Shear Trouble (8 page)

She raised her head from her hands and said tearfully, “It’s not that I don’t care for Ash—I do. I think I even love him. It’s simply such a tremendous move and means such a huge change in our relationship. I was caught off guard. With a move like this—well, it means that there are plenty of expectations as far as the direction of our relationship goes. I simply wasn’t prepared for it. I guess I should have been.”

“What happened after he made his announcement and you looked so taken aback by it?” asked Beatrice quietly.

“Ash was very hurt,” said Piper sadly. “I guess we haven’t spent enough real time together for him to see me when I’m trying to figure things out. We both lost our appetite and picked quietly at our meal, and Ash took me home.” She shrugged, choking up again.

“I’m sure you and Ash can work it out,” Beatrice said quickly. “It’s just a misunderstanding.” She paused. “You do want to work it out, I suppose?”

Piper nodded silently.

“Then I’m sure you will. Maybe you can give him a call later and talk with him about it over coffee or something.”

Piper nodded and fished in her pocketbook for a tissue. She cleared her throat and said with a smile, “I hear that you and Wyatt finally went out on a real date.”

Beatrice sighed. Small towns and gossip. “Since half
the town was in the restaurant, I guess it was only natural that you’d hear about it. From Meadow, I’m guessing?”

“Several different sources,” said Piper with a grin. “All delighted, though, that you two were out with each other. Believe me, it was wonderful news to me—at least one of us has a love life that’s going well.”

Beatrice held up her hand in a slowing-down gesture. “We’re moving very slowly, Piper. After all, we’ve both been widowed for a long time. It’s a big change to spend time with someone after all these years. It was only lunch.”

Piper could apparently tell that Beatrice didn’t want to talk too much about Wyatt yet. “Is your quilt ready for the show?” she asked.

Beatrice relaxed now that they were clearly moving on to other subjects. “I’ve been finished for a while. Although there’s another quilt I’m working on that’s a bit trickier. It’s a double wedding ring pattern.”

Piper whistled. “That’s a tough one, all right. The cutting alone is tricky.”

“That’s what I found out. But I was in the right place because Miss Sissy, believe it or not, recommended some templates and a cutting tool that was specifically made for double wedding ring patterns. I thought she was relentlessly old-fashioned about her quilting, but it seems like she’ll use some modern tools, if they’re available.”

Piper gave a small laugh. “Well, she does spend a lot
of time in the Patchwork Cottage with Posy. I guess she might be an expert on what’s available.”

“It did help out. Although I was hoping to get some more guidance than that from the guild at Posy’s retreat.” She shrugged. “Of course, things didn’t work out that way.”

Piper shuddered. “They sure didn’t. I was having nightmares that night, too, and I didn’t even discover Jason, like you did. What an awful thing to happen.”

Beatrice said, “It sure was. And poor Posy, having it happen right in her shop.” She paused. “Who do you think might be responsible for it?”

“I was kind of hoping that some stranger passing through town came in and murdered Jason,” said Piper with a sigh. “A random act of violence.” She looked at her mother with a hopeful expression. “I guess that’s impossible, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so. This was a very personal crime. Someone really disliked Jason Gore.”

Piper examined Beatrice closely. “You’re not trying to look into this crime and do any of your investigating, are you?” Beatrice tried not to look guilty. “Because whoever is behind this is very dangerous, Mama. They clearly mean business. I just hate the thought of you putting yourself in any danger.”

“Of course I won’t do anything dangerous,” said Beatrice. “You know how careful I am. I’m certainly not an investigator of any kind. I’m simply a fairly
observant person who’s interested in restoring order and peace to a very quiet town. I’m giving Ramsay a couple of extra eyes, that’s all.” She tried to deflect the conversation back to the case. “So, besides the random stranger, who do you think disliked Jason enough to do something like this?”

Piper shook her head. “That’s what I don’t know. I’m hearing whispers that Phyllis is behind this, but I can’t see it. Can you? It’s such a violent crime. I feel like a man has got to be behind it—after all, Jason was a pretty big guy.”

“But after the killer knocked him out, anyone could have done it,” said Beatrice.

