Gone with the Wool

by Betty Hechtman

  We finally agreed to a place on the water in Monterey. I mentioned having to make desserts and muffins afterward. Bernard looked at his son with a troubled expression.

  “I don’t get it, Sammy. You let her wander the streets at night alone.”

  Estelle seemed surprised at the comment. “How do you know she was out in the street alone? Did you go out last night?” she said in a snippy voice.

  “What’s the difference? You took a sleeping pill and were dead to the world.”

  Sammy herded his parents away and said we’d meet back at our place.

  * * *

  Julius watched from a chair as I got ready for my evening with the Glickners. They were in the living room having glasses of wine. Sammy had set them up on a winery tour earlier, and they’d bought some of the wine they’d tasted.

  I hoped this dinner would satisfy them and that they would go back to Chicago and leave us all alone. I sighed. Who was I kidding?

  The restaurant was near Fisherman’s Wharf, and we had a table overlooking the harbor. It was one of those traditional steak and seafood kind of places, and Sammy’s parents seemed happy with it. We’d all helped ourselves to the salad bar and were waiting for our entrées. They were discussing their food. Bernard and Estelle were very pleased with the caviar on the salad bar. I was more interested in looking out the window. There was a mass of small boats bopping in the harbor. I saw the green light on the mast of a fishing boat nearby. It was the same kind of light I’d seen on the boat Dane pointed out the night before. Could it be Hank Hardcastle’s boat? I watched the activity as men moved on and off the boat, seeming to be getting ready to leave.

  “What are you so interested in?” Estelle said, noting that I had moved closer to the window to get a better look.

  “It’s a long story. I’m curious about a squid fisherman,” I said.

  Estelle made a face. “It sounds better to say calamari. Why would you care about a fisherman?”

  Sammy answered for me. “Casey has been using what she learned when she worked for the PI firm in Chicago to do a little independent investigating here. That’s it, isn’t, hon?” Sammy said.

  “Independent investigating?” Bernard said, rolling his eyes skyward. “You certainly seem to have trouble settling on something. Your retreats, the baking at night and now you’re a detective, too?”

  “Variety is the spice of life,” I said with a smile. I was never so glad to see dinner arrive. Thankfully, Bernard and Estelle were very into manners and didn’t believe in talking with food in their mouths, so dinner proceeded in silence.

  By coffee and dessert, I sensed that Bernard was anxious to get the meal over with. I was right there with him. He waved the server over and asked for the check.

  “Nice place,” he said, taking out his credit card. He glanced toward his wife. “Estelle, you look exhausted. I’m sure you can’t wait to get back to the room and go to sleep.”

  She looked at her husband with an arched eyebrow. “I know what you’re planning. You have a problem.” She turned to Sammy and opened her mouth to say something, but Bernard interrupted.

  “Why don’t the three of you go on outside. I’ll just sign the bill and join you.”

  Sammy had already gotten the car, and we were waiting when Bernard came out. The drive to my place was silent, and I almost jumped out of Sammy’s BMW when we got to my driveway. He backed out and headed on to the heart of town to drop off his parents at the B and B. I got in my yellow Mini Cooper and drove to the Blue Door.

  For once I had an uneventful night of baking, and no one came knocking at the door. I left three pumpkin pies and took the pumpkin muffins around alone. After dropping off the batch at Vista Del Mar, I went home and fell into bed. Julius seemed to notice that I was still in my clothes and gave me a disapproving stare, but when he realized I wasn’t going to get up and change, he curled up next to me and we both went to sleep.

  16

  “Are you okay?” A voice cut into my dream of monarchs fluttering around and a squid waving its tentacles. I opened one eye and saw that Lucinda and Sammy were standing over me. Julius was asleep next to me, completely ignoring their presence.

  “When you didn’t show up for breakfast, I got worried,” Lucinda said. “And then when you didn’t answer the door, I really got worried.”

