Hooked on Murder, page 11
part #1 of Crochet Mystery Series
I parked at a metered spot that was a healthy walk from Dinah's office. After my difficulty climbing out of the windowat the Sheridans' house, I was determined to get more exercise. Blondie thought longer was better when it came to walks, anyway. Her strawberry blond terrier fur was all fluffed out as she trotted along beside me, and she seemed to have a dog smile.
The clock in the tower had just finished striking two when we walked up the stairs to Dinah's office. She was at her desk, talking to a student wearing a sideways baseball cap. Her three office mates were busy at their desks. Dinah saw us and pointed to a chair against the wall. The office was too small for privacy, and I heard her whole interchangewith the student.
"So, I'm here," the boy announced, rocking his head with attitude. "What did you wanna see me about?" He slumped on his elbow and leaned on her desk. He was obviouslyone of the new freshmen Dinah talked about with so much consternation.
"Jason, I could tell you all about good manners and how it's rude to wear a hat inside and lean all over my desk, but I'm just going to get to the point."
Jason's baggy jeans were supposed to be some kind of fashion statement. Really, he looked like some cartoon characterwith weird proportions. I truly wished I could look over his shoulder when he was, say, my age, and showed his kids a photo of him in his college days. I'm guessing they would laugh their pants off.
"C'on, Ms. Lyons, nobody takes their hat off. It's the look."
Dinah held up her hand. "Beasley lets everybody in, but not everybody gets past their first semester. When it comes to my classroom, I am the queen. My rules, with no arguments.You wear the hat, you have to leave. You aren't in class, you flunk. Got it?"
Jason groaned. "Like, what do I need English for, anyway?" He unslouched himself, got up and left, mumbling about the unfairness of it all as he shuffled out.
Dinah shook her head in exasperation. Her eyes brightenedwhen I held up the bag of sub sandwiches.
"Okay. What's the bad news?" I said before I reached her desk. Suddenly three pairs of eyes looked up from their work and focused on me.
Dinah patted Blondie and smiled at me. "I think it's time to take a walk."
Once we got outside, Dinah gestured back toward the low building that housed her office. "Too many ears in there." Due to the chronic lack of funds, her building, like most of Beasley, was old and looked a little frayed along the edges. Despite my urging her to spill the news now that we were outside, she refused. Nobody could say Dinah didn't know how to build up suspense. It made her a great teacher, and if Jason ever got past his love affair with his hat, he'd realize that.
We took our picnic to the horticulture department. It was a beautiful area full of plants and flowers. There was something iridescent about the light, and it was favored by photographers. Even now, as we settled on a bench near a bamboo forest, a professional type was taking photos of a family along with their dog. Blondie did her berserk dog dance from behind my legs.
"What's with her?" Dinah asked. Dinah was a cat personand liked independent pets, and wasn't into being tied down to walks and tummy rubs. I didn't want to go into Blondie's background again. What was the point of repeatingthe story about how I'd gotten her from a shelter after she had been returned twice due to her unusual personality?She was unpredictable, except she loved to go for walks and eat cheese, and if she saw another dog, she alwayswent nuts.
Peter had voted that I take her back, but I'd nixed it. I relatedto her. We were both confused and abandoned.
"Forget about the dog, and tell me the bad stuff." I couldn't believe I was actually begging to hear bad news.
Dinah looked around. There was nobody even close. "Detective Heather stopped by my office this morning. She made some excuse that she was thinking of taking some English class, but then she made an awkward segue to havingsome questions about my statement at the murder scene."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Like, nothing. She really wanted to ask me about you, and specifically about your financial situation. She wonderedif you were hard up for money because of being pushed out of the business by Ellen. She knew you went to see Natalie Shaw and thought you were trying to become the Pink in the company name."
"You mean the P," I said, reminding her that it was now PSS PR.
"This is no time for jokes, Molly. She is seriously lookingfor a motive she can stick on you."