“Is that what happened, then?” asked Piper. She thought a moment. “I still don’t see Phyllis doing that. She really cared for Jason at one point, you know? Maybe Frank—he always acts like he’s furious at the world. I don’t think he was real happy about his mother going out with Jason. I overheard Jason telling Martha one day that she should cut Frank off and let him see if he could make a living from his art—that surely he had enough to sell by now to get him started.”

“What did Martha say to that?”

“I could tell that she wasn’t wild about the idea—but that she was thinking about it,” said Piper.

*   *   *

After Piper left, Beatrice’s thoughts kept returning to Wyatt. She decided that, since the dinner she’d
attempted hadn’t worked out, she’d at least offer to help Wyatt set up for that evening’s quilt show. It was going to be in the church’s basement recreation area and she knew that chairs and tables would need to be moved and refreshments set up on one side of the room. She picked up the phone and called over to the church.

“That would be wonderful, Beatrice. I could sure use the extra help. Tell you what . . . why don’t we grab a quick supper before we start setting up? Is it all right if I pick you up in about fifteen minutes?”

Beatrice’s heart gave a happy leap and she told Wyatt that would work well. But five minutes later, there was a phone call from Wyatt. “Beatrice, I’m so sorry. I’ve had a call that a member of the congregation is requesting a visit from me. Can we take a rain check on our supper? And then I’ll meet you at the church for the setup, if that still works for you.”

“Of course,” said Beatrice. “I’ll see you over there.” She’d no idea that the ministry was such a demanding job. Wyatt must live the kind of life where his work intruded constantly on his personal time. At the same time, though, she couldn’t help feeling a quick disappointment that she wouldn’t be spending one-on-one time with Wyatt at supper. It seemed as though this was something she was going to have to learn to deal with if she wanted to be part of Wyatt’s life in any way.

The next phone call was from Meadow, calling to see if Beatrice wanted to ride with her to the quilt show.
Beatrice explained that she was going early to help Wyatt set up. Meadow said, “That’s so sweet of you to help Wyatt out! I declare, y’all are the cutest couple ever.”

Beatrice closed her eyes.

“If I help you two, that won’t mess up any romance before the show, will it?” asked Meadow. “Because I’d love to help with the setup.”

“There was no romance planned—just work,” said Beatrice, feeling a little tired. But at least Meadow wasn’t asking about Piper and Ash. If she had to choose between the two, she’d rather have Meadow diverted by her relationship with Wyatt.

At about an hour and a half before the start of the show, there was a tap at Beatrice’s door. She looked out the window and saw Meadow there in a pair of cranberry red slacks that matched her glasses and a tunic of bright reds and yellows. Meadow gave her a quick wave and she let her in.

“I know the church is close, but I thought we’d better drive over—don’t you think? Carrying the quilt and everything? I can drive us,” said Meadow. She gave her a critical look and then a thumbs-up. “You look gorgeous, as always, Beatrice. I love that creamy top with the black slacks.”

They got in the car, Beatrice being careful to lift her quilt so that it didn’t drag on the ground.

Meadow gave Beatrice a sideways glance as they set
off. “Did you notice anything funny about Piper today? If you saw her, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” asked Beatrice, deliberately avoiding Meadow’s gaze by looking forward through the windshield.

“Oh, I don’t know. When Ash came in from their date last night, he hardly said a word. Kind of barked at me when I asked how the evening went. He was really grumpy. I was wondering if something went wrong.” She sighed. “I hope nothing went wrong. Ash was so happy when he first flew in.”

Beatrice knew one thing—she sure wasn’t going to share what she knew with Meadow. Meadow tended to try to bulldoze people into doing what she wanted them to do. With the best intentions, of course. “He was probably just tired, Meadow. And maybe a little jet-lagged.” She quickly changed the subject. “Piper did say that she’d finished her quilt.”

Meadow heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, thank goodness for that. I was thinking that we weren’t going to have much of a quilt show if half our guild hadn’t finished their quilts. I’m sure the Cut-Ups were able to get theirs done. In record time, probably.” Her face was glum as she pulled into the church parking lot. Then she brightened. “Let me tell you about the next quilt I’m doing. It’s going to be a collage of Boris. I figured he was such a bright dog that he deserved to be immortalized in cloth.”

“I’m sure it will be very cute.” Beatrice tried to think up a different topic to forestall talk of Boris the Genius Dog before Meadow got going on his latest brilliant exploit. “Um, Meadow—you don’t know anyone who is in need of a kitten, do you?”

