For Better or Worsted (10 page)

“We’re still designing it,” I said.
Designing
sounded better than
trying to come up with
.

“I’d like it to be something wonderful and maybe something for animals,” Lyla said.

“I’ll make note of that,” I said. Adele didn’t want to be the only one at the table, so she joined us, too.

“I’m doing a special animal story time that day,” Adele said. “Maybe we could move your party up so they coincide.”

Both Emerson and Lyla looked horrified at Adele’s suggestion. “The party isn’t going to be in the part of the bookstore with the cows jumping over the moons, is it?” Lyla asked with grave concern in her voice.

I looked at my watch and realized we’d already gone over the half hour and announced we had to leave while assuring Lyla and her mother that the party would be in the yarn department at the table the Hookers used.

“So, did you teach her to crochet?” I asked Adele as we walked to my car.

“You’re kidding, right?” Adele said. “I think she mastered the slipknot.”

“But that’s just the first thing you do. It’s not even a stitch.” This was not a good sign for the party.

CHAPTER 13

“
MOLLY,” BARRY CALLED OUT TO ME JUST AFTER I
turned the corner onto Ventura Boulevard. I was on my way into the bookstore from the parking lot. Adele had already rushed on ahead since we were late in coming back. Barry was walking toward me with a man in a suit who I assumed was another detective.

Barry’s detective face gave way to a smile as we stopped, facing each other. He said he and his detective friend were just coming from lunch at Le Grande Fromage down the street. I expected him to walk on after that, but he seemed to hesitate, like he was hanging onto the moment.

“Well,” I said, finally. “I have to get back to work.” I nodded toward the bookstore.

“Where are you coming from?” he asked. I noticed he caught himself and tried to soften his interrogation voice.

“It’s a long story,” I said and took a step away.

“I’d like to hear about it.” He called to his companion to go on ahead. Then he walked me the rest of the way to the bookstore.

“I don’t suppose Mrs. Shedd would let you get a cup of coffee with me.” He sounded hopeful. “Then you could give me all the details of your long story.”

“Are you feeling all right?” I said.

“Why?” He seemed puzzled.

“Because you aren’t exactly acting like yourself,” I said. Normally, Barry might have stopped in during the day to see how I was, but then he was out the door in a flash.

“Maybe I’ve changed,” he said, and his smile grew warmer as it lit his dark eyes.

I assured him Mrs. Shedd wasn’t going to want me to take a break, but that didn’t seem to deter him.

“Do you want something? Information, maybe?” I said, still not trusting the way he was acting.

“Why? Do you have some? You have been spending a lot of time with Thursday Fields. She must be confiding in you.”

“I thought so. That’s what this is all about. You’re on an information hunt.” I walked through the bookstore, letting Mrs. Shedd see that I was back, and then I headed toward the yarn department. Barry kept pace with me.

“I was joking about the information,” he said. “Of course, if you have any, I’d be glad to hear it.” He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down while I straightened up the yarn bins. “It’s just that I never get to see you alone.”

I reminded him of our upcoming evening to see Jeffrey’s play. He started to fiddle with one of the hooks on the table. “I know I screwed up and was undependable and everything else when we were together. I miss spending time with you.”

“But we’re still friends,” I said. “We can still spend time together.”

He didn’t say it, but I knew what he was thinking—that it wasn’t the same, and of course, he was right.

“So, tell me the long story.” He’d leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out.

“Are you sure you really want to hear it?” I said, and he nodded.

I told him about the Parties with a Purpose idea and that we were arranging the first one. He started to grin. “It’s not going to be like the author events. No smoke alarms going off, or floods when a Mr. Fixit turns out to be Mr. Breakit. It can’t be that way. If it is, there goes the business, and Mrs. Shedd is counting on me and Adele.”

Now Barry laughed. “Adele’s involved and you think it’s going to go smoothly?”

“You wouldn’t recognize her,” I said. “Your fellow cop Eric has had a big effect on her. Well, maybe it’s more the fact that his mother is visiting.” I filled Barry in on Leonora and the change in Adele.

