“That’s him, isn’t it?” I said softly.
What was Spenser Futterman doing with Izabelle’s manuscript?
CHAPTER 14
THE FIRST SESSIONS OF THE WORKSHOPS WERE scheduled to start right after lunch. No time to talk to Spenser Futterman and no chance to tell Dinah that he was the crow. Dinah walked out surrounded by people from her table who were taking her workshop. She appeared happy and excited, and I didn’t want to ruin it for her by interrupting. I was discovering it’s lonely at the top.
The workshops were all meeting simultaneously except for Mason’s. But then his wasn’t really a workshop and more of an activity, and we’d scheduled several time slots so the whole group could attend the tai chi sessions if they wanted to.
Mason caught up with me as I walked up the pathway past Lodge. I was clutching the rhinestone clipboard, ready to make my rounds. Mason had changed out of the tai chi clothes into well-fitting jeans and a blue oxford cloth shirt. The color of the shirt brought out the color in his face, and as usual a tousle of hair had fallen free and dangled over his forehead.
“Hey, Sunshine, where are you headed?”
I held up the rhinestone clipboard in response. “I’m going to stop in all the workshops and make sure everything’s going okay.”
I looked at his clothes. “What about you?”
His mouth eased into a grin. “No tai chi until late in the afternoon, so I thought I’d head over to Carmel for a while.” He glanced around the empty walkway. “You look tense around the eyes. How about joining me? Take an hour or so off. I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast, or lunch either.”
“Mason,” I said, rolling my eyes, “I can’t leave. After everything that’s happened, from the fog to Izabelle, well, I have to keep an eye on things.” I held up the clipboard.
“The buck stops with me.”
He nodded and let me know he understood. “I thought that’s what you’d say, but I figured I’d ask anyway. What’s on the schedule for tonight?”
I asked if he hadn’t gotten a schedule, and he admitted to having paid attention only to the times set for tai chi. I had a convenient copy and pulled it out, showing him that after dinner, Commander Blaine was setting up board games in the lobby area of a building called Scripps. “There’s going to be informal crocheting and knitting as well.”
“You ought to be off duty by nine. How about you and I slip out then? The Seventeen Mile Drive is just over there,” he said, referring to the private scenic roadway that wound through the Del Monte Forest and hugged the ocean as it ran past some famous golf courses and resorts. “There are some great restaurants.”
“Mason, I can’t go on a dinner date. I’m working,” I protested.
“It’s not a date, Molly, just two out-of-town Tarzanians discussing the weekend. Nobody will miss you for an hour or two.” He put his hand on my arm. “Everybody gets a break. Besides, if you don’t eat soon, you’re going to pass out.”
He had a point about needing to eat something and I certainly needed a break, though it was kind of funny to need a break from a supposedly fun weekend. Besides, now that I had accepted that Izabelle’s death was murder, we could talk about the case. Mason had helped me before by using his resources to find out information. So, I said yes. His smile broadened and he said he’d make a reservation.
“Nine o’clock, remember,” he said as he walked away and I left to make my rounds of the workshops.
I was curious to see Bennett in action, so his workshop was my first stop. It had been set up in a meeting room in one of the small newer buildings, and I stopped in the doorway. He was straddling a chair in the front of the room and wore a baseball cap backward. His group seemed to be mesmerized by whatever he was saying. Miss Lavender Pants and her crew were hanging on his every word, and I stepped closer to hear better. He said something about playing some acting games to loosen everyone up, and then he’d be passing each person their lines in a one-act play.
“We’ll work on them today and tomorrow, and then tomorrow night you’ll present the play for everyone at the last night party.” Miss Lavender Pants seemed to like the idea, but some of the others appeared nervous and complained about not having enough time before they had to perform.
Bennett put his hand up. “It would be nice to have more time, but you’ll all do fine. I know most of you are doing this for amusement, but our activities will help you all in your regular life. They’ll boost your confidence and you’ll have fun.”
He seemed to have things under control, so I moved on to look in on the others. As I was going down the walkway, I saw a figure headed toward me. I swallowed hard when I recognized the short man with the brick-shaped head. I wasn’t going to let Spenser Futterman get away without talking to him. I put on my best smile as he got closer, though I had no idea what I was going to say. I couldn’t very well just start out saying, “Hey, what was that about you messing with Izabelle’s manuscript and by the way, did you kill her?”
He actually appeared friendly when he saw me and stopped as our paths crossed. He made small talk about the weather improving and operations at Asilomar being back to normal. He asked about our group, but before I could bring up Izabelle, he did. Was it true she died?
I nodded with a solemn face. “Did you know her?” Of course I knew the answer, but I hoped it would get him talking about her.
His eyes narrowed warily. “I wouldn’t say I knew her. More like I saw her around. We both have mailboxes at the same postal center. The one the guy with your group owns. Captain somebody.”
