“So, what’s the plan?” I asked as we walked to the Mercedes SUV.
“You’ll see,” he said as he beeped the car open. Mason was big on making everything into a surprise adventure. And I turned it into the Sherlock Holmes game as I tried to deduce the plan based on where he drove. He got on the 101 and headed east, which left the options open. As we got closer to the interchange to the 405, he didn’t move to the right.
“Okay, I see you’re not getting on the San Diego Freeway, so that means no beach,” I said.
He just wiggled his eyebrows with an impish smile. “I think we both need something different,” he said.
There was just the slightest sigh, which seemed out of character, and I realized it might not be a clue. I had always thought that everything sort of rolled off his back, but then he’d occasionally shown a vulnerable side that surprised me. Who would have thought he would react to our last breakup with sad songs, a bottle of whiskey, and a broken heart?
“What gives?” I asked.
“Instead of spending a weekend with you, I was stuck doing damage control for Billy Buxford.”
I recognized the name of a well-known pop singer who threw temper tantrums and wrecked hotel rooms. The only reason Mason mentioned Billy by name was that it had been all over the media, which had shown Mason giving a statement that Billy was innocent and declaring that when he had his day in court, the truth would come out. I didn’t ask Mason for details because I knew he couldn’t give any, attorney-client privilege and all, but I was willing to bet money that Billy had done it.
“No more about that. This is about fun.” He chuckled as he watched me studying the backdrop as the freeway cut through Sherman Oaks and then Studio City.
I caught sight of the sign for Gelson’s and, in the distance, Universal Studios. I kept watching for Mason to move toward an off ramp, but he stayed in the left lane.
We zoomed down the freeway as it ran along the base of the mountains, first passing Forest Lawn with its very green grass before it morphed into Griffith Park, and I caught a view of the old trains in Travel Town.
“Give me a hint,” I said. We were nearing the interchange to the 5 freeway.
“No hints,” Mason said with a laugh. “So tell me what’s going on with you? Anything new about the woman in your group who died? The small piece I saw said it was under investigation. Knowing you, you’re probably in the middle of trying to figure out what happened.”
“Well, actually, I am, but it’s kind of challenge,” I said, and then told him how Connie and Marianne had been silent members of the group. “I hate to say this but, before Connie died, I really didn’t think much about her at all. We never knew what the relationship was between the two women. They just sat there and crocheted. I still don’t really know much about Connie, but at least I do know what their relationship was.” I looked over at Mason. “Connie was Marianne’s companion.”
I explained that Marianne seemed to need someone to look after her, though I didn’t know why.
“How’s the prep for the crochet show taping going?” he asked. I held up my arm to show off my wrapped bracelet and explained that at least we’d settled on a project.
He took my wrist and moved it into his line of sight and stole a look. “I like it. So that’s crochet?” he asked.
I affirmed, and he asked how it was going with Rory. I made a face. “That bad, huh?” he said with a laugh.
“She is so desperate to be in the spotlight that when we were talking about Marianne having a companion, she had to say she’d had one too, only hers had something to do with food. You can bet that if it had been her companion who had died in a freaky way, she’d be doing interviews all over the place and probably trying to turn the investigation into a reality show.”
Mason shook his head in disbelief. “Celebrities are their own breed.” A car cut in front of us, and he focused on trying to keep us safe. It wasn’t until we’d passed the interchange with the 5 freeway that something I’d said registered with him. “You said the woman’s aide died in a freaky way? What happened?”
Now it was me who was distracted. We were on the 134 now, and for some reason, the way the roadway hugged the side of the mountain made me think of the Wizard of Oz. On one side was rugged brush, and on the other was a view of the tall buildings of downtown LA peeking between the hills dotted with houses. It felt like we were traveling into another world. I forgot about Mason’s question as I realized where we were going.
“You’re taking me to Pasadena,” I said, just as we passed the Arroyo Seco bridge with its iconic design over the dry ravine.
“Ah, but the question is where in Pasadena,” Mason said as he turned off of the freeway.
As we drove past the old trees and beautiful homes, I thought of what Mason had said about taking me away somewhere where there’d be green as far as I could see, and then I knew.
“I know where we’re going,” I said triumphantly. “We’re going to the Huntington Gardens.”
“Technically, it’s called The Huntington,” he said, pretending that he was disappointed that I’d figure out his surprise.
Whatever the official name was, it was a wonderful place, with a mansion that had an art gallery, a library that had a Gutenberg Bible, and over a hundred acres of fabulous botanical gardens. It was a perfect place to get away from it all for a while. Once you were inside, the outside world melted away and you couldn’t even see the streets that bordered it.
“I bet this is what heaven looks like,” Mason said as we passed a green lawn with flower beds filled with sweet-smelling pink blossoms. “I thought we could get lunch over there.” He pointed to a café with a view of the rose garden.
I liked the idea of forgetting about everything and enjoying the moment, but the only problem was that all the lawns and gardeners tending them brought me right back to thinking about Marianne. I almost choked when I saw a sign along the walkway that said Caution When Wet. I must have made a face and let out a sigh, because Mason appeared concerned. “We don’t have to eat there. We can go somewhere else if you’d like.”