He was enjoying hearing about it all, even though he didn’t buy that Adele had changed or that the party would come off without a hitch. I did remind him that even though most of my events had some kind of drama, they were always successful, if success was measured by the book sales.

“I hope you’re wrong or that Emerson is understanding if you’re right.” I told him that Emerson did the flowers for Thursday’s wedding, including the arrangement on the wedding cake. “It’s lucky she didn’t see what happened to her work.” I still had the image of Jaimee Fields sitting in the cake with the flowers Emerson had so carefully placed having turned into a bunch of crushed petals.

“Really?” Barry said, sitting up.

“Relax, she was only at the reception long enough to put the fresh flowers on the cake and make sure the flowers in everyone’s lapels were fresh. When she left, everyone was still alive.”

“How do you know?” Barry said.

“Because she told me she did. And because she didn’t even know the groom or any of the wedding party. Jaimee Fields hired her and must have given her the go-ahead to leave the reception.”

“You’re probably right. Besides, I think Heather probably talked to her.”

“How’s the investigation going? Any suspects?” I asked.

Barry looked at me intently. “Maybe I should ask you the same thing.”

“What makes you think I’m sleuthing?” I gave Barry an innocent shrug, but he responded with a deep laugh.

“Let me count the ways. You walked into the middle of it. Thursday is staying at your house, and you seem to enjoy playing Nancy Drew.”

“You left out that I’m good at it,” I said with grin. I waited to see if he was going to admonish me to stay out of it as he’d always done in the past. Maybe he really had changed because instead he suggested that we share notes. Though I knew the real meaning of that was I was to give up what I knew. He sighed when he glanced at his watch.

“I’ll have to take a rain check on the information share,” he said as he stood. “I have to see a man at the morgue.” He didn’t elaborate if the man was standing up or on a slab, and I didn’t ask. “I don’t remember what the rules of being friends are. Is a good-bye hug acceptable?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. I expected a chaste hug that was mostly arms, but Barry apparently didn’t understand the different kinds of hugs, and the one he offered was full body and lasted long enough to be more like holding than hugging.

I was so stunned at his display of affection—Barry had always been very reserved in public when we were together—I didn’t know how to react for a moment. I think Barry was as surprised at his actions as I was and suddenly dropped his arms.

“Sorry,” he said and pulled away. “This whole platonic thing is still a little confusing.” He gave me a wave good-bye as he headed toward the door. He looked back just before he went out. There was something in his eyes I had never seen before. He had let down his guard and finally opened the door to his soul. The look of regret and longing went straight to my heart.

I sighed to myself. And I thought just being friends was going to be less complicated.

I didn’t get much chance to mull it over, because a moment later I heard Mrs. Shedd point me out to someone.

“You can give it to her yourself,” she said. Ben Sherman was standing next to her at the edge of the yarn department. He certainly had the writer look down pat. The day-old stubble, the mass of slightly disheveled black curls and the messenger bag slung across his chest.

Mrs. Shedd walked away as he held out a piece of paper. “I wrote up a description of the workshop and a bio more aimed at an adult audience.” I took it and read it over. No mention of
Janet and the Beanstalk
in this one.

“You’re like an all-around writer,” I said, noting that he’d listed a number of publications he’d written for and several television programs.

“Some people say credits are like money in the bank. Personally, I’d rather have the money in the bank. But it could all turn around. I just found out I’m in the running for a regular gig on a series.” He held up his hands and showed off his crossed fingers. “Then no more juggling a bunch of jobs.”

“Then what happens to the kids’ group and the adult workshop?” I said. “It wouldn’t look good for the bookstore if we set up these two workshops and suddenly had no one to facilitate them.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that pretentious word, but then that was how he was being listed for both groups.

“How about I guarantee I’ll stick with both groups for six months, no matter what,” he offered. I wondered if I was being foolish taking him at his word, since I really didn’t know him, but I finally agreed. With that settled, I said I would use what he’d given me in advertising the adult workshop, and he ambled off, saying something about looking around to get some ideas for books he could suggest to the workshop people.

