“And Hal killed her to keep her quiet and his business going,” Dinah said.
“It’s certainly a motive. Too bad I didn’t ask Hal if he knew what Mary Beth’s favorite candy was.”
Dinah laughed. “That would have been a tough segue.”
CHAPTER 23
I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO GO AHEAD WITH DANCE night at the bookstore if I wanted to see the crochet piece Matt Wells had. I hoped it was worth the trouble. Mrs. Shedd was in the dark about the plan. Adele still hadn’t told on me. She liked the idea of the dance theme too much.
As I got ready to leave for the bookstore, the She La Las rushed into my current bedroom to get into their costumes. They even had a professional makeup artist to do their faces. They were running a full dress rehearsal for my son Peter. Even though his area at William Morris was television and he had nothing to do with personal appearances, my mother wanted his input anyway.
There was a vibe of excitement. My father had rented a small spotlight and arranged some chairs for the miniaudience—the other two husbands were coming, too. Samuel was dressed in a vintage tux and had a keyboard and some electronic device that he’d programmed to sound like a whole band.
Of course, my mother had ordered in food and pleaded with me to make my California Noodle Pudding. This struck me as a funny turn of events: a mother asking her daughter to make her favorite food. I had complied and it was on the counter in all its buttery noodly richness. Noodle pudding is supposed to be a side dish, but I thought it was great for breakfast or by itself as a meal. With all the eggs, butter and sour cream it was kind of rich, but I liked to think the cottage cheese kind of diluted it. I called my version California Noodle Pudding. Along with the standard ingredients, I added almonds and apricot bits. I don’t know why they called it pudding, anyway. It was nothing like that chocolate or vanilla creamy stuff.
I had also taken care of the dogs and shut them in the crochet room with my fingers crossed. Dogs didn’t play with yarn, did they? It was either that or take the chance they’d trip up the She La Las during their famous dance number.
As I was about to go out the kitchen door, the doorbell rang. My father answered and I heard voices. I recognized Peter’s voice and went to say a quick hello. He wasn’t alone.
Mason smiled and waved, and I did a double take. I’d never seen him dressed in anything other than gorgeous suits or elegant casual wear. Not tonight. He was all bad boy, wearing an old beat-up motorcycle jacket over beat-up jeans. He had on boots with spurs and was carrying a helmet. He pointed outside with a naughty grin.
A huge motorcycle was parked at the curb.
I would have loved to stay to see what was going to happen, but I had to go.
ADELE HAD GOTTEN BACK TO THE BOOKSTORE before me and she’d been busy.
“What’s all this?” I said as I walked toward the event area.
“You have no sense of pizzaz,” Adele groaned. “I just gave the place a little dance-party vibe.” Bunches of balloons were tied to bookcases. Bob was setting up a table with punch and cookies for sale. The lights had been turned down, and battery-operated candles surrounded the event area. “Pink, couldn’t you have dressed up a little?”
Adele certainly had. I didn’t know where she’d gotten her ideas from, and I didn’t really want to think about it. She had on a long, purple-sequined dress and a purple turban-style hat emblazoned with a sequined A. Her face looked like a porcelain doll’s or a Kabuki mask. Her foundation was thick and almost white, and she had on false eyelashes and bright red lipstick applied to give her a Betty Boop bow-shaped mouth.
At that moment the diet book author came through, looking around at the setup. “What’s all this?” she asked in a not too pleasant voice.
“We’ve made it into a dance evening,” Adele said before I could speak.
“No, no,” Grey Fairchild said, standing by the punch and cookie table. “That doesn’t go with my diet plan.” She was tall and thin as a capital I, and there was a stiffness about her that made me wonder what her dancing ability was like.
Trouble already. Everybody was trying to run the show, but I was the one responsible. However, I thought it might all be academic since the event was so last-minute, I didn’t know if many people would show. For once I didn’t really care. I wanted the evening to be over with quickly and without disaster. And more than that, I wanted the crochet piece Matt was bringing.
To my surprise people began to come in, including Camille. “I lost my pattern for the bookmark,” she said as she approached me. “Do you have a copy?” She glanced around the bookstore. “What’s going on?”
I pointed to the sign explaining dance night and said I’d find a copy for her. When I came back, I noticed she’d worked her way over to the event area.
Then Ali came in with an older woman. Both had coffee from the café, and as usual Ali looked like an advertisement for the wonders of crochet. I loved her crocheted flower wrist corsage. Ali stopped me and introduced me to the woman, her mother. I mentioned what a wonderful addition to the crochet group Ali was, and they decided to stay.
“Are you going to start soon?” Camille said, stopping me. “This is so much fun. I love the way you decorated the bookstore. Too bad my husband didn’t come.”
I was getting concerned that Matt hadn’t arrived, but I knew we had to begin. To buy time I went to the event area and made an announcement about the drawing for dance lessons. The bowl we used for Halloween candy stood waiting with scraps of paper and pencils next to it.
People were still rushing to get in their chances when I introduced Grey and her dance charts. Finally, just as she got ready to start, Matt Wells came in the entrance.
Adele was handling the music and had put on an up-tempo CD. Moving to the beat, Grey began to jump around the chart, demonstrating her diet dance. Matt made his way through the crowd to me. I glanced down and saw that he was empty-handed.
“The crochet piece?” I said, trying to keep the upset out of my voice.
He swept his arm toward the front. “I left it in an envelope with the cashier. You can get it back to me when you’re finished looking at it. There’s no rush. I don’t think anybody but you is interested in all her crochet work.”
Unfortunately, once people began to notice Matt, they seemed less interested in Grey and her dance chart. Matt had inherited his uncle’s charisma along with his dance skills, and it was almost as if there were a spotlight on him.
Grey finally picked up her chart and moved to the side, allowing Matt to take over the center spot. She appeared a bit testy when she saw the response he got. The audience applauded; Camille gave him a little wave.
“It’s wonderful to see you’re all so interested in dance. There is nothing quite so romantic as couples in perfect step to slow music,” he said. Adele put on his music, which was a classic waltz. He did his pitch about the dance studio as he began to move to the music.
“The Lance Wells Dance Studio has developed the perfect teaching method. At our studio, no one has two left feet.” He reached out for a partner to demonstrate with. I could see Adele waving her arm, but he took my hand.
The shock must have shown on my face. No matter what he said about nobody having two left feet, I was going to prove him wrong. Hadn’t he seen me get my complimentary lesson?
He began counting in my ear and urged me to do the same and just let go and follow his lead. Did he know what he was getting into? Did he really want bruised toes?
I won’t take any of the credit. It was all him and I still don’t know how he did it, but all of a sudden I was dancing with nary a stomped toe in sight. He whirled me—as much as you can whirl in a pair of no-wrinkle khaki slacks—around the event area and then twirled me out at the end. Everyone clapped and I curtseyed.