“Oh, dear,” Dinah said after she’d read it. “Are you going to show it to Barry?”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “Actually, I forgot all about it until now. I don’t think the threats are serious. Besides, there’s no way to show it to him and at the same time keep stonewalling.” I took a sip of my strong brew. “By the way, Barry was waiting for me when I got home. He was back doing his Columbo act.”
I stopped and wondered if I should mention the rest. In the morning light, I had rethought it and had come to the conclusion that I might have just imagined what he’d said.
“He told me that thing about women and poison wasn’t true.”
“Was that all you talked about? Women and poison? Give me the juice. Was there anything personal?”
“Well, maybe. He seemed ultraconcerned about where I’d been, and then he brought up Leo.”
“I’m telling you it isn’t over between you two,” she said. “The Columbo act is just an excuse.”
I finally told her about the end of the evening. “But I’m not sure that’s what he said, and that warm feeling I had might have just been an allergic reaction to something I ate.”
“Or it was a reaction to someone you were looking at.”
“This is too confusing. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m more interested in finding out about the poison rings that Luxe is selling.”
Dinah took out the baby blanket she was working on and set it on the table. “No problem. I can work on this later. As soon as we finish our coffee, we can check them out.”
It was great to have my sidekick again, and we drank our coffees in record time before heading down the street to the lifestyle store.
As soon as we walked in, I took in the wonderful fragrance of the place. Most of it came from the handmade soaps that were scented with rose, lavender, and other essential oils. Sheila was behind a glass counter in the center of the store, waiting on a customer. She looked up and nodded a greeting. Dinah and I wandered around, checking out the merchandise as she finished up with the woman.
Sheila called us over as the woman left the store. “What can I help you with?”
“We were wondering about the poison rings you talked about,” I said.
“They’re right here.” Sheila looked down inside the glass case, then opened the back door and took out a velvet tray. “There are only two,” she said as she set the tray on top of the counter. “So I was right—we did sell one.”
Dinah and I leaned close, and I picked up one of the rings. It had a thick silver band with a silver piece on the front with a design etched into it. Sheila gave the front piece a tug and it flipped open, revealing a small space. Dinah took it and, after closing the compartment, tried it on. She grabbed a cocktail glass off one of the shelves and waved her hand over it.
“I think you’d have to loosen the top,” she said, demonstrating how to open the cover and then leave it so it didn’t click all the way back in place. She pretended to be handing me the glass as her other hand passed over it briefly and the top opened up. “That’s sure easy,” she said.
I noticed the two rings they had in stock looked similar and asked about the missing one.
“It looked about the same as these two. They’re hardly very feminine. I guess the look is supposed to be unisex.”
I knew there was no guarantee that this was how the cyanide had ended up in Timothy’s drink, but I was definitely curious about who had purchased the missing ring and asked Sheila if she knew anything.
“I know that I didn’t sell it,” Sheila said with a small smile. Her chin-length dark hair slid forward as she leaned toward the counter, and she instinctively reached up and tucked one side behind her ear so it didn’t obstruct her sight.
“Don’t you keep some kind of records?” I asked.
“Good thinking,” she said. “We’re still old-fashioned and write up receipts by hand. We keep a copy for inventory.”
She asked us to keep an eye on things while she went in the back to look through the receipts.
“Any new suspects?” Dinah said when we were alone.
“The most obvious are people connected with his workshop. I’ve met all of them but only talked to a couple of them. Deana Lewis came in to talk to Adele—or Lydia, as she knows her. Apparently she was pretty cozy with Timothy, and it seemed calculated, as if it would give her an edge with him. She seemed very full of herself and also seemed convinced she was Timothy’s star student.”
“She sounds charming,” Dinah said sarcastically.
“I met Brett Williamson when I took Leo shopping.” I explained that he sold men’s clothing and had helped with Leo’s makeover. Dinah wanted all the details and got a good chuckle when she heard we’d run into Barry. “I miss all the good stuff,” she said.
