If Hooks Could Kill

CHAPTER 14


I worked until the bookstore closed and evening was sliding into night when I headed for home. Even though it was August and the weather said summer, the daylight hours were dwindling. I drove home, thinking about a refreshing bath and an ice cream dinner. That plan died the moment I walked into my backyard.

The outdoor lights were on, illuminating Jeffrey and a group of his drama friends gathered around the umbrella table. They all had a bunch of stapled pages and I figured out they were doing a table read of some play. Jeffrey lifted a hand in greeting and then went back to hovering over his script.

Cosmo was enjoying all the activity, the small black mutt stretched out on the pavement watching. Having people around had the opposite effect on my other dog, Blondie, and without even looking I was sure she was holed up in my room. The cats were nowhere to be seen.

I walked into the kitchen and stopped short in the doorway. Barry was setting several pizza boxes on the counter. Next to him Detective Heather was counting out paper plates and napkins. She was still in her work suit and, when she moved, I saw her badge and her gun in a big belt around her waist. She flipped open the top pizza box and started putting slices on the plates. “I’ll take them out to the kids,” she said. As she turned and headed to the door she almost rammed into me.

“Oh,” she said and looked toward Barry.

“Molly, I’m so sorry. I thought this would be over before you got home. The place the kids were supposed to do the read fell apart at the last minute. Jeffrey asked if they could come here.”

Barry knew I had a soft spot for Jeffrey, or as his drama friends were probably calling him, Columbia. “Whatever. It’s okay,” I said. Detective Heather and I were still clogging up the doorway.

“I heard you were at the Donahue house today,” Heather said.

“Don’t go oiling your handcuffs,” I said trying to get past her. “It was just a condolence call and I thought I’d forgotten something when I was there before.” I should have left it at that, but I thought of Adele’s golden triangle of guilt. “I heard you found Dan’s gun.”

Detective Heather looked at me as if I hadn’t said anything.

Barry came toward us carrying a stack of paper plates with pizza slices. As we stepped aside to let him through, Heather touched his arm in a possessive manner. “Your leg bothering you, hon?” He said he was fine and went on outside.

“Don’t worry, Jeffrey and I will take care of the cleanup,” Heather said to me. “It’ll be a bonding experience.”

“Whatever,” I said walking through my kitchen. The last thing I needed right now was to watch Detective Heather show off her mothering skills. More than ever I longed for my room. As I passed the hall, Samuel came out of his room. “You should do something. He’s taking over the place.” He pointed toward the closed door of his room. “I had to put the cats in there.”

I was getting a little close to the edge. I didn’t say anything, but I thought of how my other son Peter had complained when Samuel had moved back home. And now Samuel was complaining about Barry.

“There’s too much commotion around here. I’m going over to Nell’s,” my son said. He’d started seeing CeeCee’s niece. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. Either way it was really none of my business. “She’s got that great guesthouse. Too bad we couldn’t build one here,” he said. He went back in his room and came out holding his guitar case. “Got a gig later,” he called as he went toward the front door.

I was already rethinking my plans as I entered my peaceful domain. No way could I relax in a bath, and did I really want to fill up a bowl with rich ice cream under Detective Heather’s judgmental stare? How had I managed to lose control of my own house?

When Mason had first mentioned that his daughter was getting married—back when he simply referred to her as “my oldest”—I’d decided to make a wedding hankie for her because of how I felt about him. I’d found a white linen one with no edging and then added a lacy trim with white crochet thread. I’d always intended to give it to him so he could pass it on to her. Now seemed like a good time to take it over there even though I’d be showing up unannounced. I wrote a note and wrapped the hankie in some tissue paper and put them in a rosy pink small shopping bag.

I took the back roads to get to Mason’s. It was dark and atmospheric as I passed the giant eucalyptus trees along Wells Drive and turned onto Valley Vista, which twisted though the rustically landscaped area of Encino. Mason’s house was on the other side of Ventura Boulevard and eventually, I turned onto a side street and headed north. It wasn’t quite the soothing bath I’d envisioned taking, but the ride did a lot to smooth out the kinks.

I parked in front of his sprawling ranch-style house. Soft lights illuminated the white-barked beech trees in the sloping front yard. I rethought the idea of just ringing his doorbell, and was about to call him on my phone, but then decided a call would make too big a production out of it. If no one answered the door, I would just leave the package.

I loved the redbrick walkway that led to the small porch in front of the door. I was pleased with how I packaged the hankie in the deep pink shopping bag. I punched the bell and, after a beat, bent down to leave the package. When I felt the whoosh of the door opening, I grabbed the bag and straightened.

“I thought you weren’t home,” I said expecting to see Mason. Instead a blond woman stood in the doorway, looking me up and down.

I admit I was also eyeing her, wondering who she was. I had a sudden desire to leave. I’d been the third wheel enough today. “If you could give this to Mason. It’s for his daughter,” I said pushing the shopping bag on her. “I made her something for her wedding, but I don’t really know her.” I was babbling and I wanted to get out of there. She took the bag and rustled through the tissue paper. She pulled out the hankie and didn’t seem to know what to do with it. Finally she dropped it back in the bag.

“Molly, don’t go,” Mason’s voice called from inside. Mason’s and my relationship had moved up a notch beyond just friends, but we didn’t really have strings on each other. There was nothing to stop him from seeing other women. This was too embarrassing. Mason came through the doorway and grabbed my arm leading me back to the house.