“Commander,” I corrected. “His name is Commander Blaine.” Spenser nodded and then shrugged off the information. He seemed much more interested in finding out about our creative weekend and what part Izabelle played in it. When he heard she was a workshop leader, he wanted to know what we were going to do without her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to give me information, not ask for it.
“We have it covered,” I said, trying to get the upper hand of the conversation. “If you knew her, then you probably know about the book she has coming out featuring her new fusion craft.” I tried to read his face as he answered.
“She has a book coming out? I didn’t know,” he said, seeming surprised. “Like I said, I only knew her in passing.” Then he looked at his watch and muttered something about having to be somewhere, and wished me a good day before taking off down the path.
Okay, he was lying, but he seemed to be good at it, which meant I probably wasn’t going to be able to get any more information out of him.
I’d used up my casual conversation card. It was time for my secret weapon.
“You want me to do what?” Dinah said. I’d timed my arrival to coincide with the memoir writers’ break. Most of them had gone down to the gift shop to hit the coffee cart. I knew Dinah’s head was all into the workshop now, but I was hoping to get her help.
“I don’t think I can get any more information out of Spenser Futterman.” I had already relayed my conversation with him to her and mentioned I was sure he knew more than he was saying. “He told me how he knew Izabelle, so I can’t very well bring it up again. But you,” I said with a hopeful look, “could use your charm and find out everything.”
“You think I’m that charming?” Dinah said with a throaty laugh.
“Commander certainly seems to think so,” I said.
“So, what do I do, flirt with Futterman?” She slumped. “Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard for me to meet anyone. I’ve been spending too much time whipping freshmen into shape. I’ve lost my soft side.” She sighed. “I’m out of practice in that department. Plus, I don’t want to look pathetic. Or desperate.”
“That’s only if it’s real flirting. This would be phony flirting, and you’ll look just fine. It’s not like you really want him—just information.”
“Good point,” Dinah said, watching as her writers came back up the path. Her whole demeanor perked up. “Did I tell you wha
t a treat it is to work with people who are excited to be here? I don’t have to fight anybody about wearing a baseball hat inside or deal with any attitudes. My writers worship me,” she said with a happy smile. She headed back in the room with her group close behind. “Okay, people, let’s get back to mining those memories.”
The yarn workshops were up next. Not only did I want to check on them, I also wanted to remind the participants of Mrs. Shedd’s promise of blankets to a local shelter, and whatever they could do would be appreciated.
I stopped in at the knitting group first. Jeen and Jym were going around, helping members cast on. They were exacting in their movements. Only a few people seemed to be experienced knitters, and they were already working on something. I watched the casting-on process with interest and once again appreciated crochet. Making the row of chain stitches was really the same thing. Both casting on and the row of chains provided something to begin with, but the foundation chain in crochet was so much easier to do.
Jeen looked up, and when she saw me in the doorway, waved me in and met me at the front of the room.
“Everything going okay?” I asked, and she nodded. The center of the table had a neatly arranged selection of worsted-weight acrylic yarn and sets of needles. There were also samples of scarves with copies of patterns next to them.
“I was expecting people with a little more experience. Most of them have none. But we’ll get them going in no time.”
I reminded her about Mrs. Shedd’s promise of the blankets, and an expression of concern passed over her face. “I’m afraid there won’t be blankets. We’ll be lucky to get one. As soon as we show all the newbies how to cast on, we’ll teach knit and purl. I thought I’d have them make practice swatches, which hopefully we can put together into a blanket. The good part is the group is all for it.”
She invited me to stay and join them, but I passed. I started to leave, but she looked like there was something she wanted to say.
“Is there anything else?” I prodded.
“Well, yes. This is kind of awkward.” She appeared momentarily perturbed. “As I said to you before, I sincerely wish whoever was on the beach with Izabelle would just come forward and settle things.” She composed herself and began again. “When we talked to Sergeant French, we said we didn’t know Izabelle before this weekend. It just seemed like a way to end his questions.” She bent her head in a pleading gesture. “So, I’d appreciate it if you would leave it that way.”
At first I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then I remembered the way Jeen had greeted Izabelle and commented on her weight loss, and realized they obviously did know each other from before.
I said yes, without bothering to explain that even if I did say something, Sergeant French would probably file it under “annoying amateur sleuth.”
It wasn’t quite as peaceful in the crochet room. Adele stood in the front, showing off samples of things from Izabelle’s box. When I walked in, she was holding up a lap blanket made of soft gray squares with different stitches. They were joined with white yarn that also was used for a border.
Sheila was moving among the people, who were hunched over their work. Boy, did I recognize that posture. For something that was so relaxing, meditative and restoring, when you first started out, crochet was just the opposite.
If anyone knew how to deal with too-tight stitches, it was Sheila. As accomplished a crocheter as she’d become, she still slipped up sometimes and let her emotions rule her crocheting. All the Tarzana Hookers knew to automatically hand her a smaller size hook when she ended up with a row of tightly knotted stitches she couldn’t get her hook into and to remind her to take her time and make the stitches loose enough so she could go back to the bigger hook. She was so busy helping the others, she’d forgotten about her own tension. She pushed her hair behind her ear to keep it from blocking her view as she helped a man in a striped sweater. When I caught sight of her expression, she seemed animated and happy, but most of all, calm.