"I wouldn't even know how to strangle anyone," I said. In a moment of weakness, Barry had told me he'd found out that had been the cause of death, even though the medicalexaminer wasn't sure how it had been done, since there weren't any bruises or marks on her neck. Apparently they could tell by the internal damage to her neck and these red marks that showed up in her eyes that she'd been strangled. She'd been hit on the head with the poker after she was alreadydead. But, like the ransacking, it was just a cover-up.
"There are so many other suspects; she ought to be checking them out. Like Lawrence Sheridan--he probably got a big insurance payout and his freedom without a messy divorce."
"You know I'm with you on that one, but there's more bad news," Dinah said. "Detective Gilmore talked to him. You won't believe what she said. She said he was charming and helpful."
"Hard to believe she talked to the same guy who looked right through you at his front door," I said, incredulous.
Dinah shrugged. "That's life. I think when you're in your early thirties and you have hot blond hair and enough curves for a roller coaster, you get a different response."
"I guess that means we can count him out as far as she's concerned. I wonder if she knows he collects dog fur."
"Huh?" Dinah said with a chuckle.
"It turns out he goes to the same groomer I do. When I picked up Blondie this morning, the groomer showed me a bag of black fur. She said she always saves Felix's clippings, but Lawrence had forgotten to take them the last time."
"What would he do with a bag of dog hair?" Dinah asked. "Throw it on his carpet to see if his vacuum cleaner works?"
"Like he really does his own vacuuming," I said, shaking my head at the mental picture. "How can Detective Heather miss that Natalie is now running the publicity firm? I think that makes her look very suspicious. On top of which, she could have been Lawrence's overnight guest. Remember, she was there when we got to the Sheridans' house. And something is going on with CeeCee and her file. What if Ellen was blackmailing her with whatever is in it? Maybe the ransacking was a cover-up, but not the cover-up DetectiveHeather thinks."
Dinah seemed confused.
"CeeCee could have thrown the stuff around in the livingroom as a cover-up, but the mess in the home office could have come from her trying to find the file," I explained."Too bad Detective Heather doesn't know what I know about the file. Maybe she'd investigate CeeCee."
"Maybe you could start a rumor that CeeCee had the hots for Barry," Dinah said, and I rolled my eyes.
When we finished our sandwiches, we parted company-- Dinah had papers to grade and I had Will Hunter's book to finish. I wanted to find out what happened when the tornado hit, and it was a lot better than thinking about Detective Heather's continued efforts to put me in jail. I dropped Blondie off at home and went back to the bookstore.
"LET ME TAKE YOU AWAY. . . ."
I jumped at the sound of the male voice, lost in Will and his brother's efforts to dig through the rubble and find their German shepherd. When I looked up and saw that it was Barry, I came out of my mental fog.
"From all this," Barry finished, gesturing around the bookstore office. He took my arm and pulled me out of the chair. "You're done here, right?" I glanced at the clock and noticed that it was well past the official end of my day. I nodded.
"Good, because I have plans. Jeffrey is at a drama club event. One of the other parents is going to bring him home, so my evening is free. I made reservations at Marceline's at Malibu," he said, watching for my reaction. Marceline's was much more expensive than the usual places we frequented.Charlie and I had gone there often, but it had alwaysbeen a business-expense dinner. After letting the name of the restaurant sink in, he mentioned something about there being time for dessert at my place.
"No talk of murder or bodies, or kids who change their name to something stupid. Just you and me and the moonlight," he said, giving me his magnetic stare that was so hot, it made me blush.
I started to feel all warm and fuzzy at his romantic gesture;then I realized he'd done it again, just shown up with no warning and announced our plans. "It sounds lovely, but you should have called. I'm not dressed right." I pointed out my khaki pants, white shirt and black vest. Barry was wearing nice jeans, a soft beige T-shirt and a black sport coat. He looked great.
"It's the beach--it's casual," he said, taking my hand. "Have you seen the moon?" Before I could answer, he'd led me outside.
