D. J. Florian, the blogoir author, was looking over the ice-cream offerings.
“Good,” I said as I began walking toward him. “I didn’t get to explain how we’re doing his book signing bit when I met him in the cafe. Telling him in person is better than a phone call.” Dinah called after me not to spend my whole time talking shop. It was a dance after all.
D. J. was just paying for his ice cream when I joined him. I passed on the treats but sat on one of the hay bales with him while he ate his.
“Dinah sold me on coming when she told me there’d be homemade ice cream,” he said, wiping some fudge off his lip. “Though who knows,” he said, looking toward the several squares of dancers. “Maybe I’ll join them.”
“I don’t know if Talia told you about how we’re going to handle the pretend book event,” I said. It was impossible to hear in there, so he took his ice cream and we walked outside and sat down on the steps. I explained about tagging it on to a real event and gave him the date and time.
“I guess it’ll be fine,” he said in a voice that implied he wasn’t sure. “This is a big moment for me,” he began. “Being on the
He was a little on the scruffy side, with the jeans, tee shirt and worn leather jacket. The only part of his attire that seemed to go with the square dancing were the cowboy boots. But there was something definitely likeable about D. J., and I tried to reassure him that she seemed very capable and I was sure she was on top of getting the books.
I asked him how well he’d known Robyn.
“It was just a business relationship. Since she was in charge of my appearance, we talked over the background piece they were putting together. She wanted it to show my story with the worst and the best. We filmed a piece downtown in the area where I’d hit bottom. The piece at the bookstore is supposed to show how far I’ve come.” He wanted to know why I was so interested.
I told him about being there when she died and how Nell was the cops’ chief suspect and I was trying to help.
“So you’re one of those amateur sleuth types,” he said. “Since you’re talking to me, does that mean I’m one of your suspects?” His tone was joking, and a friendly smile danced in his eyes.
“Hmm, maybe you should be. Did you have something against Robyn?” If he could joke, so could I.
“Believe me, I wish she was here. I’d feel better about my appearance going well.” He looked toward the inside. “Maybe I will try one dance.” He got up and picked up his empty sundae cup.
“One thing before you go. Did you notice a photograph on Robyn’s desk? A photograph with someone cut out of it.”
“You saw that?” he said surprised. “She told me she was going to throw it away.”
“So, you knew who was in the picture?” I said, feeling the excitement rise in my voice.
He shifted his weight a few times. “Right after I first met her, she broke up with her boyfriend and decided to cut him out of all her photos. When she told me about it, I thought she was giving me a little too much information but figured maybe she had nobody else to talk to. So it’s her ex who was in the picture.” His eyes lit up. “If you’re looking for a hot suspect, I’d check him out.”
“Do you know his name?”
D. J. shrugged with a smile. “Afraid not. She just referred to him as
I sat on the step for a minute thinking about Robyn’s ex. There was no point in even mentioning it to Barry. I thought about calling Heather myself and realized it would be a waste of time. I’d have to find him on my own.
I could feel the cold concrete through my khaki pants now. While I was talking to D. J., it had gotten dark and chilly. I dusted myself off and went inside.
A man in a cowboy shirt and jeans was in the middle of the crowd, calling the dance. D. J. was already do- si-do-ing around one of the squares. He looked like he was having fun. Jeffrey and Autumn were in another square and were all smiles, too. There were Tarzanians of every size, age and shape.
I was admiring the dancers when my cell phone started to go off. I would have never heard the “ring” over the din, but somehow it had set itself to vibrate and I felt it jump around in my pocket. I picked up and said hello.
“Hello?” Mason said. “What’s all the noise?”
I explained the noise and he explained the call or tried to, I could barely make out what he was saying, though apparently he could hear me just fine. I mentioned being at the dance alone.
“Be there in a few minutes,” he said in a loud voice. “We can talk then.”
I half expected Mason to show up in some cowboy shirt, but he didn’t. He was wearing jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and a big smile.
“Okay, what were you saying?” I said as he looped his arm in mine. It was between songs and some of the squares were reforming. Before I could protest, Mason was pulling us toward one of the squares.
We took two vacant spots and waited for the music to begin. I repeated my question and Mason leaned close. “I had a thought about the Crown Apothecary. We ought to check it out.”
Before I could tell him I already had, the music started and the caller began to call the dance. No surprise, Mason, a man of many talents, was adept at square dancing, and all of a sudden I started to have fun.
The evening went by in a whirl of dances, with a few glasses of punch and a shared caramel sundae. In between it all, I told him about my trip to the drugstore and the ultimate dead end. He wasn’t so sure about letting Bob off the suspect list so quickly.
“But it’s Bob,” I protested. “And he showed me the box of sweetener.”
Mason wasn’t convinced. “Sunshine, just because you know him doesn’t mean he couldn’t kill somebody.”
Jeffrey and Autumn stayed on their own far away from me throughout the evening.
Finally the square dancing ended and they began winding down the evening with some slow songs. I was going to sit down on one of the haystack benches, but Mason pulled me on the floor with him. It officially felt strange. Square dancing was one thing. You were really dancing with all the other people in the group. This was up close and personal. Most of Mason’s and my contact was mental, and this was definitely physical. I didn’t know where to look or how to hold myself. My breathing seemed a little off, too.
I sensed a presence near us and saw a hand tap Mason on the shoulder none too lightly. In fact, the fingers seemed to almost dig in his shoulder. Mason let out a disappointed sigh and stepped away. We were both surprised at who was cutting in.
“Barry? What are you doing here?” I said. He took over and danced us away from Mason.
“I sensed this was important to you,” he said. “I got through my interrogation and then I lead footed it back here.” He pulled me a little closer, and I could smell the leftover scents of his day, coffee mixed with car freshener.
“I’ll take it from here, Mason,” Barry said in an alpha male tone when the song ended and Mason rejoined us. I started to tell Barry that Mason and I were discussing the situation with Nell, but then he saw Jeffrey sitting on one of the haystacks with his arm around Autumn.
I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Mason and I each took one of Barry’s arms and steered him into the corner, while I mentioned my chauffeuring duties.
“He’s got a girlfriend?” Barry sputtered. “He didn’t tell me. Why didn’t he tell me?” I figured it probably had something to do with how Barry was reacting and Jeffrey knowing that’s how it would be. “This means I have to have
Mason laughed and said, “I guess you don’t remember being fourteen. Your son seems like a pretty smart kid and probably knows whatever he needs to know.” Barry answered him with a glare. Barry the homicide detective, who could pin a suspect against the wall with his endless questions, was coming undone over the news that his son was on a date.
In the end, Mason drove himself home, I drove the greenmobile alone and Barry acted as chauffeur for Jeffrey and friend. Oh, to be a fly on the car wall.
