By Hook or by Crook cm-3

by Betty Hechtman

  Dinah was right behind me as we shadowed them from the other side of the row of bookcases. We kept catching glimpses of them whenever we passed an aisle. They were drinking. Finally, they appeared to drain the contents and be looking around for someplace to discard the cups.

  Before I could get Rayaad to swing by and pick them up, Iris found a trash can. Oh no. There went my plan. I’d never be able to pick out their cups from all the other trash. Iris pushed on the small metal door, but it didn’t move.

  Hallelujah, somebody had forgotten to empty the can. With a shrug, Iris set her cup on top and then Ali did the same. I forced myself to count to ten before I made my move to get the cups.

  But ten wasn’t enough. Iris turned back just as I snatched them.

  “Sorry,” she said in a pleasant voice, and then she realized who I was. “Give them to me and I’ll throw them somewhere else,” she said, walking back to me. Her face had settled into concern.

  “I have it covered,” I said, putting my hands behind my back and hoping there was enough saliva on them to do a DNA test. I even knew where to send them thanks to the dog DNA author’s event we’d held.

  “But I insist,” she said. All pretense of pleasantness had drained from her voice. Our eyes locked and I knew she knew there was more than garbage at stake.

  “Give them to me or I’ll make a scene. I’ll say you stole them from me.” She sounded shrill and panicky.

  “I’ll call the cops for you,” I said. “When you throw something away, it’s no longer yours. And I have a witness.” At that, Dinah stepped out from behind the bookcase and waved.

  “I need to talk to you,” Iris said, finally relenting. Ali had been watching the whole interchange and regarded her mother with concern. Iris told her it was okay and then urged her to go on to another department and said she’d catch up with her in a few minutes.

  I took Iris to the bookstore office so we’d have some privacy. “Mary Beth is her mother, isn’t she?”

  Iris sat down and put her face in her hands. I borrowed one of Barry’s interrogation lines. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Iris looked up; the color had drained from her face. “You have to promise you won’t tell Ali.”

  I nodded in agreement. It took her a few moments to collect herself, but then she took a couple of deep breaths and started to talk. “It was not supposed to turn out this way. . . . I was Mary Beth’s assistant. I did whatever she needed whether it was handling an RSVP for a party or going with her to Catalina. If I had known—” She glanced out toward the bookstore. Ali was standing by the magazines. “No matter what, I love that girl as if she were mine. And as far as I’m concerned, she is my daughter.”

  The story went that Mary Beth hadn’t told Iris she was pregnant until she was in her seventh month. “She was one of those women who barely show. She wore loose clothes, and not even her husband figured it out. She never gave me details, but I think she planned to leave Lance and go off with the baby’s father, and then something happened with him. She got panicky. Her husband couldn’t have kids, so there was no way she could pass the baby off as his. She came up with this plan. We’d spend her last month on Catalina and she’d have the baby there, only she would tell the doctor that she was me.”

  Iris examined her hands. “You have to understand, I was broke. Just out of college with student loans and I wanted to start a business.” Her breath caught. “I’m so embarrassed I did it for the money.

  “It wasn’t that hard to pull off. Mary Beth had dark hair in those days, and we both wore ours long and loose. We both wore baggy clothes and were always together. The local doctor delivered the baby. He didn’t know either of us, so he didn’t question it when Mary Beth gave him my name.” Iris had to stop for a moment, then went on.

  “She had already gotten Lance to agree to adopting. I was going to take Ali home with me, and then we’d arrange a private adoption. But Lance flew into some kind of rage and said he’d changed his mind. At first Mary Beth thought she’d get him to change his mind back, but he completely refused. She stayed involved with us, but then we had this big blowup. She wanted to run things, but by then I’d fallen in love with the baby. For better or worse she was mine.” Iris had been staring at some spot on the floor as she talked. Finally she looked at me directly; her face was wet with tears.

