around herself. She joined the other Hookers off to the side.

  At first, the girls and their mothers and the one father seemed a little unsure about the party plan. The idea of making something rather than being entertained was new to most of them. Adele mingled among them, modeling the sample Party Scarves Rhoda had made. Adele’s over-the-top quality worked well for a party. In no time, she had everyone excited about the project.

  When everyone had found a seat and checked out the stuff at their place, I stepped forward. “I want to welcome you all to a Party with a Purpose.” I began to explain how this was different than most of the parties they went to. “You’re all going to learn how to crochet and make one of these.” I held up a handful of the red party scarves, and the girls and the mothers all let out a “Wow.” Even the father was impressed.

  We’d decided to crochet first and then have the food. Adele had brought a huge hook and some beige yarn that was easy to see. She held it up and demonstrated how to make a slipknot and then waited while they all did the same. Then Adele moved on and demonstrated how to make a chain. As soon as they had the chain down, she had them make enough chain stitches for the scarf. Adele patrolled the table while everyone made their chains. Dinah, Rhoda, CeeCee and I hung back just in case.

  When they’d all done the chain stitches, Adele demonstrated how to do a single crochet and said that was all they needed to know to make the scarf. Then Adele made a mini version of the scarf and showed them how to do each row. She demonstrated how to add the fun fur for the last row. Final
ly, she showed them how to fasten off and weave in the ends. All of the instructions were on a sheet in their bags.

  With the actual lesson done, the group began to work on their own and we fanned out to give help where needed.

  Since Emerson and Lyla had already learned how to crochet, they were the stars of the party and ahead of the others with their scarves.

  “This is going well,” I said to myself under my breath. Isa Susberg showed up and observed. I saw her nodding and smiling as CeeCee started the pet mat around the table.

  “I guess you don’t need my help,” Thursday said as she came up next to me. I had forgotten that Isa had been at the fateful wedding reception and was surprised when she and Thursday began to talk.

  I’d also forgotten that Isa knew Jaimee and Thursday, until I heard Isa mention that she was inviting both of them to the shower and joking that Thursday’s mother might want to bring the film crew from the Housewives of Mulholland Drive.

  I did a tiny fist pump, realizing that meant Isa was going to do the shower at the bookstore. When they had crocheted for a while, Emerson suggested we take a break from the crocheting and serve the food.

  “This is going great,” I said to Dinah. “We did it! We’ve started a new business for the bookstore. This has gone without a hitch.” Dinah gave me a somber look, and I got her message. Wait until it was over before taking a bow.

  Was it my comment that angered the party gods, or was it just that nothing I ever did would really go without a hitch?

  I heard some noise coming from the storage room. It sounded like knocking or banging. Like somebody was locked in there. Lyla heard it too and ran from the table to investigate. Adele looked up from helping one of the parents, just as Lyla started to turn the door handle.

  I heard a loud no, as Adele loped toward the door. Lyla opened the door a little, and suddenly something pushed it wide open and ran out. It was so fast, I couldn’t figure out what it was. It seemed about small-dog size, but it moved differently, and the noise it made wasn’t barking; it sounded more like snorting.

  I rushed to grab whatever it was, but it was too late. It had climbed on the table and was running toward the birthday cupcakes.

  I was still trying to figure out what it was. Maybe a pig? A little pig the size of a dog?

  Everybody started to make a grab for it, but it was in the middle of the cupcakes before they could catch it. Finally the father got hold of it and lowered it to the floor amid squeals of protest. That was when I saw that it had a collar on.

  Luckily, nobody seemed to care about the demolished dessert. Instead, they were all gathered around the pig, touching its rough hair and letting it nuzzle its soft snout in their hands.

  “Whose pig is he?” Lyla asked. I turned to look at Adele who was staring at the floor.

  I pulled her aside and demanded she explain. “I told you the author of Pig Tales got sick. Maybe I didn’t mention that she’d brought along Hamlet, the pig in the book. You can’t take a pig to the hospital,” Adele said. “I thought it would just be a little while, so I put him in the storage room.” Something in Adele’s voice said there was information she was leaving out.

  “I just got a call from the hospital. Kate, the author, is going to recuperate at a relative’s condo. No pigs allowed.”

  When I glanced back at the party, Thursday had found some rope to attach to the pig’s collar like a leash.

  “Pink, there’s no place for the pig to go. It’s a poor abandoned famous literary pig. I’d take it home with me, but I live in a condo that doesn’t even allow cats.”

  For the rest of the party, everyone took turns taking care of the pig, which amounted to making sure it didn’t live up to its name and eat too much.

  I took away the ruined cupcake platter, apologizing profusely, but I’d barely gotten it off the table when Bob rushed in with his giant birthday cookie bar and set the tray on the table with a pleased look. I mouthed a thank-you, looking at the swirl of buttercream icing. He’d even written “Happy Bday” in chocolate chips and provided candles. We all joined in singing Happy Birthday and Lyla blew out the candles. Bob did the honors, cutting and serving the small treats. Bob was all smiles as I tasted one of the chocolate cake bars.