He must have seen the uncomfortable expression on my face and realized what I was thinking. “Molly, this is my ex-wife, Jaimee,” he said.

“Oh,” I said regarding Jaimee with new interest. Oops, Mason’s worlds had just collided. Mason might have wanted to take baby steps to let me in his life, but it looked like he’d just taken a giant step whether he wanted to or not.

“Come in, sunshine,” Mason said to me again. I thought Jaimee’s eyes would fall out of their sockets.

“Sunshine?” she said, stifling a laugh.

“Didn’t you say you had to go?” Mason said to her, but she shook her head.

Mason ushered me in and I could feel Jaimee’s eyes on me as we all walked back to the den. Since Mason had kept his family, which included Jaimee, separate from his social life, this was probably the first time she’d seen any woman in his life. We were both measuring ourselves against each other and I was pretty sure I came up short.

In the few minutes I’d seen her, I had already gotten a feeling about who she was. She reminded me of an older version of the women I’d met when I’d helped out at my sons’ elementary school. They were married to doctors and lawyers, all drove similar cars, had some shade of blond hair, manicured nails and houses that were far neater than mine. Jaimee was dressed in the high-end jeans of the moment with heels—a look I would never understand. She wore a white tee shirt with some kind of gauzy overshirt on top of it. It seemed a little much considering the heat, but her look was less about comfort and more about style. I suspected the purpose of the overshirt was to flow over any little lumps and bumps.

I could just imagine what she was thinking about me. I had changed when I got home and left behind my usual work clothes of khaki pants and a white shirt. No double layers for me. I had put on cargo-style capri pants with just a tee shirt, lumps and bumps be darned.

Jaimee was still holding the pink gift bag and said it was something I’d made for their daughter’s wedding. She tried to give it back to me, but Mason asked to see it. “This is awkward,” Jaimee said to me as she handed it over to him. “It really doesn’t go with Thursday’s dress. Why don’t you keep it for somebody else.”

Mason took the hankie from her and laid it on the coffee table. “Doesn’t go with Thursday’s dress? They’re both white.” He turned to me. “It’s beautiful, sunshine. I’m sure Thursday will treasure it.”

To put it mildly there was an awkward silence. Mason tried to break it by telling Jaimee about the Tarzana Hookers. She didn’t seem interested and began talking to Mason about the wedding present they needed to buy for Thursday.

“There’s a wonderful design studio in Santa Barbara where all the celebrities go,” she said. “They have all these fantastic pieces—the kinds of things that will make her living room look legendary.” When Mason seemed unmoved, she said something about taking care of it herself.

“You might want to look at Luxe,” I said, referring to the lifestyle store near the bookstore. “They have a lot of one-of-a-kind items.”

Jaimee glared at me as if I’d just suggested she go look in the broom closet.

We had reached another awkward moment. Mason looked at his watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was,” Mason said to his ex. She glanced from him to me and back to him before checking her watch.

“Mark worries about me if I’m out too late,” she said, explaining to me that he was her boyfriend. Mason just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Even so, she seemed reluctant to leave. Maybe she didn’t want Mason anymore, but she didn’t really want someone else to have him, either. Finally she made a move toward the door and Mason walked her out. I noticed she had knocked the shopping bag with the hankie onto the floor.

Mason returned a few moments later and when he saw I was still standing, he urged me to sit. I realized for the first time that Spike wasn’t around and asked Mason where he was. “Spike and Jaimee don’t get along,” he said before going to the service porch to let the dog in. I heard the clatter of claws as Spike charged into the room. The toy fox terrier sniffed the floor, looking indignant. He then ran straight to where Jaimee had been standing and started to bark. It took a few minutes of Mason telling his dog Jaimee was gone before Spike would calm down.

Mason put the hankie back into the bag and thanked me again, saying he would make sure his daughter got it. Then he sat down next to me on the soft leather couch.

“So, that’s your ex,” I said. I left it hanging, hoping he’d explain why she was there. Mason picked up on it and said she’d claimed to have found a location for the wedding and wanted a check for the deposit.

“But I wanted to see the place and talk to the manager,” he said, “so we both drove down in my car. Lucky that I did. Jaimee made it all sound perfect until we got there. They’re renovating the hotel. No wonder the room was available. It was stripped down to the studs.” Mason started to laugh. “The manager promised me they’d hang white tarps over the ripped out walls for the reception.” He shook his head a bunch of times like he was trying to make sense of something. “She argued all the way back here. Like somehow this mess is my fault.”

He leaned next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. “She’s nothing like you. You’re fun, an adventure to be around. Believe me, I never had to get her out of jail.”

“Is her boyfriend Mark coming to the wedding?” I asked.

I felt Mason stiffen. “We’re discussing it.” Before I could pry more, Mason reminded me that I’d asked him to find out anything he could about Dan Donahue.

“He’s a pretty blah guy,” Mason began. “No arrests or anything like that. The best I could find out was that he’s struggling with the store, but . . .” Mason stopped and leaned in a little closer. “He just got an influx of money.”

“How’d you learn that?” I asked.

Mason chuckled. “I’ve got contacts everywhere. I talked to the owner of the building. It seems Dan was consistently late on his rent until a month ago. He told the landlord he had a new investor.” Mason let the information sink in and then glanced at the empty coffee table. “What kind of host am I? What can I get you?” He paused for a moment then got an impish grin.

“Coffee, tea or me?”