You Better Knot Die (13 page)

“Yes, dear. I’m sure they’d be glad to add the afghan to the auction.” CeeCee repacked it in the paper bag and put it under the table.

“Finished,” Elise said, holding up the black-and-white scarf. The scarlet tassel flopped back and forth as she waved it.

“So what’s that about?” Rhoda said, catching the end as it swung over her head.

“It’s a vampire scarf,” I said, remembering what Joshua Royal had said. I asked Elise if she could write down the directions and if I could borrow it to put in the front with the Anthony accessory display.

She was breathless. “You want to put my scarf on display and call it an Anthony scarf?” She hugged it to herself as if she was hugging the handsome vampire in person. “Of course, you can use it. I’d be honored. I’ll type up the directions and bring them to you.”

“A vampire scarf? What does that mean?” Rhoda said, examining it.

Elise seemed to have forgotten all about her money troubles and explained the significance of the colors and pointed out the fang-shaped stitches. Elise swung the tassel that hung from a corner. “You must know what the scarlet is for.”

Rhoda rolled her eyes. “The foofie vampire barely even drinks blood.”

The conversation never went back to Bradley and I never got a chance to bring up the question I’d had before. Why would someone who was planning to kill himself take his parking ticket with him?

WHEN THE GROUP BROKE UP, SHEILA STAYED AT the table, her hook flying through three strands of the mohairlike yarn. She looked up for a moment and seemed surprised that only Dinah and I were still there. She leaned back in her chair and dropped the hook on the table. She closed her eyes and began massaging her temples.

“I promised Nicholas I’d finish his order by today.” She sounded close to tears and the way her shoulders were hunched, I knew she was on the verge of an anxiety attack. It didn’t help that both Dinah and I said Nicholas would understand if she was one short.

“I know. That’s what makes it worse. He’s so nice, I don’t want to let him down.”

She checked her watch and said she didn’t have to be back at the gym for her receptionist job until late in the afternoon. She picked up the hook and muttered something about if she pushed herself maybe she could finish.

I stopped her hands. “Dinah and I will go with you to Luxe and explain the delay to Nicholas. Then you’re coming to get food with us. I bet you haven’t been eating.”

Sheila tried to argue, but when I pressed her, she admitted that maybe she had missed a few meals.

A hunk of downtown Tarzana was in the process of being rebuilt. The old Brown center had been demolished with the movie theaters and odd little stores and was being replaced by something called the Village Walk; I kept telling myself change was good. Along with reminding myself it was going to happen whether I liked it or not, anyway.

The bookstore, Le Grande Fromage and Luxe were in the old section of interesting low buildings. Nicholas had done wonders with the storefront when he created Luxe. He’d added a large fountain on one wall that spread good ions around the store. The mixture of soap by the slice, a selection of unisex colognes and the exotic spices in the food section gave the store a wonderful signature scent. The merchandise was equally enticing. It was an eclectic mixture of things, and the only thing they had in common was they all seemed to have style. Nicholas said he sold only what he particularly liked.

We set off a bell when we came in and he walked through a door from the back. He was as appealing as his store. He seemed to give off good ions like the fountain. Though just for a moment I wondered if he was really as he seemed. He was almost too nice, too concerned, too compassionate. It made me wonder if it was all a front and that big back area he kept so private was really full of dead bodies.

“Don’t worry about the other blanket,” he said, once I’d explained that Sheila was upset about being short one. He took the ones she’d completed and insisted on paying her even for the one she was short. While they conducted business, Dinah and I browsed the store.

We were admiring a hand-painted pasta bowl on a table when I looked out the front window. We were directly across from Tarzana Jewelers. Emily Perkins had just parked her SUV in front of it and was walking toward the store. I nudged Dinah. “It seems like a strange time to go jewelry shopping.”

Nicholas saw us peering out the window. “Anything interesting?” he said, standing next to us.

I pointed out Emily as she went in the store.

