Behind the Seams

Chanel-like suit. The red lipstick was now long gone, left on the coffee cup, and my low ponytail was undone. I’d pulled off the scrunchy in the car.

I dropped off my purse in my cubby and was glad I’d left a pair of plastic flats there. My feet said a big thank you as I went back into the store.

“Hey, Pink,” Adele called as she stepped out of the children’s area. “The Hookers are getting together in the back. Something about CeeCee’s niece.” My coworker stopped talking and looked me over. “Are you going for a kind of new look?”

Adele mumbled something about how my jacket would look a lot better if I added some crochet trim, and then she marched toward the yarn area of the store.

Mrs. Shedd was relieved to see me. I told her I was just going to check on the yarn department and then I’d handle the information desk.

Was there ever a time that some of the Hookers weren’t at the table? I could understand Rhoda and Elise practically living there. It was a way for them to get out of their houses, but I was surprised that lately CeeCee always seemed to be there, too. Then I got it. She was looking for moral support in handling her niece.

The whole table looked up when I approached. If they were trying to hide it, they all failed. I have never been so aware of being looked over. “If you’re after a new look, you might want to contact my stylist,” CeeCee said.

“Lose the suit,” Rhoda said in her usual straight-on manner. Elise tried to be diplomatic and said I looked good in a skirt. Adele repeated her advice about adding crochet trim.

“Why are you wearing a suit?” Dinah asked. There was hurt in her voice. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the plan and I knew she felt out of the loop. Nell came back from the cafe carrying drinks. She set them down and slumped in her seat, though when I started to talk about where I’d been, she sat upright.

I mentioned what Talia had said about Robyn having some secret plans for the show. “Do you know anything about that?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? Robyn barely talked to me, let alone told me about her plans. All I know is she seemed to work twenty-four, seven. Everyone said she was set on getting ahead. I heard that both she and Talia were up for the segment producer job, and who knows what Robyn did to get it.” Nell stopped and reflected for a moment. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore; Talia ended up with the job after all.”

I brought up the photo of Robyn with the piece cutout again. Nell started to dismiss it, then said she vaguely remembered looking at it on Robyn’s desk. “It was whole then. The other person must have seemed like a boyfriend, because I remember wondering how she had time for one.

“What about the return address? Did you find out who sent the package?” Nell asked expectantly.

“It’s not exactly good news,” I said. I mentioned finding the listing on the log, but the return address was a store—the Crown Apothecary. When I explained exactly how I’d gotten the information and had to escape the cabinet, there were a few gasps. Dinah looked upset when she realized Mason had been my wingman.

Nell popped out of her chair. “Well, let’s go to that store now. We have to do something to find the real killer.” Nell’s eyes grew watery. “If that police detective starts questioning me again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

I tried to distract her by mentioning seeing the entertainment reporter with Talia. “Do you think there’s any connection—”

“I’ll tell you what the connection is,” CeeCee interrupted. “I’ve been thinking about the whole situation, dear, and I think it is all about me. Think about it: That woman was killed while I was doing the show. An appearance where the Oscar buzz about my performance was mentioned. The suspect turns out to be my niece. And that entertainment host shows up outside the bookstore. I’ve had paparazzi snapping a photo when I come out a restaurant, but not someone with a video camera looking for me. I think somebody is trying to frame Nell to get at me. Somebody who hopes this will leave people with a bad taste about me, and when it comes nomination time . . .” Her voice trailed off, but we all got her drift.

I shook my head with disbelief. I knew CeeCee was used to the idea that the universe revolved around her career, but this was too much even for her. “So you think this was all about someone trying to discredit you so you won’t get an award nomination?”

“It’s a cutthroat business. You’d be amazed what people will do to try to get ahead.” CeeCee’s voice had a musical quality, and even though the meaning was tough, it came out sounding bubbly like something in a sitcom.

Nell ignored her aunt’s comment and repeated that we should go to the Crown Apothecary right away. I had to remind her that I worked at the bookstore and had already missed the morning trying to get her off the hook. Finally, we arranged to go when I was entitled to take a break. It would give me a chance to pick up my car as well.

“I’m coming, too,” Dinah said. “I’m taking back my position as sidekick.”

Several hours later, the three of us headed to Encino. The Crown Apothecary was in a bank of old stores near Encino park. I’d passed it before and been curious about the name and the fact the sign gave the impression of an old-time drugstore.

As we approached the entrance, I noticed the window of the store next to it was covered with brown paper and had a sign on it that read, “Coming Soon: Apothecary Annex with Soda Fountain.” The store lived up to my expectations. As soon as we stepped inside, I felt like I’d just stepped back in time. It was much smaller than the superstores that called themselves drugstores these days. The walls were lined with shelves holding the usual stuff like bandages and aspirin, along with various sundries. The middle of the store had glass display cases with fancy soap and things like silver shaving equipment. Toward the back, a framed piece of stained glass said “Pharmacy” above a wood-paneled partitioned-off area. I saw the white-coated pharmacist inside his area as he passed by the customer window. Next to the opening, I noticed black metal letters that read “Ty Holzer, Pharm. D.”

“Look at this,” Dinah said, pulling me to a wooden counter along the wall that was lined with glass jars of candy. Everything from Mary Janes to Red Hot dots. Each jar had a scoop, and a supply of clear bags sat at the end of the row. We both laughed at the sign that proclaimed “Penny Candy” and then listed the price in dollars.

Nell didn’t seem nearly as entranced with the place as we were and had started tapping her foot impatiently as Dinah and I looked into a doorway that had been cut into the wall.

Though it was still awaiting finishing touches, it was an old-fashioned soda fountain.

A clerk had been watching us and, when she saw us looking in the addition, stepped next to us. “It’ll be open soon. The new owner wants to make this a full-service nostalgia trip. Is there something I can help you with?”

Nell nudged me. “Molly, do your thing,” she said under her breath.

“I’m trying to track down a package,” I said with my friendliest smile. The story had worked before, so why not stay with it with a slight variation. “It was sent to the Barbara Olive Overton production offices.” I didn’t say I worked for the show, only implied it. “It had the return address of this store. It was a box of Nature’s Sweetie.”

Her expression clouded as she led us back to the display of boxes of sugar substitute next to a basket filled with boxes of assorted kinds of tea. “We don’t ship packages. It couldn’t have come from us.” She looked at me intently. “Who did you say you were?”

Before I could stop her, Nell launched into her story how the cops were sure she’d killed somebody with a packet of sweetener and I was this amateur detective who was trying to help get the cops off her back. She looked over her shoulder at me. “Molly, I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but personally I think Aunt CeeCee ought to hire a real PI.”

Dinah almost choked and gave her a dirty look. “I can’t believe you said that. Do you have any idea how many murders Molly has solved?”

Nell suddenly appeared uncomfortable and grabbed my arm. “I’m so sorry. I’m just so worried.”

The clerk appeared uneasy about our interchange and started gradually easing us toward the front. She pointed to a basket of cards with the logo of the store and address. “Maybe someone bought the sweetener here and just used one of those as the return address and mailed it themselves.”

We were almost to the door and I stepped away to stop the clerk’s progress. “Do you keep any kinds of records of who you sold the sweetener to?” Now the clerk really wanted to be done with us.

“We just got the supply in a few week ago. We don’t keep those kinds of records, only how many we’ve sold for inventory purpose.”

I opened my mouth to ask about that, but she beat me to the punch. “Personally, I only had one customer.”