On the Hook

by Betty Hechtman

  “Dear, you have to trust me,” CeeCee said in her cheery voice. “It will all work out in the end, though you might have to do a little stretching to shape it.” As if to demonstrate, she held up the blanket she was working on. At the present time, it was not a triangle or a square and certainly didn’t look very promising, but as she tugged here and there to straighten it out, it looked better. “When you finish the square and put on the border, it will be fine.” She glanced over the group gathered around the table. “Where’s Dinah?” She spoke directly to me.

  Dinah had called me that morning, a little embarrassed to admit that, after what she’d said the night before about not letting Commander cramp her style, he had volunteered her services to do the setup at the senior center, and she was going to have to miss our gathering that night.

  Commander Blaine had gotten over the grief of his wife’s death by helping others socialize. By now, organizing events at the senior center had become a regular part of his life, and, when they got married, he assumed that Dinah would just fall in with this plan.

  “Commander had some plans for the evening,” I said, purposely leaving it a little vague.

  “So, she gave in,” CeeCee said.

  “Sort of,” I said with a shrug.

  Eduardo looked up from his crocheting and laughed. “That is why I’m not married. I don’t want to deal with this idea of who should get their way. My girlfriend does her thing and I do mine, and we get together when it works for both of us.”

  “I’m just hoping that Leo has a girlfriend soon that he can make any kind of arrangements with,” Rhoda said, and then she turned to me. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but he seems to have a spring in his step. How did you get him to agree to shopping and Chinese food?”

  I cringed, realizing I’d forgotten all about my offer.

  “It’s probably because Molly is the one who asked him. She has a magic touch,” Sheila said.

  Everybody turned in surprise when she spoke. since she was usually quiet.

  “There’s no magic involved,” I said. “He’s just ready to change.”

  I really believed that it was all about timing rather than anything about me.

  It was a relief when the conversation returned to crocheting and we compared our work on the baby blankets. When the group broke up, I stayed behind to straighten up. I was surprised to see Adele still hanging out by the table.

  “It’s Tuesday night,” I said with a smile. “Don’t you have to rush home for your special night with Eric?”

  “It got called off. Mother Humphries didn’t like the movie they’re showing at the senior center.” She stepped a little closer and dropped her voice. “About last night.” She shook her head with regret. “If we’d been there just a few more minutes, I probably could have found out when the meeting is. I was thinking—”

  “No. I’m not going back there again,” I said.

  “That’s not what I was going to say, Pink. I was thinking that I could talk to your son. The one who’s the TV agent. Once I explain the situation to him, I’m sure he could find out who Timothy and I were supposed to meet at the Craftee Channel. And since it’s almost a done deal, he could step in and finish it up.”

  I took a moment to compose myself and try to find the right words. It seemed to me that at the very least, Timothy would have told her exactly when the meeting was if it was in fact real.

  “So, do I call him or does he call me?” Adele said.

  “How about neither. Let me call him first,” I said. “This might not be his kind of thing. I’m not sure if he’s involved with that kind of programming.”

  Adele put on her storm-cloud face, and I was glad when her cell phone rang. As she spoke, her gloomy expression morphed into a big smile.

  “That was Eric. Mother Humphries changed her mind and the coast is clear.”

  With that, she took off without even a good-bye.

  As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about calling Peter. He was rummaging around my garage when I got home. My older son didn’t approve of me at all. He was upset that I was letting his brother live at home. He thought it was crazy that I had such a menagerie of pets. He didn’t think I should let my mother keep using my living room as her rehearsal hall. He had not been happy when I broke up with Mason. The only thing he was happy about was that I was no longer seeing Barry.

  He thought it was ridiculous that I kept my large house and was continually suggesting I downsize to a condo. But he was a bit shortsighted about that. He never seemed to put it together that if I moved to that small condo, as he wanted, there would be no room for his Jet Ski, kayak, bicycle, golf clubs, baseball bats, and assorted balls of all sizes.

  Today, it was his golf clubs he was after, since he had a meeting/game the following morning. After he found them and loaded them in his car, he came back through the yard and walked in the kitchen door. He was dressed in his work clothes. He favored suits with whatever shirt was in fashion. It seemed the T-shirt look had died and it was back to the old standby of a dress shirt with no tie.

  “So what’s up?” he said, looking around the kitchen and then at me as I made myself a cup of tea.

  I offered one to him, but he decided to rummage around in the refrigerator instead. I had been too tired the night before to see what leftovers remained from the rehearsal, and I’d left without breakfast that morning. I looked over his shoulder and saw a plate with a brown cake that I recognized as my mother’s Mystery Cake.

  Years ago my mother had found a folded piece of paper with a handwritten recipe stuck in a book at a used bookstore. It seemed as if the previous owner of the book had used it as a bookmark. There was no name on the recipe; the paper was torn, taking with it part of the list of ingredients, and, of those still listed, one was illegible. There were vague directions on how to mix it and how long to bake it. The only reason my mother had figured it was a cake recipe was because it said to bake it in a tube pan. She decided to make it on a whim, and it had become a family favorite. She had figured out what the missing ingredients were and finally realized that the one that looked like suet was really salt.