I took what he’d given me and headed to what now served as my office. Mrs. Shedd had come up with the idea that if I did all the work for the events in the customer service booth, I could help customers at the same time. I actually liked being out in the middle of things, even though it came with lots of interruptions.

Not that I minded the first one I got. “Sunshine,” Mason said, smiling at me from the other side of the counter. I was surprised to see him in the middle of the day, and worried there was something new wrong.

“It must be the attire,” he said, glancing down at himself. Instead of the beautifully tailored suits he wore for work, he had on a pair of khakis and a Hawaiian shirt. “I took the day off to help Thursday. Now that the funeral is over,” he said with a heavy sigh. “She needs to move on, and she doesn’t want to overstay her welcome. We went looking for a place for her.”

The funeral had been several days earlier. Thursday had barely talked about it, other than to say that it was small and terribly sad. Mason and Jaimee had gone with her, and I was glad I hadn’t been invited along.

I asked him about the outcome of their search, and he said they’d looked at a few places, but hadn’t found anything yet. “It will still be a while longer, if that’s okay,” he said. I assured him it was.

Mason leaned on the counter and looked around the bookstore with a grin. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your boss. Should I pretend to be asking for help in finding something?”

I rolled my eyes. “Mrs. Shedd knows who you are. So, you were saying?”

“Thursday’s mother was going to help her, but my daughter didn’t want to have a film crew traipsing behind them, so I stepped in.” He shrugged as if it was no big thing. It was to me. I was so impressed at what a caring father he was. It wasn’t so much what he did, but how he did it. All from the heart.

“We stopped by on the chance you were ready for a break and we could treat you to something.” He put his hand on my arm and ran his finger over my skin. “There’s no way I can thank you for what you’ve done.” He stopped and chuckled. “But wait, maybe there is. If you want to be friends with the detective, okay, but I say we step things up with us to the next level, and then I can properly show my appreciation.” He got a naughty grin and wiggled his eyebrows.

I was glad to see that Mason was back to his fun self. “Thanks, but no thanks for now,” I said.

“Like I told you before, I’m a patient man,” Mason said.

“And persistent,” I said. “For now, I’ll take you up on a coffee. Did you say Thursday was with you?”

I made a scan of the bookstore and then stopped when I recognized her stylish lopsided haircut. She was standing at one of the display tables at the front of the bookstore, looking over the selection of Halloween merchandise. Ben Sherman was at the same table, examining the candles and plastic skeletons. There seemed no connection between them, but then I noticed a slight shake of her head that was clearly a response to someone. And since there was no one else there, it seemed obvious it had to be Ben.

“Does Thursday know him?” I said, trying to be discreet as I gestured over Mason’s shoulder.

“Who?” Mason said, picking up my cue and turning. But by then, Ben was already out the door and Thursday was walking toward us.

She seemed happy to see me and greeted me with a hug. She repeated what Mason had said about getting a place and getting on with her life. Mason put a supportive arm around her and said how well she was doing under the circumstances.

“Maybe when you get settled, you’ll want to join the writing workshop we’re going to have at the bookstore,” I said, watching Thursday intently. “Ben Sherman is going to be the facilitator,” I said, keeping tabs on her expression. “I think you know him. He was just at the front table with you, and I saw you talking to him before.”

I was hoping she’d break into a smile and say something like, “Oh, him. Sure I met him at a party or we went to high school together.” Instead, she seemed nonchalant as she said, “You must be mistaken. I wasn’t talking to anyone.”

Uh-oh.

CHAPTER 14

“
I CAN’T TELL MASON THAT I THINK HIS DAUGHTER IS
lying,” I said to Dinah. When my day at the bookstore had finally ended, Dinah and I had gone up the street to Le Grande Fromage to get some dinner. I was glad for the company as I needed some help in processing everything that had happened. Dinah was a whiz at dealing with students that were all over the place, and I hoped she could do something with my day.