  “There was no reason ever to tell Ali. My name is on her birth certificate. And then out of nowhere Mary Beth contacted me. She told me it had been bothering her all these years and now that her husband was dead, she wanted to come clean and claim her daughter.”

  “And you killed her to keep it quiet,” I said. Iris’s expression went from distraught to angry.

  “Killed her? Don’t be ridiculous.” Iris got up to leave. She turned back at the door. “If you want to know who killed her, why don’t you look for Ali’s father? Mary Beth said she wanted Ali to know who both of her parents were.” She glared at me. “And no, I don’t know who he is.”

  “I HAVE TO GO BACK TO CATALINA,” I SAID TO Dinah when I found her in the bookstore. My comment didn’t sit well with her even when I repeated Iris’s story.

  “Molly, you can’t go back there. You’ll get arrested. That deputy will nab you as soon as you set one foot off the boat.”

  “I have to see what’s hidden in the fireplace. I bet it points to Ali’s father,” I said.

  “Who probably killed Mary Beth,” Dinah said softly. “And once someone has killed someone it’s not that hard to kill someone else, if you get my meaning.”

  I didn’t say anything and Dinah nudged me impatiently. “Did you hear what I said? You go back there and you’ll be in double jeopardy—from the deputy and from Ali’s father.”

  “Will you come with?” I asked.

  Dinah said yes, then changed her answer when I told her I planned to go the next day. She had an in-class essay and had to be there. Then Dinah surprised me by suggesting I talk to Detective Heather.

  “Is your scarf pulled too tight?” I said, looking at the pale pink and burnt orange combo of scarves she had wound around her neck. “I want you to stop for a minute and consider the details. She already laughed off the crochet piece. If I start telling her about people switching identities and secret fathers—”

  “I see your point. It might sound a little like a soap opera plot,” Dinah conceded.

  “My plan is simple. I’ll wear a hat, dark glasses and a hoodie over some jeans. I’ll blend right in with everybody else. The deputy won’t recognize me, and there’s no way for whoever Ali’s father is to know what I’m doing. I’m not going to tell anybody else about the trip.”

  “But Molly, if you get caught breaking and entering, you won’t get off with a warning,” Dinah cautioned.

  “No breaking and entering. There might be a key.” Dinah gave me a quizzical look and I explained. “Before Iris left the bookstore I asked her if she knew anything about a secret compartment in the fireplace. She said the only hiding place she knew about was the flower pot on the front porch where a key was buried.”

  “But that was a long time ago,” Dinah said.

  “I’ve been keeping my spare key in the same place since we moved into our house,” I said. “I’m betting it’s still there.”

  Bob interrupted and asked if I wanted him to make up more iced tea samples. I told him my need for them was done. As he prepared to go back to the café, he asked me if I’d heard any more about who was to be the subject for Making Amends. It took me a moment to remember what he was talking about.

  PANDEMONIUM WAS WAITING WHEN I ARRIVED home. The She La Las and their spouses had gathered for a pep evening before the audition. All three women were drinking hot water, lemon juice and honey spiked with vodka. My father was trying to calm the women down by telling them they were a sure thing. The other two husbands looked exhausted by the ordeal.

  My mother saw me trying to slip down the hall and rushed over. “Wish me luck, honey, wish me luck,” she sq
uealed as she held me tight. “Tomorrow’s the big day.”

  I smiled and agreed it was a big day. For all of us.

  THE DOGS FOLLOWED ME INTO SAMUEL’S ROOM and I shut the door. I was looking through his old hooded sweatshirts when the phone rang.

  “Hi, sunshine,” Mason said, sounding fresh and upbeat. As soon as he heard the tension in my voice, he offered to come rescue me from Camp She La La. I was too focused on getting ready for my Catalina trip and without giving details, passed.

  “How about tomorrow night?” Mason offered.

  I gave him a pass on that, too. I didn’t want him to take it personally and I also didn’t want to explain about my trip, so I suggested Saturday. He made some comment about checking his calendar.