I circled back to talking about Brett as a suspect. “He appeared to put Timothy on a pedestal. He bought into the idea that he was honing his craft in the workshops, and it sounded like he was dropping a lot of money into Timothy’s pocket for extras.” I shrugged. “He even seemed to accept the fact that so far all he’d gotten were a couple of spots as an extra. Somehow Timothy kept him believing that his shot at stardom was just around the bend.”
“You’ve got to remember you’re dealing with actors,” Dinah said.
“Good point. Maybe it was all an act and inside Brett was seething that after all the time and money he had spent, his career was still going nowhere fast.”
“He certainly sounds like a possibility,” my friend said.
“There are a couple others I haven’t talked to. Alexandra Davinsky is the one who recruited Adele for the workshop. She was Timothy’s assistant. She clearly sees herself as a head above the rest of the group. Apparently, she wrote a script that’s in pre-production. All I know about Sonia Pierson is that the group used to meet at her house, but, now that Timothy’s gone, so is the offer to use her house. And then there’s Mikey Fitzpatrick. All I know about him is that he wants to be in a movie made from a comic book.”
“I think the correct title is graphic novel,” Dinah said. “I had no idea someone recruited Adele.”
I rolled my eyes, thinking of what Adele had said about the bookstore event. I brought Dinah up to speed on the free improv class and what Mr. Royal had said regarding the evening. “It sounds like it was a rehearsal for what Timothy had planned for the community college extension class. From what Adele told me, Timothy’s assistant laid it on pretty thick and said Timothy had pointed Adele out after she’d done her skit as someone with special talent.”
“Maybe the special talent was writing checks.”
“In Adele’s case, I think it was cash, since she didn’t want anyone to know who she really was.” I stopped to think for a moment. “It’s also how she’s escaped being questioned by the cops. They’re looking for Lydia Fairchild.” We both laughed at the name.
“Oh, and I finally found out what probably made Barry so sure I knew Timothy Clark.” I detailed the photograph from the event at the bookstore. “I’m carrying a chair behind Mr. Royal and Timothy, and since Barry knows I arrange the events, he figured I had set up that one.”
Sheila made her way back to us. “Sorry for taking so long. We’re a little disorganized, but I found the receipt.”
She held it out for me to see. She wasn’t joking about it being old-fashioned. It was the kind that came on a pad and made a carbon copy. Other than the date, the top part appeared empty.
“We try to get customer names and addresses so we can put them on our mailing list, but this buyer must have objected. There’s not even a first name. And it was a cash sale, so there isn’t even a credit card record.”
It wasn’t really a surprise, but I slumped with disappointment anyway.
“Wait a second,” Dinah said. “Do you know who sold it?”
“It must have been one of our part-time people. Maybe her.” She pointed out an arty-looking young woman who was helping a customer. Luxe offered
old-fashioned service, and the customer was sitting in a chair while the salesperson brought things out to show her.
“That’s Jennifer Page,” Dinah said. “She was in my freshmen English class last year.”
A lot of the community college students had part-time jobs in the area, and Dinah was always running into current and former students. Jennifer must have sensed we were looking at her and turned toward us. She recognized Dinah and waved. “She was a joy to have in my class,” Dinah said.
The customer finally left empty-handed, and Jennifer came over. “Mrs. Lyons, it’s so nice to see you. Can I help you find something?”
“As a matter of fact…” Dinah said with a twinkle in her eye, then asked her about the poison ring.
“Yes, I was the one who sold it,” she said. “I wanted to demonstrate how it could be used for aromatherapy, but she wasn’t interested. I tried to get her information, but frankly, she seemed a little paranoid that I was asking for it. She paid cash and didn’t even take her copy of the receipt.”
“Do you remember anything about her?” I asked.
