“What’s your advice now?” I whispered. Mason let out a low chuckle.
“You’re just trying to get your cat. As your lawyer, I think I should go along.” He reached toward the roof of the shed and used it to balance himself as he stood on the fence. He looked down into the Perkins’ yard and stepped on something a little lower than the fence. He waited until I got on the fence and saw where he’d stepped before leaving his perch. It turned out to be a hose holder and I held on to the fence as I jumped off it.
It felt strange to be inside my neighbor’s yard. I heard another meow and we thought the sound was coming from across the yard. The lights were on in the house. I knew the den faced the backyard and had a sliding glass door. It was obvious by the amount of light shining on the patio that the curtains were open.
We stayed low and checked the driveway. No motorcycle tonight. We moved on and peeked in the window of the garage. Mason conveniently had an LED light hooked to his key chain. The bluish light didn’t illuminate very well, but it was enough to see Emily’s black Element and Bradley’s Suburban she’d driven home in the garage.
I made a move back toward the fence, but then I heard muffled voices coming from inside.
We kept to the back of the yard, hoping to blend in with the ivy growing along the fence. When we got in line with the sliding glass door, we stopped and looked. Emily was pacing across the paver tile floor and another woman sat on the rust-colored couch. Her hands were moving, and when I looked closer, I saw that she seemed to be crocheting. The shopping bag from the jewelers was sitting on the bleached-wood side table. I waited a moment to see if anyone else would come into view, but it was clear it was just the two of them.
I heard another meow and whispered Holstein’s name. Dogs are easier to retrieve. They’re more likely to stay put or come to you. Cats? They completely follow their own drummer. Holstein stuck his head out of the bushes, took one look at us and ran across the yard. I heard a rustle in the bushes, followed by claws on chain link.
Mason and I were a little giggly now from our escapade as we slipped back across the yard. I climbed on the hose box, held on to the roof of the small shed and, with Mason close behind, I stepped over the fence and felt for the bench. Moments later I was standing on the bench and Mason came over and joined me on it.
As I began to turn around the sound of someone behind me clearing their throat made me jump. Barry was standing in the shadow. He was speechless. Mason saw him and gave him a little salute.
Barry had come back to make sure everything was okay. Translated that meant he wanted to make sure Mason and I were only crocheting. “I saw the back door open and nobody home ...”
He left the sentence hanging.
“Our girl and I were looking for the cat,” Mason said, clearly enjoying Barry’s consternation at the fact that we’d had some adventure together and that I had been referred to as their girl. I wasn’t so sure about being called “our girl,” either. As far as I was concerned I was strictly my own girl.
“Really,” Barry said. I couldn’t see the expression of his eyes in the dark, but by the tone of his voice, I had a pretty good idea they had a bit of a glare. He pointed back toward my house and we all stepped closer. When we got near the French doors leading to the dining room, Holstein and Cat Woman were clearly visible lying on the cat tree. They both were sound asleep.
CHAPTER 16
“I WISH I COULD HAVE SEEN BARRY’S FACE WHEN you climbed over the fence,” Dinah said. Ashley-Angela and E. Conner were flanking her sides as we walked through the bookstore to the Hookers’ table. Dinah set them up at the end of the table with a shoe box of art supplies. She was a firm believer in getting kids to use their imagination instead of providing all kinds of electronic doodads. It seemed to be a good plan because the fraternal twins got busy with the shoe box as soon as they sat down. They took out piles of colored paper strips and a jar of paste and started making a chain.
I set my red-eye on the table along with the box of thread snowflakes. After Barry and Mason had left together, I’d finished the one I’d started and made another. I’d starched and shaped them, letting them dry overnight. Even with the addition of the two, the amount was still light. I looked at the orb of pink cashmere yarn I was supposed to use to make a swatch. The yarn was beautiful but not easy to work with. Instead I pulled out the skein of white yarn with flecks of silver. I’d messed up on the increases for the owl head and unraveled it. This time I was going to get it right.