  “I see Grandmother was here again.”

  “Your brother calls her Liza now,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint. My mother didn’t mind being a grandmother; she just didn’t like to be called one.

  He shrugged it off. He handed me the cake plate and I took it to the counter. I was still thinking about his question regarding what was going on.

  What about Adele’s request? I knew what the answer would be, but I also figured he might have some information about Timothy Clark and his acting workshops. “What do you know about Timothy Clark?” I asked.

  Peter’s dark eyes narrowed. “I know that he’s dead. Why do you want to know?”

  I was sure he didn’t really want to know the truth. He would have a fit if he knew about the whole fiasco of my scarf being found at Timothy Clark’s house and that I might have been there when he was already dead. He’d be even more upset if he knew I was trying to find out who had killed Timothy before I got arrested for interfering with an investigation.

  “I know somebody who was in his actor’s workshop,” I said by way of an excuse. I cut him a piece of cake and invited him to sit at the small built-in table in front of the big windows that looked out on the yard.

  Peter poked at the cake and broke off a piece. “He used his Emmy nomination and the fact that he’s a recognizable name to get students. He’s not the first one. I’ve heard of comedy writers, scriptwriters, and even voice-over actors putting on workshops. It’s a cash cow, since their work is spotty. But do all the lessons do any good?”

  “There was that girl who played the vegetable fairy in that commercial and someone else who’s in a sitcom. And he’s gotten other students parts in things like equity waiver theaters.”

  Peter rolled his eyes. “Right, but they’re probably the exception. In the meantime, I bet Clark nickel-and-dimed them with all
kinds of fees. By the way, the vegetable fairy you mentioned was a client of our agency. I say was because she came in last week and lost it when she met with her agent. She threw a tantrum because the best he had done for her was get her a few lines on one episode of a sitcom, so she fired him.”

  I heard some noise from the entrance hall and figured Samuel had come in. If I was going to ask about Adele and her meeting, it was going to have to be now. “What if he told one of his students he had set up a meeting for them but he hadn’t yet given them the details?”

  Peter finished off the cake. “It depends on exactly what was said. But my guess is it was classic hanging out a carrot to keep someone coming and paying him.”

  Someone came into the room and I looked up, expecting my younger son. I gasped when I saw it was Barry. Peter saw him, too, and I heard him grunt with displeasure.

  “Sorry if I’m interrupting,” Barry said. He nodded a greeting at Peter and directed his comment at him. “My son is away and he didn’t want me to neglect his dog.”

  As if on cue, Cosmo came skidding into the kitchen and put his paws up on Barry’s knee. I thought back to what Peter and I had been saying and was relieved that, from the outside, it seemed pretty generic.

  Barry busied himself giving Cosmo a treat and then, when Felix joined them, gave him one as well.

  “Okay, let’s play ball,” Barry said, opening the kitchen door and letting the dogs run out.

  The floodlights apparently illuminated the yard enough for the dogs to see the ball, because I heard them running back and forth and saw flashes of fur as they took turns bringing the ball back to Barry. Taking turns wasn’t exactly accurate—it was more like whichever of them got to the ball first.

  Peter watched through the window. “I can’t believe that you let him have a key. Why doesn’t he just take the dog to his place?” he asked.

  I started to go through the whole story again, but Peter stopped me. “I know, you keep Cosmo because you think he gets better care here. Then why don’t you just tell him possession is nine tenths of the law and that the dog is yours now?”

  “I couldn’t do that to Jeffrey.” I looked out the window and saw the look on Barry’s face as he played with the dogs. The expressionless cop face was gone and he was smiling. The dogs had managed to cut through his emotion control. “Or to Barry.” I turned to my son. “I didn’t realize it before, but the only time he lets go is when he’s with those dogs.”

  “Mother, you’re hopeless,” Peter said. “You’re too soft-hearted for your own good.” He put his dish in the sink. “Tell Liza that her cake was great as always.”

  I cut him a piece to take with him and wrapped it up. He opened the door to leave just as the dogs ran in, followed by Barry.

  “I hope all that talk about Timothy Clark doesn’t mean you’re in the middle of something,” Peter said with a disapproving shake of his head as he passed Barry and went out the door.

  I swallowed hard, sure that Barry had heard. He was looking away, but I imagined his eyes lighting up. He didn’t say anything at first and just offered the two dogs another round of treats. And then he turned to face me. His face was morphing back into his usual blank cop expression. “What were you and Peter talking about?”

  I needed to change the subject fast. “You’re really lucky that I nixed us getting married,” I said.

  It was rather an abrupt change, and he looked stunned.

  “What brought that up?”

  I noticed him looking at the cake sitting out on the counter. “You’re not, by chance, hungry?” I asked and he closed his eyes as if trying to rein in his appetite, and then he let out his breath in a gush.

  “I was ready to take some of Cosmo’s kibble,” he said.

  “Is there even any food at your house with Jeffrey gone?”

  “I need to go to the store,” he said.

  “So you’re living on fast food?” I said.

