“Of course, dear. All that really matters is that we get enough shawls done,” CeeCee said, doing a double take as Patricia pushed away from the table. “You aren’t leaving already. You just got here.”
“Sorry, but I have to do a demonstration of some of my hints at my daughter’s school.” Patricia was already halfway to the door by the time she got to the end of the sentence.
“Well, ladies, lets get going on the shawls,” CeeCee said with a sigh of resignation.
We all started making our foundation chains. I glanced CeeCee’s way and she seemed to be working a much bigger clump. At first I thought she’d gotten ahead of us since she was such a skilled crocheter, but even working faster didn’t explain it.
Adele finished playing teacher, and she and Morgan rejoined the group. Adele told Morgan to make a practice swatch and then she’d help Morgan start a shawl. Adele saw the clump of worked yarn coming off CeeCee’s hook and wanted to know what it was.
“Just the next big advance in crochet,” CeeCee said. “They are called extended stitches; you do the foundation and the first row at the same time. No more pesky trying to force your hook into a twisty chain stitch.”
“That’s just the rabble-rousers spreading rumors. It’s nonsense to think of giving up the foundation chain. It’s . . . its historic,” Adele sputtered. “And I’m a purist. I say the old way is the best way.”
I added not opened minded onto my description of Adele. Luckily CeeCee had already put away Patricia’s contribution or Adele would have gone ballistic, probably yelling something about us not being needle heads and keeping our group pure. Adele always went nuts when confronted with anything about knitting. I suppose there was some dark secret in her past. Maybe a bad experience with a sweater knit by her grandmother or something. As if calling yourself a hooker all the time was some kind of step up.
With all the commotion, nobody was paying any attention to Sheila. She had positioned herself at the end of the table, and her head was bent over her work. I was the first one to check out what she was doing. She had the directions for a shawl and six skeins of dark navy yarn. But she seemed to be stuck on making the foundation chain. From my vantage point her stitches looked like knots. I didn’t have to ask to know she was upset.
CeeCee noticed next. She put a hand on Sheila’s arm to stop her struggle, then suggested she unravel, do her foundation with a bigger hook and then go back to the K-size hook on the next row.
Sheila stopped her work and took the larger hook, then she began to tap it on the table, another sure sign she was upset. CeeCee reached over and put her hand on the hook, making it impossible for Sheila to continue tapping it. Undaunted, Sheila began drumming her fingers.
“Just tell us what’s wrong,” Adele said impatiently.
“You’re all very nice to me and I hate to be a crybaby, but I’m worried about losing the place where I live.” She looked at me and I shook my head, indicating I’d done as she asked and not told anyone about her living arrangements. “You might as well all know. I rent a room in a house in Reseda, and I babysit on the weekends to pay part of the rent. The woman who owns it said she’s uncomfortable with me being there since Detective Gilmore asked her a bunch of questions about me. I talked her into letting me stay for now, but she said if I get arrested, I’m out.” Sheila tried to take a deep breath. “The detective has decided I’m a person of interest. She said she overheard me threaten Drew Brooks.” By the end, Sheila’s voice was cracking.
“Don’t worry, dear,” CeeCee began. “Molly will take care of it. She’ll find out who killed that nasty man and get you off the hook.”
“What?” I said as Sheila rushed over to hug me in gratitude.
CHAPTER 9
“I CAN’T BELIEVE CEECEE SAID THAT. SHE MADE it sound like a done deal. What if I can’t find out who killed Drew Brooks?” Dinah and I both had the morning off, and I was pacing around her living room. Several days had gone by since CeeCee had made her pronouncement that I’d get Sheila off the hook, and I just didn’t know if I’d be able to do it. The kids were playing in the other room, and Dinah seemed angry.
“He said he’d be back last night for sure,” she said seeming totally unaware of what I had been talking about. “I’ve called and called his cell phone, and I’m just getting his voice mail.” She ran her fingers through her short hair. She might not be listening to me, but I knew she was talking about Jeremy and his so far failed promise to return from his big job hunt. Dinah didn’t look like her usual self. Not only had she kid-proofed her house, she’d kid-proofed her appearance. No long scarves, because the kids tended to step on them and almost choke her whenever she bent down to their level. Gone were the long earrings, too, since E. Conner started playing with them when she took the kids out for lunch. All she had left was her gelled salt-and-pepper hair and her attitude. Poor Dinah. She was used to her house and life being orderly.
“C’mon kids, you’re going to see Miss Trudy,” Dinah said in an upbeat tone.
“We don’t want to,” E. Conner said, dragging his feet as he walked through the living room. It made an awful noise and probably left scuff marks. Ashley-Angela followed him, hanging on to a beat-up stuffed elephant.
“We want to stay here. They won’t let me talk to Wonkie,” she said, hugging her elephant.
Dinah had been pretty easygoing with them, but between their father not showing up and their poor behavior, she’d reached the end of her patience. Dinah was an expert at shaping up immature freshmen. She did it by being direct and leaving no wiggle room. It was her way or the highway. I had a feeling the kids were about to get a taste of this technique.