  “Luckily, I was just leaving the guest house,” Sammy said. “I used the key you gave me.” I’d opened both eyes now and saw that he was holding it up. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He gestured downward, and I remembered that I was still in my clothes. “I thought you might have passed out or something. I can give you medical aid if you need it.”

  He put his hand out as if he was going to feel my forehead but instead did some fluttering of his hand. “A penny for your thoughts,” he said, making a coin appear.

  He glanced around the room with a guilty look. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s been a real strain not doing any magic while my parents are here.”

  I sat up, which seemed to reassure them both. The only one unhappy with the move was Julius, since it deposed him of his spot. He gave the three of us a stare with his yellow eyes before jumping off the bed and walking out of the room, swishing his tail with annoyance.

  “I’ll give him some stink fish on my way out,” Sammy said. “I have a bladder surgery this morning.”

  Lucinda watched him go. “I always forget he’s a doctor.” I assured her I really was fine and urged her to go back across the street. I promised to join the group soon.

  I showered and got dressed and was on my way in no time. People were just heading to morning programs when I got to the Vista Del Mar grounds. I didn’t know much about what other groups were holding retreats there that week, but I was guessing at least one of them had to do with insects. Butterfly Week had to be a huge event for them.

  I saw a cluster of people beyond the dining hall, at the edge of the grounds. They seemed to be working on something, and I realized it was the tarp-covered thing I’d seen earlier in the week. The brush blocked a lot of the view, and all I could see was a huge rendition of a monarch, with its stained glass coloring hovering at one end. I was sure it was connected to the parade.

  I went right for the coffee and tea service when I got to the meeting room, and then I took my spot at the table. They were all working on their projects, and other than Lucinda, nobody seemed to notice I’d just come in.

  They didn’t want to stop at the appointed time, so we stayed in the meeting room until the lunch bell rang. For once I didn’t have to rush off anywhere and stayed through the meal and the afternoon workshop.

  There was a lot of excited talk about going back into town for the play. I was more excited about the prospect of finally getting to meet Hank Hardcastle.

  * * *

  After dinner, I directed my group to the driveway in front of the Lodge. The small bus was waiting for us. Lucinda and I sat together in the front. I looked over the seat to make sure everyone was there. “All accounted for,” I said to the driver, and we were on our way.

  The bus dropped us off at the natural history museum. The lights were on, and the doors were open. I led my group into the entrance hall, where we joined a crowd. Most of the people headed for the main exhibit hall for the dedication. My group wasn’t much interested in this part and went off into the rooms devoted to the monarchs.

  The crowd for the dedication was already overflowing into the entryway, but I squeezed into the room, determined to get a good view of Hank Hardcastle.

  A woman with a microphone introduced herself as the chief docent. She was dwarfed by the hulking stuffed grizzly bear next to her.

  “We are all saddened by what happened to Rosalie Hardcastle. This was supposed to be a happy moment for her. She had particularly wanted to place the plaque during Butterfly Week.” She turned to the giant creature and seemed a li
ttle flummoxed. “We don’t really have grizzly bears around here, but it’s good for the museum to have a broader appeal.” She looked at the towering bear. “And for any of you concerned, the bear was found already deceased, so it’s not like he was sacrificed for an exhibit.” A relieved sound went through the crowd, and then she introduced Hank Hardcastle.

  I laughed thinking back to Dane’s description of Hank. It sounded like he was describing somebody for a wanted poster. You’d think as a cop, he’d pay more attention to the whole person. Right away I picked up that he wasn’t comfortable dressed in slacks and a sport jacket by the way he stood. He tugged at his shirt collar a few times, and I got that wearing a tie was definitely not his thing, either. He had longish hair, but it was slicked back, probably with the help of some men’s hairdressing product. I looked at him for a long time, trying to match him up with the man Tag had been talking to. But then I’d only seen his back, and the man had been wearing rubber boots and a Windbreaker and had seemed a whole lot more comfortable in his clothes. Hank thanked the docent for the kind introduction and then turned sideways to gesture toward the bear. I almost gasped out loud. I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure he was the man Tag had met, but when I saw his profile I was sure he was the man from the storeroom at Cadbury Yarn.

