she tried to explain. “People probably leave cars there for several days all the time when they stay over on Catalina.”
“That’s not it,” I said. “It’s about the parking ticket. It wasn’t in the car.”
Dinah shrugged. “He probably took it with him.”
“That seems really odd,” I said. “If you were going to get on a ferry and jump off somewhere, and you went to the trouble to leave your SUV unlocked and the keys under the seat, why would you take your parking ticket with you?”
Dinah started to speak and then realized she didn’t have a pat answer. “Yeah, why would you?”
CHAPTER 8
“MOLLY,” MRS. SHEDD SAID, GRABBING ME AS I rushed into the bookstore. “What happened to you yesterday? You were supposed to bring in the crocheted snowflakes. When I left for the day, there was no you and no snowflakes.”
“I did come back to the bookstore. I’m afraid I’d forgotten all about the snowflakes, but when you hear what happened, I’m sure you’ll understand.” I walked farther into the store and she seemed very agitated as she walked with me.
She gestured toward the entrance area. “I thought you were going to put up a sign for the holiday event and a countdown sheet for the book launch. We want to generate as much excitement as possible. It would be terrible if the trucks rolled in with the books and there was no one waiting for them.”
I broke the news that I didn’t have the snowflakes with me this time, either. Mrs. Shedd sighed in frustration, but before she had a chance to chastise me, I stepped close to her.
“It’s about Bradley Perkins,” I said and she let out a little yelp. Mr. Royal was watering the Christmas tree and looked up at the sound. She covered her mouth and seemed even more agitated.
“Tell me it’s good news,” she said. “I’ve been trying to call his office and all I get is his voice mail or a woman who offers to take a message.”
I didn’t know quite how to tell her what happened, so I went the direct route and told her about the suicide note and my trip to Long Beach. The color drained from her face and I pulled up a chair and had her sit.
“Oh, dear,” she said, putting her face in her hands. She took a few deep breaths and sat upright. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Joshua was against it, but Logan Belmont kept raving what a miracle man Bradley was with money. Other people had lots of good things to say about Bradley, too. It wasn’t as if I was dealing with a stranger. Bradley lived in the area and everyone knew him. I kept hearing that he coached a kids’ sports team, was active in the local school and chamber of commerce. I was sure Joshua was wrong. I just gave Bradley a little of my savings at first, but when I saw the kind of return I was getting on it, I turned over more money to him.” She swallowed hard before she continued. “I used the store’s credit line and borrowed one hundred thousand dollars to give to him. Then a few weeks ago, I heard someone say they were having trouble taking their money out of Bradley’s fund. It made me nervous, so I called him last week and told him I wanted to pull all my money out. Bradley tried to talk me into waiting for a couple of months, but when I persisted, he said he’d need a little time. Something about his special method of investing made it impossible for him to pull out money at a moment’s notice. It didn’t seem right to me, but what could I do?”
I asked her who she’d overheard, but she didn’t remember.
The store was getting crowded. Mr. Royal had left fiddling with the tree and was helping a customer. Mrs. Shedd stood up and said we needed to take care of the bookstore’s business. Just before we parted she said, “Molly, you’ve done detective stuff before. Please find out what’s going on. You understand that if I can’t get at least the hundred thousand dollars back to pay off the bank, the bookstore might go under.” There was something desperate about her farewell squeeze of my arm before she put on a brave smile and went to help a couple standing near the local history books.
“THAT SOUNDS BAD. WHAT DOES SHE EXPECT YOU to do?” Dinah asked me later as I sat down at the table at the bookstore cafe. Mrs. Shedd had asked me to keep everything she’d told me to myself, but telling Dinah didn’t count. My friend had called about meeting and for once I actually noticed that my cell was ringing. Dinah said she needed my help with something.
But before I took a break, I made up the sign for the holiday event. We put it on every year to coincide with Santa Lucia Day.
The celebration was a carryover from Mrs. Shedd’s childhood. She was Swedish and every December thirteenth, as the eldest daughter, she donned the traditional long white dress, red sash and crown of candles and served coffee and buns to her family. There were various interpretations to the origin of the holiday, but to Mrs. Shedd it kicked off the holiday season.
I made up the countdown sheets and attached them to the cardboard cutout of Anthony. Mrs. Shedd was right about it being a good idea. They attracted immediate attention. I waited on customers and, when there was a lull, went back to the yarn department and attached the completed swatches on the bins.
Bob was baking something with cinnamon and the air smelled delicious. He said he’d bring over our order when it was ready.
“Mrs. Shedd didn’t say exactly, but I think what she really wants me to do is to get her money back. I can’t see where Emily will be much help. She kept telling me that she didn’t know about Bradley’s business,” I said with a sigh. I smiled at Ashley-Angela and E. Conner, who were sitting at the bistro table with Dinah. They were sharing a box of crayons and drawing. It was amazing to see how they’d calmed down compared to their first visit, thanks to the Dinah effect. She’d worked the same wonders on the kids that she did with her students.
“But I came here to help you out,” I said. “What’s the problem?”
“Molly, Dinah, hi,” a chirpy voice said before Dinah could answer. Our fellow Hooker, Elise Belmont, passed by, carrying a shopping bag from Nicholas’s store. She walked over to a corner table, where I noticed that her husband Logan had set up his portable office. He had his papers, his cell phone and minicomputer set out on the table. Logan was the go-to guy for real estate in Tarzana and Woodland Hills. The bookstore cafe and Le Grande Fromage were favorite spots to hang out among the Tarzanians who worked out of their houses.
Bob brought over Dinah’s order. He handed me a red-eye and a container of fruit and cheese the cafe had just started carrying. Dinah had a cafe au lait and a bagel and cream cheese, which she cut up for the kids. Bob gave them each a mug of steamed milk and honey. I mouthed a thank-you to Dinah. As usual she’d ordered right. But I was more interested in Logan than the food.
“Mrs. Shedd kept mentioning Logan and how he was the one who’d turned her on to investing with Bradley.” I watched the action at the corner table for a moment. Logan appeared upbeat as his wife pulled out a chair and I had a feeling he didn’t know about Bradley. “I’m going to go talk to them,” I said, getting up.
“Go for it, Molly,” Dinah said.
I greeted Elise and Logan when I reached their table. I thought I’d begin with a little small talk, but Elise took care of that.
“I think I figured out who A. J. Kowalski is,” she said with her eyes so bright they practically sparkled. “I know you said you won’t tell, but if I guess right, you could blink twice. That wouldn’t be telling.”
I was beginning to realize it was useless to keep repeating that I didn’t know who the vampire author was, so I just listened and let her think whatever she wanted based on what she thought my eyes did.
“It’s Adele’s boyfriend, isn’t it? All that stuff she said was just a cover. Pretty smart of me, huh?” She turned toward her husband as he worked on his computer. “Logan said William took a lease with an option to buy on a nice little house over in College Acres.”
Elise was staring at my eyes, trying to count blinks, while I restrained a laugh. Koo Koo as the vampire author? Right. He reminded me of a glass of warm milk. I couldn’t picture him writing the smoldering undercurrent that surrounded the Anthony character. Even the way Anthony stroked a crochet hook as he drew it through a loop was sensual.
Logan nodded in agreement. “Bearley’s writing career must be going well. His big concern was finding a house that had a room for a writing studio that he could keep separate from the rest of the house.”
