Hooked on Murder: A Crochet Mystery

Boulevard look different as it passed through the different Valley communities. Thanks to the Tarzan connection, the strip going through Tarzana had been designated 'Safari Walk.' They'd hung metal silhouettes of giraffes, lions and other animals from some of the streetlights and stuck some topiaryelephants, giraffes, etc., along the sidewalks. The final touch was an occasional brick sidewalk square with a boulderstuck on it.

The bookstore had a topiary giraffe out front. The only time anyone seemed to notice it was when a red Ford Focus had jumped the curb and run into it. That ivy-covered animalwas pretty tough. The picture in the newspaper had shown it on its side, unscathed except for the loss of a few leaves. The car, however, had been a mess.

The actual status of Tarzana was a little confusing. Along with Encino, Studio City, Sherman Oaks and the multitude of other Valley communities, it was technically part of the urban sprawl of the city of Los Angeles. But in most people's minds, there was the City and the Valley. The City side of the Santa Monica Mountains was more temperate, thanks to the ocean breeze, and made up of odd-angled main streets that had started out as cow paths to the ocean. It had Hollywood, Westwood, Brentwood and the supertrendy shopping streets frequented by celebs. Some people considered it hipper.

The Valley had plenty of houses with rural-style mailboxes,and you could still find a lot big enough to have a horse. The streets were wider and mostly on a grid pattern. It was hotter in the summer and colder in the winter, but we had more trees, more parking, more sushi restaurants and the lure of mountain walks just minutes away.

I had been working at the bookstore for about six months as community relations/event coordinator. It was my job to bring new customers into the bookstore, and to that end I had placed the event area in the window overlookingVentura. The plan was that passersby could look in and see something going on, and they'd come in and check it out. Though this morning it didn't look as though there was much to advertise.

Even from across the bookstore it was obvious that not much was going on with the crochet group. Actually, 'group' was a bit of a stretch. There were only three women sitting around the end of the long table. And one of them, Adele Abrams, worked for the bookstore. But, then, it was only their first meeting since Ellen's demise. As I looked at them, I realized I didn't know much about the group. I heard they'd been together for a couple of months, although they'd only started meeting at the bookstore a few weeks earlier. Before that, they'd been meeting Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings at the yarn store down the street until it went out of business.

My thoughts turned to Ellen, and I realized that several days had gone by with no further word from Detective Heather. As far as I was concerned, no news was definitely good news. She had just been trying to make me sweat that afternoon and must have moved on to look for the burglar type who had done it. I was glad I hadn't brought up my history with Ellen.

What would have been the point of telling Detective Heather that Ellen and Charlie had been partners in their public-relations firm, Pink Sheridan? Or what a mess there had been when he died?

I had made the mistake of thinking I could take over his position. It wasn't as if I had no experience. I had worked with Charlie when he started out on his own, and even after he had gone into partnership with Ellen, I had done a numberof things, including setting up events and even some hand-holding.

But Ellen was against it from the start. She claimed Charlie'sclients were calling her and had no confidence in me. I always wondered whether it was the other way around-- like, maybe she had called them and talked me down.

After less than a month, Ellen had dropped a check on my desk and said I could take it and get on with my life, or we could bring in lawyers. She insisted that buying me out was doing me a big favor. Charlie's death was still too raw for me to have the energy to fight her, so, I took the check. Before I had even cleaned out my desk, Natalie Shaw arrived.She wasn't going to be a partner, just an associate, which really meant doing all the work while Ellen got the glory. The firm was still called Pink Sheridan, but all the Pinks had left the building.

I glanced at the crochet three again and debated what to do. True, it had been Mrs. Shedd who had invited them to move their meetings here, and they'd hardly needed me for the few weeks they'd been coming. But now that they were Ellenless, everything had changed, and I felt they were my responsibility. They were just sitting there with their balls of yarn and metal hooks lying idly on the table.

'Ladies, how are you doing?' I said, walking up to the group.

