Praise for
Hooked on Murder
“Hooks the reader from the onset with likable characters
. . . Readers will admire the feisty, caring Molly.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“Readers who enjoy craft-and-hobby-related cozies will find lots to like in Hooked on Murder . . . Betty Hechtman does it all so welclass="underline" writing, plotting, and character development.”
—Cozy Library
“Hechtman’s writing is fun and introspective, and Molly is
a likable character.”
—Romantic Times
“A great start to a new mystery series.”
—MyShelf.com
“A gentle and charming novel that will warm the reader
like a favorite afghan. Its quirky and likable characters are
appealing and real.”
—Earlene Fowler, author of Tumbling Blocks
“Betty Hechtman has written a charming mystery. Who
can resist a sleuth named Pink, a slew of interesting minor
characters, and a fun fringe-of-Hollywood setting?”
—Monica Ferris, author of Thai Die
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Betty Hechtman
HOOKED ON MURDER DEAD MEN DON’T CROCHET BY HOOK OR BY CROOK
Acknowledgments
I didn’t know filet crochet existed until Sue Meyer of the Lace Museum in Sunnyvale, California, pointed out a sample of it on the wall. It opened my eyes to all kinds of possibilities.
Thanks to Paula Tesler for the Thursday crochet and knit group and all the crochet advice. Thanks to Roberta Martia for her enthusiasm and friendship, and for trying out the crochet patterns.
Appellate Defender and friend Judy Libby always comes through with answers, even if I keep asking the same question over and over just to make sure.
I want to thank everyone at Berkley Prime Crime for all their efforts and particularly my editor, Sandy Harding, who continues to be great to work with.
I will always be grateful to my agent, Jessica Faust. The crochet mysteries wouldn’t have happened without her.
Thanks to Spike Tretsky for being the inspiration for Mason’s dog.
And a special thank-you to Burl and Max for not thinking I’m nuts when I talk about my characters like they’re real people and for always being available any time of the day or night to taste test recipes.
CHAPTER 1
NOBODY NOTICED THE BAG AT FIRST.
It was just a plain brown grocery bag sitting on the end of our table at the fund-raiser for Los Encinos State Park. I must have moved it at least once during the day and never given it a thought. The park was really what was left of a rancho and had an old house and some outbuildings, along with either a small lake or a big pond, depending on how you look at things. The pond attracted all different kinds of ducks and geese, and they were already looking for places to roost as the sun faded on the February afternoon.
We were packing up the few things we hadn’t sold. The we were the Tarzana Hookers—that’s hookers as in crochet. We had made a bunch of scarves, along with some teddy bears and baby blankets for the fund-raiser and were donating all the proceeds to the park to help keep it afloat.
Well, most of us were clearing up the table. CeeCee Collins was posing for a photo with the park ranger and at the same time eyeing the brownies left on the bake sale table. Actually, her name was Connie Collins, but everybody called her CeeCee. Up until just recently, she’d been referred to as a “veteran actress” because her old TV series, The CeeCee Collins Show, was practically ancient history. But ever since she started hosting Making Amends things had changed. Every week the reality show gave another “guest” a chance to right some old wrong. There was always lots of embarrassment, usually some tears and hopefully some laughs. The program was a big hit, and CeeCee was enjoying being referred to as simply an actress once again.
“Look what I got,” CeeCee said when she rejoined us. She held up a white bag that had telltale grease stains and a strong chocolate scent. “There are still some goodies left over at the bake sale table.”
“Oh no, I’m late,” Ali Stewart said as she caught sight of the time. “I have to go. I promised to help my mother with something.”
Ali Stewart was our newest member. Adele Abrams liked to think of herself as Ali’s mentor, though from what I’d seen of her crochet work, Ali didn’t need any help. The crocheted pink miniskirt she’d worn over leggings was adorable and expertly made. She had topped it with a white mohair poncho and finished the look with a dainty choker of tiny crocheted pink flowers. She was in her early twenties, tall and slender, and carried off the look with ease.
“That girl has a problem with time,” Dinah Lyons said. “She’s always late and then has to leave early because she’s already late for something else.”
Adele glared as if Dinah’s comment were a personal affront to her. I wondered if she was identifying too much with Ali. Adele was in her late thirties with a generous build and a voice that carried over a crowd. Her outfit almost matched the one Ali had worn, only the effect was different. Ali looked cute and Adele looked silly.
Sheila Altman, another of the younger Hookers, remained speechless as she put several small teddy bears into the box. She kept looking at the darkening sky with a tense expression. Even though she tried to control it, Sheila tensed up about most things. I could understand why: She didn’t have much money and was working a bunch of jobs while trying to go to school at night to become a costume designer. Lately she’d been making exquisite scarves and blankets with gorgeous color combinations that she had begun selling in some local boutiques. “We better hurry up,” she said anxiously. “The park closes in a few minutes.”
“Don’t worry, they’re not going to lock us in,” CeeCee said. “Besides, we’re almost done anyway. Brownie anyone?” She held out the bag. “Wouldn’t you know just when I went to the bake sale table I ran into the executive producer of my show and his wife. They asked me a bunch of questions about the crochet group, but I think it was just a cover to see if I was going to buy any baked goods.”
CeeCee’s sweet tooth was legendary, but being the host of a show made staying trim important. “I don’t know what they’re concerned about. The stylist I hired is a wonder,” she said, laying the white paper sack with her purse. “She’s a wiz at making an extra five pounds disappear with a long tunic.”
CeeCee’s attention turned back to helping us clear up, though there wasn’t much left. She absently picked up a red fuzzy scarf and started to fold it.
“Watch how you’re folding that,” Adele said, taking it from CeeCee. Adele and CeeCee were still trying to work out who was in charge of the group.
“Dear, I can handle folding a scarf,” CeeCee said, taking it back and rolling it into a tube. “It seems to be the only one left.” She checked the items still on the table. “No wonder—it’s so cold.” As if to punctuate her comment, she shivered.
Dinah rolled her eyes. “Cold?” she said with a laugh.