Behind the Seams cm-6

by Betty Hechtman

  It was odd seeing Mason at work. He was more formal than I was used to. Everything in the office was big. Big desk, big windows and big comfortable chairs. You could almost smell the power in the air. His assistant came in and offered us refreshments. We’re not talking coffee that’s been sitting in the pot for hours, either. They had an espresso machine, imported bottled water, any kind of soda you could think of and finger sandwiches. CeeCee said all this had been such a drain on her, she needed to keep her strength up. The assistant came back with the works.

  Nell insisted that she wanted CeeCee and me in on everything, so there would be no problem for him to discuss her case with us.

  “I think that whatever evidence they have against you is too easy to blow away. But that doesn’t mean they won’t keep showing up and questioning you. In this situation, the cops’ best chance is getting you to confess,” Mason said.

  “But I didn’t do it. You have to believe me,” she said, suddenly worried.

  Mason got up and walked around the desk and stood next to her.

  “I know you didn’t. No worries. If the cops or the sheriff’s investigator show up, don’t say anything, just have them talk to me.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I have a daughter your age. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” I wanted to hug him for being so sympathetic.

  Nell and CeeCee went out into the reception area and I hung back.

  “The first time you’ve seen me in action,” he said with a grin. “What do you think?”

  I glanced around the office and at him in the dark gray power suit. “Pretty impressive.”

  Spike took the opportunity to come over and sniff my shoes. “Thanks for making Nell feel better, though I’m still worried. Even if the cops never arrest her, it doesn’t clear her name or get her job back,” I said.

  “Hmm, you’re right,” he said. “You haven’t by chance figured out who really killed the two of them? It would help if we had somebody else to throw to the cops.”

  “Not exactly,” I said with a wince, “but let me roll out my list of top suspects.” I mentioned Talia Canon. “She had the big three—means, motive and opportunity—at least for Robyn. She certainly gained from Robyn’s death.” I shrugged. “Maybe what Miles remembered was something about her. But I keep thinking about Becca and Derek. Being their parents, they certainly had a connection to both Robyn and Miles. It seems pretty clear that Robyn planned some kind of ambush on the show.” I shuddered. “If they were cold enough to cut their children out of their lives, is it so hard to imagine that they might have had them killed to save face?”

  Mason put a hand on my shoulder in a supportive move. “I can understand how you’d have a hard time with that with the way you feel about your sons.” His phone started to ring and I knew CeeCee and Nell wanted to get going, so I quickly went through the rest of the list.

  Something was up with Pierce Sheraton. The guy seemed to show up all the time, though I had no idea why he’d want to kill either Miles or Robyn. Barbara Olive Overton had to be included. Ty Holzer had done a good job of getting himself out of the running, but I still wondered about him. Then there were the people like the production assistants, D. J., Bob and even Annie Hoover, the nanny, who couldn’t be totally counted out.

  Mason let out a world-weary sigh. “I’d put the parents at the top of the list. Everybody thinks they’re Hollywood’s sweethearts—the perfect couple known for all the humanitarian gestures. It sounds like Robyn was out to ruin them. It’s a cold world, Sunshine.”

  “I wonder how they’d react if I showed them Robyn’s doll?”

  Mason took an envelope out of his desk. “Here’s your chance to find out. I told you the law firm was buying a block of tickets for the benefit Barbara Olive Overton is putting on in Palm Springs. Becca and Derek are going to be there. I wish I could go, but I have a family thing—my daughter’s engagement party.” He seemed a little wistful. “Geez, father of the bride, what’s next, grandpa? I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  “I bet you’ll love it,” I said as I looked inside the envelope.

  “Enough talk about my future in a rocking chair. The tickets will get you into the golf tournament and the festivities afterward. There’s even a room for the night included. I assume you’ll being sharing it with Dinah.”

  I gave him a thank you hug for everything. “Palm Springs, here we come.”

