“She’s right,” Jaimee said brightly. “It’ll be like we’re girlfriends. You won’t even know I’m here.” Mason might have stood his ground with his ex-wife, but once his daughter got involved, he gave up. I wasn’t happy with his decision, but I understood, though I had to press my lips together to keep from asking, if Jaimee was going to be so invisible, how was she going to help take care of him? As if that was ever really an option, anyway.
When we were just friends, before we got together, Mason and I had a fun sort of relationship. Casual, with no baggage. But all of that had changed, and if we were going to belong to each other, as we’d put it, it meant accepting everything that came along with the other person, including an ex-wife and a hostile daughter.
“All right, then,” Mason said, putting his hands up in capitulation. Jaimee had a triumphant smile as she made a move to pick up her suitcase, but Brooklyn grabbed it first, and the two of them walked away down the hall.
“That was not supposed to happen,” Mason said, shaking his head at the receding figure of his ex-wife. “I thought I had disconnected all the buttons she knew how to push.”
He made another offer of a cappuccino, but I was already overdue for my next stop and still buzzed by the red eye. “You’re not sorry about us, are you?” he asked, looking intently into my eyes. “I promised you a wonderful trip and then got in a car accident. I promised you lots of fun and good times and now we’re stuck with Jaimee.”
“She won’t be here forever,” I said, and Mason brightened.
“And then it will be time to let the good times roll,” he said, and he gave me another warm hug.
CHAPTER 3
I was rushing when I left Mason’s. I backtracked through Encino to Tarzana and onto a road that ran into a secluded street. The houses here were more like estates, and the lots were irregular sizes due to the ravine that ran off Corbin Canyon. It was also darker here because of all the trees. Only a few lost their leaves over the winter, so there was a lot of foliage even now.
I pulled in front of the stone pillars that marked the entrance to CeeCee Collins’s place. A wrought-iron gate closed off the driveway, and a wall of tall, neatly trimmed bushes marked the boundary of her yard.
The expansive property definitely suited our celebrity Hooker. CeeCee Collins was a veteran actress, known for her sitcom The CeeCee Collins Show as well as multiple movie and TV roles and cameos. Then her life had changed. First she’d become the host of a reality show, then she got the part of Ophelia in a movie called Caught by a Kiss. The movie meant a lot to all of us because its hero, a vampire named Anthony, crocheted to control his blood lust. The book series it was based on was a bestseller at the bookstore, too.
And then, after way too long a time of hearing about “Oscar buzz,” CeeCee had actually been nominated for best supporting actress.
I wouldn’t say all this had gone to her head, exactly. She had always been a little self-absorbed, and yet she was the leader of the Hookers and the one in our group who was always most interested in making crocheted items for charities.
I hit the intercom, and her unmistakable voice answered. She always sounded happy and merry, and she had a laugh I could best describe as tinkling. As soon as she heard it was me, she buzzed the gate and it swung open.
I always thought of fairy tales when I came over to CeeCee’s place. Once you were inside the gate, it was like the outside world didn’t exist. I had to pass a small forest of trees to get to the house, which resembled a stone cottage, though a rather large one. A stepping-stone path led the way to the door, and with all those trees and the basket of biscuits I was carrying, I almost felt like Little Red Riding Hood, except I wasn’t wearing anything red and I certainly hoped there weren’t any wolves hiding behind the trees.
CeeCee was standing in the doorway, and I saw her eye was on the basket I was carrying. “Thank you for letting me hold Sheila’s practice class here,” I said when I got to the open door.
“Of course, dear. You know I love helping Sheila. And I understand your predicament. There’s no reason for Mrs. Shedd to know there’s any problem.” While she was talking, she lifted the checkered napkin on the basket. “Oh good, you baked something.”
CeeCee was always concerned about being photographed by the paparazzi, and so she was always dressed for the possibility, but at the same time, she had a famous sweet tooth and was constantly battling her weight. “Oh, they’re not sweet,” she said, sounding disappointed, just for a moment. “But we can add butter and honey,” she decided cheerily.
