You Better Knot Die cm-5

by Betty Hechtman

  “My character in the Anthony movie is known for her soft curves,” CeeCee said. “The director thought I looked a little gaunt for the part.”

  I hated to admit it, but as soon as she made the gaunt comment, I looked over her face and body. She’d kept the soft brown hair color and midlength style the stylist she’d hired a while back gave her, but she’d wavered from the woman’s choice of clothing style. The brown corduroy jean-style pants and creamy-colored cable-knit sweater were more revealing than the long tops over slacks the stylist had chosen for her. Nowhere in any of this did I see anything remotely resembling gaunt.

  “Is Elise coming?” CeeCee said, then turned to Tony and explained she was the Hooker she’d been telling him about who was so over the top about the Anthony books. “She’s already asked me to get her on the set when we film.”

  I mentioned that Elise’s mind seemed to be on other things now and described how she’d been hiding out in the yarn department.

  “Poor dear,” CeeCee said. It was a sincere comment. CeeCee hadn’t forgotten what it was like to lose what you thought you had. Things were going well for her now that she had the successful reality series and even better with her movie role.

  Adele bypassed the food table and headed into the children’s department. Koo Koo followed her, not an easy feat in the big red shoes. He stopped next to me and I was about to compliment him on his performance when Emily stepped in front of me.

  “I need that afghan back,” she said. “Right away.” The comment seemed to come from left field and it didn’t register for a moment what she was talking about. Once I realized she was talking about the pretty green blanket with the multicolored flowers, I reminded her that she had told me to give it to some charity sale. I pulled CeeCee into the conversation to explain.

  “You passed on that afghan, didn’t you?” I asked. CeeCee nodded and said she’d given it to the Hearts and Barks holiday sale.

  “But the sale hasn’t taken place yet, has it?” Emily said with desperation in her voice. She reached toward CeeCee and I thought she was going to grab her. I was struck by the change in my neighbor. The pleasant-looking suburban mom had been replaced by a wild-eyed woman. Now she looked gaunt.

  “Well, no, dear,” CeeCee said, edging out of Emily’s reach. “It’s in a few days, but the display has already been set up and the insiders have had a chance to look at everything. I think someone put a hold on it. It would really be bad form to take it back now.”

  “You have to get it back.” Emily’s voice had risen to almost hysterical. “I’ll pay whatever price was put on it plus twenty bucks.”

  CeeCee shook her head and Emily made a move toward her, and this time it was clear she was going to grab the actress. I stepped in to protect CeeCee, assuring Emily I’d get the blanket back for her.

  “What was that about?” Dinah said, coming in at the end of the exchange just before Emily and her daughters made a fast exit. Ashley-Angela and E. Conner were clutching my friend’s sweater and taking in their surroundings. When they realized they were standing next to Koo Koo, they started jumping up and down. I thought they would faint with excitement when he offered to escort them into the children’s area.

  I brought Dinah up to speed, and then told CeeCee even if it was bad form, she had to get the blanket back.

  “You’re too nice,” CeeCee said. “There’s a name for what she’s doing. I’d say it, but it’s not politically correct these days.” She looked around, no doubt checking for any paparazzi who might catch her in the faux pas. When I stood firm, CeeCee pulled out her cell and said she’d see what she could do.

  “It’s not totally about being nice,” I said to Dinah. “Think about it. She didn’t care about the afghan before—she didn’t even like it. Now suddenly she has to have it back. There’s something going on with it, and I am sure it has something to do with Bradley.” I reminded Dinah that when we’d followed Emily to the malls, she’d had the watch and an afghan, and even if Barry had tried to convince me there was no proof she’d actually connected with her supposedly dead husband, I was sure she had.

  Dinah and I headed toward the kid’s department. She wanted to check on Ashley-Angela and E. Conner and I wanted to see what Adele had set up for the event.