Dinah showed off the scarf for our shelter collection she’d almost finished. Seeing it reminded me of the importance of the swatches. The ball of worsted multicolored yarn she was working with didn’t look like much, but when it was knitted or crocheted, it automatically made stripes. Momentarily I felt guilty for not doing the pink cashmere swatch, but my owl was much more interesting to work on.
“Barry didn’t look happy,” I said. Then I laughed. “I kind of see his point. Mason and I were having way too much fun.”
“So Mason thinks Bradley might be alive because of the watch,” Dinah said.
“I can’t think of any other reason Emily would have kept the Rolex. The clerk offered to buy it and we know she needs money. But we both wondered if he’d risk coming back to their house to get it,” I said. Glancing at my owl, I saw that instead of being round, the head was taking on the shape of a cucumber. Obviously I couldn’t keep track of when a round ended and talk at the same time, so I set down my work and instead took out my BlackBerry to show it to Dinah.
“Mason gave you this? How thoughtful. How’d Barry take it?” she asked, checking out all the icons. When I didn’t answer, she laughed. “You didn’t tell Barry, did you?”
“No,” I said. “It just would have stirred up more trouble.”
“Trouble?” Rhoda said, pulling out a chair. “Who’s in trouble?”
“Me, if I don’t get these swatches done,” I said, successfully changing the subject. Eduardo joined us next. He’d been a Hooker longer than Rhoda, but she still always gave him a strange look when he pulled out his hooks and yarn. He glanced around furtively.
“Here, take these before Adele gets here,” he said, pushing a small pile of snowflakes across the table. He said he’d heard her harassing me about not making enough snowflakes.
“Why does she have to hide them from Adele?” Rhoda asked. Before I could answer, Adele appeared from out of nowhere and wanted to know what was being hidden from her. For the moment everyone forgot about the snowflakes and stared at Adele’s sweater. She was known for wild get-ups, but the sweater was priceless. The background was black, with white trim around the end of the sleeves and the neckline and down the front. Maybe it was incorrect to call it a sweater. It was more like a canvas she covered with holiday decorations. The back had a Christmas tree, a couple of elves and a lot of thread snowflakes. Candy canes hung off the shoulders, along with icicles and dreidels. The front had Santa and Mrs. Claus, more dreidels, gold circles to signify Hanukkah coins, some weird brown things that might have been potato latkes, cookies with Christmas designs, holly and mistletoe. When she moved, everything swung.
“Quite a jacket,” Rhoda said. Her tone said it wasn’t a compliment, but as usual Adele didn’t get it and took it the way she wanted to hear it.
“Great, isn’t it?” Adele said as she turned, modeling the sweater for Rhoda. Adele explained she’d made the sweater years ago and then started adding new holiday things each year. I hadn’t noticed the little vampire with the sprig of holly on his black suit until Eduardo touched it. Adele gave me a knowing smile.
“Elise is going to love that,” I said.
“I should add a little black-and-white scarf,” Adele said when she stopped doing her modeling thing. She finally sat down and saw the stack of snowflakes on the table.
“Pink, you didn’t make these, did you?” Adele said, picking up the top one. “Your picot stitches are always twisted. Who is the detective now?” Adele said with a triumphant jiggle of her head. Eduardo had done a fabulous job as usual. Nobody said anything.
“Pink, I think you should tell Mrs. Shedd that you’ve bitten off more than you can handle.” She pointed to the wall of windows that faced Ventura Boulevard. “The So Many Traditions event is just a few days away and we have barely enough snowflakes for a snow drizzle. We need something more along the lines of a blizzard.”
CeeCee arrived at the head of the table. She’d overheard the whole exchange and had a suggestion. “I think you’re going to have to settle for something in between. I have a pattern for a simple snowflake. If we all pitch in, Molly will have enough for a nice display.”
