If Hooks Could Kill

by Betty Hechtman

  “I don’t think so and it’s too late now.”

  We finished dinner and before we parted company, Mason mentioned the time frame of the trip to Santa Barbara. He certainly wasn’t one to put things off. He wanted to go the next day.

  Luckily, I had the next day off, so it was no problem. The following morning Mason picked me up and we made a fast stop at the bookstore café to get drinks for the road. I looked in to say hello to my bosses. They were busy rearranging a display, adding a sign that read “Serenity” over a table that featured candles with soothing scents, books on meditation, soothing teas and lavender sachets. Mr. Royal showed me a beaten up e-reader he said he’d found in front of the store when they opened. “I guess the shoplifter had a guilty conscience,” he said. But apparently not about all the crochet pieces.

  When I returned to Mason’s black Mercedes, I set a cup of estate-grown Kenyan coffee in the drink holder for him and a red eye for me. “I don’t know what Jaimee drinks,” I said with a shrug before pulling out a bottle of a premade sweetened coffee drink. “So I got her this so she won’t feel left out.”

  Mason chuckled and shook his head as he steered the car onto the street. “Nice thought, but she probably won’t drink it.”

  “Oh,” I said sinking back into the soft leather seat.

  Jaimee lived in a house in a gated community at the top of the mountains, along Mulholland Drive. According to Mason she counted a number of A-list celebrities as her neighbors. As we pulled in front of her huge house, a tan well-built man stood in the front door with one arm around Jaimee and the other holding a bag with a tennis racket sticking out. He was clearly a lot younger than she was.

  Mason gave the guy a distasteful curl of his mouth. “That’s Mark. You’d think she could be a little more original than getting involved with her tennis instructor.”

  The guy headed toward his silver sports car and Mason muttered something about how it figured he’d drive something like that and he wondered if it had been a gift from her. I took a sip of my red eye and wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

  With her boy toy gone, Jaimee shut the front door and walked to the car. She pulled open the door on the passenger side and yelped in surprise when she saw me. As soon as she recovered she asked if I’d take the backseat because she had car sickness issues and could only sit in the front.

  Mason touched my arm as I retrieved my coffee. “Sorry, sunshine, it must be something new.” He rolled his eyes and sighed.

  I offered the coffee drink to Jaimee as we headed down the mountain toward the 101 Freeway. She turned and gave me an uncomfortable smile. “It has sugar,” she said in a reproachful tone as if I’d just offered her a shot of poison.

  We headed west on the freeway and the San Fernando Valley gave way to golden brown hills dotted with squat California oak trees. I looked out the window as we whizzed through Westlake, Thousand Oaks and went down the steep grade between jagged mountains toward Camarillo. Jaimee talked on, excited because she was being considered for a new reality show The Housewives of Mulholland Drive. I tuned it all out and took in the panoramic view of farmland and the shimmer of sun off the distant ocean.

  By the time we’d gotten past the city of Ventura and were on the thread of highway between the Pacific Ocean and the green scrub-covered mountains, I understood why Mason had convinced me to come along. I wanted to kill Jaimee. It was the tone of her voice, the clack of her long manicured nails against the console and the way she kept insisting that they had to stop at some design studio to pick out something for Thursday’s home. “I know you don’t care,” Jaimee said in her abrasive voice, “but they need to have a center to the room. Something unique that sets them apart and brings the room together.”

  No chuckles from Mason this time, except when he mentioned the proposed stop at McConnell’s. You’d think he was proposing we stop for arsenic. Jaimee looked back over the front seat and gave me the once-over. I felt very self-conscious and tried to suck everything in. “You’re going to eat ice cream?” she said making a tsk-tsk sound. “Mason, I guess your taste in women has changed.”

  I said nothing and took in the view of Santa Barbara from the window. The small city was draped over the hills at the base of the tall green Santa Ynez Mountains. The hills sloped down to a sparkling bay. I could see why people called it the “American Riviera.”