  “But if she already took him an afghan—why another one?” We crossed onto the carpet with the cows jumping over the moons. I was surprised at all that Adele had done. Handling story time had been the consolation prize Mrs. Shedd had given her when I was hired to arrange the bookstore’s events. Adele had been less than thrilled with it and kids in general, but maybe being the girlfriend of an important children’s author, as she referred to William, had changed her. Or maybe it was all about helping him sell more books. William as Koo Koo was standing adjacent to a display of the full Koo Koo library. Adele had also set up a table with a dreidel and was inviting the kids in the area to play.

  She held up the four-sided top and showed the kids the Hebrew letters on the side. She let each of the kids take ten silver-wrapped chocolate candies. The way the game was played each of them put one of their chocolates in the pot, then someone got a turn to spin the dreidel. When it stopped and fell, depending on which letter showed on top, the player would get nothing, get to take all the candies in the middle, get to take only half of them or have to add one of their candies to the pot. Then the next person got their turn and so on around the table. At the end of the game whoever had the most candies was the winner.

  Once the kids took their candies and began to play, we continued our conversation and Dinah repeated her question about why another afghan if she’d already taken him one.

  “I’ve been thinking about that. When Emily first told me about Bradley being missing, she said one of the things they had argued about was that the afghan was missing. She had thought he was just angry about everything and had thrown in that comment.” I mentioned how she had said she didn’t even think he liked it. He had been the one to stick it in a drawer. “But suppose he really was upset she had lent the afghan to me.” A thought struck me and it was one of those moments when I knew I had hit the truth. “Someone came into my house right after he disappeared. Suppose it was Bradley looking for the afghan?”

  “What about the second time someone broke in?” Dinah asked in a low voice.

  I thought it over a moment and realized it was the same night I’d seen the motorcycle in the Perkins’ driveway. The motorcycle Emily denied was there. “That could have been Bradley, too.”

  “Obviously Emily didn’t know whatever it is about the afghan that makes it so important or she wouldn’t have lent it to you.”

  “Right. She said his sister had made it, so maybe she just thought he wanted another one made by her,” I said. “Like it had some kind of sentimental value like the watch.”

  “But it wasn’t about the sentiment,” Dinah said. Her voice started to rise, but she forced it back to a whisper.

  In the end we came up with two conclusions. There was something hidden in the afghan and once Emily had it back, she was going to get it to Bradley.

  CHAPTER 19

  CEECEE CALLED ME AT THE BOOKSTORE THE NEXT day. She wailed on about what a production it had been and how embarrassing for her, but she had gotten the afghan back. She said she would bring it to the next Hookers’ meeting. I didn’t want to wait and said Dinah and I would come to pick it up. CeeCee hesitated, at first anyway. It took a certain amount of bribery for her to agree.

  “Did I mention I’d be bringing cookies?” I said. “Homemade butter cookies.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want those cookies to go to waste,” CeeCee said before setting up a time.

  I had already spent the morning clearing up the bookstore from the previous night’s festivities and was going to take off for a while since I was working in the evening until closing. Ashley-Angela and E. Conner were at a play date with the neighbors and Dinah had come by to meet me for lunch.

  We dropped our lunch plans
and flew to my house to make the offered cookies. It took no time as I had mixed the dough up a couple of days earlier and formed logs and put them in the refrigerator. It was the same recipe I used for my showstopper stained glass cookies. When I made those I rolled out the dough and used cookie cutters and mashed up hard candy to make them live up to their name. For CeeCee’s, I just sliced them, sprinkled on some red sugar and baked them. Within a half an hour we were out the door with a plate of warm cookies minus a couple that Samuel had snatched.

  I pulled the greenmobile to the side of the road in front of the wrought-iron fence surrounding CeeCee’s property. I got the cookies and we went up to the intercom on one of the stone pillars on either side of the gate. In the old days, the gate was unlocked, but the price CeeCee paid for her renewed success was the need for security.

