sense, as in talk to people and look around, not in the more specific sense of sneaking into private offices. “So, what did you find out?” Adele demanded.
Why not tell Adele? I told her what Dorothy had said about Drew cutting salaries as well as the money the consignees got. “The other saleswoman, Trina, was the most upset. And Drew and Kevin were fighting all the time about something.” I turned to Dinah. “Maybe it had something to do with the plans Kevin has for the place.” Dinah nodded with interest.
“Pink, you’re sure taking your time solving this. Sheila could be tried and convicted if you don’t get the lead out. I’m a better sleuth than you are,” Adele said with a snort. “Just from what you said I can see there are two prime suspects. The saleswoman who found him—Trina. How much more prime can you get? Who says his head was in the soup when she got there? Or the other one. Maybe she was telling you how upset Trina was to get the heat off of her. Whose to say she didn’t bop him and leave and let her coworker find him?” Adele seemed pleased with herself, but then her eyes widened as if she’d thought of something else even more self-satisfying.
“By the way, I had a little conversation with Mrs. Shedd about the Milton Mindell event. I told her I should handle it all by myself since it’s a kids’ event.”
My adrenalin high faded. Was Adele out of her mind? So many kids showed up, we had to give out numbers in advance. And mixing Milton’s temperamental personality with Adele’s divaness spelled disaster in red letters.
I’d have to talk to Mrs. Shedd, I thought. Then I stopped myself. Was the potential for disaster the only reason I was so uncomfortable with the idea of Adele handling the event? Or was I afraid that little by little Adele might take away pieces of my job? Bingo. Okay, I never claimed to be a saint.
“I don’t know why Mrs. Shedd didn’t agree,” Adele said. I tried not to be obvious about my relief. Thankfully, Mrs. Shedd had some sense. But only
“But she said I could work with you on it.” Adele gave my arm a friendly punch. “So I guess we’re partners, then.” It didn’t matter that I looked dismayed, Adele wasn’t paying any attention. She just went on, saying that Patricia Bradford had dropped off a box of books along with signage for her event. I noticed Adele made sure to mention that the Patricia’s Hints program was all mine to handle.
We didn’t generally carry self-published books like Patricia’s because they were a hard sell, but Mrs. Shedd made an exception for Patricia, who never left anything to chance. Normally, I made signs for author events, but Patricia preferred to make her own, more elaborate ones with more flattering copy. Adele said this time she had described herself as “the first lady of hints.”
“So, what did you buy?” Adele said, abruptly changing the subject. “You said you went over to the Cottage Shoppe to check out the specials.” Her comment jogged my memory, and I thought of the doll and truck Dinah had bought. Then I realized we’d left the bag on the chair in the refreshment area of the store. Since Dinah had a class to teach, I offered to get it. Adele insisted on coming with me.
The store was considerably quieter than it had been earlier. In fact there were almost no customers for us to blend in with. Kevin was talking to Dorothy. She looked as though she couldn’t wait for her workday to end. Who could blame her?
When I glanced in the dining room, I saw the package still on the chair. I picked it up and was heading toward the door, anxious to make a hasty exit, but Adele had gone off to look around. I stopped in the entrance hall to wait for her. Kevin and Dorothy were still talking. I like to think of it as curiosity, though some might call it nosiness, but I leaned a little closer to try to hear. I swallowed hard when I got the jest of it.
Kevin was saying he’d seen someone on the stairs earlier. Because of the overhang all he had seen were a pair of legs in black slacks. It couldn’t have been Dinah, because she was wearing rust-colored denims, and it couldn’t have been me, because, as usual, I was wearing khaki pants.
Could somebody else have been looking around upstairs, too?
CHAPTER 11
THE MAY GLOOM HAD FINALLY WORN OFF AS Adele and I headed back to the bookstore. With the sun burning through the clouds, the air had warmed considerably, and I peeled off my black knit hoodie. Once we got inside, she went off to the children’s department and I headed back to the office.
