If Hooks Could Kill

CHAPTER 20


Despite what I had said, I was really concerned about the turnout for Stone’s picture signing. Mr. Royal was a fan and apparently thought that all of Tarzana was, too, because he’d ordered fifty copies of the book. There were only two pages devoted to Stone and the book was expensive. I’d asked all the Hookers to come, so at least there’d be some bodies in the chairs.

But it turned out to be unnecessary. Even before Stone got there, people started to show up. They were mostly men and they all looked like Stone with the shaggy sun-streaked hair and deep tans. I recognized a few of them from the group I’d seen him with at Le Grande Fromage. They appeared to think he was a god and were honored to be able to go surfing with him.

Since I wasn’t interested in surfing, it was hard to understand how they felt. I tried to put it in terms that made sense to me and guessed it was like getting a chance to go yarn shopping with Vanna White.

Mr. Royal had tried to give the bookstore a Hawaiian feel by hanging brightly colored paper leis off the bookcases. He’d found a fake palm tree somewhere and brought it into the middle of the store. Next to it, I’d set up a table with some of the books. Mr. Royal had found a documentary that featured Stone and some other surfers, traveling the world’s best surfing beaches. He’d brought in some DVDs of it to sell and placed them next to the books. We’d set up chairs and Stone had agreed to tell some surfing stories to try to make it more of an event.

Rhoda and Elise were in the front row, crocheting as they waited. Dinah and Commander found me and we discussed my offer of our help with the reception after Kelly’s funeral.

“I’m glad to help out,” Commander said. “You know Kelly had a post office box at my place and she dropped off packages all the time for UPS or FedEx to pick up.”

“Really?” I said, surprised, but then it made sense. For privacy reasons, a lot of people who worked from their homes didn’t want to use their address as a return address. Commander Blaine had said what made his place special was that he gave his customers a real address to use instead of just a post office box number. I asked how well he knew her and if he’d seen any examples of what she sold.

Commander smoothed back his thick shock of white hair. “She was always in a hurry so I never really got to talk to her, and her packages were always sealed and ready to go. You know I view everybody who uses my services like family. She was just a little more distant than the rest of them.”

“Sit with us,” Rhoda called, waving at Commander and Dinah. As they went to take their seats, I noticed that some of the production people had come in. I recognized Fred and Zeke, the two prop guys who’d been placing the plants in Kelly’s backyard.

I’d overheard their conversation with North Adams, but never talked to them myself. It was always a little awkward just going up to people cold and starting to grill them. This is where Detective Heather had a distinct advantage. All she had to do was show her badge.

I didn’t have a badge, but I had cookies. Bob had made passion fruit ice tea and butter cookies in the shape of pineapples. I picked up a couple of the cookies and offered the two men each a free sample. I doubted Detective Heather got the smiles and happy response I did.

Now that I was closer I could see both men looked older. They both had brown hair and leathery tanned skin. I introduced myself, went into Stone’s appearance, and then asked if they were surfers.

“Heck, not like him.” The first man stuck out his non-cookie-holding hand. “Fred Robinson. Pleased to meet you.” He jerked his thumb toward his companion. “Zeke Nichols.” They almost looked like brothers, but Fred seemed to be the older of the two.

“I see so many people in the bookstore,” I began. “But you two look familiar.” I left it open-ended hoping they’d say what they did and give me an opening to ask about Kelly. Doing anything in the entertainment business had a certain cachet to it, so they were only too happy to bring up what they did.

“People don’t realize how important props are. Any kind of obscure item a director wants, we find it or make it. You know the perfect blue needle pine that Sandra Bullock carried in Secret Santa?” He pointed at his chest. “I did it. Nobody realized it was a fake. I made it out of wire and a lot of bottle brushes I spray-painted.”

I nodded in interest. “So, then you two are the ones who put all the trees in Kelly Donahue’s yard.” Both men’s expressions faded. “And you were in the yard the day she was killed, weren’t you?”

Fred seemed to be the spokesperson. “We kept having to bring in more pots. The director wanted the look of total green and we had to block out the house.” He stopped talking and swallowed hard. “If we hadn’t gone around the corner to pick up our lunch at catering, we might have been there. . . .” He swallowed again. “Maybe we could have done something to save her.”