  Mason pulled off the highway and parked by the beach. I looked out at the water while the two of them headed across the street to the hotel they’d come to check out. It was a classic white stucco building with a red-tiled roof, surrounded by lush landscaping.

  When they returned I could tell by their expressions that it hadn’t gone well. The mood in the car was tense. Jaimee insisted if Mason had let her handle it, they would have been offered a better space. Mason looked like a pressure cooker about to explode.

  “How about we go for that ice cream,” I said, hoping to lighten the mood. Mason pulled away from the curb and headed into the city. We parked in front of a cat hotel.

  While Mason and I crossed the street to the small ice cream store, Jaimee went in the other direction to a health food emporium and said she was getting a shot of wheat grass juice. Mason and I surveyed the ice cream offerings. To make up for everything, he insisted I get two scoops and I chose strawberry cheesecake and he got Vermont blueberry. We took our ice cream and sat at one of the wire tables outside.

  “I’m sorry for her and thank you again for coming,” he said. “You said you wanted to be included in my family,” he joked. I took a spoonful of the ice cream and at last savored the creamy flavor. There were just inches between our arms and I moved mine against his and leaned my head on his shoulder.

  “At least I understand why you got a divorce,” I said. He settled his free arm around my shoulder.

  “Who knew all those years I was so busy working what she was really like.” He paused. “Or maybe she became this way.” He shook his head and grumbled about the situation of the wedding. “We’ve got two hundred people and still no place to put them.”

  “Would it be so hard to make it two hundred and one?” I said. I hadn’t meant to, but it slipped out.

  Mason hung his head. “You really want to come?”

  “If Samuel was getting married, I’d invite you. It makes me feel like I’m in the shadows of your life,” I said. Jaimee showed up at that moment with a tiny cup of bright green liquid and the conversation ended. I caught the scent of her drink and it reminded me of newly mown grass.

  “Cheers,” she said lifting the cup as she gave our ice cream a disgusted look, and then she chugged it.

  We made another stop at a hotel under renovation. They said they could do it outside, but the Amtrak tracks ran right through the property. “So it’s not a wasted trip, let’s go to that design studio,” Jaimee said as we walked back to the car.

  We drove up State Street, which was the main drag in town. It was lined with attractive stores and eateries, and was crowded with people. Jaimee directed Mason to turn on a side street and park. I think Jaimee was hoping I’d stay in the car, but I followed them into a low building around a courtyard filled with plants and a fountain. The moisture in the air here mixed with the sunlight and gave it an iridescent sheen.

  I was surprised to see the proprietor of the design studio was a familiar figure. “Rexford Thomasville,” I muttered recognizing Kelly and Stone’s father.

  “How do you know him?” Jaimee snapped.

  “Allow me,” Mason said with a grin. “Molly is investigating the murder of his daughter.” Jaimee flashed a surprised expression and suggested I keep my Nancy Drew act on hold. “We’re here to shop, not play detective. I want to get a good piece from him, not antagonize him.” She waved her hand toward the courtyard. “Why don’t you go wait outside.”

  I’d had enough being pushed aside by her. The day was almost over and by now I didn’t care if Mason killed her or not. I might have even helped. “No way am I turning down a
chance like this.”

  Jaimee’s mouth fell open and she turned to Mason and said, “Do something before she makes a scene.” Mason shrugged and chuckled and, with a brush of his hand, urged me on.

  Jaimee got in front of me and reached the proprietor first. She threw her arms around the gray-haired man and said how good it was to see him again and that she needed the perfect focal spot for her soon-to-be married daughter’s home. I noticed his wife in an office and Jaimee gave me a shove in her direction saying, “Why don’t you talk to her.” Then she started in on Rexford, letting him know he was dealing with a soon to be member of The Housewives of Mulholland Drive show.

