Dead Men Don't Crochet

by Betty Hechtman

  I was a little surprised by his profession. It was certainly not what I’d have chosen if I were guessing his occupation. Bob came over and offered her a sample of a new frozen drink he was trying out. She accepted, took a sip, then raved it was delicious and said he must be some kind of drink genius. Bob seemed to grow visibly taller with the compliments. I had to admire her style. She wasn’t particularly attractive, but she had a way with men. I’d never seen Bob so animated, and he only reluctantly returned to his station.

  Before I could get to my information gathering, she brought up the reason she’d come to the bookstore. “I just have to get a copy of that new book on Princess Di. What section would it be in?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer but went off on what a fan of the late princess she was. Suddenly, I got the hair. It was the style Diana had when she married Prince Charles. “I should have been there for her funeral,” she said, explaining she wanted to go to London then so she could pay her respects. “I just know we would have been friends if we’d met. I would have been simpatico with her.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was the correct way to use the word, but I got her meaning. Apparently, Pixie had finally gotten to London. She spent a long time describing her visit to Kensington Palace, where Princess Di had lived, and she raved over the display of her dresses. Pixie and Princess Di would have made an odd couple, with Diana’s tall boyish figure and Pixie’s shorter roundness. She moved on to the tribute at Harrods. The mention of the famous department store reminded me of Arnold and his shopping bag.

  “Did your husband sell some things at the Cottage Shoppe?” I blurted it out before I realized how out of context it was and that it might give her pause to rethink the stalking thing.

  “What?” she asked, looking at me oddly. I said her mention of the store had triggered my memory and I recalled seeing Arnold at the Cottage Shoppe with a Harrods shopping bag and wondered if perhaps he’d sold off some items.

  She blinked a few times. “You must be mistaken. Arnold’s never been in that store.”

  Okay, either she was totally lying or she didn’t know about something Arnold had going on. I was going to go with lying. Maybe it was because she answered too quickly and seemed too sure he’d never been in the store.

  She stood, ending our conversation, and asked where the book she wanted was. I walked her into the bookstore and pointed toward our new releases section before heading back to the event area.

  When I rejoined the crochet group, they were all working in silence. It was like the break in traffic on the freeway, only temporary. A moment later everyone started talking.

  I’d barely settled in when Adele appeared from her meeting—and she wasn’t alone.

  CHAPTER 18

  AFTER ALL THE TALK ABOUT CAITLIN’S CUPCAKES, I was anxious to try the place. Dinah finally pulled her head out of her papers when the crochet group ended, and I talked her into coming along.

  It was on Ventura just across a side street from the Cottage Shoppe and had taken over the spot that used to be a Persian restaurant. Just as Patricia had said, there was a display in the window of red, white and blue frosted cupcakes arranged to represent an American flag. “Vote for Victor Ditner” was written across them in gold frosting. The cupcakes were obviously a hot item. We had to practically get in line just to take a number. When it was finally our turn, Dinah picked a banana cupcake and I chose a carrot one.

  “Fruit and vegetable,” I joked as I gathered up the small plates and Dinah took the coffees. All the tables were taken, but we found a couple of empty stools at the bar that ran along the side window.

  “Give Adele a mile and she turns it into a road trip,” I said to Dinah. “Mrs. Shedd says she can help with one book signing and suddenly she thinks she’s running things.”

  Dinah appeared confused. “Did I miss something during the group?”

  “I think so. I think you might have missed a whole lot of stuff. What was with the paper grading?”

  Dinah sighed. “I forgot how much time two little kids take, three if you count their father.” She looked frustrated. “I was going to do the papers this morning, but there was just one disaster after the other. Jeremy keeps saying just another day or so and he’ll have everything straightened out and they’ll be on their way. I should never have taken them in, but he knows how to get to me. He reminded me that E. Conner and Ashley-Angela are my kids’ half siblings. I don’t know why, but somehow that makes me feel connected to them.” She shook her head as if trying to clear it. “So, tell me what I missed.”