  “Yes.” His shoulders dropped and his face relaxed into what I thought of as “Regular Barry.” He suddenly looked weary and I heard his stomach growl.

  I bypassed the leftovers from the rehearsal and began to pull things out of the refrigerator. “It’s nothing fancy, but probably more healthy than what you’ve been eating,” I said with a smile.

  I quickly put together a salad made of kale and shredded broccoli and let the dressing blend in while I sprinkled grated cheese on a couple of flour tortillas. I added some sliced tomatoes and put my version of quesadillas into the microwave. I offered him some sparkling water to drink.

  “So what prompted you to tell me I’m lucky we broke up?” he said.

  “It’s Dinah and Commander.” I told him about Dinah and Commander’s differing schedules. “It’s not easy when two people who are used to doing things their own way get together,” I said.

  “That must mean that the two of you aren’t wandering out late at night getting into trouble anymore,” he said.

  I was afraid where this line of conversation might go. “And it’s not easy for Adele either,” I said quickly, and then regretted it. I couldn’t tell him she had a whole secret life as Lydia Fairchild.

  “Why? What’s with Adele?”

  I froze, trying to think of something else to say, but Barry beat me to it. “You mean having to live with her mother-in-law?” he said.

  “Right, that’s it. That’s the only problem she has,” I said. I probably sounded a little too forceful about it, and he gave me an odd look.

  We sat down together at the table. “I’m doing pretty well on my own,” he said. “You’re probably right about us not being a good match. Though it is too bad we never took that trip to Hawaii that I planned.”

  “Imposed on me,” I said, remembering how, without consulting me, he had arranged the whole thing and then been surprised that I was upset. Looking back, I realized I might have overreacted to what I’m sure he’d thought was a romantic gesture.

  “It would have been nice.” He looked at me and, for a moment, his gaze warmed. “I kept thinking about you when I saw all the couples there. They seemed to have something special going on, like it was a honeymoon for them no matter how long they’d been together.” He laughed quietly. “It was a different trip with Jeffrey. All he wanted to do was check out where they filmed Hawaii Five-0.” I hated to admit it, but I felt a little shiver when he described the couples, imagining what it would have been like for us. I quickly offered him some cake.

  As expected, he accepted it and inhaled it as he had the rest of the food, and I started to think I’d managed to make him forget what he’d overheard.

  I picked up the dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher as a hint that it was time for him to leave.

  He got up and gave Cosmo’s fur a ruffling. “Next time, I’m going to make sure to brush him.”

  “Sure, whatever,” I said, walking him to the front door.

  Then he stopped. “What did Peter mean when he said he hoped you weren’t in the middle of something regarding Timothy Clark? The man you insist that you didn’t know,” he said. He picked up on my stunned look. “You didn’t really think your attempts to distract me were going to work.”

  I struggled for something to say. “My son is an agent and Timothy Clark was a well-known actor. You don’t have to have known him to be curious about his death.”

  “Molly, I know you were there last night. I know finding your scarf there proves you were there before. Not to mention the note with the drink,” he said in a stern tone. “And I know you knew Timothy Clark. What’s going on? I can help you straighten it out if you just tell me what happened.”

  “Really? I know that’s the kind of thing you say to suspects, implying all they have to do is spill their guts and you’ll let them go.”

  Barry was silent and his lips were drawn into a tense expression. He knew I’d seen the truth of the matter.

  “I didn’t mean it that way for you,” he said. I could tell he was frustrated that his usual line ha
dn’t worked. “I just meant that I’d appreciate it if you told me whatever you know.”

  I debated what to tell him. Should I toss him the idea that Logan Belmont finding the body with some of his clients could have been a setup? That wasn’t really admitting anything. But I still believed that silence was my best approach. I simply said nothing, and the dead air made him crazy.

  “Did I tell you that we found footprints on the slope outside Clark’s house? We just have to match them up to the right shoes.”

  I knew he was bluffing since the three of us had slid down the hill and might have left butt prints but not footprints.

  “Good luck on finding whoever it was,” I said, opening the door.

  “Thanks. You know me. I never give up.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Finally alone, I settled into the room where I kept all my yarn and projects and was deep in thought about my attempts at a murder investigation, eating a piece of my mother’s Mystery Cake, when the phone rang. I was embarrassed to admit that it made me jump. Maybe that drink and the note that went with it had left me more shaken than I wanted to admit.

  “Molly?” Mason said when I answered. “What happened? I haven’t heard any more from you about the Timothy Clark situation.”

  “Sorry. I thought no news was good news.” I didn’t add that the way he’d made it so clear that anything between us would be strictly platonic made me feel awkward.

  “I was concerned, Molly. Has Barry been hounding you?” he asked.

  I felt a twinge when he said my name. Before, he had always called me Sunshine. It had been his nickname for me because, he’d said, I always brightened his day.

  “I wouldn’t call it hounding. He just keeps showing up.” I realized I was still holding a fork with a piece of cake on the end, and I set it down on the plate. “There was another incident.”

  Mason knew me well enough to read into what I’d said and figure that it was a little more than an incident. “As your lawyer, you really should keep me in the loop.” He sounded upset, as if he had something on his mind.