“The place you chose is fine,” I said. “It’s just that seeing all this reminded me of what I was trying to forget about for a while.” I told him where Marianne’s house was situated and the size of the property. Then I told him how Connie had been electrocuted.
I described the lawn and mentioned the sprinklers and added the radio with the frayed extension cord. I had already decided that if he asked where I’d gotten the information, I could pass it off as coming from Marianne.
“Yes, that is a crazy way to die. It could have been a weird accident or a clever way to kill someone. Who found the body?” Mason asked.
“Marianne did,” I said with a shudder, thinking of how horrifying it must have been. “She said that when Connie didn’t show up all morning and didn’t answer her cell phone, she was going to go to the guesthouse, but then she found her lying on the grass.”
“And Marianne didn’t get electrocuted, obviously, or even shocked,” Mason said.
“You’re right,” I said. “She said she didn’t go looking for her until the afternoon. Connie had stepped onto the watery ground the night before. By the time Marianne went out there, the ground and grass must have dried out and there wasn’t any water to electrify.”
“Hmm, maybe Marianne knew that,” he said.
“And she set the whole thing up?” I said. “But I saw her out that night having dinner with her brother—” I stopped short as I went over something in my mind.
Barry and I had talked about the possibility of it having been an accident caused by the gardeners’ desire for music. The idea was that they could have set up the radio when they were working and then forgotten about it. But Marianne could have done the same thing with a bit of a twist. She could have set up the radio in the afternoon and then left it, knowing the sprinklers would come on and soak the ground before Connie returned. I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stoma
ch.
“But what could the motive have been?” I asked.
“You mentioned that Marianne seemed on heavy medication. I imagine it was the companion’s job to make sure she took her meds.” He shrugged. “I don’t know Marianne, but I’ve had clients who were on drugs for mental health issues. They don’t like them and try not to take them. Maybe it was connected with that.” He turned to me for my response.
“That’s it.” I put my hands up in capitulation. “Back to the original plan of getting away from it all,” I said as we walked into the café. “I’m sure even Sherlock Holmes took a lunch break.”
Chapter Thirteen
“There she is,” Mrs. Shedd said as I came in the door to Shedd & Royal. She shot me a relieved look, and I realized that lunch had taken longer than I’d realized. It’s easy to forget about time and the world outside when you’re surrounded by gardens. We’d enjoyed high tea with a selection of savories and sweets served in an elegant room that looked out into a sea of rosebushes. In fairness to me, though, the Craftee people had shown up earlier than we’d agreed on.
I looked over the cluster of people at Mrs. Shedd’s side, and I didn’t recognize the woman dressed in arty layers over leggings or the man in fancy jeans and a graphic T-shirt, but the third person was a familiar face.
“Hi, Michael,” I said, greeting him before introducing myself to the pair, who turned out to be Felicity, the set designer, and Ethan, the director.
“This way,” I said, walking the three of them to the back of the store. I was surprised when Mrs. Shedd stayed with the group. She had every right to tag along, but it still made me uncomfortable, like when my son Peter used to listen to me talking on the telephone and made comments about what I was saying. I almost suggested that she handle showing them around.
“This is the yarn department.” It was really a silly statement, since they could obviously figure it out on their own. The three of them went into the heart of the area and began looking around. Then the two men started rearranging things.
“I’m sure Molly would like to know where the camera is going to be,” Mrs. Shedd said before she turned to me and winked. The two men had already changed the angle of the table before answering her question.
“It’s really cameras,” Ethan said. “There’ll be a stationary one facing the head of the table where Rory will be standing, and then we’ll have two people with handheld ones moving around the table. We don’t want the program to have the hollow look of a single camera on a cheap set. We want to make it exciting.”
There was more walking around and talking about lighting needed and moving bookcases to define the area more. I was really just an observer, though I did feel a twinge when they mentioned where Rory was going to be placed.
Michael turned to me. “We want to make sure everyone gets a good look at her hooking.” Then he chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t know the technical term.”
“We just call it crocheting,” I said.
“Speaking of that, I understand you’re going to show us the Make-and-Take project,” Michael said. As if on cue, I held up my wrist to show it off. It looked much better when worn, so I let them all examine it on my arm.
I was relieved when they all approved and went back to looking around and taking notes and photos. Mrs. Shedd and I stood watching them like a couple of statues, and when they were done, we escorted them to the door and watched them as they headed out.
I expected Mrs. Shedd to walk away then, but she didn’t move, and I saw her leaning so she could see a distance down the sidewalk at the disappearing group. I heard her let out her breath, and she straightened. “They’re definitely gone now, so we can talk.” Her expression darkened. “I saw you make a face when the producer mentioned where Rory was going to stand. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said. But then I reconsidered and realized I ought to tell her the truth. “I found out that Rory isn’t the expert with yarn that she told them.”
Mrs. Shedd’s expression cracked. “How bad is it?”
“She doesn’t know how to crochet at all,” I said.
Whatever good humor Mrs. Shedd was holding on to now turned to horror. “What will happen when they find out?”