  I looked back at the audience, surveying the crowd until I found Gwen. She was looking right at him with a furrowed brow. I had no idea what that meant.

  Hank talked for a few minutes about Rosalie wanting to leave a legacy to the town, and how she’d expected this to be just the beginning of their gifts to the museum. “She had planned to have a whole Hardcastle Pavilion added on to the building in the future.” He looked over the crowd. It seemed like he smiled at a few people, but I couldn’t tell who. He held up the plaque. “It was supposed to have both of our names, but after what happened, I had a new plaque made up saying the bear was in memory of Rosalie Hardcastle.” He bowed his head in respect for a moment.

  “You all know I’m a fisherman and not much of a speaker, so that’s all I have to say.”

  Everyone erupted in applause, and he walked into the crowd. The docents started directing everyone to the multipurpose room. I followed along with them and saw that the room had been set up with rows of folding chairs facing the stage. I saved seats in the front for my group and waved them over when they came in. With them all situated, I went to stand in the back to see where Hank sat.

  He took a seat on the end of the back row, and I grabbed the chair next to him. I had hoped to start up a conversation before the play, but the lights dimmed and the curtain opened. Cora and Madeleine Delacorte were standing with the Princess Court. The princesses were now all wearing orange tunics over black leggings. With them all dressed in the same clothes, it was hard to tell one girl from the other. Except Chloe. With hair streaked with orange and heavy makeup, she definitely stood out. Chloe couldn’t just go along with the crowd.

  The docent who had introduced Hank joined them on the stage and welcomed the crowd to another Butterfly Week tradition. She did the whole number on how it wasn’t a beauty contest as much as a competition to be an ambassador for the butterflies.

  I saw that Dane had come in but was hanging in the shadow by the doorway. He was in uniform, but I suspected he was there to see his sister.

  The docent turned over the microphone to Cora Delacorte, who said she was going to introduce each of the princesses and give her a chance to say something. As she started through the group, most of them said pretty much the same thing about how lucky Cadbury was that the monarchs had chosen the town and how they viewed their job as protecting the butterflies and taking part in the activities throughout the year. I held my breath when Chloe stood up. She turned to face the crowd.

  I couldn’t believe it when she said almost exactly the same thing. Then she hesitated. “Forget all that flowery stuff. I really want to be queen, and I think I’d make a good one. Take my word for it, if I’m queen, nobody will mess with the monarchs.” I had never thought about it, but apparently she’d picked up some of the karate moves from her brother. She proceeded to demonstrate her power by doing kicks and jabs. Lieutenant Borgnine had come in now, too, and was standing at the side of the room, glaring at her. She was definitely not doing herself any favors.

  I didn’t get to see Dane’s reaction. When I looked over to where he’d been standing, the spot was empty.

  The “play” came next. I’m not sure what I had expected, but certainly not something put on by the elementary school and called The Flight of the Butterflies. It was hardly high drama. A bunch of kids wiggled on the ground, pretending to be caterpillars before being wrapped up in blankets. The lights went off, and when they came back on, they had all turned into butterflies. I kind of lost track of it after that, but they seemed to be making plans for the winter, and then the Lord of the Butterflies joined them and said he was going to lead them to their new home.

  It ended with the docent inviting everyone to have punch and cookies. When the lights came up, I turned to start up a conversation with Hank, but he was out of his seat before I could say a word. I saw that Hank was headed toward the door, and I rushed to catch up with him.

  I had no idea what I was going to say to Hank, but I hoped I still had the touch from working for Frank.

  When I caught up with him, I started with how nice his words about his wife had been. Flattery always opens doors. He was no different.