Adele tried to ignore my presence, but finally acknowledged it, and with a diva-ish sigh asked if I was just going to stand there or come in.
It was lucky for Adele that Sergeant French wasn’t watching her. She seemed to be enjoying being in charge all too much. She might as well have been wearing a banner that said I have a motive. But, I reminded myself, he just thought someone had been on the beach with Izabelle—he didn’t think the someone had killed her.
As soon as I brought up the blankets, Adele flashed a self-satisfied smile. “Pink, I’m way ahead of you. I already have them working on blocks.” She suggested I join them, and while I could certainly have used some crochet time, I thought it would compromise my authority to have Adele acting like she was in charge of me.
I went back outside and took a deep breath of the pine scented air. So far, so good. There was just Commander Blaine’s group to check. He had brought all kinds of equipment with him, and the room bristled with enthusiasm. He had set up several stations and was moving between them to check on his students. One group was doing origami with napkins, and another was making flowers out of radishes, cucumbers and carrots. I heard him talking about how everything they would be doing in the workshop sessions was leading up to what they would do for the final evening’s party.
His group members were all so occupied they didn’t even look up when I stuck my head in the door.
Commander Blaine didn’t seem quite as happy the next time I saw him.
CHAPTER 15
“WHAT’S SHE DOING WITH HIM?” COMMANDER Blaine said with a grunt of disgust. He wasn’t really talking to me, more to himself, as he followed me down the stairs of Lodge. His comment was directed at Dinah, who was sitting in one of the easy chairs by the fireplace, talking to Spenser Futterman. My take was a little different. Good for Dinah! She was already working on her mission, and from here it looked like she was doing a good job with the phony flirting. She was doing a lot of blinking, and her amethyst drop earrings did a jiggly dance as if she was oh-so-amused at whatever he was saying.
The workshops had broken up for the day and everyone was wandering around, still caught in the afterglow of the creative afternoon, and had changed into loose-fitting clothes. Next up was tai chi on the beach.
Commander Blaine caught up with me on the landing, and grumbled again about Dinah talking to Spenser. This time he seemed to be talking to me.
“Do you know him from Tarzana?” I asked innocently. I already knew Spenser was one of Commander’s customers. “I keep seeing him around, but he doesn’t seem to be with our group.”
“Yes, I know him,” Commander said, not taking his eyes off the couple below us. He was silent after that, and it appeared that was all he was going to say. But I wanted to know more. I had a feeling what I was about to say was going to start trouble, but it would get him to talk.
“I was just wondering about him, you know, kind of doing girlfriend duty to check up on Dinah’s guy.”
“Her guy?” Commander sputtered. “When did that happen?” He took my arm and led me back up the stairs to the empty hallway. “He’s not right for her. If you’re really her friend, you’ll tell her he’s all wrong for her.”
And then tell her you’re perfect for her, right? Actually, the more I’d seen of Commander, the more we were on the same page about that. If Dinah could get past a few details, I knew she’d appreciate his good traits.
“How, exactly, do you know him?”
“You know I have a mail center in Tarzana, right? He has a mailbox at my place, and he does his copying there. Even with the copying ability of everyone’s printer, when they need a lot done, they still come to me.” He seemed to want to dismiss Spenser and get back to talking about himself. “Maybe if you understand—” He seemed thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. “I really like your friend. She’s the first person who’s sparked any interest in me since . . .” His voice trailed off and he looked down. When he put his head back up, his eyes were watery. “My wife d
ied three years ago. We’d been married for a very long time, and I fell into kind of a black hole without her. When I finally started to get myself together again, I found I was terribly lonely. And you know how they say if you think about somebody else’s loneliness, it helps with your own? I got to know some of the people who have mailboxes at my place. Most of them work out of their houses and are pretty isolated. When you have a home office, there’s no socializing in the coffee room. Sometimes I thought I was the only person they talked to all day. So, I started to organize get-togethers, and since they were all strangers, I made sure there were activities that would get them talking. And it went from there.” He was facing me. “I want you to understand that I’m not some playboy type who’s after every woman. Dinah is special to me.”
I had to admit that what he said touched me, though when he got to the playboy part, I had a hard time not laughing. If there was any label I wouldn’t stick on him, that was it. I knew from my own experience of losing Charlie how hard it is to start over again. Commander certainly had come up with a unique and positive way of handling his own problem. And probably helped a lot of his customers, too.
“Did Spenser come to your parties?” I asked, not giving up on getting information.
“No, he was never interested—or very friendly, for that matter. When I first saw him up here, he just nodded a greeting, not even a friendly hello. I think he has some kind of accounting business, but there’s something else he does. I never got a look at what he was copying, but he seemed very excited about it.”
A Stitch in Crime Page 12