  I didn’t take Jaimee’s suggestion and while she monopolized Rexford’s attention, I tried to remember what I knew about him. He had only made an appearance at Kelly’s funeral and no one had said much about him. All I could remember was what the prop guy had said, that Rexford Thomasville had been a set director before opening this place. I got why they called it a studio instead of a store. There weren’t price tags on anything and the idea was that people shopping here weren’t looking for a bargain.

  I surveyed the room and quickly figured out that the theme here was unique. A suit of armor stood guard just inside the door. A gazelle head, which I hoped was just an artist’s rendition, hung from the wall. Below it, a wooden horse displayed a bar setup on a trapdoor on its side. A graceful purple velvet divan was covered with pillows made out of old fabric. The walls were decorated with interesting pieces. There were collages made using old jewelry and coins, along with framed stamp collections. There were tall cabinets made out of interesting old doors. Lots of unusual lamps and something I particularly liked—a tree trunk that had been sandblasted smooth and turned into a coatrack.

  Rexford glanced in my direction several times while Jaimee went on describing what she was looking for. Basically it was something everyone would notice and wish they owned.

  When she’d finished, he pointed out some items and then left her to look around on her own. He approached me. “Do I know you?”

  I explained who I was and that I’d been at Kelly’s funeral and his face lit with recognition. The small sad smile was enough to bring out his dimples and I could see both Kelly’s and Stone’s face in his. I mentioned that I was a bit of an amateur sleuth and had been investigating Kelly’s death.

  “I’m glad somebody is,” he said with annoyance. “I don’t understand why they haven’t charged her husband.”

  I explained that the evidence they had against him wasn’t very good and that they were probably hoping he’d have a guilty conscience and it would get him to confess. “And there is the possibility he didn’t do it,” I said.

  Rexford’s mouth gathered in disapproval. “What are the chances of that? Is anybody going to believe that story of his that it was some kind of robbery?”

  I asked about Kelly’s ex-husband.

  “I thought about him myself. I don’t think there was any problems between them, and he was at Disneyland with her kids that day.”

  I asked him if he’d been close to Kelly. I was surprised when he glared at me.

  “Did Stone say something to you? I tried to mend fences with him, but all he seemed to care about was investing in the energy drink business. I hope it works out for him. I tried to give him some advice.” He sighed. “But I guess it’s a little too late for that.” He looked at me directly. “I wasn’t the best father or husband.” He ran his hand along the wood trim on the purple divan. “I tried to smooth things over with my ex, too, but we just had a few minutes at the funeral. She lives on the East Coast now.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jaimee standing near us with her arms crossed. She was actually tapping her foot with impatience. She snagged Mason away from checking his BlackBerry and ordered him to do something because they were real customers. Mason suggested she keep looking around on her own.

  Rexford seemed unaware of what was going on around him. I gathered all this had been playing on his mind and he wanted to vent his feelings.

  “It’s not as though I didn’t try. When Kelly got in touch with me and said she wanted to be in the business, I got her a production assistant job on a show I was working on. I helped Stone get a job, too.” He shook his head with regret. “I thought Kelly would know on her own that it was a no-no to get involved with the talent. She didn’t get that she was expendable, and as soon as North Adams was finished with their fling, she was gone.”

  “North Adams?” I repeated. “She had a relationship with him?” Rexford seemed surprised by my reaction and before I had a chance to explain, Jaimee took the situation in her own hands and simply interrupted by walking in front of me. She pointed toward several items and wanted him to tell her about them. “The story is everything,” she said to him as she physically took his hand and led him away from me.

  I barely noticed; all I could think about was that North Adams had known Kelly and never said a word.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I’ve got another suspect. You have to tell Heather to check him out,” I said as I rushed into the room. I was intent on grabbing my jacket since Mason was waiting for me outside in the car, but when I saw Barry I couldn’t resist blurting out my new finding. Barry was sitting in the den watching some sports game and it took a moment for what I’d said to register. He turned down the volume and asked me to repeat myself.

  “Heather has to talk to North Adams.” I told him how all along Adams had known Kelly. “Isn’t it suspicious that Adams never admitted to knowing her?”

