On the Hook

by Betty Hechtman

  “Let me look,” Adele said, impatiently trying to flip the pages ahead.

  I was going to commiserate with Adele about Timothy’s note-taking when Elise came in and waved to get our attention, then put her fingers to her lips and cocked her head. The noise was unmistakable. Someone was fussing with the door.

  Elise froze and then began to whisper, “It’s probably Logan. He must have told one of his clients about the price reduction.” She turned to Adele. “They could make an offer and buy it right from under you. Unless you want to make an offer now.”

  “I can’t make an offer under this kind of duress,” Adele whispered back.

  “In that case, we have to get out of here, now,” Elise said, panicking. We all looked back toward the stairway as we heard the front door open and close.

  I was glad that I had checked out the patio when we’d first come in because the two of them were going in circles, looking for an escape. I grabbed each of their hands and took them through the sliding-glass door that led onto the lower-level patio.

  I quietly slid the glass door closed behind us, and we flattened ourselves against the wall. “Now what?” Elise said, choking on the words.

  I pointed out the stairway going down and, crouching low, led the way. They were on my tail as we rushed down the steep stairs that ended at a vine-covered gate. Even in the dark I recognized it as a bougainvillea and knew that beneath the showy fuchsia-colored blossoms, there were torturous thorns, and I carefully reached for the gate release. There was a strip of sidewalk at the bottom that led to the side of the house. I saw a railing and hoped that meant there was a stairway that went up to the street. I told them to stay put while I went to investigate.

  I was right about the stairway, but I could hear voices and knew we definitely did not want to run into whoever was up there.

  “Change of plans,” I whispered when I rejoined them. “We have to go down the hill,” I said. The three of us looked down the steep embankment that was almost vertical and ended in the street below.

  “We can’t go down that,” Elise said nervously. “But we can’t stay here either.”

  I offered to go first and acted quickly before I thought it through enough to talk myself out of. I tried to dig my feet into the muddy earth and took a step and then another before losing my balance and landing on my butt. I did the only thing I could do. I pushed off and went bumping down the hill. It was like sledding but without the sled and with mud instead of snow. I heard shrieks coming from behind me before I ended my descent and rolled off the dirt onto the street. A few moments later, Elise and Adele landed next to me.

  Confident that we were invisible, I stood up and looked back up at the house. A figure stood on the lower balcony where we’d been standing just a few minutes before. The light behind him illuminated his shape, and I realized that I recognized it.

  What was Barry doing there?

  The three of us held on to each other as we walked up the street we’d landed on. At the top of the hill, it twisted back and eventually went past Timothy’s house. Thank heavens Elise had left her car facing downhill a distance from the house.

  We crouched down and, trying to be as quiet as possible, opened the car doors. I tried unsuccessfully not to get mud all over as I fell into the back seat. Adele and Elise got into the front seat and closed the doors silently.

  “Don’t turn on the headlights,” I said as she started the motor. She took her foot off the brake ever so slightly, and the car moved slowly down the street. I looked back and saw Barry’s Crown Vic parked in front of the house along with several cruisers.

  “Step on the gas,” Adele yelled. Elise must have listened, because the car abruptly picked up speed and lurched around the curve and down the hill. When we reached the flat street at the bottom, we all let our breath out. We were home free.

  * * *

  Elise barely stopped the car as she pulled up in front of the bookstore. Adele and I got out and she roared off. She wanted to rush home and change out of her muddy clothes before Logan got there.

  “What happened to you?” Lara-Ann asked as I tried to unobtrusively enter the bookstore. I had knocked off as much mud as I could, but my cloth slip-ons were still encased in the stuff. I was glad I couldn’t see the back of my camel-colored pants, but I could feel the cold wetness from the layer of mud I was sure covered them. Lara-Ann handed me a tissue and pointed to my face. I wiped something off and looked at the tissue and the glob of dirt that had come off.

  I made some vague excuse about slipping in the mud. It was the truth; I had just left out how and where. It was probably better that Adele had gone straight home, deciding that her setup for the next day’s story time could wait. It would have been much harder to explain why two of us had arrived encased in wet dirt.

  I thanked Lara-Ann for taking care of the place while I was gone and then went to the storage room to hopefully find something to change into. I found a gauzy skirt in a colorful print. It looked a little odd with the black V-neck sweater I was wearing over a point-collared white shirt, but there weren’t any other options. I finished off the look with a pair of sandals I’d left at the store the previous summer.

  My next stop was the ladies’ room. I saw a hint of mud still on my cheek, and I wiped it away and put on some lipstick, as if that would make everything okay. I let out a sigh as I came out of the short hallway that led to the restrooms and practically walked into Barry.

  “Oh, you’re here,” he said.

  I shrugged and smiled. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

  He gave me the once-over and cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a new look for you—sort of a gypsy librarian,” he said. He pointed at my feet. “That’s an interesting concept—sandals on a rainy night.” I saw him looking over the top of my head. He had the advantage, since he was taller. I began to pat my hair and suddenly came away with a glob of mud.