  “Where to begin?” I said. “Did you notice that Adele showed up with someone?”

  Dinah shook her head, and I told her the someone was none other than Eduardo Linnares, the cover model from Romance Night. All crocheting had abruptly stopped with his arrival; Dinah had been the only one not to stare with her mouth open. He was almost too good-looking, like some kind of statue come to life. He’d lost the theatrical outfit and wore well-fitting designer jeans with a navy blue polo shirt, and had his flowing black hair tied in a loose ponytail. He carried a cup of coffee and had a smile so magnetic it practically gleamed. While he made conversation with CeeCee, and Patricia, Adele pulled me aside.

  I swallowed back a smile when I caught her outfit. This was Adele’s idea of business wear. She’d paired what looked like men’s dark gray trousers with a white shirt and a black crocheted vest. The white shirt was unbuttoned enough to give a hint of cleavage, and she’d finished off the outfit with a purple-and-yellow-striped men’s tie with the knot just below the first closed button. Her just past chin-length hair was usually a wavy light brown, but she’d given it a mahogany rinse and forced it into a severe straight style. Her eye makeup was so heavy she looked like a raccoon.

  “Pink, you have to go with me on this. I told him he could have his own evening at the bookstore. We’ll have a display of all the books with him on the cover. Then he can talk about being a cover model and read some of his poetry.” Adele avoided looking directly at me so she wouldn’t have to see my expression.

  I was speechless for a moment. “You should have talked to me first. Mrs. Shedd said you could help me with Milton Mindell’s thing because he’s a children’s author. Nowhere did she say you could start setting up events on your own.” I kept my voice low to keep it just between the two of us. “I told him he could read his poetry on Poetry Night.”

  “Poetry Night?” Adele said.

  “I just started it,” I answered. “I can do that. It’s my job to arrange programs and set up author events. And my job only—except if Mrs. Shedd wants to do something like invite the crochet group here.”

  Adele knew what she’d done was wrong, but that didn’t mean she would back down. The worst part was it wasn’t a bad idea. I had no doubt advertising an evening with Eduardo would bring in a lot of people and sell a lot of books. We could even arrange for customers who bought something to have their photos taken with him. I wasn’t quite clear what was in it for him, but from our standpoint, it would be a money maker.

  “What did you say to her?” Dinah asked, taking a morsel of her banana cupcake with just the right amount of vanilla buttercream icing.

  “The only thing I could, really. I said this one time I would go ahead with her idea, but I was still in charge of the event, which meant I make all of the arrangements.”

  “How’d she take it?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fifty-fifty. She was relieved I went along with it but not happy that she didn’t get to run the show. Then she wanted some kind of credit for getting a new member in the crochet group.”

  “Who?” Dinah asked between bites.

  “You really didn’t notice who joined?”

  Dinah shook her head.

  “Eduardo,” I said, watching her do a double take and then giggle. “That was my first impression, too. I thought he was joking, but he was completely serious. It turns out he already knows how to crochet. Go figure.”

  He had charmed CeeCe
e and listened attentively as she explained our shawl project. He thought it was a great idea and took a copy of the pattern and started working on one. Within a few minutes Patricia was pitching him on joining the Benjamin Bradford bandwagon and coming to her book signing.

  “You sure can’t judge a book by its cover,” Dinah said and I laughed. She thought I was laughing because she’d used a cliche.

  “It’s true,” I said. “He is definitely more than just an extremely handsome face and well-built body.” I needed a sip of coffee to cut the sweetness of my minicake. “If you missed all that, you must have missed Pixie, too.”

  “Pixie? Who’s Pixie?”

  “Pixie Bullard, the bald man’s wife,” I said. “She was the short woman with the Princess Di hair who I was talking to in the café.”

  Dinah shrugged with a blank expression.