“You’re not trying to unload that little bundle of fur, are you? What a sweetie she is!” said Meadow.

Beatrice said quickly, “She
is
sweet. And she’s house-trained—a very smart kitten. It’s just that I hadn’t planned on having a cat. And Noo-noo is less than thrilled.”

“I’ll keep my ears open,” said Meadow. Then she squinted over at the church as they pulled in. “We
are
early, aren’t we? I don’t even see any lights on. I wonder if Wyatt is even here.”

“Wyatt had a member of the congregation to visit before the show,” said Beatrice with a shrug. “It’s a good thing we’re here to get everything set up.”

A car came up behind them. “Oh, here he is,” said Meadow.

Wyatt hurried out of the car. “Running later than I wanted to,” he said breathlessly. “And it was a sort of odd visit, too,” he said a bit absently. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at Meadow and Beatrice. “Thanks so much for helping.” He fumbled for the key in his pants pocket and Beatrice watched him surreptitiously: The dark brown button-down shirt nicely offset his silver-streaked hair.

Another car roared up behind them and Wyatt pulled Beatrice into his arms and out of its path as Meadow nimbly jumped out of the way.

“For heaven’s sake,” fussed Meadow. “It’s Miss Sissy. I thought Tony was going to drive her tonight. She’s here so early, too. She’ll eat all the food before anyone even arrives.” Meadow looked at Wyatt with pleading eyes. “Can you do something about her? You know how she gets. And she
likes
you—she’ll do whatever you say.”

“Maybe I can assign her some sort of job,” said Wyatt a bit dubiously. “I’ll see what I can do.” He handed the keys to Beatrice with a smile. “Could you open up the basement rec room for me?” He looked toward the stairs. “Sorry there aren’t any lights on.” He paused. “You know what, maybe that’s something I should do. I don’t want you tripping on those stairs in the dark.”

“No, it’s all right—I’ll be careful,” said Beatrice, taking the keys.

“I’ll get all the quilts,” said Meadow.

Beatrice walked down the pine-tree-lined walkway toward the old stone church. There was a narrow set of rather steep stairs on the side that led down to a roomy recreation area in the basement that was used for all sorts of activities—from senior bingo nights to quilt shows to youth group gatherings. She smiled as she heard Wyatt’s voice behind her speaking soothingly to Miss Sissy, “It’s a good thing you’re here early, Miss
Sissy. I’ve got an important job I’d love for you to help me out with.” His voice suddenly changed and he said, “What on earth . . . Boris?”

There was a deep-throated, urgent barking and Meadow said, “
My
Boris? Boris, you bad boy, have you run away from home again? Missed your mama? Wyatt, have I told you that Boris is a very bright dog? A genius, really. . . .” She broke off. “Boris. Come back here. What’s wrong with you?”

Some genius. Beatrice shook her head and focused on her footing as she descended the stairs. The evening was cloudy, which wasn’t helping with the visibility. And now Boris was barking persistently behind her as if he wanted her to drop everything and play fetch with him or give him a treat.

Beatrice gripped the metal railing and carefully walked down the stairs, feeling with her foot to find each step since the stone staircase was very old and the steps weren’t exactly evenly spaced.

As she reached her foot down to the bottom of the stairs, her foot came in contact with something that definitely wasn’t the stone floor leading into the basement. Beatrice gasped and pulled her foot back.

“Something wrong, Beatrice?” called Meadow from the top of the stairs. Then she said sharply, “Boris, come!” to the frantically barking dog.

Beatrice suddenly felt cold and clammy. She drew back a couple of steps and fumbled in her pocketbook
for her cell phone, which had a flashlight on it. “Meadow, you might want to wait just a second. Can you grab Boris?” When her trembling fingers were finally able to switch on the light, she shone it down in front of her. And saw the open-eyed, glassy stare of Frank Helmsley.

Beatrice drew in a sharp breath. Although she felt sure that Frank was past the point of being helped, she put a shaking hand to his neck to feel for a nonexistent pulse.

“What’s going on down there, Beatrice?” asked Meadow.

“Frank Helmsley,” said Beatrice. “He’s dead, Meadow.”

“Dead? Nonsense.
Nonsense!
We’re having a quilt show!”