  “I’m not much of a public speaker,” he said. “But thank you.” I quickly added my condolences about Rosalie, though it felt rather strange, since I was hoping that he was the one who killed her, as I was trying to get the spotlight off Chloe and me.

  “I wish I had been there,” he said, hanging his head in regret—or maybe to hide his expression. “I could have protected her.”

  “So you weren’t there for any of the event?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard about Rosalie, but she was a special person. That’s how I want her remembered.” I wondered what Hank’s alibi was and if Lieutenant Borgnine had checked it out. The cop had left by then, so I couldn’t even ask him.

  Hank was beginning to get that body language that said he was going to leave. I went right to the heart of things. “Were you at the Blue Door the other night?”

  He stared at me for a moment and blinked a few times. “What makes you say that?”

  “I saw Tag Thornkill talking to someone on the porch of the restaurant, and you resemble the person I saw.”

  “Us fishermen all look the same—must have been someone else.” He had an uncomfortable smile.

  “What about in the stockroom of Cadbury Yarn?” I asked. The color drained from his face, and he swallowed hard a few times.

  Coach Gary without his wings stepped in next to Hank. “Sorry to interrupt, but Hank, I just wanted to say the bear is a great addition to the museum. I’m just sorry Rosalie couldn’t be here to see the plaque.” He gave Hank a pat on the back. “C’mon, let’s get some of that punch.”

  As they walked away, I overheard their conversation.

  “Thanks for saving me,” Hank said.

  “It looked like she’d cornered you,” Coach Gary said. I couldn’t quite hear what Hank said after that. Just the word trouble.

  Lucinda caught up with me at the punch bowl. Since part of the thing with Hank involved Tag, I couldn’t even talk to her about the aborted conversation. I gathered up the group and loaded them on the bus.

  “So, how’d you enjoy the play?” I said in a cheerful voice as the bus pulled away from the curb. There was the silence of disapproval, then somebody in the back shouted out, “It wasn’t exactly Annie.” I made a mental note that if I had a retreat the next year to coincide with Butterfly Week, I would not include the play again.

  Even if they weren’t that happy with the play, everyone seemed to have enjoyed doing something at
night, and they all thanked me as they got off the bus.

  “We’re having a night-owl session,” Olivia Golden said, gesturing toward the Lodge. “I know you have to do your baking. Bree, Scott and I can handle everything,” she said. Lucinda overheard and said she would be backup, too. Even so, I walked in with them.

  I was so grateful for their help. I simply couldn’t have managed without them. I watched for a moment as they moved to the long table and started to gather chairs around it.

  As I got ready to leave, Kevin St. John came up to me. “I need to speak to you, Ms. Feldstein.” He went back and forth between calling me Casey and Ms. Feldstein, but using my last name was never a good sign. He’d been so busy with all the extra things going on, he hadn’t had much opportunity to give me a hard time, but I had a feeling all that was going to change. There was a smile on his usually placid moon-shaped face. It was the kind that said to me he was looking forward to giving me some bad news.

  “There’s a matter of a bounced check,” he said. “I’m sure when the Delacorte sisters hear about it, they will be very distressed. They’re insisting that I give you a tremendous break on the rooms, and then you don’t even pay that.”

  He’d caught me off guard, and I didn’t know what he was talking about for a moment. Then I remembered the check Liz had given me for the Danish ladies. I had hoped that the manager would never find out that it had been returned before by the clerk.

  “That’s old news,” I said. “It was just an error, and I gave the clerk another check.”

  Now Kevin St. John looked really triumphant. “Ms. Feldstein, it’s that second check I’m talking about. When it came back, the clerk you talked to felt obligated to tell me what was going on.”

  He didn’t seem to know all the details about the check. Once he heard I was connected with it, he probably didn’t wait for the rest of the details. I wondered if I should mention that it was actually a check from Liz Buckley that I had signed over to them. I took out my checkbook, wrote out and tore off a new check and handed it to him.