Hooking for Trouble

by Betty Hechtman

  She was dressed as some kind of sorcerer, with a cape dotted with stars and a pointed hat. She looked past me to Lauren and held out several pieces of paper. “The woman over there insisted that I give these to you.”

  I saw that Adele was pointing to the babysitter, who was on her way to the front door with the kids in tow. Lauren took them reluctantly. “What are they?”

  “They’re membership forms for the story time gang,” Adele said, as if it was an absurd question.

  “Membership forms?” I said, surprised. It was the first I was hearing of it.

  “You know, Pink, we get one for each kid that comes to story time so we can give them their very own membership card.” She had that stilted sound to her voice, like I should pretend to know what she was talking about.

  “What’s the—” Before I could add “point?” Adele had grabbed my arm and almost dragged me away from the table.

  “I couldn’t say it in front of her, Pink,” she began. “It’s not about the kids, but the adults who bring them. I get them to leave a cell number so we can reach them if they wander off while the kids are at story time. It’s usually parents or grandparents.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I let Lauren drop the kids off without getting her to fill out the forms.” Adele’s face lit up. “There’s an added bonus. Once I have a cell number, I can send them text reminders of sales and new arrivals. The kids aren’t the customers. The parents are.” Adele got a haughty stance. “It’s marketing 101.” She started going off that we should do something similar with the yarn department, but I cut her off.

  “And you get one filled out for every kid who comes?” I said, getting an idea.

  “Of course, no exceptions,” Adele said. She pointed to the table where Lauren was filling out the information. The Hookers began to come in and find seats around the table. Dinah saw me standing with Adele in her crazy outfit and rolled her eyes while she stifled a laugh.

  When CeeCee headed toward the end of the table where the group leader generally sat, Adele dropped our conversation and rushed to grab the seat at the opposite end. Would their fussing over leadership of the Hookers ever end?

  Dinah had saved the seat next to her for me. “What was the problem with Adele this time?”

  I looked at my friend. “Actually, I think she may have given me a solution to one.”

  Dinah wanted details. “Later,” I said in a near-whisper.

  The crochet get-together was supposed to be an hour when we all relaxed from our day, but it didn’t work out that way this time. I introduced Lauren around, but she balked when I said the group generally spent the hour working on charity projects.

  “There’s no point for me to start anything, since I don’t know how often I’ll be able to come.” She barely looked at what the others were doing and kept working on the jacket. She really did mean it when she said it was her “me” time.

  CeeCee kept giving Lauren sidelong glances, and it was obvious our actress crocheter wasn’t happy the singer had joined us. Even the usual cheery tinkle in CeeCee’s voice was missing. She sounded almost snippy as she asked Sheila to push the bin toward her. She fished through it with choppy, annoyed movements, looking for some odds and ends to embellish her bear.

  I knew she felt upstaged by having two members of ChIlLa invading her crochet world. And then to have Lauren not even go along with the program must have pushed her over the edge.

  Meanwhile, Adele had seized the moment and started wailing about her ruined wedding plans. Rhoda threw her an impatient groan and in her usual direct manner cut through all of Adele’s dramatics. “You do realize that complaining about the place going out of business isn’t solving your problem. Why don’t you use that energy for something positive?” Adele’s response was to say that Rhoda couldn’t possibly understand what she was going through.

  Eduardo tried to stay out of it, working in silence on an Irish crochet scarf for Rhoda’s bear. But his strategy backfired when Adele started to wail anew, claiming the white, lacy piece reminded her of a wedding veil.

  Sheila was trying to avoid the group’s bad vibe and had started on a new toy. She was working without even looking up, but I noted that her stitches seemed erratic and uneven. It was lucky that crochet stitches were so easy to rip out.

  Elise tried to make conversation with Lauren. Elise had a spacey, wispy manner that made her appear scattered, but really she was always pitching something. “You know my husband is in real estate,” she said. “I know you celebrities have special needs when it comes to houses. Logan said your sister is going to put a recording studio in the garage of their new house.”

  Hearing Elise mention Cheyenne’s house put me on red alert. Elise knew she wasn’t supposed to let Cheyenne know I was her neighbor, but I didn’t know if she would realize Lauren shouldn’t know, either.

  Is it too corny to say I was saved by the bangle? I was never so glad to hear the jangle of my mother’s bracelets as she came through the door of the bookstore and walked up to the table and distracted everyone. “Molly, the girls and I were in the neighborhood, and I wanted to show them the layout of the store. We need to tailor our choreography to the space.” Without missing a beat, she turned to Lauren. “You girls nowadays don’t have to worry about dance steps. You just go with the feeling. Back in the day we all had to be in step in an exact routine. And our fans still expect it.” The other two She La Las were standing next to her. My mother turned to her group mates. “Let’s show them,” she said.

  As usual, things got out of hand with my mother. Without an okay from me, the three of them lined up one behind the other and alternated sides as they jumped out, gyrating their arms and singing a cappella.

