If Hooks Could Kill

by Betty Hechtman

  “We just went over there to see if we could count on her donations,” I said.

  “And?” Detective Heather said.

  “She gave us some pieces and we left,” I said hoping it would be the end of it. But Detective Heather jumped right into asking about Kelly’s husband Dan. Did I know if he was having money troubles with his store? Did they get along? Did he have an insurance policy on her? Poor guy, I wondered if he knew that Detective Heather was doing her best to close in on him.

  After telling her that I didn’t know anything about his finances, other than I wondered if there really was a market for Suckers jam, even if it was only a dollar a jar, I looked her in the eye. “Have you considered he might not be the guy?” I brought up the robbery scenario and Detective Heather glared in response.

  “You’re not going to do the amateur sleuth thing again, are you?” She said. When I didn’t answer, she looked even more annoyed. “Let’s see what I can arrest you for. Interfering with a police investigation, tampering with evidence, getting in my way,” she said in a terse voice.

  “I have helped you in the past. You’ve even thanked me,” I said, but she stopped me.

  “I was just humoring you. Barry said you were going through a tough time since you were getting close to being a half-century old.”

  I rolled my eyes. She was only in her late thirties and she knew how to rub it in.

  I was relieved when she left and I went back to join the Hookers. Everyone wanted to know what Detective Heather had said and we all started discussing Kelly’s business or what we knew of it.

  “I think they were struggling,” Elise said. “Her husband is still just starting out with that dollar store.”

  From across the bookstore, kids began filing out of the children’s area and rejoining whoever had brought them. Adele came out at the end and headed across the store toward us.

  “I think Adele has outdone herself. Look what she’s wearing,” Rhoda said as we watched Adele approach. As usual, Adele had dressed for story time. Whatever she’d read must have been about plants because she was all in bright green, from the tights to the long tunic with crocheted leaves sewn on the long sleeves. When she got to the table, I saw that she had something on her head.

  “What’s that?” Rhoda barked, pointing at the tiny green top hat sitting toward the front of her head on an angle.

  Adele set down her tote bag and touched the mini hat. “It’s called a fascinator. Of course, I made it,” she said.

  “For you or Kermit the Frog?” Rhoda said punctuating her comment with a laugh.

  “I’ll have you know they’re all the rage now,” Adele said indignantly. “You people have no imagination, no umph in the style department. I made several and Eric thinks they’re adorable,” she said, her voice brimming with pride.

  Sheila had been watching it all while continuing to crochet. She swallowed a few times before she spoke up. “We got a couple of fascinators in the other day. They are one of a kind and fit in perfectly with the kind of things Luxe sells,” she said. Though the ones in the lifestyle store were a little more elaborate than Adele’s. Sheila said something about one looking like a red rose with a bit of red veil and that the other had a bunch of feathers on it. Adele appeared stricken that something might be more showy than her tiny top hat.

  Now that the group seemed to be coming to order, Sheila set down the rectangular shawl she was making in her signature colors of greens, blues and lavenders. The large hook she was using gave it a lacy appearance. She rolled up the completed portion of the shawl around the yarn and put it in the large tote on the chair next to her. “We’re working on things for Jungle Days, right?” she said looking through the contents of her bag.

  “Yes, and we better get our hooks moving,” CeeCee said. “The street fair is in a couple of weeks and last time I looked in the collection box, I had a pretty clear view of the bottom. Ladies, this is the Tarzana street fair and we are the Tarzana Hookers. We don’t want to look bad to our fellow Tarzanians.” CeeCee hadn’t been hanging around the table as much as the rest of the group. Between the taping of Making Amends, and meetings she was having about a sequel to Caught by a Kiss, and thanks to the hum of Oscar buzz, she’d been pretty busy lately.

  “What do you think of this look?” CeeCee said turning around so we could all see what her stylist had come up with now. The linen pants and long shirt were pale shades of peach. Rhoda shook her head. “It’s better than the mint outfit you had on the other day, but it still looks kind of blah. I wish I could say the same for the makeup.”