  The pillars were beautifully decorated with pine fronds and red bows. Once we announced ourselves, the wrought-iron gate swung open and we walked onto a path lined with poinsettias. The pathway led through a small forest to the stone cottage-style house, which looked like something out of a fairy tale.

  We heard the “girls,” as she called her two Yorkies, before the door even opened. Once Talullah and Marlena got a whiff of the cookies, they ran over my feet and danced on their hind legs, looking up at the plate as I walked into the entrance hall. Two people were hanging more pine fronds on the archway that led into the living room. Even from the hall I could see the tree. It went up to the ceiling. Someone was on a ladder hanging the lights on it. For a moment I watched mesmerized. I knew celebrity-types hired people to decorate for the holidays, but it still seemed strange not to do it yourself.

  CeeCee led us into the dining room, which seemed our usual place to meet. She’d already taken the plate of cookies from me and lifted the wax paper off the top. “Molly, these smell delicious.” She had a cookie in her mouth before she set the plate on the table.

  The housekeeper came in from the kitchen with a silver tray set up for tea and coffee. She put it on the table. “Rosa, will you get that Neiman’s shopping bag on the service porch?” CeeCee said before taking another cookie and telling us to help ourselves to coffee and tea.

  A moment later the woman returned and set the department store bag next to CeeCee.

  The actress leaned toward us, not making a move toward the bag. “Okay, ladies, fess up. What’s the big deal about this afghan?”

  There was no point in lying, so I told her the truth. Or the reduced version. When I started at the beginning with Bradley disappearing and their argument about the crocheted piece, she waved her hand impatiently. “Too much information. Get to the point.”

  “I am sure there is something hidden in it.”

  “You know, dears, I played a guest spy in that TV show Retail Espionage. Of course, my character was only concerned about smuggling out the formula for a lipstick shade, but I learned a little about hiding things in plain sight.” She took out the afghan and spread it on the end of the table and the three of us began to look it over.

  Dinah fingered one of the white flowers that sat on top of the background. “I wonder how Madison did this?” She tugged at it to see if it had been sewn on, but it hadn’t. “Somehow she crocheted it up from the green squares.” I started to explain about surface crochet, but CeeCee interrupted me.

  “Who cares how it was made?” CeeCee said, flipping though the tassel on one corner. “If I was going to stick in some microfilm, it would be here.” She checked the two tassels hanging off another corner. When she came up empty she moved on to the next corner. “I think some of the tassels must have gotten knocked off in transit,” she said, noting that corner only had one tassel and the other corners had none.

  “Do you even know what microfilm looks like?” Dinah asked.

  CeeCee glanced at the table and flicked off a crumb. “The script didn’t exactly cover that,” she said.

  “Bradley isn’t a spy anyway,” I said.

  “You have a point,” CeeCee said. The three of us looked at the whole coverlet again, trying to figure out what could be hidden in it. Then we went over every inch and checked each flower, but in the end, we couldn’t find anything.

  “It really is pretty, but I think if I was making it, I’d drop the yellow flowers and just go with the violet, red and white ones,” Dinah said. “And I think I’d space them better. It’s kind of strange to have a bunch of flowers in one square and then none in the next one.”

  We stared at it until our eyes were blurry and all the cookies were gone.

  “Molly, dear, no offense to your abilities as a sleuth, but maybe since her husband is dead and even with all the trouble he’s caused, she really does want it for sentimental reasons.” CeeCee mentioned her confused feeling when her husband died and she found out the financial mess she was in. She rolled up the coverlet and put it back in the bag. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you have something you have to do,” CeeCee said, walking us toward the door.

  Dinah and I discussed the possibility of CeeCee being right about why Emily wanted the blanket as we drove to my house. The truth was we hadn’t actually seen Bradley and the elf had only said a man talked to him. It could have been some other man. But who?

  “Nicholas, maybe,” Dinah said, mentioning the Luxe shop owner. “Remember she went there the day she told you Bradley was missing. Kind of an interesting time to go shopping for tea. And she was there again around the time Sheila dropped off the blankets.”

