relief didn’t last as the question of how her drink became laced with cyanide filled my thoughts.
Detective Heather asked again about the sequence of events. And again I gave her the facts. I explained Nell had come in with a coffee drink for Robyn. There had been some issue about it being cold and then about the absence of sweetener.
“Did the victim drink any of the latte before she added the sweetener?” Heather asked.
“So, you think whatever killed her was in the sweetener?” I said. Detective Heather gave me a blank look and asked me if I knew what brand it was. I said I hadn’t realized it was going to be important and hadn’t paid any attention to it.
“It’s called Nature’s Sweetie,” Detective Heather said. She waited to see if that would generate a comment from me. Then she said she was surprised I hadn’t heard of it. It was the newest sugar replacement. “For people watching their weight,” Heather added. Was it my imagination or did her gaze immediately go to my middle? A not-so-subtle reminder that I was a little soft in that area.
I knew eventually Heather was going to ask me what I knew about Nell and Robyn’s relationship. Even if I hadn’t overheard Nell’s conversation with CeeCee, seeing their exchange over the coffee drink made it pretty clear they didn’t get along. I tried to think of something that wasn’t a lie and also wouldn’t make Nell look bad. Who would have thought that without meaning to, Detective Heather made that easy for me with her next question?
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harm Ms. Freed?” Detective Heather asked.
“Freed, her last name is Freed?” I said quickly. The subject never got to Nell and Robyn’s relationship and went directly to me explaining Mrs. Shedd’s phone call from the victim. I think by then Heather was as tired of questioning me as I was being questioned. Besides, it wasn’t like she didn’t know where to find me. She was actually a customer of our new yarn department.
BY THE TIME I WAS FINALLY REUNITED WITH MY purse and jacket and escorted to the door, I had a tension and hunger headache. I hadn’t even had my cell phone to call Mrs. Shedd and tell her why Adele and I were going to be delayed getting to the bookstore. When you’re questioned by the cops, it’s all on their terms. As soon as I was out on the street, I regretted being an audience member again. When I’d gone to shows with Charlie, we left by the backstage entrance and went right into the parking lot. It was all gated and secure and no one was going to stick a microphone in your face.
But now, the exit I went out put me right on the sidewalk. A bevy of reporters were clumped nearby, and I realized they were all set up to do remotes for the evening news from there. As soon as Kimberly Wang Diaz from channel three saw me, she practically knocked her colleagues out of the way to get to me.
She smiled. “Molly Pink? You must know what’s going on.” I edged away but she stuck close to me. I’d met the persistent reporter a number of times in the past. She was close enough to me that I could see the stage makeup on her face and smell the ton of hair spray that kept her black hair in an unmoving helmet. I wanted to get away before she trotted out her nickname for me. The last thing I wanted was to have that title broadcast to the greater L.A. area again. “C’mon, give us the details,” she said as I picked up speed. She was hampered by having to let her cameraman keep up with us. I ran across the street just as she yelled, “I know you know what happened. Crime scene groupie.”
She let go of the chase and I stopped running when I got across the street. It was then I realized a disconcerting fact. Adele had driven and was nowhere to be seen. I tried calling her and all the other Hookers, and all I got were voice mail answers. Were they still inside? There was no way of telling. I had to face it, I didn’t have a ride home. I considered my options. Ventura Boulevard was a few blocks ahead and it ran west all the way across the Valley to Tarzana.
I was pretty sure there was a bus that would get me to Shedd & Royal or close enough to walk. It was embarrassing to admit that I didn’t even know how much the bus cost. Over the years, the public transportation options had improved, but the truth was most people who had cars treated taking public transportation like a special event.
I found the bus stop and leaned against the glass enclosure around the bench. It was rush hour and the traffic clogged in the intersection when the light changed. Even when the light went to green, the cars moved so slowly in front of me, I had time to look at the occupants. It was the end of April and the weather was all over the place temperature wise. The mornings were usually cloudy and cool, the afternoons sunny and hot and then the evenings went back to chilly. Since I’d expected to just be getting in and out of a car, I’d worn only a thin rust- colored suede jacket with my khaki slacks. Even the black vest I’d put on over the white collared shirt didn’t add much warmth. And the events of the day didn’t help, either.
My head pounded and I shivered as I waited. The people in the cars had nice little cocoons of temperature control, and silly as it seems, I felt like a lost child a million miles from home as I saw them go by. I watched a woman take a paper cup of coffee out of her drink holder. I could almost taste it as she held the cup to her lips. Her car moved on and I glanced down the street, hoping to catch sight of a bus. Another car inched in front of me, then slowed to a stop. Suddenly the tinted window lowered.
“Molly?” a male voice said. I thought I was hearing things, but then the black Mercedes came into focus and I saw Mason was the driver. “Get in,” he said with a quick wave of his hand.
Before anyone could even honk at the hold up, I was in the car pulling the door shut. As the car began to inch along, we both said, “What are you doing here?”
I let Mason go first. The eastern part of the Valley was home to a number of movie and TV studios, and he’d had a meeting at one of them. Mason was the high-level attorney naughty celebrities turned to when they got in trouble. He had a reputation for keeping them out of jail or at least keeping their stay short. He didn’t give me exact details, but he’d been at Warner Brothers talking to a client who was accused of hit-and-run involving a knocked- over “No Parking” sign.
“And you?” he said, giving me a concerned glance.
I spilled the whole story while he made a detour through a Starbucks drive-thru and got me a coffee and a roll. My stomach was growling loud enough that he could hear it across the car.
He listened without comment, but I knew what he was thinking—Nell Collins was in big trouble. She had motive. I had overheard her complaining about Robyn and wishing she was out of the way. No doubt she had expressed similar feelings to her coworkers, who were likely to be questioned by the cops. She had opportunity, since she’d been the one to bring the packet of sweetener, which she could have doctored. To cap it off, she had means. As a production assistant, she had to know how to do all kinds of things and get hold of whatever somebody told her to get. It wasn’t a stretch that she could figure out how to get some cyanide.
“Poor CeeCee. Nell’s the closest thing she has to a daughter,” I said. The coffee and roll had taken a little of the edge off my hunger and headache, but thinking about the situation made me feel bad all over again.
“Do you want me to talk to her?” Mason said and I nodded.
“I’m sure she didn’t do it. She couldn’t have,” I said. Mason caught my eye as we got to a stoplight, and again I knew what he was thinking. But what if she did?
The freeway wasn’t a good option as it looked like even more of a parking lot than the street, so Mason headed toward Burbank Boulevard. It ran across the Valley and through the Sepulveda Dam area, which was the flood area for the L.A. river and was empty of development except for a golf course and various parks.
By then it all began to catch up with me. Someone had died in front of me and I had been helpless to save them. It started with my eyes getting watery and ended with me sobbing. Mason pulled off the wide street into the golf course parking lot. There was a walking track around it and the after-work exercise crowd were getting out of their cars and stretching before they began their trek.
Mason offered just what I needed. A shoulder to cry on. He put his arm around me and handed me a wad of tissue. It all came out now. An appropriate place because I felt like the dam had broken and my tears just flooded out. When I was done crying, I felt a sense of relief. His assurance that I couldn’t have done anything to change the outcome helped.
He took his arm away and moved back into driving position. “Is there anything else on your mind?” I slumped and wondered if on top of all his other talents, Mason had become psychic. There had been an undercurrent of thought that had been percolating for a while. It had surfaced when Barry had shown up at the studio. Maybe I was being foolish. Maybe I should take the ring out of the box and just say yes.
“I have been thinking maybe I should just go ahead and become Molly Greenberg.”