He watched for a moment before saying anything. “I don’t want this to sound like I’m gossiping. I’m only telling you because you’re her neighbor, but she came in here earlier. She wanted to return some things she bought last week.” He pointed out a silver hairbrush and comb set and a basket with bathroom accessories sitting on the table that served as a checkout.

“Was something wrong with them?” I said, examining the bathroom basket. Along with soap and some special organic bath salts, there was a selection of washcloths that I realized were crocheted. Sheila joined us. She was surprised to see the washcloths and said she’d almost forgotten that she made them. For a moment the conversation turned to crochet, and she said she’d made them in no time. They were all done in organic cotton in a creamy beige and sage green. “I can’t believe she’d return either of these; like everything else in the store, they’re great,” I said.

“It wasn’t because there was anything wrong with them,” Nicholas said. “She didn’t want the money put back on her credit card. She wanted cash. Normally I wouldn’t do that, but she seemed pretty close to the edge, if you know what I mean.”

He knew all about her situation. What she hadn’t told him, he’d heard on the street. “Suicide, missing money—it’s the topic of conversation wherever you go.”

“So then you weren’t part of Bradley’s investment club,” I asked.

He nodded with a joyless half laugh. “I got taken along with everybody else. After hearing Logan Belmont go on and on about what a magician Bradley was and talking about the remodel he’d done on his house with some money he’d made—you felt like a fool if you didn’t put some money in the fund, if you could get in. Logan had to put in a good word for me.” Nicholas did the mirthless laugh again. “I felt like a winner when Perkins took my money. Everybody knew Bradley. Who wouldn’t trust him?”

“I wonder why Bradley never tried to get me to join his fund,” I said.

“Under the circumstances I wouldn’t complain.” Nicholas sighed. “I’m trying to let it go and move on. It’s much worse for Emily. Anything Bradley left will get split up among the investors. They may take everything she has, too.” He mentioned how Ruth Madoff had to leave her apartment with nothing but her purse because of the huge Ponzi scam her husband had pulled off. Some customers came in and Nicholas left us to wait on them.

We watched Emily come out of the store carrying one of the jewelry store’s signature tiny shopping bags.

I turned to Dinah. “Didn’t you say you wanted to look for some cuff links for Commander?” She picked up on my drift and we told Sheila we’d be back in a few minutes.

Dinah and I put together our story as we went across the street. She’d ask about the cuff links while I worked on getting information about Emily. If they thought we were real customers, they would be more likely to talk.

“I really do want to get him some cuff links.” Dinah shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “How did I end up with someone who likes French cuffs?” Dinah was still having some difficulty dealing with what she considered Commander’s over-the-top fastidiousness. Whether it was the creases in his casual pants you could cut butter with or the tassels on his polished loafers, she thought he was a little too meticulous for her taste. But she liked him well enough in other ways that she was trying to adjust. “Maybe if I say the kid’s picked them out, he’ll feel a little better toward them.”

As soon as we walked into the jewelry store, a salesman in a well-fitted dark suit stepped forward and offered his assistance. I wasn’t particularly into fine jewelry and hadn’t been in this store for years. I liked silver and stones with colors like turquoise or amethyst. When it came to watches, my only requirement was that it kept time. This store was filled with gold and diamonds and watches where keeping time was only a side benefit.

The salesman was pleased to bring out trays of cuff links for Dinah.

“I thought I saw Emily Perkins come in here,” I said, looking around with a innocent face.

A woman at the next counter looked up. “You just missed her.”

“She has such good taste. What did she buy this time?” I said, hoping they’d think I was implying I might buy the same thing.

The man showed Dinah some gold cuff links with onyx inserts. I heard Dinah choking when she glanced at the price ticket. He directed his attention my way momentarily. “She was picking up,” he said.

“Picking up?” I said, surprised.

“She brought in her husband’s watch to be cleaned and serviced,” the woman said.

“Really?” I said, trying to keep the surprise down in my voice. I asked if they’d heard about what happened to him. The man glanced toward the woman and they both nodded.