  “What do you mean, dear?” CeeCee said, pulling out a small mirror. When she caught sight of herself, she looked a little stunned. “My, it is a little heavy isn’t it.” A little heavy was an understatement. What the outfit lacked in color had been more than made up by the makeup. The foundation made her face look too flawless, which didn’t go with the color or condition of her neck. The eyeliner was too thick and the eye shadow too much for daytime. The red lipstick was the final blow. CeeCee pulled out a tissue and wiped off the lipstick. Then she thanked the group. “What would I do without this group to keep me real. Now to get back on topic, I suppose we could ask Kelly’s husband for the things she made.” She glanced over the rest of us. “Or would that be bad form under the circumstances?”

  I looked at Dinah and we both turned toward Adele expecting her to jump into the middle of the conversation and insist she had it under control and already had Kelly’s things. But Adele avoided our gazes and was strangely silent until Rhoda stepped in.

  “Adele, you were making such a fuss about her being a crochet pretender. Didn’t you go over to her house to see if she had really made anything?” All eyes turned to Adele. She set down the ring of apricot yarn she was working on, took out a stack of completed cotton cowls in a rainbow of colors, and pushed them across the table toward CeeCee.

  “Don’t worry about Kelly’s pieces,” Adele said. “I have more of these at home.” Adele’s response reminded me of a politician who ignored a question they didn’t want to answer and simply spoke about something else.

  Rhoda picked one up and tried it on. The ring of lacy stitches hung loosely around her neck. “It’s August, Adele. Nobody is going to want to buy these. Who wants to put something around their neck in all this heat?” Rhoda pulled it off and added it back to the pile. Adele seemed unmoved and kept stitching.

  “You should have asked me if you thought Kelly was a crochet pretender,” Sheila said. She seemed a little surprised at her own voice. Sheila always got tense when she said something to the group. Her remedy was to pick up her hook and start to crochet. It didn’t matter what it was or if she’d have to rip it later, the rhythmic movement helped her get over her tense moment. “I could have cleared that up right away.” Sheila’s finger kept moving as she spoke. “She saw that we were selling some of the things I make at Luxe and wanted to know if we’d be interested in selling some of her crocheted items.” Luxe was just down the street from the bookstore and was considered a lifestyle store, which meant everything they sold was stylish.

  “Kelly brought a piece in to give me an idea of what she made,” Sheila continued. “You should have seen it.” Sheila looked up at the group. “She’d crocheted a long tunic with hand-dyed yarn. It was a one-of-a-kind item. I told her I’d tell my boss about it. I think she was selling things some other way, too.”

  “It sounds like she was looking for ways to bring in money.” Dinah said. “With the dollar store just starting out, I suppose she was trying to help out. That’s probably why she rented out her yard to the production and signed her house up to be used in the future.”

  Sheila’s eyes darted around the group and she cleared her throat. She seemed to hesitate, but finally she spoke up. “When she came in the store, she bought a silver ruler.”

  “That doesn’t sound like somebody who is trying to bring in money to help her family,” Rhoda said.

  Eduardo had come in a
s Sheila was talking. He was a stark contrast to the rest of us, towering over us with his long raven hair pulled into a ponytail. He handed CeeCee several bracelets he’d made using thread. He’d used a granny square motif on all of them, but done them in different ways. One had the traditional several colors bordered by black, another was done in a cream-colored thread with an embellishment of pearls, and he’d made one all in black with some crystals that reflected the light. It was hard to imagine his large hands working with fine thread and a slender steel hook, but he was a master at it. His Irish grandmother had taught him well.