  I reminded her that she’d been returning things, trying to get cash. Dinah’s red scarf blew across her face and she peeled it back. “Or so he said,” she said as I pulled onto my street. “Until you see a living, breathing Bradley, you really can’t be sure.”

  I stopped in front of my garage and got the afghan out of the shopping bag. There was no point in stalling its return. Dinah came along as we walked across my lawn and moved onto the Perkins’ property. The Santa’s sled had been knocked on its side and the half-done string of lights hung from the roof. It looked depressing and I wished she’d finish putting them up or put them away.

  Emily ripped open the door before the bell even did its last chime. She glanced up and down the street and then at me. “Do you have it?” she said in a sharp whisper. In answer, I held out the Neiman’s bag, but she pushed it back at me abruptly. “Not here.”

  She glanced past us toward the street and her eyes darted nervously. We started to turn our heads to see what she was looking at. “Don’t turn around,” she barked. “They’re watching me.”

  “Who,” I said, wishing I could turn to see if there was someone there or she was being paranoid.

  “The FBI, the SEC, the state’s attorney people. People who invested money with Bradley. Didn’t you see the way they looked at me at the bookstore? Don’t they get it—I’m a victim like everybody else. I’m hanging by a thread here. Any money I had is frozen until everything gets settled. And then they’ll probably take it, saying it was ill-gotten gains. My credit cards are canceled. And everybody thinks I was part of Bradley’s scheme.”

  We stood there a moment and I didn’t know what to say since I’d sort of joined that last group. “Go home,” she said in a impatient whisper, “and throw it over the fence into the backyard.” She shut the door without waiting for a confirmation.

  At least now I could check out the street as we walked back past the sideways Santa. Under the circumstances, I could see how she might not care about the decorations. The only vehicles on the street at this time of day were usually gardeners, pool cleaners and cleaning women, with an occasional plumber or pest-control truck thrown in. The assorted cars and vans seemed to fit those parameters. But were they what they seemed?

  I watched a man sitting in one of the cars on the street. Was he eating his lunch or keeping an eye on Emily? I shuddered, thinking of being in her position.

  Dinah and I went into my backyard. I knew just where to throw it over the fence, thanks to my adventure with
Mason. I stepped up on the bench and leaned through the bushes to the chain-link fence. I took the bag and tossed it over. It landed with a plop. There were some rustling noises and I heard something that might have been “thank you” before receding footsteps and finally the sound of a sliding glass door closing.

  “Now what?” Dinah said when I climbed down.

  “Let’s see what she does,” I offered. Really what I meant was let’s see if she goes anywhere. As if an answer, I heard the rumble of her garage door opening.

  “C’mon,” I said, running across the yard to the driveway. As soon as we got in the greenmobile, I backed down the driveway just far enough to see what was going on in hers. A moment later, Emily’s SUV roared backward toward the street. She stopped and checked both ways before backing out. A moment later she was zooming away.

  I didn’t bother to look if anyone had pulled away from the curb. I just made the same move she had and took off after her. I was disappointed when I realized she was headed toward the few blocks of stores considered downtown Tarzana. She parked the SUV on the street next to the back parking lot behind the bookstore and the stores adjacent to it.

  “Looks like we rushed for nothing,” I said, pulling into the parking lot next to a car with a bike in a bike rack. Still, as soon as I’d stopped the motor, we jumped out and tried to catch up with her. “Geez,” I said, “it really was for nothing.” Ahead she’d just walked into the bookstore. We plastered ourselves against the wall and watched her through one of the big windows that faced the main street.

  “The snowflakes look really nice from the outside,” Dinah said. I stepped back to get a better view, then caught myself. We weren’t there to admire the windows. Emily kept walking around, appearing to be looking at books, but every time she picked one up, she fluttered through the pages and replaced it. She spent about five minutes with the books and walked toward the door quickly. We tried to wish ourselves invisible as she came out of the bookstore.