Hal introduced him, though I had already guessed who he was. Matt Wells looked better in person. The photo didn’t do justice to his thick dark hair and sparkling gray eyes. Hal went on to explain to him our concern about the ownership of the place.
Roseanne gave her husband a sharp stare—for what, because he dared to speak?
“I have it covered,” she said to Matt. I tried to calculate how Matt and Roseanne were related. He was Lance Wells Jr.’s cousin and she was Mary Beth Wells’s sister, did that even make them family? How ever they were related, I sensed hostility in the way Roseanne and Matt looked at each other. Roseanne had positioned herself so she was standing between Matt and me. But I wanted to talk to him. So, I grabbed the dancer by the shoes, figuratively speaking, and stepped around Roseanne.
“If you’re an actual Wells, does that mean you’re the owner?” I’m not generally a flirty kind of person, but something about Matt brought it out in me, and it seemed like a good way to get some information. I started twirling my hair and batting my eyes, and I heard Dinah choking back a laugh. But it worked. Matt’s expression softened and his smile broadened.
“I’ll take care of them,” he said. Roseanne’s eyes grew stern and she didn’t move. Nor did Hal. I explained our concern to Matt.
“I’d just like to know who owns the dance studio,” I said, eyes batting all the while.
His face lit with understanding. “There’s nothing to be concerned about. This is our flagship studio, and I can assure you, it’s not going anywhere.”
“I understand that. I’d just like to know who owns the place.” I had to stop batting my eyes—it was giving me a headache, as was their reluctance to answer what seemed to be a simple question.
The charm abruptly drained from Matt’s face and he appeared almost annoyed. “Why don’t you stop worrying about who owns what and just take your complimentary lesson.”
The Average Joe’s Guide to Criminal Investigation emphasized the utility of saying nothing. Silence—particularly in response to someone’s leading comment—made people uncomfortable and encouraged them to divulge all kinds of useful information. So I simply did not respond. I looked around at the two couples winding down their lesson. I looked out the picture window at the view of the street. I looked at Matt Wells and then Roseanne and then Hal. Dinah knew what I was doing and leaned against the counter. I could see the tension mounting in all their faces.
“What’s wrong with you people?” Hal said at last. “It’s not secret information.” He turned his gaze to me. “The dance studio belongs to the Lance Wells estate.”
Roseanne shot her husband another angry look, and he seemed to slink into the background. The tango music stopped and the two students headed toward the door. I had the feeling Roseanne had decided we were more trouble than we were worth. She gave up on trying to get us to fill out the forms on the clipboards and instead, with a sigh of resignation, just took them from us and told the instructors we were here for a complimentary lesson. When Vincent saw Dinah, his face lit up.
“I’m taking her,” he said to his coworker. Dinah was making choking noises. “We’ll see who’s the teacher now,” he said with a smirk. I was about to say we’d changed our minds about the lessons, but both instructors were already pulling us out onto the dance floor.
Mine must have been a bodybuilder in his other life, because he had an iron grip on me. Someone turned on the music, a waltz began and my teacher told me to watch his eyes and follow his lead. I did okay for the first few steps, but then I stumbled on the instructor’s feet and I saw annoyance flare in his eyes. When I made a move to pull away, he simply held on tighter.
“We always start with the basic waltz,” my teacher said before taking off around the room. Things went from bad to worse when I looked away for just a moment and saw Detective Heather come in the door. I tried to steer my partner over to the front, but he kept pulling us toward the back of the room.
Detective Heather was talking to Roseanne and Hal, neither of whom looked very comfortable, though Hal at least seemed to be enjoying ogling the blond detective. Matt Wells had disappeared into the side room when Dinah and I started our lesson, but now he came back out. As he approached the group, I could see him turn on the charm. But Detective Heather stayed all business. That is until she noticed me dancing by. Her eyes narrowed and she shot me a dirty look.
The music changed and went into a polka, and my partner began to pick up speed. I swear my feet left the floor as we began whirling around the room. Vincent was smiling as he swung Dinah to-and-fro. It was hard to keep my eyes on Detective Heather without getting dizzy, so I turned toward my partner, and when I looked back Detective Heather was gone. I was ready to cut the lesson short, but before I could suggest it, the music changed to a jitterbug and my partner held me by one hand and did some maneuver where he reeled me in and then spun me out. I was breathless—and so thankful when the music finally stopped.
“Wasn’t that fun?” Hal said, coming up to Dinah and me. “Just like the TV show, huh?”
We insisted we had to think about it as we headed toward the door. We ran down the stairs and out of the building, where we practically smacked into Detective Heather. She ignored Dinah and zeroed in on me. “I’m not even going to ask you what you were doing there. I’m just going to tell you straight out: Stay out of this investigation.”
I couldn’t help myself; I just had to ask her one question. “Did you know that Barry was married more than once?”
She looked at me directly with a little self-satisfied smile. “Of course.”
CHAPTER 16
ALL THAT DANCING LEFT US PARCHED AND NEITHER of us had had breakfast, so we went back to Le Grande Fromage for café au laits and croissants.
“Maybe we should sign up for some lessons,” Dinah said, sinking into a chair after we had placed our order. “We shouldn’t be so pooped after a partial lesson. But if we do, I’m insisting that somebody other than Vincent be my instructor.”
I agreed with our need for exercise and took out my little notebook and pen. Dinah watched as I flipped it open.
“What’s that?”
“You know how Barry and Detective Heather always take notes when they talk to people. I thought it was about time I started doing it, too. But if I’d taken out my notebook at the dance studio, I think it would have seemed kind of weird.”
Dinah nodded with comprehension. “They already thought we were kind of strange—that would have pushed it over the top.”
I showed her the first few pages where I’d drawn a diagram of the crochet piece and written in the meaning of the motifs we’d figured out.
I held the pen over the paper. “Let’s see. Now we know Mary Beth had a bossy sister with a wimpy husband. I don’t think she and Matt Wells get along,” I said, beginning to write. “And the studio is owned by the Lance Wells estate.” I blew out some air. “I wonder what that means.” I started to slump, then straightened. “Ah, but I know how to find out.”
Mason took my call right away. “Hi, sunshine,” he said cheerfully. “The other night was nice. Calling for a repeat?”
“It was nice,” I said, smiling at the memory. “But I’m really after some information. I found out the Lance Wells estate owns the Lance Wells Dance Studio, but what does that mean? Also, what else do you know about Matt Wells besides what you told me about his dancing ability?”
“I don’t know off the top of my head, but I can find out. However, I’m sorry I can’t give out any of that information on the phone. It has to be in person, preferably someplace dark with good food,” he said, a tease in his voice.