  “Are you talking about Kelly Donahue?” he asked as he pulled out a chair. His handsome face appeared somber at the mention of her name. “It’s hard to believe she was in my store just a few days ago.” His gaze moved over the group. “She wasn’t a fan of the merchandise her husband was selling. She told me he kept bringing all this off-brand stuff home and it was awful. She was into quality and bought bars of Penhalgion’s Bluebell soap from my store. That’s the fragrance Princess Diana favored.”

  Eduardo had all but given up his career as a cover model and sometime commercial spokesperson now that he’d bought the Crown Apothecary. It helped business that he spent time in the store and that everyone knew he owned it. People seemed to love to frequent stores and restaurants that had a celebrity connection.

  He took some orbs of thread out of his bag along with a steel hook and laid them on the table. “I thought you all might want to try making the bracelets,” he said before pulling out a stack of sheets that had the pattern and handing them out.

  “I’ve been helping with the investigation,” Adele said, taking out a little notepad. “Let me see now. You said Kelly told you she didn’t like the stuff her husband sold. And she had expensive taste.” Adele leaned closer to the group. “I’m going to pass these clues on through Eric. We already think it was her husband who did it. But what you just told me is the final corner in what we detectives call the golden triangle. One corner is for means. Dan had that. Eric said Dan owned a gun. The other corner is for opportunity. I bet Dan only claimed he discovered her body. He could easily have come by earlier, killed her and then acted all crazy and gone running to tell my boyfriend Eric.” Adele let out a satisfied sigh. “And you just gave me the motive that fits into that last corner. Dan the dollar king probably didn’t like it that she dissed his business.” Adele’s eyes grew brighter. “And that she was spending all their money on expensive soap and fancy yarn.” She closed her little notebook. “With this information, they’ll arrest Dan for sure.”

  “Golden triangle?” I said to Adele. “What detective exactly, used that term?”

  Adele sputtered and threw me an angry glance. “Maybe it’s my term, but I’m sure Eric will think it’s brilliant and pass it on, along with the information.”

  “And what’s this about Dan’s gun?”

  Adele sputtered again. “I know what you’re doing, Pink. This is my case. And I just solved it. Who’s the super sleuth now?”

  CHAPTER 11

  “I don’t get it. If they found Dan’s gun, why haven’t they already arrested him?” I said.

  “Because they were waiting for Adele’s information to fill in the third corner of the golden triangle,” Dinah said with a grin. We both shook our heads. Dinah and I had met up at the end of my workday. We’d decided to have a girls’ night out, or in, really. The plan was we’d go to my house, order a pizza, watch some old classic movie and crochet.

  “I wonder if Eric realizes what he’s done by letting her in on his work,” Dinah said. We’d gotten into the greenmobile and started on the short distance to my place.

  “If he doesn’t, he’ll know soon when she starts wanting to do ride-alongs on his motorcycle.,” I said as I pulled the car into my driveway. “And when she starts wanting to co-sign the traffic tickets.” We both laughed as we got out and went across the backyard. As soon as I opened the back door, Cosmo ran outside followed by Blondie. Music was blaring from Samuel’s room even with the door shut. I checked the cats’ bowls next and when I saw they were empty, poured in some dry food.

  Jeffrey came into the kitchen and greeted us before picking through the white paper bags of takeout food on the counter. I could tell by the smell it was burgers and fries.

  “I don’t think my dad has ever heard of salad,” he said, his mouth twisted in disappointment.

  I told him to check the vegetable drawer and help himself. I noticed voices coming from the living room and I asked Jeffrey who was there.

  “I don’t know. Some friend of my dad’s,” Jeffrey said before going to the refrigerator. Jeffrey took out some romaine lettuce, a cucumber, tomatoes and some green onions. He was rummaging for a cutting board and asked if he could borrow some olive oil.

  “Maybe we should rethink the location of our girls’ night,” Dinah said. “My place might be a little more peaceful.”