  “You’ll see, cookie bars are the next big trend,” Bob said.

  I had to admit that Bob’s creation was a big hit. Everyone found them easier to eat and less messy than the cupcakes. The big surprise was how quickly the partygoers pushed aside their plates and went back to crocheting.

  The only problem was the party went much longer than scheduled, and no one seemed to want to leave. Including Isa Susberg. I was worried Hamlet’s appearance might have caused her to change her mind, but quite the contrary. She liked the added excitement. She gave me a deposit for the shower, but I had to tell her I couldn’t promise that another pig would show up.

  When the guests finally went home, all that was left was a pig and a mess. But as they left, I heard everyone saying what a great party it had been. Hamlet’s entrance seemed to have been the icing on the cake.

  Rhoda and CeeCee left with the crowd. Dinah wanted to help clean up, but the party had gone so long, she was meeting her boyfriend, Commander Blaine, who’d just gotten back in town. Adele collapsed in a chair, saying she was spent from her trying day.

  “Looks like it’s you and me,” Thursday said. Hamlet seemed to have attached himself to Thursday and followed at her heels as she helped me clear the table. He was also grateful for any falling food.

  I gathered up the wrapping paper from the presents and was going to put it all in the trash, but a card fell out. I picked it up, planning to set it aside and get it to Lyla. When I did, I noticed that the paper felt different than a usual store-bought card. Then I really looked at it.

  It was a collage of Kewpie dolls and trolls with some colorful paper as a backdrop. I looked at it for a long time. At first, I admired the artistic quality of it, but then I noticed something more. It reminded me of another card I’d seen, but I couldn’t place it. I thought if I stared at it hard enough, it would come back to me. Thursday came by with a handful of yarn ends. She stopped next to me and looked at the card, too. I mentioned the style of it reminded me of something.

  “I know what you mean,” Thursday said, touching the paper. “The style was like this, but it was different. And the inside . . .” her voice trailed off and she looked at me with wide eyes. “The wedding card. The one with the skeleton bride and groom and the creepy greeting.”

  Now it came back to me. Thursday had shown the card to Barry. What was it he had said? That it might have been a calling card from the killer.

  I remembered the message written in cutout magazine letters, which had seemed very retro. I went to open the card expecting to see those colorful letters again, but instead it just said, “To my darling daughter, Lyla, love Mother.”

  “The woman who did the flowers?” Thursday said. “Why would she be leaving a card like that at the wedding?”

  I didn’t want to say it, but I thought I knew the answer.

  Adele, in her version of being helpful, showed me the carrier Hamlet traveled in. Thursday and I worked together to load him into it, and then Thursday took him to my house. Where else did every stray person or pet end up? I gave her instructions to keep Hamlet in her room until I got home. Who knew how he’d be with the cats and dogs, and who knew how they would be with him?

  I myself went directly to Emerson’s. She was surprised to see me when she opened the door and invited me in, saying that her husband and Lyla had gone out together. I looked directly at the almost-empty mantelpiece and realized what was missing. The first time I’d come there, the mantel had held photos and mementos, but when I’d come back, there was just a pair of candlesticks and some mail. Now I knew why. Emerson had realized they could connect her to the murder.

  “You for
got this,” I said, holding out the card. She must have known by looking at me that something was up because her expression grew wary. “It’s such a lovely card. You made it, right?” I said and she nodded. “It’s very similar to a card Thursday said someone handed her at the reception.” I let the words sit for a moment. “You made that one, too. Didn’t you?”

  Emerson’s demeanor changed, and her pleasant features sagged as she sighed heavily. “Why did I ever leave that card?”

  “Nobody ordered fresh boutonnieres for the reception. That was your excuse to get close to Jonah Kingsley. I know your father was Felix Rooten and he worked for Kingsley Enterprises. And he was convicted of—”

  “You just think you know,” Emerson said. “My father was framed. Framed by Jackson Kingsley. He was in charge of products, and against Jackson Kingsley’s orders, he had a shipment of the diet herbs that came in from China tested. When it turned out to contain a substance that had been banned because of health issues it had caused, my father said they should dump the shipment. Kingsley said it would just make the product more effective and wouldn’t do anybody any harm, and they’d lose too many orders if they waited for another shipment.

  “When my father objected, the next thing he knew, he was being charged with embezzlement. All the proof had been conveniently found in his office. He was convicted and his life was ruined. When he got out of jail, he could never get another job. The only one who believed him was me, but I could never prove anything.

  “And Kingsley was wrong,” she said growing more angry. “The banned substance was a heart stimulant. Only after there were some deaths that seemed connected with the product was Kingsley forced to get it tested. Then he claimed ignorance about the ingredient and blamed it on his supplier in China. The product was recalled, but it was a joke. Most of it had already been consumed.”

  “So you wanted revenge for your father,” I said.