Zeke nodded. “I understand it’s just a matter of time before they arrest her husband.”

Instead of discussing Dan’s possible guilt, I wanted to see what they knew. “Did you see anyone around the front of the house when you left?” I asked.

“Naw, nobody,” Fred said.

“The street was dead,” Zeke added.

Their answers troubled me. Were they lying or did they just have bad memories? I didn’t consider Dinah, Adele and me as nobody, and we were there as they left for lunch. I also noticed they didn’t say anything about knowing Kelly from before. I tried to draw them out by asking what they knew about her. Fred spoke up first.

“She was very accommodating about us using her yard. She gave us full access, no problems.” Fred stopped and looked at his coworker. Zeke gave him a go-ahead gesture. “I knew Kelly, a little anyway. We worked on the same show a while back. Her father was in the business and she helped him out.” I waited to see if he was going to say more, but he quickly changed the subject.

“That neighbor of Kelly’s was nothing but trouble. Kind of a tough-looking woman with blond hair cut like knife blades. Every time we’d pull into the driveway, she’d come out and start fussing at us. She said Kelly was going to ruin the peaceful quality of the street by letting productions use her house. She fussed when we parked too close to the edge and another time when some leaves fell off one of the bushes and blew onto her sidewalk. She complained to me about the cars the production had parked on her street.” Fred said he’d tried to explain to her that he had nothing to do with that.

“If you want my opinion. I think she was jealous. She wanted the production to use her yard.” Zeke said, joining the conversation again.

“Did you ever see Kelly and the neighbor talking together?” I asked. The two men looked at each other and seemed to be considering what to say.

“Let’s just say, I think Ms. Donahue should have thought twice before borrowing any sugar from her neighbor.” Fred glanced toward the entrance of the café. “What’s he doing here?” The two men nodded a greeting as North Adams approached, carrying an ice tea. Fred and Zeke thanked me for the cookies and went to find seats.

North was out of costume in the fancy jeans again—the kind that had gone through a bunch of processes to look soft and worn. This time he’d paired them with a pale blue dress shirt, worn out, and soft leather loafers with no socks.

It was hard not to be struck by his dark hair and rugged features. Several women recognized him and seemed to get all flirty. He knew how to play the game and flirted right back. It was fun watching their expressions as they walked away. They were giggling and talking and seemed awestruck. Had he come to see Stone? North didn’t look like a surfer, but then who knew.

Stone had come in and joined me at the edge of the crowd. He looked every bit the surfer with the khaki shorts, blue and white silk Hawaiian shirt and sandals. I had the feeling that was the way he dressed for every occasion. He had a backpack slung on his shoulder and took out a stack of brochures touting the coconut energy drink.

“Okay if I put these out,” he said, holding onto a handful. I said I’d put them out on the front table. We decided it would be more dramatic if he made an entrance after I did a few minutes on who he was. I noticed that North was staring at me. He waved me over.

“Now that you know, I need your help again.”

“Know what?” I said. Instead of an answer he pushed his cell phone in my hand and gestured for me to listen.

“Hello?” I said tentatively. As soon as I heard the “Mo—” of “Mother” I knew it was my son Peter. Not that I got a chance to greet him because he launched into a bunch of commands.

“You need to do the same thing with North. Take him home with you. Remember take Wells Drive. And don’t ask him any questions.”

Peter finally stopped to breathe and I said I couldn’t leave the bookstore. “I’m in the middle of an event.”

My son made a bunch of unhappy sounds and then asked to talk to the actor again. North listened and didn’t look pleased with what he was hearing. “You should really take better care of things,” North said. “This is the second time. There better not be a third.”

I didn’t want to be in the middle of any disagreement between my son and his client.

Peter and I had our differences, but I would still always take his side no matter what. North handed the phone back to me. Peter sounded tense and tired. “Mother, just do the best you can to keep him happy until I can get there. Please.”