  I gave her a brief rundown on Pixie’s calling Bob a drink genius and her obsession with Princess Di. “She came to the crochet table to show me she’d found the book she wanted. She was practically standing next to you. I certainly envy your power of concentration.”

  “I don’t,” Dinah said with a perturbed expression. “So, what happened then?”

  “Once she saw CeeCee, she forgot about me.”

  “Ms. Collins, it’s such an honor to meet you,” Pixie had said in a hushed tone. “I’ve been a fan since you did The CeeCee Collins Show. And now you’re on top again. I absolutely adore your reality show Making Amends.”

  CeeCee sat a little taller in her seat and her eyes sparkled as Pixie continued. “I’ve watched every episode. The show when the truck driver came by his aunt’s house and admitted that he was the one who’d broken all her heirloom china when he was a kid and then blamed it on the cat was really powerful.”

  She started to mention another episode, but then she saw Eduardo and her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

  “Is this a dream or what? You’re Captain Blackhart,” she said in a breathless voice. Being a gentleman, Eduardo stood and took her hand as he asked her name. With her free hand, she reached up and touched his chin. “The book cover didn’t do you justice.” She let out a raspy giggle. “It’s lucky my husband isn’t here. He was jealous when he saw me admiring the book cover. He’d be nuts if he saw me actually talking to you. I don’t know why he gets so jealous.”

  When she heard Eduardo was going to have his own evening at the bookstore, she flashed a seductive smile and said she’d be sure to be there. Adele had glowered through the whole encounter.

  When I got to the end of the story, Dinah had an amused smile. “And she wonders why her husband gets so jealous. It sounds like she was flirting with the book cover. I can’t believe I missed all that to grade some atrociously written freshman compositions. They’re starting to write papers in instant-message language. Things like cme2nite and ur mybff lol. So, that’s everything?”

  I smiled at my friend. “I saved the best for last. You won’t believe what Pixie said when I asked her about Arnold being at the Cottage Shoppe.”

  Dinah leaned closer, and I repeated how she’d said he’d never been in the store. “I’m sure she was lying. She answered too quickly and with too much certainty,” I said. “I think she was trying to cover for him.”

  “If she’s covering for him, it must mean . . .” Dinah’s voice trailed off.

  “Right. It could mean she knows he killed Drew. But we have no proof or even a motive. Detective Heather doesn’t even believe he exists,” I said.

  “We need to question her some more. Maybe we can do something out of your Average Joe’s Guide. Wasn’t there something about playing good cop, bad cop?” Dinah asked. Two women sat down on the stools next to us. Dinah moved her stool closer to mine.

  Some activity outside the window caught my attention. “Whoa, what’s going on there?” A truck had pulled into the parking lot behind the Cottage Shoppe and was in the process of lowering a temporary storage container. A man came out of the back door, and as soon as the container was off the truck, he opened the door on it. When I glanced at the store building, I noticed a new banner had been placed on a window announcing the store was open during remodeling. And the Cottage Shoppe sign had a temporary addition underneath it that read “And Kevin’s Kitchen.”

  “Kevin’s Kitchen is catchy,” Dinah said, following my gaze.

  A man in work clothes came out of the back door carrying big pieces of what looked like plaster and threw it in a Dumpster.

  “I don’t think the name being catchy is the point. It’s all the changes so soon after Drew’s death.” I thought back to when Charlie died. I had been stunned, out of focus and too numb to do anything beyond the basics. There is no way I could have been buzzing around the way Kevin was. “It gives you pause to think.”

  The door opened on the cupcake shop and CeeCee came in. I could tell by her fluttering eyelids and smile that she was savoring the sweet smell of the place. She stopped in front of the display case and gazed at the rows and rows of cupcakes.

  Before she had a chance to choose, Caitlin apparently recognized her. She pointed excitedly at a series of celebrity photos on the wall, and I gathered the shop owner wanted one of CeeCee.