“She was pretty brusque. She just tried it on and said she would take it. I mentioned that it seemed too big and we could get it sized for her, but she wasn’t interested. I thought maybe she was buying it for someone else with bigger fingers. Then she paid for it and was gone. I wrote the receipt up after she left.”
I asked what the woman looked like, but Jennifer seemed at a loss to describe her. I tried being more specific and asked about her hair color.
Jennifer shrugged. “I couldn’t really tell because she was wearing a straw hat.”
“The straw hat rings a bell. One of the women in the workshop had one on both times I saw her,” I said as Dinah and I stood outside Luxe.
“Ooh, the plot thickens,” my friend said, then looked at her watch. “I wish I could help you follow that clue, but I have to get back for office hours. One of the freshmen boys wants to discuss why I wouldn’t accept his paper.” She put up her hands in exasperation. “I couldn’t read his handwriting. He’s trying to say it’s my fault because I wouldn’t let him use a computer.” She promised to come to the happy hour later in the day to get an update.
Midmorning was always quiet at the bookstore. When I walked in, Mrs. Shedd and Lara-Ann were hovering over a display table. They were a striking pair. Mrs. Shedd’s honey-blonde hair didn’t have a strand of gray, whereas Lara-Ann’s hair was all gray, but the gorgeous kind that cascaded in waves down to her shoulders. She was somewhere in her forties, so the gray was definitely premature. Curious, I stopped by on my way to the information booth that was my quasi-office.
“Lara-Ann had some wonderful ideas for this table,” Mrs. Shedd said. “She suggested we put some boxes of chocolates with the mysteries, and this crossword puzzle magazine that’s mystery related. It’s such a wonderful way to gently steer our customers to items they might otherwise miss.” Mrs. Shedd was determined to keep the bookstore afloat and was always looking for new ways to add to the sales. She turned to our new hire and took her hand. “You are an excellent addition to the Shedd & Royal family.”
Lara-Ann blushed and bowed her head in a self-effacing manner. “You know I do love working here,” she said.
I too was certainly glad she’d joined the “family,” as Mrs. Shedd called it. Now that Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal were married, they seemed to be away from the bookstore more often and more distracted when they were there. Lara-Ann made it a lot easier for me.
Mrs. Shedd gave a last look at the table and told Lara-Ann she was free to add anything else to the table she wanted. “We do want our customers to browse and buy,” she said cheerily before announcing that she and Joshua were going out for an early lunch.
I was glad that Mrs. Shedd was happy with Lara-Ann, but I didn’t want her to be too happy. Call it sibling rivalry in the Shedd & Royal family. I stopped Mrs. Shedd before she walked away and said we ought to include the Sherlock Holmes jigsaw puzzle and a book of Miss Marple’s knitting patterns. Oh no, was I turning into Adele? Then I felt bad and, after Mrs. Shedd left, tried to be extra friendly to Lara-Ann. “It seems like you might be right about a ring being used to poison Timothy Clark.” I told her about what I’d found out at Luxe. “It sounds like the woman who bought it was acting suspicious.”
“Really?” Lara-Ann said. “I can’t believe that something I read turned out to be useful in a real-life mystery. Do you think I should tell the police about the ring?”
I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was for anyone remotely connected to me to volunteer information to the cops. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”
I continued my mission to be friendly by asking about her daughter.
I was amazed at how Lara-Ann’s face lit up. “Thank you for asking. I won’t bore you with the details, but we’re hanging in there.”
“Dealing with grown kids is never easy,” I said sympathetically, thinking of my recent visit with Peter.
“Isn’t that the truth?” She let out a sigh.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Elise came up and grabbed my arm. She looked to Lara-Ann. “I’m sorry for interrupting.” She was already pulling me away. “I really have to talk to Molly now.”
It still amazed me how such a wispy-looking woman could be so physically strong and so mentally determined. We stopped in an alcove between bookcases of reference books.