North looked around at the decorations and chairs and asked what was going on. I told him about the book signing and surreptitiously waved Dinah over. Another fan approached North and I took the opportunity to tell Dinah the situation. She got Commander to join her and then they took over the care of North Adams. Commander was so good at handling people, I don’t think North realized I’d passed him off.

I was surprised to see Kelly’s husband Dan join the crowd. He stopped by to say hello to me, gesturing with his free arm toward the table setup. “I came to support Stone,” he said before taking a chair on the end of one of the rows. Did Dan have any idea a lot of people there were convinced he’d murdered his wife and was getting away with it? Or did he think this was a way to convince them that he didn’t kill her? Personally, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

The seats were really filling up. Mr. Royal watched with a pleased expression and nodded to Mrs. Shedd.

Sheila, our nervous Hooker, came up to me and greeted me with a hug. She glanced shyly to the side at the man with her.

“Nicholas,” I said in surprise. He owned Luxe where Sheila worked, but due to his successful writing career, was away a lot. He said something about being glad to support a fellow store before he and Sheila found seats. The way he touched Sheila’s back to guide her into the chair made me think there was more to this than just employee-boss. I hoped so because we all knew Sheila got gooey-eyed whenever she talked about him.

Our resident actress, CeeCee, had told me she couldn’t make it. I’d thought Adele was going to come, but so far, she was a no-show. I was about to give up on her and start the festivities when Adele and Eric came in the door. It was more accurate to say the couple made an entrance.

I should have known she would dress for the occasion. Her costume consisted of white capri pants topped with a brick red Hawaiian shirt and a whole tube of self tanner that had left her skin with an orangy tan. I’d never seen Eric out of uniform and was surprised to see that she’d played dress up with him and gotten him to wear a matching outfit—only his pants went all the way down to his shoe tops. He seemed a little self-conscious. Who could blame him. He looked like he’d eaten too many carrots and they’d turned his skin orange. “I thought you said everyone would be dressed this way,” he said as they walked toward the front row.

Welcome to Adele’s world.

Mr. Royal gave me a nod and a wave, which meant he was impatient for me to start. I stepped to the front of the group and started to talk about Stone. Mr. Royal had written the introduction. The gist was that Stone had conquered what was considered the most dangerous beach in Hawaii and had stopped competing while he was still on top.

There was a hardy round of applause as Stone stepped from behind the bookcases that surrounded the area we’d set aside for the event. He leaned against the table and smiled at the crowd, displaying his dimples.

I was surprised to see Barry standing at the back. I guessed he’d heard enough about Stone and wanted to see what Mr. Adorable looked like.

“Thank you all for coming. You’re too kind to an old surfer dude past his prime.” His self-effacing comment won over the crowd and they said “aw” in unison. He began the talk by describing the thrill of surfing and was segueing into the energy drink when there was the sound of an alarm going off. A whirr of running figures flew by the outskirts of the chairs. Before Mr. Royal could respond, Eric in all his orange glory jumped out of his seat and took off after them.

Stone instinctively stopped, but I encouraged him to continue, and then I followed Mr. Royal to find out what was going on.

Eric came back inside after a few minutes. He was out of breath and leaned against the counter. “They disappeared into the darkness,” he said. “Sorry.” Mr. Royal thanked him for his efforts and then Mrs. Shedd, Mr. Royal and I made the rounds to see if anything was missing. One of the e-readers had been pulled free from its leash and was gone. The chocolate rack was missing some bars and when we walked back to the yarn area, skeins were laying all over the floor and the cabinet was open and the plastic bin that had held Kelly’s crochet pieces was on the floor. It was empty except for a few stray strands of yarn.

“Those kids again,” Mrs. Shedd said, shaking her head with dismay.

Adele checked out the mess in the yarn department while making some comment about how terrible it was that all of Kelly’s donations were gone. I looked intently at Adele. “No chance of CeeCee seeing all those bullion stitch flowers now, is there?” I said, waiting to see her reaction. She let out an annoyed huff at my implied accusation.

The other thing—actually the other person—missing, was Barry. When I asked Eric, he said that as he was chasing the shoplifters he’d spotted Barry getting in his Tahoe. Very strange.