“No discussion. We’re leaving in five minutes,” Dinah announced. “Wonkie’s not going.” She started to snatch it from Ashley-Angela’s arm, but the little girl’s face crumbled. Dinah was tough but not mean. “Okay, he can go, but you both have to do what Miss Trudy says.” E. Conner tried dragging his feet again. Dinah told him to stop it or else. Her tone was strong enough that even I didn’t want to ask what the or else was.
She got them in the car, making sure they were belted in, and we headed off for Beasley. Dinah didn’t have a class until late in the day, and she kept muttering something about how she hoped no one checked her schedule since child care was supposed to be used only during office hours and class. I hoped they didn’t, too, because it wasn’t a day to mess with Dinah.
As we walked them in, Ashley-Angela ran back to hug Dinah and give her Wonkie.
“He said he wants to go with you,” she said in a serious voice.
“Freedom,” Dinah said, sticking the elephant under her arm before doing a little dance as we walked away. “I need coffee.”
“Me, too. Then maybe we can come up with a plan,” I said, relieved to have my friend all to myself.
“Plan? Plan about what?” Dinah asked, and I realized she hadn’t been paying any attention to what I’d been saying. After I reminded Dinah of why I needed a plan, we discussed where to go for coffee. Dinah didn’t think I’d want to go to the bookstore café since I didn’t have to be at the bookstore this morning. However, the coffee was the best and I got a discount.
It was hard to find a table. Two men were using tables as offices. They had their laptops, phones and BlackBerries spread out, and looked as though they might be there all day. Another table was taken up by two women from the building next door, who were talking about someone named Lannie who apparently had messed up something. Several student types occupied a big table. Their textbooks were propped open and they were discussing an upcoming exam.
We took the only vacant table, next to some guy with blond hair that looked like yellow cottage cheese, who was writing a screenplay on his computer. I was going to have to tell Mrs. Shedd she ought to put up signs with time limits for the tables.
Dinah took a long drag on her coffee and sighed with pleasure. “At last I can think again.”
“Good. Because I have to figure out how to
proceed.”
Dinah drank more of her coffee and pointed at the window. The Cottage Shoppe was down the street, and Kevin had just stepped outside to put up the “Open” sign. “Why not start there? That’s where it all happened.”
It was a good point, and since this was the first time the store had been open since the murder, it seemed like a good time to have a look around.
“Maybe we can also find out who the bald guy is and what he was so mad about,” I said. Dinah nodded in agreement as she drained her coffee.
As we walked down the street toward the store, I noticed that it appeared to be the same quaint place it had always been. The only hint that anything had gone on was the scrap of yellow police tape stuck on the door handle. The banners about the Hearston Estate offerings were still on the windows, and the bell tinkled when we came in the door.
It was pretty dead inside. Then Kevin Brooks came down the stairs. His face brightened when he saw us, and he immediately came over.
“May I help you find something?” His voice sounded a little too anxious. He seemed to study our faces, and then he smiled with recognition. “You were here the other day, weren’t you? The day that Drew—” He swallowed hard. I could understand how that would be a hard sentence to finish.
I told him I was sorry about his brother; Dinah did the same.
“Thank you, ladies. I wasn’t sure about opening again as soon as the police finished, but I think Drew would want me to. It is important to keep going, don’t you think?”
Personally, I thought it was a little fast. I couldn’t imagine having gone back to work a few days after Charlie died, but then who knew how close Kevin and Drew were. Hadn’t Mrs. Shedd mentioned something about overhearing the brothers arguing?
Kevin invited us to look around at our leisure and mentioned there was complimentary coffee, tea and soup in the dining room. I just hoped he’d had the good sense not to be serving the tomato bisque again.
“Dorothy will be glad to help you with anything,” he said, gesturing toward the clerk half hidden in the living room. I knew her slightly. She was one of the regulars from Romance Night at the bookstore, and as I recalled she preferred paranormals, particularly anything with a vampire. She was past typical retirement age and appeared overdressed by current standards—a mark of her generation.
Dinah and I walked into the room. Dorothy didn’t seem quite to know what to do with herself and was sitting in one of the rockers, rocking at a frantic pace. It made me tense to watch her. But at the mention of her name, she stopped short and jumped up. The chair continued on its own with a loud thwack-thwack. I grabbed it, bringing it to an abrupt stop. The tension level was high enough already.
“I’m sorry to have startled you. It’s no wonder you’re feeling jumpy—after what happened.” I touched her shoulder in a sympathetic gesture as Dinah gave me a go-for-it nod and wandered off. “I was here. I saw him.” I pointed at the ceiling to indicate upstairs.
She shook her head with dismay. “Thank heavens I missed that sight. Trina—she’s our other salesperson—is the one who found him. She’s been having nightmares about giant bowls of soup and says she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to come back to work. Frankly, I can’t believe Mr. Kevin reopened already. They’ve barely had the funeral. He said something about life has to go on.”
