relative who works at the West Valley Police Station. She came in this morning just before I left. I heard her talking to some friend.” Sheila’s eyes were big and round. “She was talking about someone named Wells and saying something about her being poisoned.”
“I knew it,” I nearly shouted. “They must have done an autopsy. Did you hear what kind?”
“What’s the difference?” CeeCee asked. “It obviously did the job. I played a murderess once in an episode of
“I bet that’s what happened with Mary Beth. Detective Heather said the maid mentioned Mary Beth had been sick,” I explained. A picture of Mary Beth’s bedroom flashed in my mind. “And I bet I know how they could have done it. There was a half-eaten package of marzipan apples on the bedside table.”
CeeCee and Dinah both made faces, not about the poisoning, but rather about the marzipan. CeeCee said it tasted like gritty paste.
“It was probably a woman who did it,” Eduardo said. “Poison is considered a woman’s weapon.” We all looked surprised at his comment. “I read a lot of true crime,” he said with a shrug.
I laid my hand on the display of items. “Since these were left on our table, I feel it is my responsibility to finish what Mary Beth wanted to do, and since the first panel has an image of the Casino Building, I think the place to start is Catalina Island.”
For a moment there was silence at the table. Then CeeCee spoke. “I could use an outing, and since I’m sure the package was left for me, I should go along. Count me in.”
Sheila looked up. “I’ve always wanted to go there, but I don’t know . . .” I knew she was worried about the cost. She was chronically short of money. I told her I’d pay her boat fare and she could do something for me in return. I would have just paid it, but I knew Sheila had her pride.
Dinah’s face lit up suddenly. “I forgot the kids have gone home. I’m free. Count me in.”
Eduardo had to beg off because he was booked to do a talk show back east. “The idea is to turn me into more than just a face. I’m going to show my funny side.”
“Good idea, Eduardo,” CeeCee said. “It’s always good to be multidimensional. Did I tell you I used to sing, too?”
“We’re getting off topic,” I said. “So, all of you except Eduardo are coming to Catalina with me?” After some back-and-forth over when to go—everyone had something to rearrange—we finally agreed on a day later in the week.
“I’m here to join the group.” At those words, we all looked up from our conversation to see Camille Rhead Katz holding a swatch of off-white yarn. CeeCee’s face fell so low I thought it would hit the floor, and I heard her groan under her breath. Camille’s swatch had rows of single and double crochet and then a pattern with double crochets and shell stitches. She dangled it in front of CeeCee. “See, now I can crochet.”
CeeCee sputtered, but there was no legitimate objection she could make and she finally muttered a welcome to the group while sending an annoyed flash of her eyes in Adele’s direction.
“Did I hear you talking about a trip to Catalina? Is the group meeting there?” she said in a friendly voice.
CeeCee stepped in before anyone else could speak. “It’s a separate thing some of us are working on.”
Camille looked a little miffed, though not enough to leave. She set her bag on the table. It was made of black fabric covered with a pattern of small red hearts, each of which bore the initials
Her crochet supplies were equally elegant. She pulled out a full set of hand-carved wood hooks in a padded roll and a set made out of plastic that featured little lights on the curved part. Next came a clear plastic case that held scissors shaped like a crane, stitch holders, a measuring tape, a space pen and a tiny notebook. She glanced Adele’s way. “Did I get the right stuff?” Adele nodded.
Camille noticed Mary Beth’s filet panels on the table. “Why do I keep seeing this?” She surveyed the group for an answer.
I opened my mouth to explain but caught sight of CeeCee giving me one of her cease-and-desist stares, and I closed it without saying a word. I got CeeCee’s drift. She couldn’t keep Camille out of the crochet group, but that didn’t mean she was really one of us.
Just then Ali rushed up to the table and skidded to a stop. She was out of breath, and between heavy gasps she apologized numerous times. CeeCee’s face softened. She liked Ali. She and her late husband had never had children, but I think she regretted it now. Ali was the kind of girl she would have loved as a daughter, except maybe for her problem with time management.
“That bag is wonderful,” CeeCee said as Ali set down her purse.
“You like it?” the young woman said with a grin. “Some people think it looks a little odd. It’s improvisational crochet. I put on music, take out a bunch of hooks and bits of yarn, beads and charms and go crazy.” I ran my hand over the texture. It went from smooth to bumpy and had beads and charms crocheted right into it. “The best thing is you can’t make a mistake; it’s whatever you feel like.”
Ali looked at the panel piece, too. She didn’t ask any questions; she simply stared at it for a long time, almost as if she were trying to remember something.
“Ladies—and gentleman,” a male voice said. We all looked up, and there was Bob holding a plate of cookie bars. “I’d like to get your opinion on whether these have enough chocolate in them.” He went to CeeCee first. He knew all about her sweet tooth and valued her opinion. CeeCee glanced toward Camille while she was looking away. I could almost see CeeCee’s mouth watering, but I knew she didn’t want any stories of her gorging herself on sweets getting back to Camille’s husband, particularly now when they were negotiating her contract.
“Not today,” CeeCee said. Bob quickly recovered from his surprise and moved on to Camille. She practically laughed at the offer and took out a pack of diet cookies—little meringues with a tiny dot of chocolate.
“Maybe Bob’s the one CeeCee’s show is doing,” Dinah said, nudging me.
I supposed anything was possible.
CHAPTER 9
NOT KNOWING VERY MUCH ABOUT MARY BETH Wells was a definite disadvantage in figuring out her secret and who killed her. I wanted to know more about her before we went to Catalina. There was one person I thought of immediately. He knew everybody and as long as there was no attorney-client privilege involved, would probably share his information.
Mason Fields was a big-bucks attorney with a reputation for keeping naughty celebrities out of jail. We had what I’d call a flirty friendship going. Before I left the bookstore, I called his office and left a detailed message. Then I headed home.
The curb in front of my house was parked up when I got home, so I walked through the backyard savoring the last few minutes of peace as I prepared myself for the onslaught.
Cosmo and Blondie were waiting by the kitchen door and took off into the yard when I opened it. The lights were on in the kitchen, and the deli delivery guy was just bringing in some trays. My mother didn’t cook, but she knew how to order. By the time the delivery guy was finished, there was a tray of meats and cheeses, along with a selection of salads, fresh bread, condiments and cheesecake.
It wasn’t his first trip here. Apparently my parents hadn’t found a Santa Fe deli to measure up to their favorite west Valley haunt. They were like shipwrecked sailors when it came to deli food and had been ordering every night since they arrived. This was a bigger order, which implied more people.
“Help yourself, honey,” my mother said. “There’s plenty of everything.”
She sailed out of the room, and I waited for the dogs to return. When they came in, I fed them their dog food, though the way they were sniffing, they clearly hoped the deli trays were for them.
I followed the sound of voices to the living room. Lana and Bunny, the two other She La Las, were sitting on the couch next to my mother. Their husbands and my father came in from my former bedroom.
