Inside the restaurant most of the tables were empty and Matt had taken one in the back corner. I had been thinking about how to start up a conversation with him. I couldn’t very well just sit down and start asking questions about Mary Beth. I needed an icebreaker, and nothing was coming to mind. I did okay when it came to climbing in windows and scoping out places, as I had done at the house in Catalina, but actually going up to someone and starting a conversation—let’s just say I didn’t have my mother’s gifts.
I sucked in a big breath of air, forced my lips to curve upward and moved toward his table. He was looking at what appeared to be the layout for a newspaper ad.
“Hi, you might not remember me.” I launched into who I was, how I’d taken a complimentary lesson a few days earlier and that I worked at the bookstore. Then I hit dead air. He looked at me, waiting for me to say more, and I looked at him, hoping he’d pick up the slack. Just when I thought I was going to have to slink out of there in embarrassment, inspiration struck. “I have a proposition,” I said quickly, pulling out a chair. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you.”
Matt regarded me with an amused smile, and I realized I had probably come on a bit too strong.
The waitress brought him his fine herb omelette, warm baguette with sweet butter and fresh marmalade and a glass pot of French-press coffee. She handed me a menu, but I said I just wanted a café au lait with a shot of espresso.
Matt pressed the plunger down in the coffeepot and poured the fresh brew in his cup. “What kind of proposition are we talking about?” There was just a hint of suggestiveness to his voice, and I cringed remembering the hair twirling from the other day.
Between the sparkling gray eyes that seemed to carry a warm smile, the angular chin with the unshaven look and the lithe but definitely masculine build, he probably got lots of propositions from potential dance students.
“A business proposition,” I said in what I hoped was a cool professional tone. “Having the dance studio closed and being connected to a murder probably hurt your business. I was thinking maybe we could work something out with a book event we have coming up.”
Matt’s expression sharpened and he sat up. “That’s a great idea. What did you have in mind?”
The ball was back in my court. I had to come up with something fast. “We’re having an author in who’s written a dance-related book. We could include a drawing for some lessons, maybe even a dance demonstration or something.”
“I like it,” he said before I had a chance to finish. “The drawing for dance lessons is a great idea. And a little dance demonstration to remind everyone we’re open and down the street. Could we do something in the next couple of days? Other than you and your friend there hasn’t been any walk-in business, and we’ve had a lot of refund requests from current students. I know it must seem callous to be concerned with business under the circumstances, but we have to keep on going, don’t we?” he said.
It was a rhetorical question, and he went back to pressing me for a date until I said I would check my calendar. I reached in my bag and when I pulled out my notebook, Mary Beth’s crochet work came out with it. I tried to snatch the plastic bag back, but Matt got it first.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded. He opened the bag, took out the crochet piece and laid it on the table, staring at it. I heard him swallow a few times. “Mary Beth made this. I’ve seen enough of her work to recognize it.” He ran his finger along the image of the Casino. “Catalina,” he muttered.
“Do you know what all this means?” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. He moved his gaze over each image slowly, and I held my breath in anticipation. It turned out he only recognized the ones I’d already deciphered and had no idea what the rest of them were or what the whole piece might mean.
“How did you get this? Did you know Mary Beth?”
“Sort of,” I answered.
“Then you must know she loved doing this kind of work. I could never understand why Lance hated it so much. He said watching the movement of the hook made him nervous.” Matt let out a sigh. “The habit of working on it only at Catalina was so ingrained that even when he died, she still didn’t keep any of her supplies or finished work at the Tarzana house.”
The waitress returned with my coffee, and I regretted the interruption.
“Did we come up with a day yet?” Matt said, pointing toward my notebook. I subtly tried to push it to the side while I picked up my coffee cup.
“Does Roseanne crochet?” I said in an effort to turn the conversation toward the information I was after.
Matt shook his head. “She’s too busy trying to run everything and everybody.” Finally I had my opportunity. I asked him if the sisters got along.
“I thought you said you knew Mary Beth.”
“I only knew her a little bit,” I said. He nodded and then started spilling information as though he was glad to have somebody to listen.
Mostly he complained about how difficult Roseanne and Hal were. He said Mary Beth had gotten them the job managing the studio, given them lavish gifts and spoiled their children.
“But it was never enough to please Roseanne. I don’t think Roseanne could ever get past being jealous that her sister had the money, status and everything else that went along with being Mrs. Lance Wells Jr.,” Matt said. He confirmed what Mason had said about Mary Beth working for a caterer. “She worked all the fancy parties. That’s where she met my cousin. He specialized in parties.”
I mentioned they’d been married a long time. “They never had any children?”
“I don’t think that was the plan. But Lance got the mumps shortly after they were married. I think finding himself sterile was just one more reason for him to drink. They talked about adopting once, but when it came down to it, he backed out.”
He ate some of his food, and I waited, hoping he would go back to talking. Instead, he picked up the crochet piece and examined it again. “This reminds me of something I found in the office the other day.”
“Is it like this with panels and pictures of things?” I asked. He glanced at the piece again and said it was similar.
“I’d really like to see it,” I said.
“Sure. I’ll bring it when we do the event. How is Thursday?”
I pretended to check my notebook. It wasn’t really a calendar, but I knew Thursday was free. We’d finished all the scheduled events, and Mrs. Shedd had instructed me not to schedule any more until after the Making Amends taping. So, I agreed to Thursday and suggested maybe I could stop by sooner and have a look at the crochet piece he had mentioned.
He shook his head. Had he picked up on my plan to cancel once I’d seen it? I drained the last of my coffee and got ready to leave. As an afterthought, I turned back.
“I was trying to remember what Mary Beth’s favorite candy was. Do you remember?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Marzipan. Personally, I think it’s like eating a pillow, but she adored it.”
CHAPTER 21
“PINK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” ADELE ASKED, walking into the bookstore office.
“I’m looking for a book about dancing by a local author,” I said as I typed key words into the computer.
“I have one.” Adele went into the break room off the office. She came back holding a copy of Margaret and the Dancer. It looked well read.
“Can I look at it?” I said, reaching for it.
“Not unless you tell me why,” Adele said, not letting go. Sometimes I thought working in the children’s department brought out the child in her. I had decided not to mention the dance event to Mrs. Shedd, but there was no way to avoid telling Adele.