By Hook or by Crook

in the middle, if you know what I mean.” He glanced toward the door to the classroom. “I gotta go. Ms. Lyons won’t cut me any slack, even for talking to you. If you want information, talk to Matt Wells. He knows more than I do anyway. He always has breakfast at Le Grande Fromage. Just don’t tell him I told you.”

It was already too late for this morning. Besides, I had to get to the bookstore. Someone was coming from the production company to figure if they were going to need to bring in plants and extra power, and since Mrs. Shedd considered the TV shoot an event, it had become my baby.

When I walked into the bookstore, the people from the production company were already moving around, checking light levels and angles. I introduced myself and offered my services, but they seemed almost annoyed by my presence. Finally, I excused myself and said I’d be in the event area if they needed me. Between Barry’s surprise arrival and the disaster in the bathroom, I hadn’t had time to clean up things from the aborted signing.

As I walked by the children’s area, I saw Adele. Story time had ended and the kids were gone. She was sitting at one of the tables working on a filet bookmark. Even if I hadn’t known the morning’s book was Being with the Bee Family, I could have guessed by her outfit. Yellow had become her color of choice lately. She looked like a beehive with the golden yellow cropped pants and long tunic, topped with an oddly shaped hat. I watched the rhythmic motion of her hook for a moment, recalling how I’d tried working on a bookmark at home.

I had finally gotten the hang of working with the tiny hook and fine thread and actually done a couple of rows of filet. It had taken me some time to adjust to working on so small a scale, but once I had gotten going I really liked it. And when I saw what I had done, I was impressed. The fact that the work went so slowly made me appreciate how much time Mary Beth had put into making the panel piece.

I had taken to carrying Mary Beth’s panel piece with me all the time. When I’d put away all the unsold books, I pulled it out of my tote bag and laid it on the table. I skipped over the panels I’d already deciphered and went over the rest. The vase of flowers was at least a recognizable motif, though I didn’t know what it was supposed to mean. But some of the other pictures just seemed like odd shapes. I tried stepping back as sometimes the images in this kind of crochet work were hard to make out. But even halfway across the event area, they still made no sense. The panel piece reminded me of one of those puzzles where you have to unscramble the letters and figure out a phrase. When I succeeded at those puzzles, the answer always seemed to come in a flash of inspiration. It just wasn’t happening here.

I wondered if I would ever be able to figure it out without knowing what was hidden in the fireplace.

Eventually the people from Making Amends finished and gave me a schedule of setup and shooting time. We’d actually have to close the bookstore for two days, but having our name in front of millions of viewers was priceless.

I knew the subject of the show was supposed to be a surprise, but I thought that maybe asking straight out, as if of course I was supposed to know, would make them tell. I pulled over the person who seemed in charge. “I wonder if you’d tell me who the subject of the show is?”

He regarded me with a self-satisfied smile. “Sorry. Nobody but a few insiders know who it is. Who knows, it could even be you.”

Me? It had never occurred to me that I was even a possibility.

BARRY WAS AT MY HOUSE WHEN I WENT HOME. He was working with a contractor for the police department installing my new door. The dogs had been fed, and Barry had fixed the light that wouldn’t turn off. He’d been missing in action for days, but now that we were just friends, he seemed to be crossing my path constantly. Things must be slow homicidewise in the west Valley.

The She La Las had just finished dinner and were looking over their costumes. I felt as though I were invisible since nobody seemed to notice me. It was pointless to try to cook. My mother had ordered in again, so I just helped myself to the Caesar salad and pasta and took it in my crochet room.

Barry stuck his head in the door and then stepped into the room. He did a double take at all the balls and bags of yarn and half-done projects.

“You’re really serious about this hook stuff.” He picked up a partially finished rust-colored afghan and then looked at me with a question in his eyes. “Weren’t you making that for me?”

“It’s almost finished. Just because we’re friends now doesn’t mean I won’t finish it. Friends make afghans for their friends all the time even if they leave out important elements of their lives.” That last part just slipped out.

“Your door is back in place,” he said, ignoring my remark. I noticed his black eye had begun to fade. I held up my plate and showed him the food and told him there was plenty in the kitchen. He didn’t move. “Molly, I can’t do the friends thing. Maybe you should just keep Cosmo for now, until I make some arrangements.” He put the key down on the arm of the chair. “You know where to find me,” he said as he left. A moment later I heard my new front door open and close.

I was still sitting there feeling a little stunned when Dinah called for an update.

“I think we broke up even as friends,” I said.

“You had a problem with Vincent?” she said, surprised.

“No. Barry.” I re-created the whole scenario for her, and she said she wasn’t surprised.

“Men don’t like to be friends, particularly when it’s a step down from what they’ve been. I was really calling about your confab with my student, who by the way tried to use his being helpful as a way to get to take the midterm test he missed.”

“Obviously, he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.” I repeated what he’d said about Mary Beth fighting with her sister and how I wished I knew what they fought about. “Vincent was no help. He said to talk to Matt Wells, which is exactly what I intend to do tomorrow.”

“Not a bad assignment. And who knows what else may come of it. Now that you’re single again,” Dinah said, “the world is your man buffet.”

“Single again. You make it sound like Barry and I were married. We were just seeing each other.”

“If you’re not seeing someone, you’re considered single in the current lingo,” Dinah said.

“What about Mason?” I said.

“I thought you wanted to keep it to a casual dinner now and then,” Dinah said.

“Well, yeah . . . It is, well, it was. It’s just that . . .”

“What did you leave out?” Dinah repeated, her voice lighting up with interest.

“Nothing. It’s about his good night kiss . . .”

“Cheek or lips? You never said,” she said with interest.

“Lips and everything else. It was definitely not a casual kiss. Believe me my only interest in meeting Matt Wells is for information.”

Dinah had to get back to grading papers and made me promise to report back to her if I found out anything new.

“I thought of something odd,” I said, just before hanging up. “Whoever killed Mary Beth had to know she really liked marzipan. If you’re going to lace something with poison, you want to be sure the person will eat it. I wouldn’t have eaten any of those almond paste apples sent to me even if I hadn’t thought they might be laced with something. Marzipan isn’t like chocolate. The killer had to know that she not only liked marzipan, but that she loved it enough to guarantee she would eat the candy apples.”

“Good thinking,” Dinah said. “It sounds like the kind of information a sister would have. By the way, I checked your box of marzipan yesterday and it was full of ants.”

“Dead or alive?” I said feeling my stomach tense.

“The little buggers were very much alive. Can I throw the package away now?”

“Then I was right. The gift was just for shock value. Someone wanted to scare me off the case. I’m glad I didn’t show it to Detective Heather.” I paused for a moment picturing the ants having a field day on the red candy apples. “You better hang onto it for now. Put it in your garage.”

CHAPTER 20