“Can you call Ramsay? And keep everyone away from the area.” How awful it would be if the quilters stumbled across the crime scene—and Martha, especially.

“Are you
sure
? You’re sure.” Meadow’s voice was wavering. “Okay, let me put Boris in the van. He’s absolutely going berserk!” The barking was even more
urgent now and Boris pulled at his leash. “All
right
, Boris, all right. Let’s get in the car.”

The barking, no less frantic, at least diminished as they headed to the van. Beatrice took a deep breath (and a step back, not wanting to contaminate the crime scene any more than she already had done) and trained her phone’s flashlight on Frank’s lifeless form in front of her.

Beatrice couldn’t see any injuries, besides the fact that his head was bent in a very unnatural angle and the blood was pooling behind his head, possibly from injuries sustained from falling down the steep stone steps. There were no gunshot wounds, no cuts, and no blunt objects lying nearby. And judging from the fact that he was lying partly on his back, it almost looked as though he’d fallen backward down the stairs. Which made her wonder—was he pushed?

“Wickedness!” hissed a voice above her, and Beatrice quickly turned around. She could see the vague outline of the cadaverous old woman.

“Miss Sissy, can you find Wyatt for me? There’s a problem.” An understatement, for sure, but Miss Sissy was the excitable type.

“Isn’t here. Busy.”

A light came on at the corner wall of the church, shining a comforting glow over the area. Wyatt must have gone to turn some of the exterior church lights on.

“Miss Sissy, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the quilt show is going to be canceled tonight. Could you drive
yourself back home? Or do you want me to call Posy or Tony and see if they can give you a lift?”

“Evil!”

“I know.” She supposed that Miss Sissy was talking about the body that she must see at the bottom of the stairs. Unless she was talking about the cancelation of the quilt show. “I’m sure Ramsay will be here in a few minutes and that he’ll want us out of the way. So if—”

“I’m greeting,” said Miss Sissy in an aggressive tone. “Greeting the quilters.”

“That’s perfect,” said Beatrice quickly. “But let’s change your greeting, since we can’t have a quilt show tonight. Let’s have you greet them right as they come out of the parking lot—on the walkway. And, instead of just greeting them, let’s have you tell them that the show is canceled and they need to stay at their cars.”

“Depravity!”

“Thanks, Miss Sissy,” said Beatrice.

The old woman scampered off, the barking was now only a faint sound, and there was light. Beatrice gave a sigh of relief and then studied the scene again. She couldn’t really
see
anything in addition to what she was already seeing. But she could
smell
something—alcohol. It seemed that Frank might have been drinking this evening. Could his fatal fall possibly have been an accident? Or did someone take advantage of his unsteadiness and push him down the stairs? And—what was he doing out here to begin with?

A few moments later, she heard footsteps running on the concrete sidewalk above her and Wyatt’s voice, low and concerned, calling her name.

“It’s okay, Wyatt—I’m fine. You should probably stop where you are. I think this area is going to have to be taped off by the police when they look for evidence.” Beatrice felt very tired suddenly. She seemed to have become quite the expert on crime scenes.

“You’re sure you’re all right? I should have been the one to unlock the door,” said Wyatt, sounding frustrated.

Beatrice didn’t have a chance to answer, because they both heard Meadow’s voice giving a high-volume explanation of what was going on. Ramsay must have arrived. Moments later, she saw his tired face peering down at her from the top of the stairs. “Sweet Mary,” he muttered. “What’s all this?”

“I suppose it could be an accident,” said Beatrice. “But somehow I doubt it.” She climbed the stairs toward him. “Here, I’ll get out of your way. I wish I had more information to add, but basically I was descending the stairs to open up the basement recreation room and turn lights on, and my foot brushed against Frank’s body.”

Ramsay gave Beatrice a sympathetic look. “You’ve had a hard week. And an unfortunate predilection for discovering murder victims. Thanks for keeping the crime scene—if it is a crime scene—protected. I saw
that you’d stationed Miss Sissy up front. She nearly didn’t let me pass. She’s a heck of a sentinel.”