  Barry put his hand up. “Do you think Heather is really going to go after some A-list actor on your say-so? Molly, she’s got her person of interest.”

  “Fine, I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” I started to leave the room and saw that Barry was right behind me.

  “Where were you?” he said. “I stopped by the bookstore—Jeffrey needed something,” he added a little too quickly. “No one seemed to know where you were.”

  I hesitated. We were just ships passing in the kitchen or in this case the den and I didn’t need to explain to Barry, but then I didn’t need to keep it from him, either. “I was in Santa Barbara with Mason.” I moved down the hall toward my closet with Barry on my tail. I noticed there was just the slightest hint of a limp. Was it real or for sympathy? “I just stopped home to get a jacket. Mason’s waiting for me outside. We’re going to grab a bite.”

  “Then you don’t have time for tea now? Maybe later,” he said expectantly.

  “No. And you better not wait for me. I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” I said. I couldn’t believe it, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth Barry’s blank cop face crumbled.

  “I hate working regular hours,” he grumbled as he went back to the TV.

  Once I got back outside, Mason leaned over and opened the passenger door. The hot day had turned into a cool evening and I was glad to have the cotton shawl to wrap around my shoulders. After the day with Jaimee, both of us needed some peace. A noisy restaurant didn’t sound appealing. As usual, Mason had come up with a perfect solution. Le Grande Fromage had been closing up for the night and we’d gotten the last croissants, some slices of cheese, fruit salad and their trademark chopped lettuce salad. Mason had picked out some bottled drinks from their cooler and we’d gotten utensils and plenty of napkins.

  “Who said you can only have picnics during the day?” Mason said. He turned onto Reseda toward the mountains. A short drive later he pulled into the empty parking lot for the Marvin Braude Mulholland Gateway Park. Mason had picked up a couple of lawn chairs and a small table from his house and he unloaded them and set them up. I brought out the food and drinks. Behind us the Santa Monica Mountains loomed in the darkness and a panoramic view of the twinkling lights of the San Fernando Valley spread before us. In the far distance the massive San Gabriel Mountains marked the end of the open area.

  Jaimee hadn’t been happy with either of us by the time we drop
ped her off. They still didn’t have a location for Thursday’s wedding and they hadn’t been able to agree on anything at Rexford’s studio as a gift. Mason had voted for the suit of armor and Jaimee wanted to get an armoire using a door from a monastery. She was irritated at me for just being there.

  Mason held up his bottle of soda to make a toast. “To the end of an exhausting day.”

  A breeze glided along the ground with a hint of ocean. It was amazing how the wind could wind its way through the mountains and surprise you with some cool damp air. The crickets chirped and a distant cry of a coyote reminded us we were in the wild. Mason tapped me and pointed up. Something with a big wing span sailed above us.

  “An owl,” Mason said. It was soundless as it landed on a tree, waiting for its dinner to show up.

  All the kinks of the day began to unravel as we ate and enjoyed the view.

  “Did you see the detective when you stopped home?” Mason asked. I told him about Barry’s reaction to telling Detective Heather about North Adams.

  “I was hoping she’d take over,” I said. Mason nodded. He knew why. North Adams was represented by my son. Peter would have a fit if he thought I was harassing his client. I was afraid he’d rather a murderer go free than upset such a big moneymaker for the talent agency.

  For a moment there was silence and Mason turned toward me, appearing uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, sunshine, but I can’t help you with Adams. He’s a client of the law firm and I don’t think the partners would be too happy if I was investigating him.”

  I told Mason I understood.

  “What are you going to do?” Mason asked.

  “I’ll think of something,” I said and Mason chuckled.

  “I figured you would say that.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Dinah and I met in the yarn department of the bookstore. It wasn’t an organized meeting time for the Hookers. It was our personal meet up to talk and work on our projects for the street fair booth. I had already told her about North and my dilemma and we’d come up with a plan.