“Hopefully that won’t happen,” I said. “I have Adele on the case. It should go better now. Adele was angling to be her sidekick and figured it didn’t matter how well Rory crocheted, but I explained the situation, and now Adele is working with her.” I rolled my eyes. “She even calls herself Rory’s crochet companion.”
Mrs. Shedd gave me a blank look, and I realized she had no idea what I was talking about. “Molly, do what you have to,” she said. “I know it wouldn’t be our fault that Rory misrepresented herself, but we’d bear the fallout. I’m depending on the exposure we’ll get. Imagine, all over the country and maybe the world, people will be seeing our little bookshop. We could become a tourist stop.”
I was concerned that Mrs. Shedd was overestimating the viewership of the show. Around the world? But she was right about the exposure putting us on the map. Maybe we wouldn’t be a tourist spot, but in our own way, the store would be a star.
“Believe me, I’m doing everything I can,” I said.
Once again, Mrs. Shedd surprised me by grabbing me in a hug. “I know you’ll come through, Molly.” But maybe she wasn’t completely convinced. That evening when the Hookers gathered for happy hour, Mrs. Shedd came into the yarn department. She wasn’t a crocheter or knitter, and the whole yarn department had come about almost by accident. But she was a supporter of our charitable projects and had the store supply the yarn.
CeeCee greeted the owner as she came in, though afterward CeeCee shot me a glance with a question in her eye, obviously wondering what was up. The rest of the group had a similar reaction as they came in and found their seats. Only Rory didn’t seem to think there was anything strange about Mrs. Shedd hanging by the table.
“Why don’t you join us?” Rhoda said, pointing at one of the empty chairs.
Mrs. Shedd put up her hand and refused. She must have realized how strange her standing there seemed and began to fiddle with one of the cubbies filled with yarn.
CeeCee glanced over the seat where Marianne usually sat and the empty one next to it. “Should we wait or start?”
I held up my wrist and showed off the bracelet. “The show people are happy with the project, but you all need to try making one.”
Dinah looked in my direction. “Are you sure Marianne’s coming?”
I shrugged and was about to suggest giving her another five minutes when Mrs. Shedd spoke up and suggested we start. She drifted down toward the far end where Rory and Adele were situated.
“If you say so,” CeeCee said with her usual merry smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” she asked.
We all looked at Mrs. Shedd, and it appeared to finally get through to her that her presence seemed odd and was making everyone feel uncomfortable. “Oh, no, I was just curious to see how everything was coming together. I’ll just stand back here and watch.”
Everyone relaxed after that, and CeeCee got things under way. That is, everyone but me. I knew there was some truth in what Mrs. Shedd said, but I was pretty sure her real mission was to spy on Rory and see how her lessons were coming along.
“Elise made up kits for us with the supplies for one bracelet,” CeeCee said as our wispy-looking Hooker began to hand out sandwich-size plastic bags.
“You’ll have to let me know how many to make for the actual show,” Elise said in her birdlike voice. “You’ll probably want to start stocking them in the yarn department. I’ll be happy to handle keeping you supplied.”
Elise’s vampire craft sets had made her quite the expert at kit making. I looked at the bag she handed me and noted that it had everything in it, including a length of cord, a small hook, a tiny bag with some beads, and even a small length of thin wire to use for threading the beads onto the cord.
Everybody started taking
the contents out, except Rory, who looked at the bag as if it was all totally foreign to her. Finally, Adele unloaded hers for her.
Mrs. Shedd had moved closer to the table. “If Rory is the host of the show, shouldn’t she be standing at the end of the table showing off how to make the bracelet?”
“We’ll work it out for the actual show, but for now Adele can be my crochet double,” Rory said, not missing a beat.
Adele popped out of her chair and placed the supplies on the table in front of her. CeeCee started to demonstrate how to start the project, but Adele took over. Mrs. Shedd looked at me and shook her head with a worried expression.
Just then, Marianne came in with Janine, her new companion. They slipped into their seats without trying to draw any attention. I had already met Janine, briefly anyway, when she showed up for her first night on the job. I’d been the one to stay with Marianne until she got there so Errol could leave.
Janine was tiny with sharp features and had seemed less than thrilled to be there. Upon arriving, she had gone to drop off her suitcase in her room while I stayed in the living room with Marianne.
“I wish she didn’t have to stay in the house with me, but with everything going on with the yard right now, staying in the guesthouse isn’t an option,” Marianne had said. I had been at a loss for what to say, other than that it would probably get worked out soon. Then Janine had reappeared and I had felt like an intruder and left. I had felt sorry for both of them.
The whole group turned to look at the new arrivals. After the stir Marianne’s brother had made when he came to drag her home, and then the next night all the chattering his wife had done when she accompanied Marianne to the group, Marianne’s silent presence was forever gone.
Adele tried to pull everyone’s attention back to her acting as Rory’s crochet double, but Rhoda spoke to the just arrived pair. “Oh, you’ve brought someone new.”
Janine seemed to ignore the comment. When Connie and Marianne had first joined the group, Connie had introduced herself and handled everything. She had always stayed next to Marianne during the hour, though they rarely spoke to each other, which I now realized had been a definite clue as to their real relationship.
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