  CHAPTER 35

  MASON WAS RIGHT, MY FIRST THOUGHT FOR THE other ticket was Dinah. I caught her the next morning as she went back to the yarn department. She looked at the ticket longingly. “I wish I could, but Commander bought tickets for us to go whale watching.” Her brows were knit together in concern. “You know I love being your Watson. I’m still trying to work out a balance.” I promised her I understood and wouldn’t let anyone permanently replace her as my wingman. We were just starting to think of who else I should ask when Adele interrupted.

  “Pink, you have to pick me,” Adele said. “Don’t you see, it’s destiny. It’s my chance to show Barbara the wonders of crochet.” She suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “I wasn’t deliberately eavesdropping, but you two were talking kind of loud.”

  It turned out Adele won by default. I had already nixed the idea of Nell going. I think CeeCee was afraid she might end up getting arrested again. Sheila had to work. Weekends were busy at Luxe. I couldn’t picture going with either Rhoda or Elise. Eduardo? Not a chance.

  PALM SPRINGS WAS ONLY ABOUT ONE HUNDRED and twenty-five miles away from Tarzana, but to me, it looked like another planet. The desert community sat at the base of the San Jacinto Mountains, but until you got close to the town, all you could see was beige.

  Adele and I had both worked the morning at the bookstore, and when we left Tarzana, the sky was white and the air chilly, so typical for May. Once we hit the Mojave Desert and started to pass all the wind farms, the sky was clear blue and the temperature near ninety. I was glad I’d worn something light. The loose linen pants with a matching beige tunic top seemed perfect for the desert. I matched the sand. It must have been a challenge for Adele to find crochet items to wear that wouldn’t cause her to overheat, but she’d done it. She’d worn an open vest made of pale blue light-cotton yarn. It worked well with the white capri pants and white loose cotton top. But, of course, Adele couldn’t leave it at that. She’d added a granny-square bracelet, big circle earrings crocheted in thread, and a wide-brimmed sun hat, she’d made in cotton yarn.

  Palm Springs was one of the older desert communities and had been the playground for Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, Elvis and lots of others. The air was so dry it made the outlines of the landscape show up in crisp detail.

  We drove through the main drag with all the small shops and restaurants. The town had kept its charm, thanks to all kinds of rules that outlawed billboards and neon signs.

  I found the entrance to the resort hosting the event and turned into the driveway. It was odd after all the sand to have the rich green of golf courses on both sides of the curving driveway before I pulled in front of the two-story hotel. We’d decided to check in first.

  Once we’d stowed our stuff in our room, we headed out again. Just past the low building, the setup for the event began. We passed the crowd of spectators watching the game on the golf course. Beyond there was a parking lot and an encampment of open-air tents. All the media trucks were parked together. There were also RVs that appeared to being used as dressing rooms, and the large white trucks I’d seen when there were TV or movie shoots in my area. They were called honey wagons and were portable restrooms. I’d seen the inside, and they had nothing in common with Porta-Potties beyond their basic function. They had porcelain fixtures and running water. Nothing but the best for this crowd.

  One of the tents had been set up for registration. As we walked toward it, I saw people dressed in jeans, tee shirts and sneakers—or the unofficial uniform of production assistants. BOO productions must have brought their whole staff. It ma
de me think of Nell and how much she said she’d looked forward to working this.

  “Where’s Barbara?” Adele said, shading her face with her hand and scanning the area. Adele had a messenger-style bag strapped across her chest. “I’m ready for her.” To make sure I understood how ready, she opened the bag and showed me the contents. “I brought the fancy hooks,” she said, showing me her hand-carved wooden ones. “These are my pride and joy. Who could possibly turn down crocheting with these?” She had cotton yarn as well. “And I’m going to get in a picture of her with the hooks,” she said, checking the battery level on her camera.