  It seemed like every restaurant, dry cleaners, office supply store and dog groomer had photos of their celebrity customers on the wall. Most were eight-by-ten publicity shots, but the most coveted were the personal ones—the ones taken with the owner. I nudged Dinah, and we watched CeeCee go into action as Caitlin’s assistant came out with a digital camera. CeeCee put her arms around Caitlin as though they were best friends. CeeCee was a pro and posed to show off her best side. When they finished, Caitlin offered CeeCee a complimentary cupcake. Before the peanut butter delight was even on the plate, the assistant had returned with a print of the photo.

  It still amazed me. “Remember the old days when you had to take film in?” I said.

  Dinah nodded in agreement. “And the things you can do on a computer, like take the red eyes out or make a color photo look like an old-fashioned one. You can erase wrinkles, gray hair, even the ten pounds the camera puts on.”

  CeeCee looked over the picture and shook her head; I think she was hoping for some of that erasing. But in the end Caitlin slipped it into a frame and hung it on the wall. When CeeCee saw us, she brought her cupcake over and sat down.

  “Next time I just bring in my own publicity shot,” CeeCee said, looking dismayed. “I know how to present my best side, but when the photographer isn’t a professional . . .” She gave us a knowing nod. She glanced down at her cupcake, which had a happy face made out of peanuts on the maple buttercream frosting. “I’m going with your portion idea,” she said to Dinah before cutting off a piece and spearing it with her fork. Then she smiled at the taste of the cupcake and pronounced it delicious.

  “If you think that’s good, you’d love Molly’s special cupcakes,” Dinah said.

  “Dear, you make cupcakes? If they’re anything like your other bake goods, they must be fabulous.”

  I smiled modestly, even though I had to admit the cupcakes Dinah was talking about were great. CeeCee ate another piece of cake, wiped her mouth demurely and went back to talking about my baking.

  “I just remembered. Weren’t you going to come over so I could show you how to do thread crochet? And didn’t you mention something about bringing over some goodies? Maybe it could be those cupcakes.” She had a twinkle in her eye. “Why don’t we make it tomorrow?”

  Dinah nudged me and held up a paper napkin. It took me a moment to figure out she was trying to remind me of the hanky. Dinah pointed her head toward CeeCee and nodded. Of course, CeeCee with all her crochet knowledge might be able to help me figure out where the hanky came from.

  We agreed on a time and then went our separate ways. Dinah had errands and a class. CeeCee had a production meeting about the upcoming season of her show. And I had to get back to the bookstore. But before I did I decided to make a side trip to the Cottage Shop
pe.

  The bell tinkled over the door as always, but inside everything was in flux. Kevin was dreaming if he thought it was going to be business as usual. Dorothy looked around at the confusion and appeared overwhelmed.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, approaching her.

  “A mess if you ask me, but Mr. Kevin won’t listen to anyone.” She gestured around the place. “I mean, would you want to browse around here now?”

  I could see her point. Having everything pushed together took away the charm. Plus there were loud and annoying workmen sounds coming from the kitchen area.

  I followed her through the living room into the alcove that had held the children’s things. There was a box sitting on the floor with odds and ends sticking out. I pulled out something round with nobs on it.

  “Those are some new things someone brought in yesterday.” She sighed. “At least they priced the things themselves, though I don’t know where we’re going to put them.”

  I asked her what I was holding, and she smiled. “It’s called a yarn swift.”

  The name didn’t help, and then she explained that when you had a hank of yarn that needed to be rolled into a ball, you hung it around the swift and wound the ball. “It kind of takes the place of a friend’s hands,” she said, holding hers out to demonstrate how the friend version worked. I looked farther into the box and noted quite a bit of yarn and some other supplies and asked her who had brought the things in.

  “Sorry, but I’m not allowed to tell. With our handicraft items it’s usually not a problem, but the people that bring in antiques or things from their houses, well, they don’t necessarily want their neighbors to know they’re selling things.”