'My dad thinks I'm four,' Jeffrey said in a world-weary voice, looking at his father. 'I know about affairs and I'm not going to freak out.' Jeffrey's voice did kind of crack as he said it, and I gathered an affair must have had something to do with his parents' breakup.
It couldn't have been Barry. He was too play-by-the-rulesMr. Solid. No wonder Detective Heather was so hot on his trail. He was excellent husband material.
'Let's talk about something else,' Barry said, putting down his menu. 'Molly, why don't you tell Jeffrey about your crocheting?'
Jeffrey and I rolled our eyes in unison.
After dinner we went back to their place. Barry had a two-bedroom town house. He wasn't much of a home-maker,and while the place had the basic TV and couch in the living room, there weren't any homey touches like colorfulpillows or nap blankets draped over the end of the couch. Once I got finished with my inaugural scarf, I was definitely making an afghan to brighten up the place.
Jeffrey trailed off to his room, playing his video game as he walked. Barry started coffee and we sat in the living room. I took the couch and he sat in a chair.
'I don't think Jeffrey would faint if we sat next to each other,' I said, patting the couch cushion. 'I don't think Jeffreywould even notice.'
Barry got the coffee and went back to the chair. 'Kids want to believe their parents are going to get back together. Not that it's going to happen here.' He looked down into his cup. 'His mother has been through a few boyfriends, and all the coming and going has been hard on him. It got worse when her latest boyfriend moved in and my ex started buying his favorite cereal instead of Jeffrey's. Personally,I don't understand why she couldn't have bought two kinds of cereal.' He looked at me. 'Of course, you don't have that sort of problem. Your boys are grown.' He chuckled. 'They don't feel displaced by me.'
I stared at him, my arms folded over my chest. 'Are you blind? Haven't you noticed how Peter always disagrees with everything you say?'
'He didn't last time. He didn't think you should go to the funeral, either.'
'Okay, so one time you agreed, but it was the only time. Every time he sees you fixing something for me, he says he can do it.'
Barry laughed. 'But he can't. I saw him looking at a screwdriver and wondering which end to use.'
My eyes narrowed, and the mother-protector came out in me. I might have thought that Peter was only good at fixingdeals, but nobody else could say it. 'He's not that bad. He even knows there are two kinds of screwdrivers. But that's not the point. Haven't you noticed that whenever Samuel sees you, he gets that hangdog expression, like I'm not paying enough attention to him? I thought you detectivetypes were supposed to be superobservant.'
'I thought we were, too. Hmm, so then your boys see me as your boyfriend, lover . . . ?'
My eyes widened in shock as I shook my head. 'Lover? I don't think they even want to get close to that.'
'Okay, then, but they consider me a serious contender?'
I shrugged. 'I suppose . . .'
'Well . . .' He left the rest blank. This was where I was suppose to throw myself into his arms and say,
I took a sip of my coffee. It was surprisingly good, a dark, smoky roast made strong, just the way I liked it. 'So you think Lawrence Sheridan is a likely suspect?'
Barry shook his head in capitulation. 'You're doing that again. You think I wouldn't notice the change of subject? Remember,we detectives are an observant bunch. Yes, if it was my case, I'd talk to the husband first and to everybody I could about him. He probably had an insurance policy on her. What about the assets of her business? Maybe he wanted to start over with a younger woman with no financial strings attached.It wouldn't be the first time . . .' Suddenly Barry stopped. I was listening too intently, and the fact that I was making a mental list of what he said was obvious. 'But it's not my case or yours. Oh, no, Molly, you can't go asking Lawrence Sheridan a bunch of questions. . . .'
I chuckled. 'You don't have to worry about that.'
'And why is that?' Barry looked at me levelly. I hadn't told him about my abrupt departure from the funeral receptionthanks to Lawrence Sheridan practically throwing me out since it kind of proved that Barry and Peter had been right in advising me not to go.
'I don't think he's really likely to talk to me.'
'And why is that?' Suddenly Barry had turned into Mr. Interrogator. When asked a direct question, I can only tell the truth, so, trying to make it sound not so bad, I told him about Lawrence Sheridan's suggesting I ought to be in jail.
Barry closed his eyes and shook his head.
Poor Barry. He'd had the best of intentions for the evening.Jeffrey and I were supposed to get to know each other, but the one who got to know the most was Barry, and none of it was information he wanted.
CHAPTER 7
I nixed the idea of dealing with natalie Shaw about the crochet squares over the phone. It would be too easy for her to answer and hang up before I had a chance to talk about other things, like Will Hunter's book signing. Even though Ellen had given me a flat-out no, I hoped Natalie might be more open-minded.
The Pink Sheridan office was in Encino, which was a notch above Tarzana in status. Maybe more than one notch, at least as far as the Encino people thought.
I hadn't been there since Ellen pushed me out. The parkinglot looked the same, with the ancient California oaks spaced along the front as striking as ever. These weren't the back-East sort of oaks with their dancerlike graceful shape and leaves like hands. California oaks had blackish green leaves that held on to moisture for dear life and looked like football players, with their broad, solid trunks and low-spreadbranches. Along the side were tall eucalyptus trees, with their pale, smooth bark and gray green leaves. When it rained, they filled the air with their faintly medicinal scent.
The ground level had small boutiques and restaurants. The upper three floors of the U-shaped building were all offices. The inside of the U faced a courtyard, and each floor had a balcony running its length, accessible by wooden stairs. Charlie had made sure they got an office that faced the balcony. He'd liked being able to look out on the pond and the graceful white-barked sycamore trees that surrounded it. Sometimes when he'd worked late, the boys and I would bring dinner and surprise him. We'd open the sliding-glass door and have an impromptu picnic on the balcony, even if I was always a little worried about the boys falling through the railing.
I went in the front entrance and barely looked through to the courtyard. It made me think of Charlie too much. As the elevator took me to the third floor, a not-so-idyllic memory washed over me.
I had come in to finish setting up a press reception for one of Charlie's clients. I should have figured then how things were going to go with Ellen. What was it she had said to Charlie?
'Molly means well, I'm sure, but this isn't a PTA bake sale. You need to keep it professional-looking.'
It had hurt when she said it, and it hurt now thinking about it. I wasn't one to call people names, but Ellen definitelydeserved the B title. You shouldn't think ill of the dead, I told myself as I headed down the familiar hall.
A workman was doing something on the outer door to the offices. When I got closer, I realized he was taking off the metal letters that read PINK SHERIDAN PUBLIC RELATIONS.Now that there was neither a Pink nor a Sheridan, maybe things had changed, and the business was closing up shop.
I wondered what that would mean for Will Hunter's publicity. Then I felt a pang of guilt for being so concerned with my own interests.
Inside there was a small reception area with a lot of boxes and a few chairs. A man in his early twenties sat at a desk, talking on the phone and looking at a computer screen. He looked up when I walked in.
His expression seemed slightly hostile, probably figuringI was either selling something or collecting for a charity.Pink Sheridan wasn't a drop-in sort of business. I explained that I wanted to see Natalie and didn't have an appointment. Of course, being a good gatekeeper, he wanted to know why. The crochet business seemed to sit well with him, and he went in to announce me.
'She's on the phone, but said for you to wait.' He pointed to a folding chair.