It was past dinner hour, and there were only a couple of tables occupied in Le Grande Fromage. We picked an empty one and left our things before heading to the counter to order. I didn’t realize until we were at the front counter that the person being waited on was Isa Susberg.

She was talking to the counter help. I ate here often and saw she was talking to a fellow named Matt Kearns. I knew she didn’t want to commit to having the shower at the bookstore yet, but I thought it would be a good idea to be friendly. I’d wait until she was finished with her order and then say hello.

I heard the tail end of their conversation and almost let out a groan as I realized they were talking about Thursday’s wedding. How long was it going to take before it wasn’t the topic of conversation all over Tarzana?

“I’m certainly not putting that on my résumé,” the counter guy said, shaking his head. “I think you guests got off easier. It seems like the cops took your statements first. When they got to me, it was strictly my name and I didn’t see anything.”

“My husband was very upset. All those questions about who had invited us and his connection with the groom’s family.” Isa looked past Matt to the cook in the back who was putting together her order. She asked for extra sauce for something before turning back to the counter guy. “It was very awkward because my husband is a business associate of Jackson Kingsley’s, rather than a friend or family.” I couldn’t see her face, but the counter guy seemed to react to her expression.

“And I’m guessing he wasn’t a big fan,” Matt said. It seemed like he was going to add something, but then shrugged it off as he noticed me standing behind her and said he’d be with me in a minute.

As Isa picked up her order, I greeted her. Before I could say anything, she brought up the shower and said she would let me know soon. As she left, Dinah pretended to be looking over the menu, but I knew she was giving me a moment to talk to Matt.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” I said. “So, you worked that reception.” He nodded.

“I saw you come in,” he said. “You were with the homicide detective.” He said it half as a question and half as a statement. “He’s the one who took my statement.” Matt gestured toward the menu and started listing the daily specials, clearly trying to move things along. Dinah and I ordered and then went to our table to wait for the food.

“How come you didn’t ask him anything?” Dinah said in a low voice when we’d sat down.

I lowered my voice even more to whisper. “He said he saw me come in with Barry, and Barry took his statement.” I mentioned that he’d told Isa that he’d only told the cop who questioned him his name and that he knew nothing. “Do you think he would tell me anything else?”

“You’re right,” Dinah said.

“Besides, I’m more concerned with Thursday.” I repeated what I’d thought I had seen earlier and her reaction.

“Maybe there’s an explanation. Suppose she just ran into him those two times and they started up a conversation, but there were no names attached.”

“I’d agree, except that the second time, it was obvious they were trying to appear like they weren’t talking to each other. That implies hiding something. And she said she wasn’t talking to anybody.”

“You’ll just have to confront her,” Dinah said. “Use some of the interrogation tricks in the
Average Joe
book.

I rocked my head with discouragement. “This is so awful to say, but Thursday is pretty clever. And she is a lawyer’s daughter. I think she understands that all she has to do is deny knowing him.”

I went back over the rest of my day, and by the time I got to Adele and the crochet lesson, which amounted to Lyla learning how to do a slipknot, Dinah’s eyes were almost going in circles. “Though I have to say, Adele seems to be okay as a teacher.” I was going to go into more detail, but Dinah stopped me.

“Enough about her, can we go back to the Detective Barry encounter?” my friend said. Just then Matt showed up with our tray of food. Had he heard her? I couldn’t tell by his expression. It didn’t matter anyway. I’d already figured he wasn’t about to confide anything in me. He put the onion soup down in front of Dinah. I had only a croissant and some brie cheese. We were sharing a green salad. It wasn’t until he’d headed back to the front with the empty tray that we resumed our conversation.

“I wasn’t going to say anything about Emerson doing the flowers. I just sort of blurted it out,” I said, figuring that was what she meant about the Barry encounter.

Dinah stuck her spoon through the layer of soft bread and melted cheese to the steaming soup. “I was thinking more about that hug you say he gave you. It sounds like it left you a little weak-kneed.”

