“Okay, what was that about?” I asked after Camille left. Adele had written down her phone number and pushed it on her just before she walked away.
CeeCee sighed and glanced around the table. “It is just a waste of time having her join. Do you understand who her family is? Besides my show, Rhead Productions does Squirrels in Space, that animated series all the kids are crazy for, and Malibu Beach Watch, or as I call it, an excuse to broadcast a lot of good-looking people in tight bathing suits, and The Highlands, probably the most successful glitzy nighttime series ever. And there’s one more. Hercules Crawford, PI. Only Alexander Rhead would figure out the public was ready for an old-fashioned detective series.”
“I love that show,” Eduardo interjected, and CeeCee threw him an annoyed look. Undaunted, Eduardo said his agent was trying to get him a part on it. “Playing myself, of course. A cover model who ends up in the middle of a murder.”
“And the list goes on. It’s the most successful production company around,” CeeCee said. “Camille has been brought up like a princess. No matter what she says about wanting to be a regular person, she’s the kind who’d bring her maid with her to the group and have the maid do the crocheting for her. Besides, I don’t think her showing up has anything to do with wanting to make blankets for needy children.”
I shook my head at CeeCee. I’d never seen her react to anyone like this. “Is there something else you’re not telling us?”
CeeCee groaned and started to run her fingers through her hair, but must have realized it would muss it and stopped herself. “Okay, the real reason is I think’s she’s a spy.”
“What?” Dinah said. “A spy for what?”
“I haven’t mentioned it because I hoped it would be resolved by now,” CeeCee began. “But my agent is having some problems with my new contract. The Rhead Productions people are trying to say it’s the show that’s the hit and that my being host doesn’t matter. I think it’s all negotiating, but who knows?” CeeCee sighed. Of course she was worried. Before she’d gotten the job hosting Making Amends, she’d been reduced to doing occasional guest shots on series or cameos in movies. People knew who she was and the paparazzi had still snapped her picture, but financially she had been struggling. Her late husband had blown all the money she’d made over the years and she’d had to start from scratch.
CeeCee picked up a skein of iridescent white yarn and began to make a foundation row of chain stitches. “I’ve always been able to relax at our group get-togethers, but if Camille joined, I’d have to watch everything I said—or ate. When they were downplaying my importance to the show, they also made some comment about my not being as trim as they’d like.” CeeCee sighed again and glanced around at all of us. “I mean if you can’t have an occasional creme brulee, life just isn’t worth living. And I’m sure she can’t understand the hypnotic lure of a cream puff. If I were to take even a bite of one of Bob’s extraordinary cookie bars, Camille would go running to her husband and daddy and tattle on me.” CeeCee stopped talking and crocheting, clearly contemplating something.
She turned toward me. “Dear, didn’t you say Camille’s husband was in here right before we started?” When I nodded, CeeCee’s eyes grew bright. “Aha, I bet it was his idea she join us.”
“But we can’t keep anyone out,” I said. “Mrs. Shedd would have a fit, and I don’t like the idea anyway.”
Sheila touched CeeCee’s arm in support. If anyone knew about feeling upset, it was Sheila.
“I know, dear,” CeeCee said in resignation. “That’s why I did my best to try to make Camille not want to join.”
“Good work,” Adele said with a snort, holding up her cell phone. “She’s already texting me, wanting to set up her lesson.”
“Oh dear,” CeeCee said with a worried expression. We all assured her it would be okay and we finally got down to serious crocheting. But by now, most of the time for the group was over. Sheila had to rush back to her job at the gym. CeeCee had a lunch engagement, and Dinah had to get to the college for her office hours.
Adele was the only one left at the table. She finished off a row on the blanket she was making. Her creations usually incorporated wildly vivid colors, but for this one she had chosen a soft butterscotch and snowy white and was following CeeCee’s pattern of stripes with a border.
As I rose to clear off the filet crochet piece, she said, “So, Pink, CeeCee really did leave it up to you to deal with that.” Then she kind of harrumphed as if she weren’t impressed.
Well, we were even there—I wasn’t too impressed with her, either. Especially her clothes. Since she’d started hanging out with Ali, her outfits had gotten several notches more ridiculous. Ali had the figure and style to pull off the miniskirts and odd combinations. Adele didn’t have either. Not that it stopped her. Today Adele wore a winter concoction with sheepskin boots that made her shuffle when she walked. She had tucked her black pants in and they puffed out, giving her a gaucho look. On top she had a short orange vest over a white tunic and about ten necklaces and a long yellow and black striped scarf. She’d added some highlights to her hair, but they were too regular and they made her hair look striped. Knowing Adele, I suspected it had been intentional.
I informed Adele I’d made some progress and told her about the diary entry and the astrological sign. “Though I still don’t have a clue who the things belong to.”
Adele held it up to examine it and then appeared way too pleased with herself.
“Maybe I should change my name to Adele Drew,” she said, flipping the hair off her shoulder. “I know how you can find out who made it.”
Okay, she had my attention and she knew it. She paused and kept looking at the piece, her self-satisfied smile widening.
“Are you going to tell me or are you just going to keep it to yourself?”
“I wish I had a drumroll or something,” Adele said, looking around as if some kind of musical flourish would appear. “It’s simple, Pink. See the aqua thread in this panel. It’s not your typical Super Craft Mart ball of yarn. I know because I made something out of it. There’s only one store around here that carries it—Yarnie’s. And they keep meticulous records.”
Adele began to gather up her things, putting them into her patent leather tote bag. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat. I have an important meeting in the children’s department.”
“Is it Koo Koo?” I called after her. She turned back and glared.
“His name is William,” she said with a hiss of annoyance.
Okay, his name really was William Bearly, but his nom de plume was Koo Koo the Clown. He wrote books about common childhood traumas from a clown’s point of view. He was also Adele’s boyfriend, but I suspected her important meeting was more about his upcoming event. Mrs. Shedd had started to let Adele handle the children’s authors programs. I’d seen the signage in the office. Apparently, this time, Koo Koo had taken to the skies. His current offering was Koo Koo Goes on a Plane Trip. I bet he had trouble getting his big red shoes through security.
I called a thank-you as she disappeared behind the soft blue bookcases that separated the kids’ area from the rest of the store. I finally had a real lead.
CHAPTER 5
YES, I FINALLY HAD A LEAD, BUT IT WOULD HAVE to wait, at least for a few hours because I needed to clean up from the Tarzana Hookers and reset things for the evening event. I set up rows of chairs and a table with books, and made sure the signs were out front promoting Who Are You Really, Fido? The copy said that the author Kimball Oaks would read from his book describing individual cases in which people had used DNA tests to find out their mixed-breed dogs’ heritage. According to Kimball, such information helped owners understand their dogs’ behavior better. We’d already committed to this author event and one other, but Mrs. Shedd had told me to put a moratorium on arranging any others until after the bookstore’s TV debut.