  “It’s my grandson’s birthday. Ever since my son moved back in the area, birthdays have become an all-day affair. The whole family shows, and there’s a magician for the kids and a pitcher of sangria for the adults.”

  “I could do that,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a kid’s party. It would be fun.”

  There was such a long pause on his end, I thought we’d been cut off. “Mason, are you still there?” I said finally.

  “Molly, about Saturday,” he said with an ominous catch in his voice. “I never take my girlfriends to family things.”

  Now the silence was on my end. I didn’t know what I was more upset about. The s on the end of girlfriend or being put off.

  “Girlfriends,” I said finally with a huge emphasis on the s.

  I heard Mason groan. “It was an unfortunate use of the plural. I meant I never take my current girlfriend to family events. There, is that better?”

  “No.” The word slipped out before I really thought it out. All he was doing was offering me exactly what I’d said I wanted. Something casual with no strings, no commitments and no future. He didn’t bring any of his girlfriends to family things because they were just temporary players. I didn’t like being relegated to a list, and I didn’t like knowing the ending when we’d barely begun. “I’m sorry, Mason, that doesn’t work for me. I’m an all-access sort of person, like you’ve had with my family.”

  “It’s different with your family. I knew your son first.” Mason made regretful noises. “Molly, lets just erase everything I said and start over.”

  “Can’t. I have to go,” I said quickly and hung up. Good work, Molly, from too many men to none. I wondered if Mason would still bail me out if things went badly on my trip.

  CHAPTER 29

  I STOPPED AT LE GRANDE FROMAGE IN THE morning for a red eye before driving to Long Beach to catch the boat. There was too much hysteria at my house to even attempt to make a pot of coffee. I wished my mother good luck and left as she was yelling “Irv, I can’t find my shoes.” Nobody asked where I was going, and I didn’t volunteer the information.

  Everyone in Tarzana seemed to have stopped there for coffee, and I joined the crowd at the counter. Adele found me in line. “Pink, why are you taking the day off?” Adele had a naturally loud voice, and several people turned to see what the noise was about. I tried to give Adele a vague answer, but she saw the printout of my Catalina reservation sticking out of my tote bag. She stared at my outfit—the baggy hooded sweatshirt over jeans, my hair hidden under a baseball cap.

  “I get it, you’re going to Catalina incognito. But Pink, consider this: I knew it was you right away. It’s the mystery thing with that crochet piece again, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Could you keep your voice down,” I said in a loud whisper. I glanced over the line behind me and saw several familiar faces. Hal was back there and just behind him, Camille. I wondered if they had heard. Then I noticed Matt was at his usual table poring over something as he ate his breakfast.

  “I thought you gave that up,” she said, sticking to me like glue.

  I merely smiled at her and said nothing, but it didn’t help. “Pink, you have to let me come with you. You need someone to watch your back. Please.” At that she hugged me and hung on to me. “You and Dinah have all the adventures. Let me be your sidekick this time.”

  I hated to admit that she had a point. Even with Mason’s number already punched in my phone ready for the send button, it would be better not to go alone. But Adele? She seemed to have forgotten that not too long ago she’d been telling me what a mess I’d made of everything. Now she was acting as though we were almost best friends or at the very least, crochet sisters. Hoping I wouldn’t regret it, I said she could come.

  Never the subtle one, Adele started jumping up and down and saying I was going to be glad she came with me.

  There were no dolphins on the trip over this time and not much sun. Just a white sky and me trying to will the boat to go faster and Adele trying to grill me about what I was going to do on the island. I told her it was better for her if she didn’t know.

  I pulled the hat down as we got off the boat. I glanced ahead to the business area and was relieved not to see Deputy Daniels. When we got to the green pier, Adele and I separated. She went to play miniature golf, and I followed the curved road along the shore. We’d agreed that we would meet back at the boat dock and take the next boat back. And if I didn’t show up, she should call Dinah.

  My heart rate kicked up as I passed the Casino Building and went around the bend.