“Tell me, please, that you have things almost wrapped up. Barry Greenberg has been by to talk to Logan several times, and he kept giving me funny looks. I’m afraid that he saw me at the Clark house the other night. I’m so worried that he might bring it up to Logan. I’m fine as long as nobody asks me a direct question,” she said. “If Barry asks me if I was at the house, I’d have to tell the truth.” Her face collapsed. “If Logan finds out what I did, he’ll never let me work with him. He’s always going on about his pristine reputation.” I wished she’d lighten up a little and maybe get a sense of humor. She was right up there with Adele in the drama department. As she continued on about Logan, I noticed she kept gesturing toward the café. I finally asked her if he was there.
“Yes. He loves the Bobaccinos your barista makes.” She looked around frantically. “I told him I was coming in here for some yarn.”
I assured her I was working hard to settle the case. What she’d said had added even more incentive. All of her worries were about Logan finding out she’d shown the house, but if Barry did ask her any straight questions and she spilled the beans, all of us would be in trouble. I reminded her that I had wanted to talk to Logan all along.
“Be my guest,” she said. “Maybe he’ll tell you more than he told me. He said he wanted to protect me from the horror of it all. Remember, don’t say anything that would give away that you’ve seen that house.”
“You seem pretty tense. Why don’t you sit down at the table in the yarn department and crochet for a few minutes to calm yourself?” My suggestion, though thoughtful, was also self-serving. I didn’t want to have to worry about her rushing into the café and interrupting while I was talking to Logan.
I had never said anything to Elise, but I still wondered if it was sheer coincidence that Logan and his clients had found the body. Or had it been a setup?
Everybody in the café seemed to be in a similar pose—sipping on a drink and staring at some sort of screen. I had no trouble picking Logan out from the crowd. He was on the short side and wiry and would have been ordinary looking if it weren’t for his hair. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the light-brown color or the texture; it was how it sat on his head. His hairline was almost a circle far back on his head, making him look like he was wearing a hair hat. As I approached the small round table by the window, I saw he’d already gone through half his Bobaccino and was staring at his cell phone.
“Hey, Logan,” I said, trying to appear casual. I focused on his drink “How do you like your Bobaccino? I haven’t tried one yet, though someone tried to give me on
e.” I looked to see his reaction.
He let go of the straw and smiled. “You absolutely should try one. I like to customize mine. I have Bob throw in a couple of shots of espresso to the vanilla. The sugar and caffeine are a perfect mix for a pick-me-up,” he said. He didn’t miss a beat. “Are you finally ready to sell your house? What do you need such a big place for? We could get a good price for it and settle you into something more manageable, leaving you with a nice nest egg in the bank.”
“Has my son Peter been talking to you?” I asked with a joking smile. “And, about not needing such a big place, I really do need the space with my other son living with me, all my pets, and my mother using it for a rehearsal hall.”
He seemed surprised but not daunted. “Then maybe you need a bigger place. We could sell your place and find you a new place a little farther out.”
I had to give him credit for being single-minded. I chuckled inwardly, imagining what he meant by a little farther out—like maybe in another state? But I wasn’t there to talk about my house. “I’m really interested in Timothy Clark’s place,” I said.
He instantly sat up straighter. “I can get you a real deal on that place. They just dropped the price.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean buy it.” I cringed, realizing my mistake in phrasing. “I heard you were the one who found him.”
Logan’s enthusiasm disappeared and he sagged a little.
I was still standing and leaned against the table. “I saw you on the news. It must have been pretty unnerving to find a dead body.” I gave it a moment to see if he was going to say anything, but when he seemed to have gone silent, I kept on. “I suppose you told the cops a lot more than what was on the news,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. I saw that he was going to leave it at that, so I kept prodding.
“I only heard a little of what you said to the reporter. Something about you were showing the house…” I let it hang, a suggestion I’d picked up from The Average Joe’s Guide to Criminal Investigations, which was my favorite reference book, and it finally got him talking.
On the Hook Page 17