“I’ll help her now that you’re here. I have a feeling that the quilters aren’t going to be immediately leaving, either—they’re going to want to talk about what’s going on and the fact that our quilting events all seem to be coming to tragic ends,” said Beatrice.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know,” said Ramsay sadly, as he looked down the stairs. “Meadow now has a huge bee in her bonnet over the fact that there is an evil conspiracy to shut down quilting in Dappled Hills. She’s sure of it.”

Beatrice shivered and Ramsay said kindly, “Go into the church and have a seat. I bet Wyatt can rustle up some water or a hot chocolate for you. I’ve got to call the SBI in again.” The state police were always called whenever there was a serious crime in the town.

Wyatt was standing with Meadow when Beatrice walked up to the top of the stairs. He wordlessly gave her a hug and Meadow did the same. “It’s awful. So awful,” said Meadow.

Wyatt said, “Beatrice, why don’t you come sit down? I can rustle up something for you to eat or drink, too.” Beatrice wearily followed him toward the sanctuary doors, but paused as she saw the quilters huddled together in the parking lot. “Thanks, Wyatt. I’ll head over there in a minute. I’ll fill in the other quilters first.” She walked over to them and was surrounded at once.

“What did Ramsay say?” asked Georgia anxiously. “Was it just an accident?”

“I’ve said all along,” said Savannah in her firm, bossy voice, “that someone was going to take a tumble on those stairs one day. They were an accident waiting to happen.”

“Was that it, Beatrice?” asked Posy, her brow knitted. “Was it only an awful accident?”

The women all waited for Beatrice’s reply, eyes wide. Beatrice sighed. “I wish I had more information for you, but I don’t. I think that the forensics people might be able to tell if it was an accident . . . or not. All I can say was that I didn’t see any obvious signs of foul play.”

Miss Sissy growled from behind them, “Murder! Murder!” Beatrice turned and saw the old woman brandishing an arthritic fist at them. That should keep quilters away from the church, for sure.

Beatrice said, “We don’t know that it’s murder. But we do know that we can’t have access to the basement tonight—not with the state police on the way to investigate. Meadow, we’ll need to cancel the quilt show. Or go ahead and come up with an alternative date and tell everyone who comes.”

“I could put up a sign,” said Posy, brightening. “I could ask Wyatt to unlock one of the Sunday school classrooms and get some poster board and markers.”

“Good idea,” said Meadow glumly. “I hate to be
such a poor sport, and I feel sorry about Frank. It’s just that we were all looking forward to this for so long. And getting ready for it.”

“Why don’t you go ahead now and see if you can quickly figure out an alternative date with Wyatt, so that Posy can put it on her sign?” Beatrice looked at her watch. “We’re still a few minutes before the time that the show was to start.”

Meadow headed off to the church to find Wyatt.

Savannah said in a gruff voice, “Georgia, I thought you might need this.” She reached in her tote bag and pulled out a five-pack of replacement blades for Georgia’s rotary cutter. “I know you’ve done a lot of cutting lately, so some new blades might come in handy.” She flushed a little and looked shyly at her sister.

Georgia took the pack of blades and gave Savannah a quick hug. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Savannah. Thank you.”

Savannah cleared her throat. “Well, I should be getting along, seeing as how there won’t be any quilt show tonight. See you soon.” And she walked briskly away.

Posy said gently to Georgia, “That was very sweet of Savannah, wasn’t it?”

Georgia sighed. “It was. And I do miss her. Oh, part of me loves being in my own place and playing with Snuffy and Mr. Shadow and taking care of them. But I’d gotten so used to being roommates with my sister that it somehow feels as if something is missing.”

Beatrice said, “Maybe it’s the adjustment from spending
all
your time with Savannah to spending no time at all. It might have gone easier if y’all had still seen each other for lunch or gone shopping together or something.”

Georgia made a face at the word
shopping
. “I’m a little worried about going shopping with Savannah in her current state.” She hesitated. “Posy, have you noticed any . . . incidents . . . lately?”

Posy looked down. “I hate telling on Savannah. You know I don’t care two bits about her borrowing small things from the store.”

“So she did take something?” Georgia’s face was anxious.

Posy’s sweet face was distressed. “It was nothing. It was a roll of tape from the checkout desk that was almost empty. Please—I’d like it to be a small gift for Savannah. You don’t have to bring it back to me. She’s seemed as if she was feeling so low lately.” Then she flushed, realizing that Savannah had been low because Georgia hadn’t been around. “I should run and get the supplies for the sign. We need to let everyone know there’s been an accident.”