“I thought under the circumstances she’d want to sell the watch. It’s a Bond Submariner Rolex,” he said as if I was supposed to understand what that meant. “But when I offered to buy it from her, she said no without the slightest hesitation. She just paid for the service and asked if she could use the phone.” He sighed. “I really was hoping she would sell it. I’ve been trying to find one of those watches for a long time.”

Dinah kept looking at cuff links while I processed what he’d just told me. Or tried to. It simply didn’t make sense. She’d made it clear to Nicholas she was short of money. The watch sounded like it would have gotten her a hefty hunk of money. Was it sentimental value that was making her hang on to it or something else?

“I SURE HOPE COMMANDER APPRECIATES THE GIFT,” I said as we headed toward Le Grande Fromage. Sheila had already gotten a table and was looking over the menu when we walked in.

“I still can’t believe I’m encouraging his fussiness by buying him cuff links. I should have bought him a sweatshirt with the arms cut off to help loosen him up,” Dinah said, eyeing the tiny shopping bag with the elegantly wrapped box.

The café was busy and there was a line at the counter waiting to place their orders. Logan was sitting at the back table with his portable office setup. He wasn’t alone. Two men were standing over the table, with their hands resting on it. It appeared they were trying to keep their conversation private. And judging from the expression on Logan’s face, whatever they were talking about wasn’t happy.

Pretending to be bothered by the closeness of the door to our table, I suggested we move. I chose the table next to Logan’s, but made sure to appear not to even notice him. Then I made a big deal about looking over the menu. Of course, it was all a ruse while I leaned back in my chair and tried to hear.

“I’m in the same boat with everyone else,” Logan said.

“You better take some responsibility. The only reason I turned over our money to Bradley was because of you,” one of the men growled.

“Everyone’s saying he must have given you some kind of commission,” the other man said.

Logan neither confirmed nor denied it but tried to convince them that he was in no way Bradley’s partner or involved with the stock dealing. He insisted he’d been duped by Bradley as much as everyone else. Both men objected and seemed convinced that Logan was more involved with Bradley’s business than he was letting on. Their voices flared as they both reminded Logan that just saying he didn’t know anything didn’t let him off the hook as far as they were concerned. Logan told them what Elise had told us—that he was helping the SEC people sort things out. The men didn’t seem to care. They were just angry that they’d lost all their money and they were looking for somebody to blame. Logan was that guy. The degree of their anger made my heart palpitate. I was afraid a fight might erupt. I was relieved when the men walked away. When Logan was alone, he banged on the table as he packed up his stuff and mumbled something about being ruined. Then in a voice that gave me a chill he said, “If Bradley wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him.”

 

 

“THERE YOU ARE, PINK,” ADELE SAID WHEN I GOT back to the bookstore. She stepped in front of me and put her arms on my shoulders, pushing me back toward the front door. “You have to do me a favor.”

I chuckled to myself. “You could say please.”

“Huh?” Adele said. Her confusion was real, definitely not faked. She had no sense about how to deal with people.

The favor involved helping her do a favor for William. He’d had a new dishwasher installed and the city permit guy was on his way to check it over. There was some complicated story about William’s car being in the shop and Adele letting him use her new car. She must really care for the guy to let him actually drive her Matrix. She would barely let me operate the windows. I offered her the use of my car, but she said she’d become too used to driving a new car and probably would strip the gears or something if she tried to drive the greenmobile. I resented her calling it an antique.

Adele made a face as she opened the passenger door. Maybe it did squeak a little bit, but I thought it was entitled. The 1993 190E Mercedes ran beautifully but was beginning to show its age in little malfunctions and weird noises. Adele got in as if she thought the car might crumble.

Technically this was supposed to be my day off, but I’d come in for the Hookers meeting, so helping Adele out wasn’t really a problem.

William’s house was in a Woodland Hills area called College Acres. The name came from its proximity to Walter Beasley Community College, I mean WBCC. I really needed to get my abbreviations down. Was I ever really going to start saying OMG and LOL out loud?