  I nodded in agreement. “But let me check my yarn stash first. I’m sure I have a bunch of balls of the thread in different colors.” We had both wanted to try Eduardo’s pattern and make one of the bracelets using crochet thread. Dinah followed me into the living room. As we walked through it, the voices dropped to a whisper. I looked toward the couch and saw that Barry was talking to one of his cop friends. They looked in our direction and nodded in greeting before continuing their conversation.

  “Maybe you can ask Barry why they haven’t arrested Dan,” Dinah said as we reached my side of the house. Once we entered the hall, it was blissfully quiet.

  “I’ll try later.” I went over to the basket of yarn and started to rummage through it as Dinah looked around.

  “I can see why you call this your haven—and why you need it.” She glanced back toward the other side of the house.

  I replaced the yarn I’d pulled out and stood up. “The crochet thread isn’t here. I must have packed it up with all the stuff I put in the storage locker.” Since the room I’d given Barry was my former crochet room, I’d had to empty it. There was no place else in the house or the garage for all the stuff and I’d rented a storage unit nearby. They seemed to have popped up all over the place since everybody seemed to have so much excess stuff lately. “We can swing by the storage place on the way to your house,” I said as we made our way back across the house. Barry and his company were standing at the front door talking in low voices as we passed.

  “I think those thread bracelets would make great gifts,” Dinah said. “We could make them holiday appropriate. A nice orange and black one would be great for Halloween.” We got into my car and headed for the storage place.

  “I rented one of the smaller units, so I can’t pull the car in front of it,” I explained as I parked in the lot at the edge of the rows of low buildings.

  We passed the office on the end of one of the buildings. “I think that place must be open for an hour a day. The only time I’ve seen it open was when I came here to rent the space.” We began down a walkway between twin buildings. The row of delft blue roll-up doors made it look like a row of mini garages, but then again, wasn’t that what they were—extra garage space.

  Twilight was beginning to morph into darkness and the place was deserted. Dinah seemed apprehensive as she looked over her shoulder. “This place is kind of creepy,” she said. “Let’s get the stuff and get out of here.”

  “If you think it’s creepy now, just think of what it’s like when it’s completely dark.” The lighting wasn’t the best. Some kind of florescent floodlight did a better job of casting shadows than it did illuminating the place. I had the key to my lock in hand and was checking the numbers on the identical doors to find mine. “I heard that some people have actually been living in these kinds of places,” I said.

  Dinah looked at the long row of doors and shuddered. “Not for me. I wonder what people keep in these. Didn’t I hear something about somebody keeping a body in a freezer in a storage unit?”

  “I’m sure that wasn’t at this pla
ce,” I said. Now she’d gotten me nervous and I was looking around seeing bogey men hanging in every shadow. “I bet all these just have old computers and boxes of baby clothes,” I said. “Or at least I hope so.”

  We finally located mine and I undid the lock before rolling up the door. The air inside was hot and musty. To counteract the stuffiness and any bad smells that might be hanging around, I’d bought a bunch of dryer bags filled with lavender buds. I never used them in my dryer, but instead used them as sachets and often tucked one under my pillow since lavender was supposed to help you sleep. I had put the thin paper packets in all the containers of yarn I’d brought. It was also a good bug deterrent.

  We moved inside the unit and Dinah began to look around. “If the door was shut it would be like a cave in here,” she said with a little warble in her voice.

  “Let’s not talk about anymore scary stuff while we’re in here,” I said.

  “Sorry. I was just trying to imagine people living in one of these,” she said.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I read that a family had worked out a way to get electricity with a bunch of extension cords and even had some kind of a chemical toilet.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said. “Let’s hurry up.”

  I had left a flashlight in the unit for times like this. I used the light as I quickly began to sort through the bins of yarn. Dinah sat down in a folding chair I’d stashed along with some other odds and ends of furniture. “I was kind of surprised that CeeCee said we ought to all go to Kelly’s funeral,” Dinah said as I fumbled through a box of yarn. The actress-leader of the Hookers had said Kelly was one of our own and out of respect we should go.