“Well, it’s no mystery that I’m cold,” Dinah said, pulling her jacket around her. By now the sun was almost down and the sky was orange near the horizon. She suggested we continue our discussion at her house. I guessed it didn’t seem as lonely with me there. It was a good stop for me anyway since I had to go back to the bookstore, which was just down the street from Dinah’s place.
Dinah went to put on the kettle as soon as we walked in. I noticed the house was back to normal with all the knickknacks returned to their rightful place. I sat on the chartreuse couch, which no longer had a protective sheet over it.
“Maybe we should go over what we know,” I called out to Dinah. I took out the notebook and flipped back almost to the beginning. The fact that I’d found Mary Beth through the color of the thread didn’t seem to matter anymore.
I’d written down poison is women’s weapon, and I had some notes about what Mary Beth’s maid had said at the house. She’d been off for the two days prior to the death. Given the way she’d acted, I didn’t think she was involved.
I flipped past the section of notes about the filet piece. And as I’d realized my mistakes, I’d written in the correction over the images with some notes. I’d crossed out Arc de Triomphe and written in fireplace that must have a secret panel. In frustration I’d scribbled If only I’d known! I also regretted not paying more attention to all the filet crochet pieces hanging in the house. I had a feeling that kind of crochet was Mary Beth’s means of expression.
Next I read over the notes I’d written when we were in the hotel room in Catalina. There were a lot of whews and that was a close call and boy, am I glad to be out of the sheriff’s station. Then, below Purdue Silvers’ name there was a list:
woman who looked like Mary Beth
name like a flower
baby
“Dinah,” I called as I got up and went looking for her in the kitchen. Her kitchen was really more like a hallway, probably designed by some man. No woman would ever make a kitchen so small. I waved the notebook, and Dinah looked up as she poured hot water in a teapot.
I read her the list under the caretaker’s name. “Who does that sound like?” I asked.
Dinah put down the kettle. “Who would look like her more than her sister, and Roseanne sounds like a flower to me.”
I started figuring. “The diary entry was written the same year Samuel was born. The baby would be twenty-three now.” I flipped ahead in the book and found the notes from my dinner with Mason. Besides mentioning what a good time I’d had and how different he was from Barry and a few sentences about feeling strange and maybe a little like I was cheating on someone, I’d written down the facts he’d shared. Mason had said Mary Beth’s sister had two daughters, but they were only teenagers.
Dinah and I carried the steaming cups of Earl Grey back into the living room. “What if Roseanne had a baby before she married Hal and gave it up and Mary Beth decided to tell him?”
Dinah had zoned out. She was looking toward the bedroom where the kids had stayed. All this talk of babies and children had made her think about them. Suddenly she zoomed back in. “I have pictures.”
“Pictures of what?” I asked, feeling a tinge of annoyance that she had missed my big aha about Roseanne.
“I have pictures of the park, the day of the sale. I was taking pictures of Ashley-Angela and E. Conner before the babysitter took them home. Remember how serious they were about feeding the ducks and geese?” Dinah said before disappearing into the other room. She returned holding her digital camera. She flipped through the photos and then held out the camera so I could see the image display.
I looked at the kids holding out their hands with food for the animals and was about to hand the camera back to Dinah. I was seriously going to try to find a love interest for Dinah. She was way too fixated on two kids that by all means she should resent.
“Did you look at them?” Dinah asked.
“Yeah, yeah, the kids are very cute.”
Dinah rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t the point. You must really think I’ve lost it if I’m trying to show you photos of the kids when we’re talking about Mary Beth. This is too small anyway. Let me print a copy.”
A few moments later, she handed me a piece of paper. This time I looked at everything except the kids. The angle wasn’t the best, and since Dinah had been focusing on the kids, she hadn’t paid attention to getting in the background. I saw the adobe house with the sale tables set up. CeeCee and I were behind our table, and Ali was handing someone a package. I moved my gaze to the adjacent benches. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the figure with long golden hair bent over something. The paper bag was on the bench next to her. It had to be Mary Beth. I felt a sudden wave of sadness. If only . . . Dinah noticed me hesitating and pointed beyond a giant cactus. I followed her finger. There were some other figures I couldn’t make out, but there was no mistaking Camille.
“Camille sounds almost like Camellia,” Dinah said, looking at me with wide eyes.
I scribbled some notes before drinking my tea in one gulp. There was no time to deal with it now. I had to get back to the bookstore for the evening program.
BOB WAS BAKING MAN-SIZE COOKIES SINCE THAT was who we expected the audience to be. I was just hoping there would be any audience as it was mostly women who came to our events. I wondered if men would be open enough to admit they needed a fix-it book.
I was relieved to see a crowd had already started to gather. My relief ended when the author arrived toiletless and explained there was nothing quite like demonstrating on the real thing, at which point he grabbed his bag of tools and took the group into the men’s room.
I pushed to the front of the group standing around the stall and tried to stop him, but he insisted it was win-win. He’d do the demonstration, and the toilet he worked on would be like new. The audience turned to me expectantly.
“C’mon, let him do it,” a man said. “I came all the way from Calabasas.”
What was I to do? I gave him the go ahead, then left him to his work and went to get the signing table ready.
I walked out of the men’s room, and when I glanced up, Barry was standing in front of me.
“The men’s room?” he said, giving me an odd look.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, flashing an odd look back at him. He pointed to the sign for Unbreak My House. I knew Barry could fix anything. Like I was really going to buy that story.
“Am I too late?” he asked, nodding toward the empty event area. I started to shake my head and was going to direct him to the men’s room, but I’d had something on my mind and wanted to discuss that first.
“It’s about the other night. I realized we can’t exactly make a clean break. There’s Cosmo, and we’re going to run into each other like this.”
There was just a hint of smile on Barry’s lips, which I did my best to ignore.
“I think I’ve figured out a solution,” I said.
Barry stepped closer, apparently assuming it was something about not breaking up after all. “I knew you’d reconsider once you thought about it. One of the things I like best about you is how understanding and forgiving you are.” He went to touch my chin, but I stopped his hand.
“Not exactly. I was thinking we could be friends.” Barry froze, then dropped his hand to his side. The smile faded to his blank cop face and his jaw clenched a few times. He didn’t seem happy with my suggestion.
“Friends?” he said in a low voice between gritted teeth.