As soon as I got across the house to my office—the tiny bedroom off the laundry area where I kept my computer—I turned it on and typed in Catalina.
CHAPTER 8
“SO YOUR MOTHER HAS NO IDEA THAT SHE UNCOVERED a clue?” Dinah said. It was a few days later and Dinah and I had met for a pregroup breakfast. Truthfully, we both needed a diversion. Her ex had picked up the twins the day before and her house felt too empty. My mother was in diva mode and my house felt too full.
“And it’s going to stay that way. My mother already thinks I’m mentally unstable because of the mess in my crochet room. She’d probably try to call in some television shrink if she knew I got involved in solving murders. Anyway, it’s not the most important clue, so far. That was the wishing well, which was like Mary Beth’s signature, and Ashley-Angela is the one who turned the piece around.”
Dinah’s perkiness fell. “I wonder how they’re doing? I hope Jeremy doesn’t just forget them somewhere. He’s so irresponsible.” Dinah poured some coffee and steamed milk in her mug and nibbled on her roll. “Let’s talk about Mary Beth. Thinking about the twins is upsetting.”
“What is there to say? All we know is that she liked filet crochet, had a secret and was married to the son of a famous dancer-actor.”
“And there’s a Lance Wells Dance Studio down the street,” Dinah said, sounding like her usual self again.
“Let’s go there now,” I said, downing the last of my coffee. We finished up quickly and headed down the street.
The Lance Wells Dance Studio was on the second floor of a building facing Ventura. A stairway between the clothing store and real estate office on the ground floor led the way up. A plaque near the bottom of the steps announced that both the dance studio and the corporate office were upstairs.
When we got to the second floor, a paper sign on the inside of the glass door said the studio and offices were closed due to a death in the family.
“So much for trying to find out about her here,” I said as we came back out down the stairs and headed up the street to Shedd & Royal.
When we got to the bookstore, a painting crew was just finishing up.
“It’s about the TV shot, isn’t it?” Dinah said, watching a guy in white coveralls carry out a ladder.
“Mrs. Shedd might have gone a little overboard. She figures this is the bookstore’s chance to become a star, and she doesn’t want to leave it to the production people to fix it up.”
“Still no idea who the subject is?” Dinah asked on our way back into the event area.
“Nobody’s talking, so your guess is as good as mine.”
Dinah helped me set up for the crochet group. Once we had the table and chairs in place, we put out our things. The paper grocery bag had gotten a little worse for wear given all the dragging around and now seemed ill-suited to carry something as important as the filet crochet panels and the notes that came with it. I had put each of the notes in its own plastic bag, and I’d wrapped the filet piece around a piece of cardboard and put it in another, larger plastic bag. Then I’d put all of it in a Gelson’s plastic grocery bag and tucked it in my tote. I had saved the original paper one just in case it turned out to be some kind of evidence.
“Nice presentation,” Dinah said as I laid all the clear plastic bags on the table.
“I thought since all this was left on the group’s table at the park sale, I ought to tell them what’s happened.”
CeeCee and Sheila arrived next. CeeCee had brought some balls of bedspread-weight thread and an array of small steel hooks for the bookmarks. She regarded Sheila with concern.
“Dear, I don’t know how you’re going to do this. If your stitches get too tight . . .” CeeCee shook her head rather than complete the sentence. Sheila had been known to turn her stitches into little fists. So far she’d always gotten them undone by changing to a smaller hook, but the steel one was so tiny to begin with, her only alternative would be to try to loosen any too-tight stitches with a pinhead.
I was actually a little concerned for myself, too. When I’d played around with crochet thread at home, I’d spent most of the time picking up the silvery hook after it slipped out of my hand.
Adele came over from the children’s department. She was wearing some kind of long, loose yellow tunic over black leggings. She’d pinned crocheted flowers in pinks and oranges and yellows all over the top and had finished the look with a crocheted headband pulled over her head like a crown. As she sat down she looked at my attire. “Pink, you’re such a dull dresser. Do you own anything besides khaki pants and white shirts and black somethings. You look like an ad for bland.”
I was used to Adele’s barbs, and they usually rolled off my back. This time, though, she got to me because her comment echoed my mother’s exactly. I wondered if there was some truth in their remarks.
Eduardo made a stir when he joined us, beaming a bright smile as he greeted everyone. He knew he was fabulously good-looking, but he never let it get in the way of being a really nice guy.
“More blankets, ladies,” he said, pulling out two blankets of cream and beige stripes from his leather bag. “There was so much waiting on my last photo shoot, I had plenty of time to crochet.” He started to hand his creations to CeeCee, but she pushed the blankets to me.
“She’s the one with police contact.” CeeCee took in my surprised expression and then continued. “I know I set it up originally, but I was thinking your boyfriend is a homicide detective and you know that Detective Gilmore. You can just give the finished ones to them.”
“Speaking of homicide detectives,” I began. I pushed Mary Beth’s things toward the center of the table where everyone could see them. I had planned out the order in which to tell them everything, but I blew it by pointing out to CeeCee that it wasn’t really a bath-powder box after all.
“You’re right, dear. Of course that’s the building on Catalina,” CeeCee said. She had taken the panel piece out and unwound it from around the cardboard. She held it up in both hands and stretched out her arms to get more of an overview. “But you have to admit the Casino Building is shaped like a bath-powder box.”
“Casino?” Sheila said. “Is it one of those Indian casinos with bingo and slot machines?”
“No, it’s not that kind of casino. It turns out the actual meaning of casino is something like ‘meeting place.’ The one on Catalina has the only movie theater, a ballroom, a small museum and nothing related to gambling. It’s the landmark building on the island.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been,” Sheila said. Against CeeCee’s orders, she was trying the thread and steel hook and was working very slowly.
“You’d like it, dear,” CeeCee said. “It’s very relaxing and charming. Even though it’s just a short boat ride off the coast, it’s like another world.”
“Avalon is my kind of town,” Adele announced. Then suddenly something registered with her. “Pink, why do you still have the stuff? Haven’t you gone to Yarnie yet?” Adele turned toward the others and repeated her cleverness at sending me to Yarnie’s. “I ask you, who is the real Sherlock Holmes here?”
I held up my hand to stop her. “There’s something I need to tell you.” I shot Adele an annoyed glare and said I had gone to Yarnie’s. Then I told them who the things belonged to—emphasis on the past tense.