  “There must be a leak somewhere,” I said, peeling away the dirt.

  “That must be it,” he said. “And that person I saw on my last call just happened to look like you.”

  “That must be it. It couldn’t have been me.” I tried to appear casual. “What was your last call?” I asked.

  “There was a problem at Timothy Clark’s house.” He looked at me intently. “We got a call from Logan Belmont. It seems that the neighbors saw three women going into the Clark house and thought it seemed suspicious after what had happened, and they called Logan since his name was on the sign out front. When he went to check it out, he saw that there were lights on and he heard noise from inside. He was concerned because he hadn’t given the okay for the house to be shown again, so he called us.” Barry shrugged his shoulders. “Hearing that there were unauthorized people wandering around a house where there’s been a murder always gets our attention.”

  “And so it should,” I said, keeping a serious expression. “Did these unauthorized people break in?” I asked.

  Barry’s eyes narrowed. “No, there was a lockbox for real estate people to have access.”

  “Maybe someone was looking at the house,” I said. “So, there was no crime committed.”

  I quickly made a move to change the subject. “Did you come here for a reason? Can I help you find a book?” I asked innocently.

  Barry had his frustration hidden behind his cop face, but I knew it was there. “You know, I heard from Jeffrey, and when he heard that I had been neglecting Cosmo in his absence, my son got very upset. To make it up to him, I promised to stop by on a regular basis to give him a run in the yard. I hope that’s all right.”

  Of course it wasn’t, but I couldn’t say so. The last thing I wanted was to have Barry popping up at my place whenever the whim hit him. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll give him all the yard runs he needs,” I said.

  “Oh, but I insist. I promised Jeffrey.”

  “Well, then, can we at least agree on certain times and days?” I said.

  “I wish we could,” he said, “but
you know my schedule. I never know when I’m going to have an hour. It’s lucky I have Jeffrey’s key to your place. I won’t bother you, I promise.”

  Right. As if that was going to happen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I was just getting ready to leave the bookstore when Dinah called my cell. “I have a surprise and something you should see. Come over.”

  “Are you sure it’s not too late? I don’t want to stir up problems with Commander.”

  “I have it all worked out. Just come over.”

  Dinah’s house was just a block from the bookstore parking lot, so I left my car where it was and walked to her place.

  She opened the door as I walked up the steps that led to a small landing. She suppressed a giggle as she waved me in and whispered, “This is just like the old days.” As I walked with her, she looked toward the short hall that led to the bedrooms. “I never realized what an early to bed, early to rise kind of guy he is. But it’s not going to cramp my style anymore.”

  We’d used to gather in her living room and spread drinks and snacks on the coffee table in front of her chartreuse couch. But the couch had since been replaced by a more sedate-looking tan one, and Commander had hit his knee on the coffee table one too many times and it had been replaced by end tables.

  She led me to a den that had been added on years before. She closed the sliding-glass doors behind us that separated it from the rest of the house. Before the den had been added, the doors had led to the yard.

  “Welcome to my late-night paradise,” she said. “I’ve been working on it for weeks and finished the last of it today.”

  I saw the papers she was grading spread on the coffee table that had once resided in the living room. The chartreuse couch was in there now, too. The TV was on, tuned to the news with the sound turned down to almost nothing. She was so excited to show off her lady cave, it took a moment for her to notice my attire.

  “There has to be a story behind your clothes,” she said, her face lit by a grin.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.” I looked around the room. “So this is the surprise?”

  “There’s something else, too. But first feast your eyes on this place. We can have late-night sessions here again—whenever we want—without troubling Commander.” She showed me the wet bar that had a minifridge and a microwave. The cabinet above was stocked with tea, cookies, and chocolate. While I admired it, she took out her favorite teapot and put in some Constant Comment tea bags and then showed me the hot water spigot she’d had put in as she filled the pot with steaming water. Instantly, the air filled with the spicy orange scent. She pulled out a box of shortbread cookies, and we carried everything back to the coffee table and set it down.

  As soon as we were settled, each with a cup of steaming tea, she asked about my clothes. She listened as I told her about my evening’s adventure.

  “I wish I could have been there. And really wish I’d been there when Barry showed up at the bookstore and saw you in that outfit.” She checked the level in my cup and poured in some more tea.

  “I can’t believe that with all the sneaking around and rolling in the mud, Adele didn’t get her answer and the closest thing I got to a clue was a note in his calendar on the day I think he drank his fatal pink squirrel that said something about making an offer someone couldn’t refuse.”

  “The night isn’t over,” Dinah said. “I did a little sleuthing on my own.” She went and got her cell phone. She reminded me that she’d missed happy hour because she’d agreed to take over a class for another instructor who was sick. “Her class met in a room that the extension program uses, and this was hanging on a bulletin board in the hall.” She clicked on her phone and scrolled through her photos, then handed the phone to me. I had to enlarge the type and started to read it line by line, but Dinah stopped me.

