Hooked on Murder: A Crochet Mystery

Barry looked agitated when he arrived. 'Somebody at school told Jeffrey about a commercial audition, and now he wants to go. And if he does, he needs eight-by-ten photos.Do you think he's deliberately trying to annoy me?'

I was following him out to his Tahoe parked in the driveway. 'No. From what I saw of him, I think he really wants to be an actor. Annoying you is just a bonus.' Barry beeped the door open, and we got in.

Barry didn't look happy with my answer. 'But it's a horribleplan.'

'Yes, but it's his plan. I think you need to face the fact that Jeffrey has his own mind.'

'You're lucky your kids are grown and on their own,' Barry said as we headed to his car. 'You don't have to worry anymore.'

'Ha,' I laughed. 'There is no retirement from the job of mother. And worry is part of the job description.'

The Valley Promenade was an outdoor mall made up to look like the downtown of an idyllic small town. Part shoppingcenter, part destination, it was a superpopular spot in Woodland Hills. Barry parked the SUV, and we walked into pretend-land. It was shaped like a square so that the outside world didn't intrude and also so that they had good control of the crowd filling the walkway.

'Where's he playing?' Barry gestured toward the array of restaurants mixed in with the small stores. I shrugged and told him I wasn't sure, and planned to just make the rounds until I found Samuel.

Barry slipped his arm around me as we started toward the first place. I was suddenly very glad to be there with him. 'I wonder if there will be a stage and spotlights. This means a lot to Samuel. It's his first actual paying gig, if you don't count some stuff he did in college.'

Our first stop was the Promenade's attempt at a French cafe. It had the look, with the white-tiled floor, dark wood walls and baskets full of baguettes. In the bar area, a woman in a sequined gown sang in French while a man played the piano.

I looked at both of them and was relieved that the one in sequins wasn't Samuel. The guy at the piano wasn't him, either.

'Want to eat here?' Barry asked, eyeing a mound of perfectly prepared pommes frites. I shook my head.

'Not until I find Samuel.' Barry looked disappointed, and I heard his stomach rumble.

'Sorry. I missed lunch,' he said, watching wistfully as the paper cone of french fries was delivered to a table.

We walked past a lingerie store and a fancy kids' store set on a little side street. At the end there was a California-stylerestaurant. It was all done in wicker, with dimmed lights and a menu heavy on fancy lettuces and avocado. There was a strolling guitar player--not Samuel.

'What does he play?' Barry asked as we skirted the edge of the grassy park in the center.

'He's multitalented. Guitar, piano, dulcimer, harmonica.He writes songs, too, though I expect he'd be doing covers here.'

'Spoken like a proud mother. I wish I could feel as enthusedabout Jeffrey's ambitions.'

'Just wait until he performs whatever he's rehearsing. You'll probably be there with a video camera, pointing and yelling, 'That's my son.' '

He considered what I said. 'I'd be a lot more likely to do the yelling part if it was some kind of Junior Forensics event.'

'You're certainly stubborn.'

'I like to think it's just being right.' He smiled just enough to let me know he was joking.

We stopped and surveyed the area for other possibilities.'That has to be it,' I said, pointing toward Montifiore's.It was the only place left that looked as though it might have entertainment. I started toward it, feeling a growing sense of excitement. The wonderful smell of garlicmixed with tomatoes filled the air as we approached the open door. Inside, the smell was stronger, and my stomach gurgled in response. Barry was getting to that desperate kind of hunger, and I was afraid he was going to snatch a meatball off a waiter's tray as we walked through the entrancearea. It was filled with people waiting for tables, and the waiters had a hard time navigating their way through the crowd with trays of food.

'I'll just watch him for a little bit, and then we can eat,' I said as we pushed through the crowd toward the bar. I could hear music, but most of it was drowned out by noise.

There wasn't really a stage, just an area off to the side cleared of tables. And even though they were Frank Sinatra songs, it certainly wasn't Frank, nor was it Samuel.

'But I'm sure this was the place I saw written down, and I know I'm right about the time.' We had gone outside, and I was looking around, a touch frantic. The stores were all closing, making the restaurants stand out even more.

'Could I have been wrong?' I glanced around the square, feeling hopeless.

Barry took my hand. 'We'll figure it out. And probably a lot better after we've eaten. I'll put in our name.' I agreed. We would think better if our stomachs stopped rumbling. I had noticed Barry looking at his watch with a worried look. We were running out of time, too.

Barry came back from the hostess's stand looking gloomy, and I understood why, when he gave me the wait time.

'They can't be serious. Forty minutes! No Samuel and no food,' I said, hoping I didn't sound as whiny as I felt.

'She said forty minutes or less,' Barry said, trying to console me. Both of our moods had taken a tumble. To try to get his mind off his hunger, I asked how Barry's day had gone. He gave me that look that meant he didn't want to talk about it. But, then, he'd said his last stop was the morgue. I could see his point. He grumbled a little more about Jeffrey and then asked what was up with me. Glad for the diversion, I filled him in on my efforts to make sure the upcoming book signing came off perfectly.

'Then Natalie won't dare turn me down,' I said, beginningto cheer up now that my mind was off my empty stomach. 'And did I tell you that she mentioned giving me some work? You know, like as a consultant. CeeCee said I'd be the P in the name again.'

I was surprised when Barry's expression darkened. 'Do you really think pushing for the Will Hunter book thing is such a good idea?' He shook his head. 'And working for Pink Sheridan?'

'Sure. Why not? The Will Hunter book signing would be a coup for the bookstore, and doing some work for Natalie--it would be a nice ironic twist to Ellen's pushing me out of the company.'

Barry measured his words. 'To some people it might seem that you gained an awful lot from Ellen Sheridan's murder. If you mix that with being found hanging over her body . . .'

'Omigod, you've been talking to Detective Heather.'

'I'm just saying, it might be better to back away from the book signing and consulting work.'

'You have been checking up on things behind the scenes, haven't you?' All along, Barry had been telling me the best thing was for him to stay out of it. And all along, he had been telling me I had nothing to worry about becauseDetective Heather was a good detective who would find the real killer.

'Let's just say I've been keeping my ears open, and Heather and her partner haven't come up with any more likely suspects than . . .'

'Me,' I squealed. 'That's ridiculous. There are so many others, like Lawrence Sheridan. You said yourself you'd look at him first. Or CeeCee. I think Ellen was blackmailingher, or at least making it so she couldn't leave the firm. And if Heather really wants to see who has gained the most through Ellen's death, try Natalie Shaw. She went from beingEllen's slave to taking charge of the business. I'm not going to back off from the book signing. I worked too hard to get this far, and Mrs. Shedd thinks it's a done deal.'

'And why is that?' Barry asked, his eyes beginning to take on that hopeless sort of look.

'Maybe I implied I was pretty sure it was going to happen.'

By now Barry had begun shaking his head again. 'You are hand delivering a motive. Are you worried about money or losing your job? If you need something--'

'Detective Heather again?' I said, interrupting.

He measured his words. 'Well, you do have a big house in the high-rent district, and a not-so-big job that could be shaky if you don't bring in business.'

Finally what Barry was saying sunk in. Even leaving aside Detective Heather's desire to get me out of the