  Mrs. Shedd appeared out of nowhere and clapped wildly when they finished. “Let’s find Mr. Royal,” she said to the She La Las. “He can take some photos of you dancing for the front wall.” As the four of them rushed off to the front of the store, I understood how CeeCee felt. My mother had just upstaged me.

  The group broke up right after that, but Dinah stayed behind with me. I started to clean up the odds and ends of yarn and stray pieces of equipment, and Dinah took out some rose-colored yarn and the beginning of a project. She saw me looking at it. “It’s a bow tie for Commander—for our wedding.” She seemed almost embarrassed. “Adele kept going on about the one she was making for Eric . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “So you are softening up about your wedding,” I said.

  “I don’t know—maybe. Weren’t you going to tell me what was going on with Adele?” she asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject by reminding me of what I’d promised earlier.

  “The solution won’t mean anything if you don’t know what the problem is,” I began. I told her how Mason had surprised me the night before. She listened to my description of the ride and laughed when she heard what we were talking about.

  “A disappearing body. How romantic,” she joked.

  “For us, I guess it is romantic conversation,” I said, smiling at the absurdity of it. I was surprised to note Dinah’s unhappy expression.

  “I don’t know why I’m commenting on your conversation. I’d probably rather Commander talked about finding blood spatter than his current topic.”

  “And that is?” I prompted.

  “He keeps going on about our honeymoon. I didn’t really have a honeymoon with my ex. We went to Las Vegas and he spent all the time at the tables. Commander wants us to go to a posh hotel in Hawaii, the Big Island. It’s all about having breakfast on our balcony overlooking the water, walking along the beach, watching the sunset, just the two of us wrapped up in each other’s company.” She looked like she might cry. “It’s too much whipped cream,” she said at last.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “When I was a kid my mother used to let me lick off the beaters and the bowl when she made whipped cream. There
was always just a taste of it, but never really enough. Then one time she made too much and when she handed me the bowl there was a fluff of whipped cream in the bottom. At first it seemed wonderful, but very quickly the richness got to me and I couldn’t eat anymore. It was too much of a good thing.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I think I understand.” Dinah shook her head from side to side as if to banish her thoughts.

  “I’m being crazy. Commander is what I’ve always wanted.” She seemed to have recovered. “And you were going to tell me about a problem and a solution.”

  I glanced toward the children’s department. I could see Adele moving around the low tables. “I’ll just cut to the solution. If you can back me up.”

  “Dr. Watson at your service,” she said, putting her crocheting away.

  As soon as we crossed into the children’s department, the carpeting changed to cows jumping over the moon. Adele had taken off the purple cape and pointed hat and left them on a low table. She was walking around, muttering to herself. From the few words I caught, it seemed like she was practicing for her next story time. She seemed startled when she noticed us.

  “Do you want something, Pink?” she said, with a little edge in her voice.

  “I was thinking about how you handled making the kids have membership cards to come to story time. You could be right about doing something like that for the yarn department.”

  Nothing made Adele smile more than when it seemed somebody appreciated an idea she’d come up with.

  “Great. You realized the genius of my plan. I bet the bookstore has sold a ton of books thanks to all those texts I’ve sent.”

  Dinah was listening, waiting for her chance to be my sidekick. She knew my moves well enough that all I’d have to do was give her a little gesture and she would figure out what to do.

  I went on a little longer, telling Adele how much I liked her plan. I had to make sure I didn’t lay it on too thick or she’d figure something was going on. “It would really help me if I could look at the records you have.”

  “So you can copy what I did?” Adele said with a haughty jiggle of her head. “Pink, you’re finally seeing the light.” She went to the cabinet that ran along one of the walls and came back holding a file of papers. “You can probably just look at the top sheet.”

  My disappointment must have shown in my expression. Dinah got that I wanted to look at the whole file, even if she didn’t know why.

  Dinah swung into action, going to the table and picking up the cape. “Adele, are these stars crocheted or knitted?”

  Saying the words knitted, knitting, or even knit to Adele was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. It stirred her up and made her forget everything. Her eyes flashed as she tossed the file on the table and marched over to the cape.

  She wasn’t paying any attention as I picked the file up and started to thumb through the sheets. “How can you even think they could be knitted?” she said, holding it out and displaying the silver stars. Dinah kept her occupied by asking if they were hard to make. Adele let out a snort and found her crochet things. When I glanced over she was demonstrating how to make a star.

  I was surprised at how many kids she had signed up for story time. I kept thumbing through the pages. She’d said there were no exceptions, so the sheets must be there. Finally, I saw the last name Mackenzie. I held my breath hopefully as I looked at the contact information. Yes, I was right. I wanted to give my fist a triumphant jerk, but I contained myself. It was better to keep my enthusiasm on the down-low or Adele might figure something was up.

  The sheet in my hand had Jennifer Clarkson written as the contact, and there was a phone number. Knowing Adele, she would have made sure to get the number of the person who had brought the kids, rather than Cheyenne’s home phone number. Adele was talking and crocheting and didn’t have a clue I was writing anything down.

  I gave the all clear to Dinah, and she used her experience as a teacher to get Adele to wind it up. When Adele looked back at the table, the file of papers was lying just where she’d left it.