“It doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter that Mason isn’t happy with the state of affairs.” I giggled at my word choice. “Or that there aren’t any. Nothing is changing.” I took a bite of the buttery croissant and creamy cheese. I was glad they’d added some baby lettuce to cut the richness. “I’d rather talk about Jonah’s murder.”

Dinah gave me a knowing look. “Sure, if that’s what you want to talk about. I bet he’s not the only one who just gave their name,” Dinah said with the hint of a gesture toward Matt, who was back behind the counter.

“It seemed like Isa’s husband wasn’t very forthcoming, either,” I said.

“And with all those guests and servers wandering around, how they’ll ever figure out what evidence goes with the killer is beyond me,” Dinah said. “You should really ask Thursday about Paxton Cline. Maybe she knows why he got bounced as best man. Think about it. He could have known about the robot-looking servers and figured out he could blend in and leave before anybody knew what happened. And his alibi of going to a baseball game. Puleeze. Talk about lame.”

“Wouldn’t Barry be surprised if I not only told him about Paxton, but handed him all the evidence he needed?” Then I deflated. “But Paxton seems so nice and he works for his grandmother’s yarn company.”

Dinah rolled her eyes. “Nice people can do bad things.” She spooned up the last of her soup.

“It’s going to be pretty hard to ask Thursday about Paxton if I’m trying to corner her about knowing Ben.” I pushed my plate away and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “I hope it turns out that I’m just seeing bogeymen under the bed, and there’s a simple explanation. Or she misunderstood. It has to be something like that, doesn’t it?” I looked to Dinah for confirmation. She just put up her hands and shrugged. Then, good friend that she is, offered to come with.

“It’s better if I do it alone,” I said. “And there’s no time like the present.”

We walked back to the parking lot, and Dinah wished me luck before continuing on the short distance to her house.

As was becoming all too common, things didn’t turn out as I had planned. When I walked into my kitchen, I noticed two things right away. No dogs and cats met me at the door as they usually did, and there was the sound of voices coming from my living room. I slipped to the doorway and took a peek. Thursday and her mother were sitting on the couch, talking. Maybe
talking
was the wrong word. It sounded more like arguing. Not the yelling kind of arguing, more like terse voices coming through gritted teeth.

I didn’t want to get in the middle of it and just wanted to get across the house to my room. But the only way was through the living room. Could I manage without getting caught up in their tussle? I paused a moment, listening.

“Thursday, you can’t just avoid dealing with it,” Jaimee said.

“Yes, I can,” Thursday countered. There seemed to be a momentary standoff, the perfect time for me to make my way across the house.

As I stepped through the doorway, Jaimee looked up. “Good, you’re here. I’ve been trying to tell Thursday she can’t just walk away from the condo where she and Jonah were going to live.” Even at this distance, I could see that Jaimee was perfectly outfitted in a turquoise pants outfit with a lot of gold accents. After the day I’d had, I felt tired and grubby in comparison. I was also stunned to hear that she seemed happy to see me, until it became apparent why. She thought I would take her side in the argument and make it go in her favor. I already knew the condo situation, but I let her explain in detail anyway. The condo itself was in the Kingsleys’ business name, and she agreed that Thursday had no claim to it. Jaimee didn’t care about most of the furnishings. It was really only a few things. “I know your father is all for you just walking away from all of it, but we picked those things out for you and you should take them.” Jaimee turned back to me. “You were there when we picked them out.”

I had to laugh that she was trying to make that a reason why I should side with her. Yes, I’d been with Mason and her when they’d bought the gifts, but she’d done her best to make me feel like an unwelcome third wheel. Could it be that she had changed?

Jaimee’s face did seem softer as she looked at me. “Don’t you think she ought to have them?” Jaimee continued to plead her case to me. “I understand Jackson Kingsley is grief-stricken,” she said, “but blaming our family for the tragedy is ridiculous. You would think they’d be trying to embrace Thursday as their son’s widow instead of acting like she’s the enemy. You should have seen them at the funeral.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice as if her daughter wasn’t sitting right next to her and could hear every word even if she whispered.