I worked on the newsletter and made sure the calendar in it was up-to-date before printing out copies to leave by the door. I had included a little article about the Tarzana Hookers’ hugs of comfort project and mentioned how the director of the Women’s Haven was very excited to be giving shawls to the residents. I also put a little note in saying new members of the crochet group were always welcome. More than welcome. We needed them if we were going to get all those shawls made.
After I had put out the newsletters, I cashiered a bit to give Rayaad a break and then helped some shoppers find books. By the time I was heading for home, I was thinking of a nice long bubble bath and an evening of soothing crochet. I really wanted to get a good part of my first shawl done, and while I was working I could think over everything I’d seen and heard at the Cottage Shoppe.
Someone must be having a party, I thought as I turned onto my block and noted the number of cars parked on the street. I was glad I wasn’t invited. The bubble bath beckoned, and I was contemplating maybe an ice-cream dinner. I pulled into the carport and walked into the yard. It was empty for a change. No Barry and his dog. Ah, peace at last, peace at last. For a moment, anyway.
Who knew the party was at my house?
I pushed open the kitchen door and there was greeted by the instant noise of multiple conversations and people. Morgan and Samuel were in one corner of the kitchen having some kind of heated discussion over a bowl of lettuce and a bottle of vinegar. Barry and Jeffrey were by the pantry, unloading dog food and assorted treats from a grocery bag. Cosmo was watching at their feet. Barry had been bringing over so much dog stuff, it was taking up all the shelf space. My terrier mix was sitting in the other room, observing everything at a safe distance. Then Peter walked in from the other room along with Mason Fields. When my older son saw me, he marched over scowling. He wanted to know why Samuel’s girlfriend was staying with me and why Barry had a key and was acting like he lived here.
“It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve been over,” Peter said, gesturing toward the dog food unloading zone. “Who’s the kid and where’d that dog come from?” As if on cue, Cosmo dropped his saliva-covered ball on Peter’s zillion-dollar Enrico Fabrizio shoe. “Mother, this house is like a circus.” Since Charlie’s death, Peter thought it was his job to be the man of the family. Sometimes he took the job too seriously.
“Let’s see,” I said, watching as he glowered at everyone, particularly Barry. “Your brother’s girlfriend needed a place to stay for a while, and I have lots of room. And Cosmo, Barry and Jeffrey are all part of the same thing.” I explained that Jeffrey was Barry’s son and they had wanted to get a dog, but couldn’t unless they had sort of a cosigner.
“Mother, you didn’t?” Peter was already throwing up his hands in a hopeless gesture as I explained that Cosmo had started as a frequent visitor but had now become more of a permanent guest. The little black mutt dropped the ball at Peter’s feet again. He leaned down and ruffled the dog’s fur before tossing the ball out the back door into the yard. Cosmo charged after it. To my surprise, Blondie followed him out.
“He’s kind of cute. Couldn’t you just have said he was yours once he started living here?”
“No. He’s really Barry and Jeffrey’s dog, and sometime soon they’ll be taking him back with them,” I said.
“Sure,” Peter said with disbelief. “I think the more likely move is the cop and kid are going to try and come here to stay with their dog, Mother,” he said, stretching the word into two syllables of disapproval.
Whatever happened to the concept of growing up and being able to do what you wanted? It wasn’t bad enough that I had had to deal with my mother’s withering opinions of anyone I dated when I was a teen. Now I had Peter, and he certainly didn’t give me any slack.
Mason had discreetly stayed out of earshot during Peter’s fuss about Barry, Jeffrey and the dog. As soon as he saw we were done, he came toward me with an amused smile.
“So, I finally get to see the famous Pink Manor. Certainly a lively place.”
He explained he and Peter had come from a meeting about a reality show deal they were putting together at some production company in Sherman Oaks. Peter had brought him over because he was worried I was mixed up in