As we spoke, CeeCee’s two Yorkshire terriers ran out the door and began carefully sniffing every inch of my shoes and ankles. By now I had a whole cornucopia of animal scents on me, thanks to my own menagerie along with Mason’s dog Spike.
“There’s just one thing, dear,” CeeCee said as I handed the basket of biscuits to her. “It shouldn’t be a problem, really, but there are a few extra people. And I have something exciting to present to the group.”
I assured her that everything would be fine and said I would get the supplies from my car. The dogs had tired of sniffing my shoes and took off for parts unknown while CeeCee took the basket inside. When I returned with the bin of yarn, the dogs were heading back to the house, one of them carrying a fuzzy-looking ball in her mouth. They started yipping as they followed me inside.
I went straight to the dining room and set the bin down. There were already three women sitting at the table, and I realized they must be the extra people CeeCee had mentioned. I recognized two of them. “Kelsey Willis and Pia Sawyer,” I said in surprise. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” Ages might have been a little extreme, but it probably had been close to twenty years. We’d all volunteered together in the old days, when our kids had gone to Wilbur Elementary.
It amazed me to think about it, but there was an “in” crowd even in the PTA. They were part of it. I wasn’t. All of them had even looked about the same. They had blond hair—not natural—wore similar fashionable clothes, and drove whatever style of vehicle was in at the moment. In those days it had been minivans. These two had always considered themselves on a level above me. Kelsey’s husband was an executive at one of the studios, and Pia’s husband produced all of Flynn Huntington’s movies, while my husband had just had a public relations firm. Executives and movie producers trumped lowly PR guys on the status scale.
Amazingly, Kelsey looked just the same as she had when we’d volunteered at the school together. She was still tiny with sharp features, and her blond hair was in the same shoulder-length style. She still had the kind of figure that could pull off wearing clothes designed for a twenty-year-old and not look like she was trying too hard.
The two women looked at me blankly. I started to explain that we’d worked together when our kids were young, hoping to jog their memories. It was kind of odd that I remembered them so clearly, and they seemed to have no recollection of me. Finally, Pia’s eyes lit in recognition. “Polly, isn’t it? You worked in the school library with us.”
She nudged her friend. “You remember her. We worked with the kids, and she put the books back on the shelves.”
Kelsey looked at me closely but still didn’t seem to recognize me. “Maybe this will help,” I said jokingly, turning and pretending to be pushing a library cart.
“Oh,” she said finally. “Now I do remember you.”
The third woman was a complete mystery to me, but she actually recognized me. “I know who you are,” she said in an excited tone. “You work at the bookstore on Ventura Boulevard. Shedd & Royal, isn’t it?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer before going on about bringing some children to story time and the wonderful woman who made it all so dramatic. She abruptly stopped herself and looked at me. “How silly of me. Of course you don’t know who I am.” She held out her hand. “Babs Swanson.” Barely taking a breath, she continued as she glanced in the dire
ction of Kelsey and Pia. “I talked them into coming with me. It seemed like the neighborly thing to do when CeeCee told me about the problem you have.”
CeeCee was rolling her eyes out of sight of her guests. “Molly, dear, come into the kitchen so that we can make some coffee to go with these biscuits.” I wanted to laugh. The only thing CeeCee knew about her kitchen was where it was. It was rumored she could burn water. And make coffee? No way. We passed through the swinging door into the other room just as Rosa, her proper-looking housekeeper, came in the back door. She stopped in her tracks, startled to see us in her domain.
“We’re just making coffee,” CeeCee said to Rosa, who wore a gray uniform and sensible shoes. I watched as CeeCee surveyed the kitchen and finally found the coffeemaker on the counter. She pulled out the glass pot and then seemed at a loss as to what to do. Rosa gave just the slightest amused shake of her head before offering to take over.
CeeCee seemed relieved to relinquish the pot. “I’m sure you’ll do a better job than I would,” she said. “We have these biscuits, too. They need something. . . .”
