Mine must have been a bodybuilder in his other life, because he had an iron grip on me. Someone turned on the music, a waltz began and my teacher told me to watch his eyes and follow his lead. I did okay for the first few steps, but then I stumbled on the instructor’s feet and I saw annoyance flare in his eyes. When I made a move to pull away, he simply held on tighter.
“We always start with the basic waltz,” my teacher said before taking off around the room. Things went from bad to worse when I looked away for just a moment and saw Detective Heather come in the door. I tried to steer my partner over to the front, but he kept pulling us toward the back of the room.
Detective Heather was talking to Roseanne and Hal, neither of whom looked very comfortable, though Hal at least seemed to be enjoying ogling the blond detective. Matt Wells had disappeared into the side room when Dinah and I started our lesson, but now he came back out. As he approached the group, I could see him turn on the charm. But Detective Heather stayed all business. That is until she noticed me dancing by. Her eyes narrowed and she shot me a dirty look.
The music changed and went into a polka, and my partner began to pick up speed. I swear my feet left the floor as we began whirling around the room. Vincent was smiling as he swung Dinah to-and-fro. It was hard to keep my eyes on Detective Heather without getting dizzy, so I turned toward my partner, and when I looked back Detective Heather was gone. I was ready to cut the lesson short, but before I could suggest it, the music changed to a jitterbug and my partner held me by one hand and did some maneuver where he reeled me in and then spun me out. I was breathless—and so thankful when the music finally stopped.
“Wasn’t that fun?” Hal said, coming up to Dinah and me. “Just like the TV show, huh?”
We insisted we had to think about it as we headed toward the door. We ran down the stairs and out of the building, where we practically smacked into Detective Heather. She ignored Dinah and zeroed in on me. “I’m not even going to ask you what you were doing there. I’m just going to tell you straight out: Stay out of this investigation.”
I couldn’t help myself; I just had to ask her one question. “Did you know that Barry was married more than once?”
She looked at me directly with a little self-satisfied smile. “Of course.”
CHAPTER 16
ALL THAT DANCING LEFT US PARCHED AND NEITHER of us had had breakfast, so we went back to Le Grande Fromage for cafe au laits and croissants.
“Maybe we should sign up for some lessons,” Dinah said, sinking into a chair after we had placed our order. “We shouldn’t be so pooped after a partial lesson. But if we do, I’m insisting that somebody other than Vincent be my instructor.”
I agreed with our need for exercise and took out my little notebook and pen. Dinah watched as I flipped it open.
“What’s that?”
“You know how Barry and Detective Heather always take notes when they talk to people. I thought it was about time I started doing it, too. But if I’d taken out my notebook at the dance studio, I think it would have seemed kind of weird.”
Dinah nodded with comprehension. “They already thought we were kind of strange—that would have pushed it over the top.”
I showed her the first few pages where I’d drawn a diagram of the crochet piece and written in the meaning of the motifs we’d figured out.
I held the pen over the paper. “Let’s see. Now we know Mary Beth had a bossy sister with a wimpy husband. I don’t think she and Matt Wells get along,” I said, beginning to write. “And the studio is owned by the Lance Wells estate.” I blew out some air. “I wonder what that means.” I started to slump, then straightened. “Ah, but I know how to find out.”
Mason took my call right away. “Hi, sunshine,” he said cheerfully. “The other night was nice. Calling for a repeat?”
“It was nice,” I said, smiling at the memory. “But I’m really after some information. I found out the Lance Wells estate owns the Lance Wells Dance Studio, but what does that mean? Also, what else do you know about Matt Wells besides what you told me about his dancing ability?”
“I don’t know off the top of my head, but I can find out. However, I’m sorry I can’t give out any of that information on the phone. It has to be in person, preferably someplace dark with good food,” he said, a tease in his voice.
Telling myself this was in pursuit of finishing Mary Beth’s mission, I accepted.
Dinah listened to my end of the conversation and was grinning when I clicked off. “Good move. No downtime. Get right back on the horse.”
She was trying to make me feel good, but it had the opposite effect. I got a queasy feeling in my stomach.
“Doesn’t that make me seem pretty shallow and man hungry? It’s just dinner, and it’s really about information,” I said. “Though I do like him.”
“Molly, you’re not twenty anymore. Time is moving on and you need to, too. When the issue with Barry was that he wanted to get serious, I didn’t understand your problem. But this is different. You’re objecting to Barry’s lifestyle, which isn’t going to change, and the fact that he didn’t mention a whole other wife and daughter. Just because he has no contact with them doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” She gave me a solidarity arm squeeze.
“I LIKE PLAYING DETECTIVE,” MASON SAID THAT night as we were led to our table. “Particularly since I have a staff to actually get the information.” He had found a place nestled in Laurel Canyon I’d never been to. The walls were a brick red, and the candles flickering on each table softly illuminated the dining room.
“Roseanne and Hal have been married for twenty years and have two daughters in college. One is nineteen and one seventeen. I’m sure Mary Beth worked it out so they would get the job managing the dance studio,” Mason explained once we were seated.
He stopped for a moment, caught the waiter’s eye and ordered a bottle of merlot, then continued. “All I’ve been able to find out so far is what the Lance Wells estate owns. The house in Catalina, the one in Tarzana, all of the dance studios and a portfolio of investments all belong to it. It’s just a guess, but I would imagine with Lance Jr. and Mary Beth both gone, the estate will go to Mary Beth’s sister and Matt Wells.”
He tasted the wine when it was delivered, nodded with approval, and the waiter poured us each a glass.
“So Lance and Mary Beth had no children?” I said before taking a sip of mine.
“No, and Lance was an only child so he had no siblings. Lance Sr. had a whole slew of wives. When he died he was married to his nurse,” Mason said. The waiter had returned and Mason ordered for us. The restaurant featured a tasting menu, which meant you ordered a lot of different items and got small plates of each.
“What about the nurse? Would she be an heir to the estate?” I asked once the waiter left.
Mason didn’t think so. He imagined she’d been awarded a lump sum when the elder Lance died; she would have gotten her share long ago. Then he went back to talking about Lance Jr. and how surly he’d been when he was sober.
“If he was so unpleasant, why did Mary Beth stay with him?” I asked.
Mason raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You really don’t know?”
I shrugged, and he tilted his head and blinked. “I didn’t realize you were such a romantic. She stayed with him because she liked the money and position. I don’t know for a fact, but I bet she signed a prenuptial agreement, and with no kids as a chip, she wouldn’t have gotten much. Her sister and husband would have lost their gig. Mary Beth would have had to give up the big Tarzana house, the one in Catalina and all that went with being Mrs. Lance Wells Jr. And she would have gone back to being a nobody. My people checked. She grew up in Van Nuys and was working for a caterer before she married Lance Jr. I think her goal was to get on the other side of the tray.”
“Oh, yuck,” I said. “I can’t imagine marrying someone for a reason like that.”
Mason’s face and voice softened. “That’s what is so wonderful about you—and rare around here.” Then his