'Pink, I've got it covered,' Adele said, giving me a look of dismissal. I tried not to clench my teeth at her calling me by my last name. She knew I hated it, which was why she did it. But why show her that it worked?

Adele and I'd had a problem from day one. She had been hoping to get promoted to my job, but when Mrs. Shedd hired me instead, Adele hadn't taken it well. Mrs. Shedd had given her the children's department and story time as conciliation, but it had just annoyed her. Adele wasn't a kid person to begin with, and the idea of having to read stories and be friendly was a real stretch for her.

I ignored her comment and glanced at the other two women. I recognized both of them. Sheila Altman worked as a receptionist at the gym down the street, and it was hard to miss CeeCee Collins's hair. It was that reddish-blondish,slightly acrylic-looking color that never occurred naturally.

'It's just horrible about Ellen. She must have interruptedthe burglar,' I said, shaking my head for emphasis. Adele gave me a dirty look when she realized I wasn't leaving.

Sheila Altman glanced up, the line between her eyebrowssqueezed in tension. 'They've already discounted the burglary thing. It was just a setup to make it look like that's what it was.' She was drumming her fingers at an amazingly fast cadence on the table. No surprise, really. Sheila had a definite problem with her nerves. She came to every signing we had that featured a book with anything to do with de-stressing, dealing with anxiety, or learning relaxationtechniques. None of them seemed to help. But, then, she had a lot on her plate.

We'd first met at the Dr. Wheel's Guide to Total Calm signing. I'd been giving out samples of chamomile tea, and when Sheila came back for seconds, she opened up and told me her story. Apparently the grandmother who brought her up had recently died and now Sheila felt adrift. She had a boyfriend, and seemed to be hoping for some kind of happily-ever-after with him, though it didn't sound as though it was going to happen anytime soon. In the meantime,she was juggling her job at the gym with classes in wardrobe design. Her dream was a career at one of the film studios as a costume designer. All she could afford was a rented room in a house in Reseda. It came with kitchen privileges, but as part of the rent she had to babysit the owner's kids on weekends.

Sheila seemed to worry about everything, though, I gathered, mostly about not being good enough at things. And even when I told her that we all worried about that, it didn't help. Something about her seemed like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight and any second could snap.

'How do you know they've discounted the idea of a burglar?' I asked, talking in time to her finger drumming. It was making me nervous.

'One of the gym members' sister's husband's sister works in the West Valley Division of the police department. Everybody was interested in what happened. It kind of busts their image of living in a safe area when burglars go around offing people who get in the way of their business. The women were all relieved to hear it was a setup.' Sheila paused a beat. Thank heavens, she didn't seem to be able to drum and talk at the same time and had finally let her fingersgo still. 'Supposedly Ellen was strangled some kind of weird way.' She looked at me. 'I can't believe you don't know, since you were at the scene of the crime and all.'

'You know, dear, you looked pretty washed-out on television,' CeeCee Collins said, giving me a disparaging glance. Her real name was Connie Collins, but everybody knew her as CeeCee. Easily recognized, she had been on television for years. She had starred in two sitcoms, then become part of ensemble casts on several long-running dramas.

Lately she seemed to be doing only guest shots where she played somebody's eccentric great-aunt or something, and commercial-spokesperson things. She claimed the spokesperson jobs were just for fun.

'Of course the lighting in the police car had way too much shadow,' CeeCee continued. 'I always wear this specialmakeup when I think I might end up on TV. You know, when you go to an award show or a premiere. It really does the trick. It doesn't have that thick orange look in person like so much of the stage stuff does, but it keeps you from looking pasty. I'll give you the name of it, if you'd like.'

I thanked CeeCee but told her I didn't intend to make showing up on the news a regular occurrence. Did she honestlythink I cared whether I looked pasty? To my thinking, if I hadn't looked bad, something definitely would have been wrong.

'What exactly were you doing there?' CeeCee asked. She motioned to the other two. 'We really should begin. Ellen would want us to.' She turned back to me and waited for my answer. I rolled my eyes and repeated the