  “That’s ridiculous. I have all the comforts here. Just wait.” She took the phone back and fiddled with it, and a moment later, I heard the printer across the room come to life. She retrieved the sheet and handed it to me. “This ought to be better.”

  It said CANCELED across the top, and below was a class description from the extension program. They were noncredit classes in all different subjects, like computer programs and belly dancing. One was called “How to Break into Acting.” I glanced over the description, which said it was a fun class meant to offer the basics with lots of class participation. My eyes slid down to the instructor. I’d already figured it was going to be Timothy. There was a brief listing of his credits and a mention that two of his former students—Cauli Flower, the vegetable fairy, and Susan from Ethnic Smethnic—were going to be special guest speakers. The class had two 3-hour Saturday morning sessions that were scheduled for the following month.

  “When I saw Timothy’s name, I stopped by the extension office and grilled the woman who worked there,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I found out that he was a guest speaker about a year ago at a one-day conference they’d put on about careers in the entertainment industry. She said they’d been thrilled when he contacted them a few months ago and suggested the class, though they knew he had an ulterior motive. They’d been around the block a few times with professionals giving extension classes on things like composing commercial jingles, sitcom writing, and standup comedy and learned that what they were really after was students for their private workshops. She said they’d made sure he knew he couldn’t directly pitch his workshops during the class. He had seemed fine with it, and she was sure he was going to do what the others did to get around it. They always brought at least one of their private students with them and they worked the crowd during breaks and after the class. She said the administration let it slide because the classes were always super-popular.”

  “It makes perfect sense. I heard he was looking to do more workshops and he needed students. I bet I know who he would have brought along to work the crowd, too.” I told Dinah about Timothy’s assistant Alexandra.

  “If we were playing our Sherlock Holmes games, I’d deduce that the note in his calendar could have been for a meeting with someone who worked for him who wanted to quit, but he didn’t want them too. Like maybe somebody who helped him out with the class.” Dinah set her cup down. “What do you think?”

  “Well, Watson, Clark was also selling his house. Maybe the meeting was with Logan, and Logan was the one making the offer. He wouldn’t be the first killer to arrange to have people with him when they found a body. But what I really deduce is that, no matter who did it, I better find them soon. Any day now, Barry is going to stop just showing up to ask me questions and get tough about the scarf and what happened tonight. Or he could get Detective Heather involved.”

  Dinah smiled. “I don’t think so. I bet he’s doing the Columbo act so he can keep coming by and seeing you.”

  “Well, he did say that he was going to be taking over Cosmo’s care while Jeffrey is gone.”

  “No matter what either of you says, it’s not over between you.”

  I started to argue, and she laughed. “What’s that line—I think the lady doth protest too much.”

  I went to gather my things. It had been a long day, and I was ready to head home and take a hot bath. Dinah and I tiptoed to her front door, both trying not to laugh.

  “This was fun,” I said.

  Dinah looked toward the bedrooms. “I knew I’d figure out a way to keep Commander’s ridiculous schedule from cramping my style.” She looked at my feet in the sandals. “It’s kind of cold for those. How about I lend you some socks?”

  * * *

  “Late night for you,” Samuel said when I came through my living room. If he noticed the strange skirt or sandals with socks, he didn’t mention it. There had obviously been another rehearsal in my living room, and he was picking up some cups and plates that had been left around. He gave me a report on the animals and mentioned that there was food. “You know Pops; always better to get too much.”

  “How’s it going?” I asked. />
  “You know Grandma, I mean Liza. She’s a trouper. They’re adding the new number this weekend and she and the girls want it to be perfect. You’re going to come, aren’t you?”

  “Sure,” I said before continuing to my area of the house.

  All I could think of was that hot bath. As I pulled the bathroom door shut, I noticed that the door handle was loose and tightened the metal base on both sides of the door. I couldn’t deal with even one more thing. I sank into the hot bath and let the day—and the mud—wash away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I arrived at the bookstore the next morning, I slipped the colorful skirt back into the storeroom and left a pair of sneakers instead of the sandals, just in case of any further wardrobe mishaps. Adele was busy with the kids’ department all day, and I didn’t see her until the Hookers gathered in the yarn department for happy hour.

  The group was already around the table when I joined them. I was pleased to see a stack of completed baby blankets in the center of the table. Everybody’s hooks were flying, as some of them were already working on a second blanket for the donation.

  Elise looked up when I walked over, and our eyes met. “How’s Logan?” I asked, thinking of the night before and all that had happened, along with my conversation with Dinah.

  She rolled her eyes skyward as she rocked her head. “He’s pretty upset. I guess there was a problem at a house he listed.”

  “No more dead bodies, I hope,” Rhoda said.

  Elise’s eyes bugged out, and both she and I looked at Adele, who’d just come in. Thankfully, Adele seemed to have missed the comments and calmly took her seat at the end of the table.

  Adele pulled out the blanket she was crocheting in a lime-green cotton yarn. She held it up. “This doesn’t look right to me.” She looked to CeeCee, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table. “Are you sure about this pattern?”