"Wow," was all I could say when I saw the huge yellow ball lifting in the eastern sky. Barry held me against him and nuzzled my neck.
"It sounds really nice, but you can't just show up and expectme to go. I might have plans."
"Do you?" he asked. "You have some other guy hidden somewhere?" he teased.
I shook my head. "Well, no."
"There you go. You're free and I'm free. I know you like the restaurant, and getting a reservation there on the weekend--not going to happen." He squeezed me close. "So, get your jacket, and let's go."
When I didn't move, he said that if it would make me happy, he would call in the future. That cinched the deal.
We dropped the greenmobile in my driveway.
"What's with the truck?" I asked, climbing in.
"It's a loaner. The Tahoe is in the shop," Barry said, as we took off for the beach.
Marceline's at Malibu was an entertainment industry favorite,but far enough out of the way that it didn't attract many paparazzi unless word got out that somebody big was making an appearance. There were only two lanky guys with cameras hanging around the front when we arrived. They ignored us, and we went inside.
The restaurant was just above the beach; the inside was nice, but the outside was truly special and Barry got us seated on the deck. Though the evening had turned chilly, heat lamps offered islands of warmth and potted ficus trees strung with little white lights were placed among the tables to give the illusion of privacy. The host led us to a table next to two of the lacy trees.
As I was about to sit at the white-clothed table, I glanced through the greenery to the table behind us. I did a double take. There were three people seated around it, and I thought I recognized Natalie and Lawrence. Then I dismissedit: When you're thinking about pink elephants, you think you see them everywhere. Except that when I looked again, it wasn't my imagination: It was Lawrence and Natalie.There was no mistaking his thick graying hair and arrogantexpression, or her chin-length brown hair and big lips. Natalie wore a suit, which made me think it was a business dinner.
I didn't mean to stare, but I couldn't help myself. Barry followed my gaze, but since he'd never seen either of them before, he didn't understand my interest.
"What's going on?" he asked as I finally sat down.
He didn't look happy when I explained who our neighborswere.
"Maybe we should move." He lifted his hand to get the host back.
"No way," I said, pulling his arm down. "Besides, all the tables are full."
"Fine. Then just ignore them." Barry opened his menu and began to study it. "The filet sounds good." He waited for some reaction from me. When I didn't say anything, he looked around his menu and saw that I had put mine down and was leaning back in my chair to hear what was going on. He waved his hand in front of my face and pointed at himself. "You're having dinner with me, remember?"
I smiled and sat forward. He was right, and it was very sweet of him to spring for such a fancy place when it wasn't a business deduction. I picked up my menu and beganto consider the options.
I didn't mean to keep eavesdropping, but the wind carried their voices right into my ears. I kept staring at the descriptionof Fettuccine Marceline without it registering. The man with them was obviously a client of the public-relations firm. I knew the drill. When you were afraid of losing a client, you wined them and dined them and promised them the moon, whether or not you could really deliver. The man's cell phone rang, and he excused himself.
Once Natalie and Lawrence were alone, their conversationgrew more interesting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that they were leaning closer to each other.
"We've come this far; don't fall apart now," Lawrence said. Natalie took out a tissue and dabbed at her eye.
"You're right, L.S. I don't know what I would have done without you." She reached for his hand, and I fought the urge to gasp.
Without realizing it, I was leaning farther and farther back in my chair. The front legs had left the ground. Just as I was about to go over backward, which certainly would have gotten their attention and everybody else's, Barry grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
"C'mon, Sherlock, let's order dinner." He reached across the table and stroked my forearm, while reminding me of his plans for dessert. Nobody could say Barry wasn't good with his hands, and he got my attention--temporarily, anyway.
Barry looked happier when he saw Lawrence and Nataliehead toward the exit after their companion returned. "Now are you all mine?"