  The cats looked up as I approached the house, but other than that it was deserted. The trees shaded the area into gloominess. When I reached the house, I tripped up the stairs with nervous clumsiness. There were two pots of impatiens on the top step. I made a move toward the pot on the left. Hoping Mary Beth had been as much of a creature of habit as I had been, I stuck my hand in the dirt. I dug around, but after a few moments felt nothing but roots. I shook the grit off my hand and my heart rate kicked up as I moved to the pot on the right.

  If I didn’t find a key in there I was in big trouble. I rummaged through the dirt feeling more and more frantic. Something crawled up my arm and I started to jerk away. But just then my finger brushed something metal. I grabbed onto it and pulled my hand away from the pot, while frantically brushing the insect off my inner arm. When I opened my hand I saw the key. It was old and crusted with gunk and I wondered if it would still work.

  I checked the area again and saw no one. Even so, I stayed low as I tried to put the key in the lock. After some maneuvering, the key slid in and then I had to jiggle it back and forth before it turned and I heard the bolt move.

  I opened the door and went inside quickly.

  The faster I was out of there, the better. There was always the chance the deputy would come by and see movement in the house or that the caretaker would come by to feed the cats. I walked across the living room directly to the fireplace. As I stood in front of it, examining the tiles and the mantelpiece, I realized I had a problem. While I might be confident a secret compartment existed, I had no idea where or how to find it. Wasn’t that the thing about a secret compartment? They were secret, invisible.

  The tension was making me light-headed, and I had to remind myself to take some deep breaths. Even so, my heart was pounding as though it would beat itself right out of my chest.

  I ran my hands over the front of the fireplace and then along the mantel between the two metal candleholders. Nothing. I lifted each photo along the top and felt the space underneath for some kind of button or lever. Still nothing.

  The tension was turning into panic. In desperation, I pulled Mary Beth’s filet piece out of my tote bag and looked at the fireplace motif for a clue. Was that a mark on the right side of the mantel or just an extra double crochet in a space? Maybe here was something under the candle-holder. I grabbed it to pick it up, but it didn’t move. Then I pushed and it slid, and as it did, I heard just the slightest click. When I looked at the front, one of the tiles was sticking out a fraction ahead of the others. When I pushed on it, it popped out and slid to the side revealing a box-shaped hiding place. My hand was shaking when I reached in. There were several
old Polaroid photos. I looked them over and glanced at the crochet piece in my hand. And suddenly I got it. How could I have missed it? The answer was right in front of me all the time.

  The several panels of cats didn’t refer to the four-legged variety hanging around the house. I’d needed to change the spelling to Katz. And the figure I had taken to indicate Sagittarius wasn’t really meant to mean an archer. The figure was a hunter. The first photo showed Mary Beth holding a baby and gazing down at it. But in the second, the baby was held by Hunter. He was looking away, as though he wanted to drop the bundle and run.

  I put the crochet piece and the photos in my bag, closed up the panel, reburied the key and left quickly while the truth rolled around in my head. And the question of what to do with it.

  I retraced my steps. My plan was to go back to the boat dock and wait there for Adele. The less wandering through town, the lower the chance of being noticed. As I got back into the main shopping area and was passing the green pier, I glanced out at the boats. I did a double take when I saw the name across the back of the one in the closest slip. Camille in gold block lettering. Coincidence or had Hunter followed me? I saw Hunter tying his dinghy to the dock just below the green pier. I ducked behind a palm tree and watched as he climbed the steps to the pier and walked down it toward the beach. I moved around the tree as he passed. He was so close I could see he hadn’t shaved. He stopped when he got to the walkway in front of the business area and looked in both directions. Then he went toward the Casino Building.

  A plan formed in my mind as I glanced out toward the boat. I still had the cups from the encounter with Iris and Ali. If I could get something with Hunter’s saliva, I could prove he was Ali’s father. Surely there was something on the boat—a discarded paper cup or even a straw. I could be on the boat and off in a flash.