Ali looked at the panel piece, too. She didn’t ask any questions; she simply stared at it for a long time, almost as if she were trying to remember something.
“Ladies—and gentleman,” a male voice said. We all looked up, and there was Bob holding a plate of cookie bars. “I’d like to get your opinion on whether these have enough chocolate in them.” He went to CeeCee first. He knew all about her sweet tooth and valued her opinion. CeeCee glanced toward Camille while she was looking away. I could almost see CeeCee’s mouth watering, but I knew she didn’t want any stories of her gorging herself on sweets getting back to Camille’s husband, particularly now when they were negotiating her contract.
“Not today,” CeeCee said. Bob quickly recovered from his surprise and moved on to Camille. She practically laughed at the offer and took out a pack of diet cookies—little meringues with a tiny dot of chocolate.
“Maybe Bob’s the one CeeCee’s show is doing,” Dinah said, nudging me.
I supposed anything was possible.
CHAPTER 9
NOT KNOWING VERY MUCH ABOUT MARY BETH Wells was a definite disadvantage in figuring out her secret and who killed her. I wanted to know more about her before we went to Catalina. There was one person I thought of immediately. He knew everybody and as long as there was no attorney-client privilege involved, would probably share his information.
Mason Fields was a big-bucks attorney with a reputation for keeping naughty celebrities out of jail. We had what I’d call a flirty friendship going. Before I left the bookstore, I called his office and left a detailed message. Then I headed home.
The curb in front of my house was parked up when I got home, so I walked through the backyard savoring the last few minutes of peace as I prepared myself for the onslaught.
Cosmo and Blondie were waiting by the kitchen door and took off into the yard when I opened it. The lights were on in the kitchen, and the deli delivery guy was just bringing in some trays. My mother didn’t cook, but she knew how to order. By the time the delivery guy was finished, there was a tray of meats and cheeses, along with a selection of salads, fresh bread, condiments and cheesecake.
It wasn’t his first trip here. Apparently my parents hadn’t found a Santa Fe deli to measure up to their favorite west Valley haunt. They were like shipwrecked sailors when it came to deli food and had been ordering every night since they arrived. This was a bigger order, which implied more people.
“Help yourself, honey,” my mother said. “There’s plenty of everything.”
She sailed out of the room, and I waited for the dogs to return. When they came in, I fed them their dog food, though the way they were sniffing, they clearly hoped the deli trays were for them.
I followed the sound of voices to the living room. Lana and Bunny, the two other She La Las, were sitting on the couch next to my mother. Their husbands and my father came in from my former bedroom.
When all of them saw me, there was a lot of hugging and telling me how sorry they still were about Charlie and apologizing for not keeping in touch. Finally, we all headed into the kitchen. The three men got their food first and started to file out of the room.
“I hope you don’t mind, Molly, but I set up a table for us guys in the bedroom. There’s a basketball play-off game on.” My father squeezed my shoulder as he passed.
I glanced down the hall just as my son Samuel came out of the room that was my current bedroom. He was dragging a keyboard and a bunch of wires. “Hey, Mom,” he said when he saw me. “Grandma asked me to be the musical director.”
Samuel was a barista at a coffee shop by day and a musician by night. He sang and played all kinds of instruments, though it was either guitar or piano for most of his bar gigs. He went into the living room and started setting up his equipment.
I followed him back into the living room. The She La Las had put down their plates of food and were in the empty area in front of the fireplace. One of them started singing “My Man Dan” and the others joined in. It wasn’t like in the movies where suddenly it was like no time had passed and they were great. Actually, they were terrible. They weren’t even singing together. At least one of them forgot the words, and when they tried to do their signature dance steps they almost tripped over each other.
Even though I had just gotten home, I knew I had to get out of there. I grabbed the dog leashes and my cell phone, threw on a warm jacket and went out into the night. The dogs and I wandered around the block, but all too soon we were back at my house again. I looked through the big front window and saw the She La Las jumping around. I sat down on the stone porch. It was a little cold on the butt, but a lot quieter than inside.
When my cell phone rang I jumped in surprise. As I tried to open it, it slipped out of my hands and landed in the bushes. I frantically tried to retrieve it before it stopped ringing. Finally, I flipped it open.
“Hey, sunshine,” Mason said. “I got your message. Why do you want to know about Mary Beth Wells—” He paused a beat. “You’re not a suspect are you?”
“Not this time.” I started to tell him the whole story starting with the park, but he stopped me.
“You sound funny. Where are you?”
I told him about the She La Las taking over my house, and he chuckled when he heard I was on the porch.
“Have you eaten?” he said.
“There’s a ton of deli food, but no.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Information is always better over dinner.”
“But I have dogs with me,” I said.
He didn’t miss a beat. “No problem. I know just where to go. I’ll even bring mine.”
“You have a dog?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes. I’m a lawyer. I need to get unconditional love from someone.”
I considered whether I should tell my parents I was leaving, but there was so much going on inside, I doubted I’d be missed.
A few minutes later, Mason pulled his black Mercedes into my driveway and walked across the lawn.
“Don’t you look cute,” he said when he got closer. The black mutt and the strawberry blond terrier mix got up as they considered whether to bark at him. He ruffled both of their heads before they had a chance, and both dogs went into tail-wagging mode.
They looked even happier as we headed toward the car.
“Where’s your dog?” I said, checking the backseat before Cosmo and Blondie got in. Mason pointed to the front seat.
“I hope you don’t mind sharing.”
I didn’t see what he meant until I tried to sit in the passenger seat. A tiny short-haired white dog with black markings eyed me suspiciously.
“Meet Spike,” Mason said, introducing his toy fox terrier.
Cosmo and Blondie were sticking their noses through the space between the front seats trying to do what Mason said. Spike took one look at them and gave them a commanding bark. Both my dogs jumped back and sat down.
I lifted Spike up and got in. He started to bark at me, but I stared him in the eye and shook my head. “Not after the evening I’ve had.”
Leave it to Mason to know a restaurant where dogs were not only welcomed, they were catered to—as long as you sat on the patio. There were heat lamps and plastic siding that made it warm despite the chilly night. In no time, the dogs had bowls of water and dog snacks and we had menus.
As soon as we ordered, I tried to get down to the business of pumping Mason for information, but he stalled.
“So, where’s the detective?” he asked.
“On a case,” I said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. One of the reasons Mason was a good attorney was he saw through things—like my answer.
“Tough being left behind, isn’t it?” His dark eyes caught mine. He was still wearing his suit pants, but not the jacket. The opened collar of his cream dress shirt showed above the neck of his pullover sweater. The patio was warm enough that we’d both taken off our coats. “Look, I deal with homicide cops. I know the life.”