"Omigod, you should have heard what they were saying. Lawrence said something about her not falling apart becausethey'd come this far. And then she said she couldn't have done it without him, or something like that. And she grabbed his hand. You should tell Detective Heather what they were saying." I stopped and checked his expression. "Okay, that's not going to happen, is it?" Barry shook his head as an answer. "Right. You can't get involved," I grumbled.
The waiter brought the glasses of wine we'd ordered, and Barry proposed a toast that from now on our conversationshould exclude anything to do with Ellen's murder.
"It's kind of hard to drop the subject when Detective Heather is trying to find ways to make me look guilty."
He looked frustrated. "She's not trying to make you look guilty."
"Well, she certainly isn't looking for any other suspects." I told him how she had found Lawrence so charming.He didn't seem surprised.
"She probably flirted with him to catch him off guard."
"Isn't that against some police rules?"
Barry grinned. "Not that I know of. I've heard of female uniforms who flirt with suspects to get them into the back-seatsof their cruisers. It's better than threats."
"I don't know. It still doesn't sound right to me. Maybe she's interested in Lawrence."
"No way," he said a little too forcefully.
"You sound jealous," I teased. Barry just groaned.
Barry got his wish, and when the food arrived, our conversationturned to more pleasant topics. When we'd finished,he suggested a walk along the beach.
The moonlight made the sand look blue, and it was bright enough to make shadows. Barry's arm felt protective around my shoulders as we walked just beyond the lights of the restaurant.
Much as I wanted to focus on the magic of the beach and the feeling of Barry's body heat mixing with mine, my mind went back to Natalie and Lawrence in the restaurant.
"You're a guy," I said.
Barry chuckled. "Last time I looked. Why?"
"You saw Lawrence and Natalie. For a moment or so, anyway. From a guy's point of view, don't you think they were acting like a couple?"
I could feel Barry's body tense.
"Remember the romantic-evening concept? No kids, no murders, no Lawrence-is-a-suspect," he muttered.
"He spent the night with someone," I blurted out. "There were water glasses on both sides of the bed." Barry stopped walking, and even without looking, I could feel his gaze focusingon me.
"And how do you know that?"
I considered how to answer. The sand felt cold on my bare feet, and the ocean shimmered in the distance. I just didn't think telling him about my snooping around the house and hiding in the closet was going to work.
"You don't have to answer. I don't want to know," Barry said quickly. "It's only going to upset me, isn't it?"
I started to say something, but Barry muttered somethingabout having a better idea; then he turned toward me, took me in his arms and started kissing me. Barry was an exceptional kisser. They were long, slow and deep. He never cut corners or, like some people, treated kisses like just a quick stop before the main event. As he leaned in to me, I let myself be carried away, and all thoughts of Natalieand Lawrence disappeared.
"Enough with the walking," Barry said hoarsely when he finally released me. We were both a little breathless, and it wasn't from the exercise. He held on to my hand as we headed back to the car. "Time for dessert."
At first we drove in silence. I was nestled against him as he turned onto Topanga Canyon. The moonlight illuminatedthe jagged, empty mountain alongside the road. There was something wild about the area just in from the beach, and it looked as if we were a million miles from civilization.
By the time we drove through the town of Topanga, with its mixture of hippie shops and traditional stores, I sensed that Barry had something on his mind.
"Okay, I can't take it anymore. How did you know about the water glasses?"
"Are you sure you want to know?" I asked.
"It's going to upset me, isn't it?" he said.
"Probably."
"Tell me anyway," he said in a resigned tone.
I had to work my way up to the snooping part. I left out hiding behind the bush; that would have set Barry off right away. I told him about the group's going there for the squares and described in great detail all the things in Ellen's crochet room.
"You're stalling, aren't you?"
"Maybe a little."
"So I'm really not going to like this." Barry sighed. "Just go for it. Tell me the bad part."
And I did. All of it. Looking around Lawrence's bedroom,hiding in the closet. I didn't have to see Barry's face to know he was probably making all kinds of exasperated expressions.