  I had been hearing her plan over and over since we’d left the bookstore. I had my own agenda, but I hadn’t battered her eardrums with it. Mine was much simpler: show the doll to the celebrity couple and ask a bunch of questions before they had a chance to think about it. I patted my canvas bag to make sure Robyn’s doll was still in it.

  There was a throng of people at the registration table as we approached. Talia Canon went by and seemed all business. D. J. was with her. She stopped short when she saw me. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she said, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?” While I was thinking of how to answer, Adele opened her bag and mouth at the same time. I gave Adele one of CeeCee’s famous cease-and-desist looks when she started to speak. If Adele said anything about what she’d planned to do, we’d be out of there before we got in.

  “We’re here for the festivities,” I said and explained a friend had given me the tickets. Pierce Sheraton joined Talia, but barely seemed to notice Adele and me.

  I was so nervous that Adele was going to say something about her plan to snag Barbara and show off her hooks, I dropped my bag. I’d tried to incorporate everything in the cloth tote. D. J. gave me a friendly smile and scooped it up but grabbed the bottom instead of the handles. Everything fell out, including the doll.

  They all looked at the doll and gave me a strange look. I ignored their expressions and went to retrieve my stuff. It had scattered all over. It was going to be the last time I tried to use a canvas tote bag as a purse. While I chased down rolling coins, Talia picked up the doll by its feet and the green dress flew over the doll’s head. She saw the underpants with the pink rose and pulled at them. Something that looked like a piece of gum dropped out and hit the ground next to me. “What’s that?”

  Adele had taken offense at Talia manhandling the doll and grabbed it from her and snatched the fallen object. “Pink, you’ve got to get caught up on your technology. It’s a media card.” I just wanted to pick my stuff up and get it back in my bag, but instead of helping me, Adele took out her camera and removed the media card. I heard her mumbling something about New York and then a disappointed comment about there only being a blue screen.

  At least D. J. helped me retrieve my things. I picked up a handful of dusty coins, and D. J. got my wallet and the other odds and ends of stuff. We both straightened.

  “D. J., let’s go,” Talia said. “The film crew is waiting.” He dropped what he was holding back into my bag and said they wanted some more snippets to put in his background piece and made a joke that he hoped the flavor protesters wouldn’t show up again.

  “I’m sorry about that, I really am,” I said, putting the coins back in my bag, but my BlackBerry fell on the ground. He retrieved it for me and I stuck it in my pocket before wiping the dust off my hands. “I’m glad there is one thoughtful person in the crowd,” I said with a grateful nod. I grabbed the media card and doll from Adele. I didn’t know what else to do with the card but stick it back in the doll’s underpants. Pierce, Talia and D. J. took off. Only D. J. had the courtesy to wave and say something about seeing us later.

  Adele started to say something, but a young man who looked like a production assistant brushed past us, waving for a group of people to follow him. As we went to get in the registration line, he took his group in front of us.

  “Sorry, folks,” he said to those of us in line, “but we’ve got to get them in now.” His crowd dripped of money and I guessed they were big-time donors. There were always different-priced tickets at events like this. I had to grab Adele before she made a scene.

  We finally got our turn to register and exchanged our tickets for plastic badges, which we put on around our necks. Then we were directed to the BOO Two Pavilion.

  Adele was so busy looking for the actual BOO, I had to grab her arm to keep her from wandering off. The pavilion was a huge open-air tent with a large number of white-clothed round tables on a floor that had been laid over the sandy soil. A band was setting up next to space for dancing. Uniformed waiters were setting out baskets of rolls and filling the glasses with water. I noticed a woman who looked like some kind of supervisor. I went and asked where Becca and Derek would be sitting.

  She laughed. “Not in here.” She picked up my badge and pointed out the B on it.

  Adele figured out that meant that Barbara wasn’t going to be there, either, and started looking stormy.

  “C’mon,” I said. “Maybe we can catch them at the golf tournament.” We backtracked out of the tent and went back toward the registration area and the entrance for the spectators. It wasn’t much help. There was a roped-off section for the A-list and we B people couldn’t get in.