  “Thanks, Adele. I got what I needed,” I said brightly as Dinah and I walked out of the department. Adele said something about inputting data, but I wasn’t listening anymore.

  We didn’t stop until we found a corner table in the café. “Are you going to tell me what I just helped you do?” Dinah said, all smiles and good cheer.

  I finished the story about the night before and how Mason had suggested I talk to the nanny since she was there when whatever it was had happened. “I had no idea how to get her phone number until I heard about Adele’s story time sign-up thing. The nanny is their contact on the sheet and there’s a phone number. I have to believe it’s hers.”

  I had set the paper with the number on the table and set my smartphone next to it. For a moment, both of us just stared at the items.

  “What are you going to say?” Dinah asked. I had already thought about it. I needed a story. A reason why I was asking her questions. And I needed an identity other than my own.

  “I’ve got it,” I said, wanting to give myself a high five. “I’ll say I’m her replacement.”

  “Brilliant,” Dinah said, pushing the phone closer to me. I took a deep breath to calm myself and punched in the number. All the lead-up turned out to be a waste of energy. I got a recording. When the beep came I just left my number and asked her to call.

  “Well, I guess that’s that. A lot of effort for nothing,” I said, setting the phone on the table. “We might as well have drinks.” I was about to get up to place our order when I felt the table vibrate and realized it was my phone. We both stared at it for a moment.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Dinah said. “It has to be her.”

  “Hello,” I said tentatively.

  The voice that answered sounded slightly Southern. “This is Jennifer Clarkson. I got a message to call this number.”

  I took a deep breath and let the deception begin. I tuned up the speed of my speech so it sounded a little gushy and explained that I was the new replacement with the Chambers-Mackenzies and I was trying to get some info.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  “The service just said you had to leave suddenly. Was it something with the family? Did something happen that night?” I asked.

  “No,” Jennifer said almost too firmly. “The police did come to the door. One of the neighbors called. But it was nothing. I had a family emergency. My mother is sick, and there was no one to take care of her.”

  “Where exactly did you go?” I asked, and then cringed, wondering if she would answer.

  “I don’t know why you need to know. My mother was vacationing in San Francisco. I caught the nine fifteen Speedy Shuttle to Burbank and I took the last Pacific West flight of the day to San Francisco.”

  “So there wasn’t some kind of upset that made you want to get away?” I pressed.

  “No, absolutely not. I just told you, my mother is sick. Do you want to know the name of her exact illness?” she said. “Because it’s streptococcus pneumoniae.”

  “Okay, I got it,” I said. “Just one more thing. Do I have to worry about Garrett Mackenzie?”

  She sounded like she was getting impatient. “What do you mean worry?”

  “I mean, is he going to get all touchy-feely? Like expect me to have a relationship with him?”

  “You don’t have to worry about him. He wouldn’t do anything like that to you.” She put an awful lot of emphasis on you. It made me wonder if there was something going on between them and she believed she was special. But there was no way to pursue it, and I could hear the impatience in her voice. “I have to go. It’s time for my mother’s antibiotic. Just tell them I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Before I could say good-bye, she’d hung up.

  “Well?” Dinah said.

  “She gave too ma
ny details. And we know what that means.”

  “She’s lying about something,” we said in unison.

  CHAPTER 10

  “I hope you don’t mind that I’m here,” Barry said when I walked into my kitchen. He was leaning against the counter dressed in his off-duty clothes of faded jeans, a green pocket T-shirt and a plaid flannel shirt left open. Jeffrey looked up from the floor. He was holding a dog brush, and Cosmo was draped across his lap. Felix was trying to get in the middle of it.

  “I’m trying to do more father-son things,” he continued. “So instead of dropping Jeffrey off to do his dog duty, I thought I would stay.” I noticed Jeffrey making a face when Barry mentioned the father-son thing. But I had a feeling that underneath, Jeffrey liked that Barry was making the effort.

  It hadn’t been easy for Barry to suddenly take on full fatherly duties when Jeffrey came to live with him after things didn’t work out living with his mother. It only got worse when Jeffrey made it clear he wanted to be an actor and go by the name of Columbia. But that was another story.

  “Sure, no big deal,” I said, stepping around him and preparing to go across the house.

  I had really hoped to come home to an empty house, put on some sweatpants and throw together some dinner. It had been a long day at the bookstore, and it wasn’t going to let up tomorrow. I liked being assistant manager, but it was overwhelming at the same time.

  “Staying out of trouble?” he said before I got across the room. It wasn’t his cop voice, and he sounded friendly. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you the other night. I’m sure your intentions were good when you sent me to your neighbor’s.”

  “But I was wrong,” I said, finishing his thought. Jeffrey got up and took Cosmo and Felix outside, shutting the door as he did. I had a feeling it was more about giving Barry and me privacy than keeping the cats inside. Even though Barry and I were never married and Jeffrey wasn’t my son, he still had that desire kids of divorced parents had—that we would get back together. I really cared about Jeffrey, but he had to accept that it wasn’t going to happen.