Rosa took the basket from CeeCee’s arm. “Don’t worry, Miss CeeCee. I know what you like. I’ll bring in some honey, butter and the strawberry jam Mr. Tony had me get.” I’m sure the housekeeper was hoping we’d leave now that she’d taken over, but CeeCee looked around in a dither.
“What did I come in here for?” She turned to me with a question in her heart-shaped face.
“It was something about the women in the dining room,” I said.
“Yes, that’s right,” CeeCee said. Her expression faded slightly. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop her.”
“You mean Babs?” I asked. CeeCee was momentarily distracted as Rosa opened a jar of fancy-looking strawberry jam. Rosa offered her a taste before adding it to the tray she was setting up. CeeCee smiled, which I guess meant it got her approval. Rosa seemed unconcerned with CeeCee’s interference, but then she was probably used to it.
“Yes, Babs. She’s visiting—well, no, actually she’s living with her son and daughter-in-law.” CeeCee made a broad gesture that I imagined was in the direction of their house, though I couldn’t tell where she meant. “She’s from Iowa City, where everybody is friendly and stops in for coffee unannounced. When she first got here, she made the rounds to all the houses—with brownies. Very good brownies,” CeeCee added, sounding a little guilty. “Since then she’s always stopping by with something to be neighborly. I don’t know how to tell her that she isn’t in Iowa City anymore and people don’t do that around here. She certainly doesn’t like that the houses around here have high fences. Apparently, where she comes from fences are in bad taste. Well, dear, as soon as she heard I was helping you with Sheila’s lesson, she volunteered to be a pretend student. I don’t know how she got the other women to come along. Babs said something about one of them living nearby. One of them said she’d invited Tony and me to a party.” CeeCee shrugged in a helpless manner. “Of course,” she said, her face lighting in recognition. “That must have been the party the other night. Tony told me it was being thrown by someone he was hoping to get involved with his new project. He went, but I stayed home.” She went back to talking about Babs. “I know she means well, but she just keeps popping over and telling me all about her situation. Her son and daughter-in-law both have big jobs, so she came to look after their kids. But, they have two nannies—one for each of the kids, so Babs has a lot of time on her hands.”
By now the coffee was dripping into the pot and Rosa was putting the finishing touches on the accompaniments to the biscuits.
Babs picked up where she’d left off when we returned to the dining room. “It is so exciting to have a real actress as a neighbor,” she trilled. She sighed as she looked at the mural on the wall. It had CeeCee as the character she’d played in Caught by a Kiss. Anthony, the vampire who crocheted, was featured next to her, complete with a crochet hook dripping blood. It was a pretty good likeness to Hugh Jackman, who’d played the part in the movie. The hook was more for effect than accuracy—the fictional Anthony had never harmed anything or anyone with his crochet hook. CeeCee had left an empty section at the bottom for an Oscar statue in case she’d won, but now that she hadn’t, it had been filled with the words Academy Award Nominated, which from now on would be part of her title.
The Yorkies went crazy as the intercom buzzed. I went to answer and a few moments later opened the door to some of the Hookers. Rhoda Klein came in first. She was solidly built and had a no-nonsense air about her. She was dependable, though a little blunt. She went directly into the dining room and looked around. “Is Sheila here yet?” she asked, looking at the three strangers. Rhoda had lived in Southern California for twenty years or more but still had a thick New York accent.
“Not yet,” I answered, trailing behind her.
“Are you new Hookers?” Rhoda asked the three women. She began to unload some items from her tote bag and set them on the table.
Kelsey and Pia blanched at the title, but Babs stepped in and explained to them that Tarzana Hookers was the name of our group.
“I brought along some samples of felted items,” Rhoda said. She looked at Kelsey and Pia. “So, are you joining us?”
Kelsey took on the role of spokesperson. “No. We’re not joining anything. I’m not even really sure why I’m here.” She glanced in Babs’s direction. “Pia and I were out at the street getting my mail, and Babs came along and said CeeCee Collins needed some help.”