  “Pink, what are we going to do? Who cares about sitting in a tent eating rubber chicken. I came to get Barbara.”

  “And I came here to flash Robyn’s doll at her parents,” I said. We both blew out our breath in disappointment.

  I saw D. J. coming out of the spectators’ area and he came over to us. “What’s wrong?” the blogoir author said. “You two look upset.”

  I told him about our predicament, and he thought it over for a moment before his face broke into a big smile. “This is perfect. I finally get to play the hero.” He held out his badge, which said “All Access.” “The dinner for Barbara and all the celebrities isn’t even here.” He grabbed my hand. “C’mon, I’ll get you both in with my badge.” Adele rushed after us, her hat flapping in the breeze.

  I was surprised when he led us to the parking lot. “You won’t believe where they’re having it. Those celeb types are so jaded, they had to come up with something bordering on ridiculous.”

  We got in his black Scion and he drove out of town and turned onto a road that said Palm Springs Aerial Tramway. I’d heard about it but never been. Neither had Adele. Both of us said we’d always wanted to go.

  The mountains were already cutting off the late-afternoon sun and the parking lot seemed dark after the brightness of the desert floor. The cool shade felt good. Even though it was dry heat, ninety degrees was still hot. D. J. walked ahead and said he’d use his badge to get us passes on the tram.

  By the time we caught up with him, he had tickets and ushered us into the waiting area. There were only a few people waiting to go up. When I seemed a little uncertain, he smiled. “I told you it bordered on ridiculous.”

  I followed the wires that carried the tram up the mountain with my eyes. They seemed to go almost straight up.

  Our tram arrived and the small crowd got on. As we began our ascent, there was a running taped commentary talking about how the tramway was built and how everything that went up or down the mountain, including trash, went via the tram. The gondola kept turning, giving us a view of the desert floor below that looked golden in the fading afternoon sun, and then the changing vegetation on the mountain side.

  It was amazing; in the short ride we’d gone up to 8,900 feet above sea level. The tram door opened and we walked directly into the station. D. J. led us through it quickly, and I barely noted that there were a few shops and some busy food places. I got a brief view out the window and saw that the station was situated on the edge of the mountaintop and there was a panoramic view of the desert below.

  We had to rush to keep up with D. J., and Adele’s hat flew off, but luckily she had attached a tie to it like those on cowboy hats, and it hung on her back. D. J. opened the door, an
d we stepped out onto a concrete deck. What I saw totally surprised me. Snow! He waved for us to follow. I looked at my linen top and slacks and hesitated.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not that cold up here now. They have tents set up with heaters and sweatshirts on every seat.” He wore only jeans and a dress shirt himself. “What kind of gentleman am I?” he said, taking my tote bag. I’d stuffed everything in there and it was kind of heavy and a relief to let it go. He offered to carry Adele’s as well, but she insisted the way it was strapped across her chest, it was easy to carry. My bag grazed his fanny pack as he slung it on his shoulder.

  We went down a zigzagging concrete ramp and then out onto the snow. It was a little chilly, but we were moving so quickly, we built up body heat. I guessed it was close to sixty degrees. Still, I was looking forward to the heated tents he’d promised. We passed some other people dressed in open jackets, heading in the opposite direction, and they nodded in greeting. Two kids lagged behind, stopping to throw snowballs.

  Walking through the snow wasn’t easy. It appeared to have frozen and melted and frozen again so it was packed down but still slippery. Occasionally we hit a soft spot and snow got in my shoes.

  I questioned the lack of a path and wondered about the pampered celebrity types walking through the snow.

  “They’re ferrying them up by helicopter. I thought it would be easier to sneak you two in if we came up this way.” I noticed he’d glanced at his watch a number of times, and I supposed he was trying to get there before the crowd started arriving and security might be tighter.