“I’m sure Mr. Drew will be missed,” I said in a somber tone, curious how she would react. I added the Mr. after hearing her refer to Kevin that way. Personally, I thought it sounded kind of pretentious.
She looked around, then stepped right next to me. “I know they say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he was not a nice person.” She again checked to make sure no one would overhear her before continuing. “As soon as they took over the place, he crowned himself boss. All he cared about was money, money and more money—for himself. Not like his aunt. Don’t get me wrong, she did okay, but she did it in a fair way.”
I wanted to ask for details and maybe segue into the bald man, but Dorothy didn’t stop long enough to breathe, let alone for me to interject something. All the talking was obviously some kind of vent for her tension.
“Cut everybody’s salary, he did,” she said with a grunt of disgust. “It wasn’t so much a problem for me. My Henry left me very comfortable. I do this more to keep busy, but Trina counts on the money, and she was devastated.” Dorothy shook her head in dismay. “You know what he said to her when she complained? He said if she didn’t like it, there were plenty of fast-food places looking for another burger flipper.”
Dorothy had begun to walk as she talked. She stopped at a basket full of sachets and started nervously running her hands through them. “I was going to quit on principle. I have my pride. But Mr. Kevin apologized and reinstated my salary.”
I wondered if he was doing the same for the other cuts his brother had made. I’d have to be sure to tell Sheila. Dinah had gone off to the Kids’ Korner and as she came toward me, I noticed she was carrying a cloth doll and a wooden truck. No matter what she’d said about Ashley-Angela and E. Conner, apparently they had gotten to her. When she rejoined us, Dinah just hung back and listened, while Dorothy went back to complaining about Mr. Drew. She seemed very upset that he had installed an alarm on the back door to prevent shoplifters from escaping.
“Shoplifters?” she said, putting her hands on the hip portion of her mint green pants outfit. “This is not a shoplifter kind of business.” She pointed to a card that proclaimed no refunds or exchanges and all sales were final. “Shoplifters want to bring the stuff back and get cash. Not going to happen here.” She let out a big sigh. “Well, at least we won’t have to listen to them fighting anymore.”
“Fighting?” I said, finally getting to say something.
She said the two brothers argued loudly and continually.
“For someone so worried about business, Mr. Drew certainly should have known to keep his voice down. More than once I saw a customer walk out. Maybe they thought nobody could hear them, but this is a small place and sound travels.”
Now that she had brought up customers it seemed like my chance to steer the conversation toward the bald man. “I suppose you’re familiar with most of the customers and sellers,” I said when she finally took a breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but the bell on the entrance jangled and some customers came in.
Dorothy seemed to have lost her train of thought and walked toward them. “Look around,” she said to Dinah and me with a dismissive wave.
For a moment we stood there. “Do you think she’ll come back?” I asked Dinah. We watched as more people came in the door, and then we both shook our heads.
“You can pay over here,” Kevin said as he stepped behind the counter in the converted closet under the stairway that served as a cashier station. Even more people had arrived.
Kevin rang Dinah up and put the toys in a bag. We stepped away to make room for the new customers, but I wasn’t ready to leave.
We moved back into the living room and pretended to be looking around. Maybe not totally pretending. There were a lot of interesting things to look at. I stopped by a dark wood library table. It was for sale along with the items on top of it, which included some of Sheila’s scarves. On the floor next to it was a large basket with an appealing arrangement of art supplies somebody was selling. There was a sketch pad and two books on drawing, some colored pencils and pens, along with a wooden hand and a wooden figure of a person to use as models.
Dinah nudged me and asked if I’d gotten any good information. I told her about the salary cuts and how the saleswoman whose screaming had gotten us all upstairs had been devastated by the pay cut and Drew’s treatment of her. “I think that puts Trina on the suspect list. Maybe she hit Drew with the paperweight, and when his face hit the soup she just waited until the soup had done it’s deadly work and then began to scream. And there’s Dorothy, too. She claimed not to be upset, but maybe she just said that. She could have gone up there earlier and s
mashed him on the head.”
I watched Dorothy picking up a brass lamp to check the price. No question, even though she was well into her sixties, she had the strength to swing a paperweight with some force. More people came in the shop, and the buzz of conversation got louder. I recognized some of the regular customers from the bookstore. Dorothy was being pulled in all directions by the crowd.
“Can you believe all these people,” Dinah said. “You’d think they were giving something away.”
“Are those the paperweights?” a woman asked, pointing to a group of objects on the mantelpiece. She was wearing casual pants and high heels, a look I never understood. Someone else was apparently interested in them, too, and pushed next to her, asking the same question. It took a moment for it to make sense. Then I realized they were talking about the paperweights that had been on Drew’s desk. Ugh. There was some discussion about which of the ones on display had been the one.
“None of these,” Kevin said. “The police have the one that hit my brother. It’s evidence, you know.”
Dead Men Don't Crochet Page 9