There was an awkward moment before I explained what the gathering was about. I might have gone into a little too much detail about the bookstore and the events we had before getting to Yarn University and Sheila’s class. Kelsey was twitching in her seat and was clearly impatient. “When is this supposed to start?” she asked. “Babs talked us into coming.” She glanced toward the door, making it pretty obvious that she wanted to leave.
Babs blanched at the comment. “I didn’t have to do much convincing. You both said you’d always wanted to see the inside of CeeCee’s house.”
Kelsey shot Babs an annoyed look, but CeeCee stepped in and turned on the charm. “Let me give you a tour. Where did you say you lived?” Kelsey smiled and explained that her house was on the street behind CeeCee’s, and Pia’s was farther down the same street.
“If you lived in Iowa City, you’d be old friends since you live so close,” Babs said. “You’d be doing block parties together, planning your decorations for Halloween together. Not like here where you people all keep to yourselves. I plan to change all that,” Babs said gaily.
I’m not sure if Kelsey and Pia heard the end of Babs’s comment, as they were already following CeeCee, who had offered to show them the living room and the den. I went back to setting out the supplies, and a few minutes later the three came back into the dining room.
“I’ll show you the guest apartment with the rest of the group,” CeeCee said, but the two women didn’t sit down again. “We can’t stay,” Kelsey said, fumbling over an excuse. You didn’t have to be a detective to realize she just wanted to get out of there. They started for the door, but then Pia stopped and nudged Kelsey. I heard some mumbling about being tired of the same old thing.
Pia stopped in front of me. “You said something about doing handicraft parties at Shedd & Royal.” She gestured toward Kelsey. “That would be perfect for Erin’s baby shower. It would be something different. You could start a trend, Kelsey.” Kelsey suddenly seemed interested and asked for my card, handing me one of her own in exchange.
“I’ll talk to my daughter. She will want to stop by and see what you offer, Polly.”
“It’s Molly! Molly Pink!” I called after her.
The door had only been shut for a minute or so when it opened again and Adele Abrams came into the house. “Those blond women let me in the gate,” she said. We all loved crochet, but Adele was by far the greatest champion for th
e hobby. To her it was the only yarn craft worth anything. As usual, she was decked out in some of her handiwork. She saw Babs at the table, and her face lit up.
“Hello, let me introduce myself.” She shot out a hand toward Babs. “I’m going to be teaching the beginning crochet class at Crochet College,” she said.
“We’re really calling it Yarn University,” I corrected, and Adele glowered. Babs seemed thrilled to be meeting yet another new person.
“My name is Babs. I’m just here to be a pretend student. I used to knit, but I haven’t done it for years.”
Adele shuddered at the word knit. Babs leaned a little closer. “You’re going to do fine. I don’t know why your friends think you’re too shy.”
Adele seemed mystified, and I tried to stifle a laugh. The idea of someone thinking Adele was shy was too funny. “This is Adele Abrams,” I said. “We’re still waiting for Sheila.
“And that must be her,” I said as we heard the intercom buzz. We all looked toward the entrance hall expectantly, but when the door opened, Elise Belmont came in. She was a small woman who had a birdlike voice and who looked like a good gust of wind could blow her over. Elise often came off as a little vague, but in truth she had a steel core. She had turned her obsession with Anthony, the vampire who crocheted, into a business. She kept the bookstore stocked with a constant supply of kits to make “all things vampire style,” as she called it. She was teaching a class in Literary Crochet. But of course, the only books involved were the Anthony series. She looked around at the group. “Where’s Sheila?”
Exactly what I was thinking.
CHAPTER 4
“Maybe Sheila isn’t coming,” Adele said. “I can take over the class if she’s chickened out.” To illustrate the point, Adele pulled out a crocheted scarf done in shades of blue, but it was all made of one type of yarn, and the texture was nothing like Sheila’s pieces.
Seams Like Murder Page 3