“We didn’t even sit with them. There was a lunch afterwards at Brae Mar Country Club. The atmosphere was so cold I got the chills. Now that I see what kind of person Jackson Kingsley is, I’m glad Thursday isn’t going to be part of their family.” She waited for a nod of understanding from me. I could see her point.

“I was mortified when that man insisted that the police detain me,” Jaimee said. “I bet if he didn’t have that deep voice that made him sound like he’s some kind of authority on everything, the police wouldn’t have listened to him. Why in the world would I have wanted to kill Jonah? I was very happy that Thursday was marrying him. I thought they were a nice family and he was a solid young man. Just because I was holding the knife.” She cringed thinking about it.

“If I hadn’t been able to show them how my shapewear made it impossible to lift my arms high enough to stab anyone, who knows what would have happened?” She let out a big sigh. “The only good thing that came out of that horrible trip to the police station was that the producer of
The Housewives of Mulholland Drive
decided to make me the focal character. Cerise is the only other housewife that came close in the drama department.” Jaimee rolled her eyes. “As if getting caught stealing the salt and pepper shaker, jelly dispenser and vase off the table at a deli is even on the same planet of what I went through.”

“It must have been terrible,” I said in a compassionate tone. I admit it was a little calculated, but I had never heard Jaimee’s version of what had happened at the wedding. Her face softened even more, and she pointed to the spot on the couch next to Thursday and urged me to join them, which was pretty funny considering it was my couch.

“You have no idea,” she began, looking at me as if I was her new best friend. “I was going to check on the cake. The florist was supposed to add the floral decorations to the cake at the last minute, and I wanted to make sure it was right.”

“Wasn’t she supposed to hand out fresh boutonnieres, too?” I said, interrupting. Then I explained how I knew Emerson.

Jaimee flashed me a surprised look, then made a face. “Everybody thinks I’m too fussy, but redo the boutonnieres? No.” I don’t think she appreciated the interruption and went back to her story.

“The cake was on a long table at the edge of the tent. Right away I saw that the knife was missing. As I went around to the back of the table, I saw that it was on the ground. What I didn’t see—” she stopped and took a few breaths before continuing, “was that Jonah’s foot was sticking out beyond the end of the table. I picked up the knife and saw the blood on it, and then I at the same time, I saw someone was lying on the ground. I guess I stepped backwards in shock and that’s when I tripped over his foot. I tried to catch myself, but every time I tried to move my arms, that shapewear made them snap back to my sides.” She rocked her head in dismay as she relived the moment. “I couldn’t keep myself from landing in the cake.”

With her story finished, Jaimee let out her breath. Thursday started to speak in a shaky voice.

“When I saw Jonah on the ground, I thought he must have had some kind of attack,” Thursday said. “My first thought was to help him up. But when I did—” She paused to suck in her breath. “It was horrible.” Her voice quivered for a moment as tears welled up in her eyes.

And then the dam broke. Thursday began to cry, then sob, until her shoulders shook. Jaimee and I leaned toward her from either side, cocooning her as she wrapped her arms around herself, finally letting out all the emotions that she’d been holding in. The sobs turned to spasms of hiccups as she tried to calm herself. Then the three of us leaned back into the couch, exhausted, and in my case, relieved. Finally, Thursday had shown a normal reaction to the death of her groom.

“Maybe we should get you some tranquilizers. We need to get you something,” her mother said, sounding a little frantic. But Thursday shook her head. I had to give Jaimee credit, at least she was trying to do something.

What happened next surprised and warmed my heart. Still having an occasional hiccup, Thursday leaned toward the coffee table and picked up her crocheting, and as she began to work her hook through the cream-colored cotton, her breathing evened out and the anguish left her face.

I offered them some tea and cookies. There was a sound of banging coming from the door to my wing of the house. I looked at Jaimee and shrugged to myself. This was my house, and there was no reason for my animals to be locked up. Without making any sort of statement, I opened the door and the two dogs and two cats rushed out.