“Murder! Murder!” corrected Miss Sissy.

“What makes you think this is murder, Miss Sissy?” asked Beatrice curiously. The old woman was suddenly silent, looking at her warily, and Beatrice asked, “Did you see or hear anything?”

“That Phyllis. Wicked!” Miss Sissy’s eyes gleamed.

“Phyllis? Here? At the church?” Beatrice glanced around the parking lot and saw that Phyllis was most definitely not here now. So—was she here earlier? When Frank pitched down the staircase?

“Shh—Miss Sissy! Phyllis is driving in,” said Georgia, waving her hand at the old woman. “We don’t want her to think we were talking about her.”

“Murder!” insisted Miss Sissy.

Beatrice said in a low voice, “You saw Phyllis here at the church, Miss Sissy. Is that right?”

Miss Sissy gave an emphatic nod.

“Today? You saw her here today?”

Miss Sissy emphatically shook her head no.

Beatrice sighed. “Today is all that matters, Miss Sissy. Frank died today.” Miss Sissy could be very observant, but the problem was that she had all her days and nights mixed up and her head was basically a tremendous jumble. Beatrice looked up at the cars entering the parking lot. “Oh no,” she said. “Martha Helmsley is pulling in.”

“Posy would have been a good candidate to tell Martha about Frank,” said Savannah in her analytical way. “But it looks as if she’s out of earshot now.”

Georgia looked pleadingly at Beatrice.

“Evil!” said Miss Sissy emphatically.

“I’ll talk to her,” said Beatrice quickly. She walked quickly toward Martha’s car but paused for a moment
when Phyllis called out to her, “Hi, Beatrice. Can you help me with some of this stuff for the show?”

“The show is canceled,” said Beatrice. “Meadow is trying to find out a good time to reschedule it.”

“What?” Phyllis asked.

“Just ask Georgia,” said Beatrice, hurrying to catch up with Martha, who was now looking toward the church with a frown.

*   *   *

Martha was devastated to hear the news and immediately rushed over to join Ramsay, despite Beatrice’s attempts to persuade her that she needed to go with her inside the sanctuary and wait for Ramsay to come out to talk with her.

“I can’t believe it!” she said, gasping. “I just saw Frank a few hours ago!”

Ramsay climbed the stairs and said soothingly to Martha, “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing we can do here, and our police process will likely only upset you. Why don’t you and Beatrice go into the church for a little while? Once the state police are here, I can talk with you there. Right now I’ve got to secure the scene so that we can figure out what happened.”

“So you don’t know what happened? You’re not sure?” asked Martha, tears falling down her face.

“All I know for certain right now is that Frank fell down the stairs,” said Ramsay. “I don’t know if it was an accident or not.”

“Who would want to kill Frank?” asked Martha, bewildered. “Who?” she asked Ramsay and Beatrice.

“We don’t know that it was murder,” Ramsay reminded her. “That’s one of the things we’ve got to find out.” He gave Beatrice a pleading look.

“Martha, let’s go sit for a while in the church sanctuary,” said Beatrice. “I’m sure we can find out more information soon.”

Wyatt joined them, quietly. As they sat in the sanctuary, Martha couldn’t stop talking about Frank’s death. “It was just a normal day,” she said, a blank expression in her eyes. “Frank came by around lunchtime and we ate pimento cheese sandwiches. He told me what he was going to be working on next.”

Beatrice suddenly remembered that Frank had told her at Jason’s funeral that he knew who was behind his murder. Had he tried blackmailing the person? That would be a good reason for him to be pushed down a stone staircase. Could he have arranged to meet this person at the church to try to extort money from him? Aloud, she said, “Frank didn’t say anything about meeting with anyone today? Or going to the church?”

Martha shook her head. “No. Not a word. As far as I was aware, he wasn’t doing anything but working on an abstract painting today.” Her hand clutched her throat. “And now he’s lost his chance at sharing his work with the world. All that work he’s done through the years. He wanted to have enough for a huge show,
you see,” she told Beatrice. “A one-man exhibition. And he was something of a perfectionist, so it could take him a while to finish a piece. But he was just on the point of being ready. I was trying to persuade him to go ahead and let me find someone who would host his show.”