“Who was the cop in the suit?” Ryder asked. When I didn’t respond right away, he pushed the question. “He hung around too long for it to be official.”
Yikes, now I had a neighborhood busybody kid to answer to. I just used the boyfriend word, though for a moment I considered trying relationship partner.
“Boyfriend?” Ryder snickered.
“I couldn’t agree more that it’s a silly title, but what else can I call him?” Ryder nodded with understanding.
“It must be tough when you’re old and dating. I suppose you’re hoping he’ll want to upgrade you to fiancée.”
“Thanks for making me feel like I’m a hundred,” I said with a tiny groan. “And no, I’m not looking for an upgrade in title.” I made a move to go, but Ryder kept up with the questions. No doubt he was practicing his interviewing skills. The next thing I knew I was telling him how I’d been married to Charlie for twenty-five years when he died. And now I was enjoying being free. “Or as free as you can be with two sons, one living with you and the other constantly questioning every decision you make. And a mother who’s a backup singer—scratch that, was a backup singer, and now is back with her singing group, The She La Las, and enjoying a second chance at a career. A mother who also might show up at any time. And that’s not counting the two dogs and the two cats. It doesn’t matter that one of the dogs officially belongs to the cop in the suit and just resides at my house or that the two cats really belong to my son.” I looked Ryder in the eye. “And you know who really takes care of all of them.”
Ryder was beginning to get the too-much-information look on his face, but I kept going. I got his attention back when I mentioned being part of the Tarzana Hookers. Once he heard that hookers referred to crochet, his eyes began to glaze over again. But when I mentioned my job at the bookstore, he nodded. “That’s why you look familiar. I knew I recognized you from somewhere. You’re the one who puts on the author events. I came to the one for that book Keeping Your Balls in the Air.” I smiled, uncomfortably remembering that evening. The book was about teaching yourself to juggle and the author had given a lesson. Let’s just say it didn’t go well. Imagine a bunch of people stumbling into each other while throwing balls around. “I have a tape of it, if you’d like to see,” Ryder said. I declined. Going through my disasters once was enough.
“I’m coming to the vampire book launch party.” He held up his tiny camera. “I bet my video will get a zillion hits. If only I could get on the YouTube top ten.” He gazed skyward with a dreamy look.
Then Ryder offered to show me his video portfolio, but I told him maybe later. Time was ticking away and I had to pick up the animals.
DRIVING ONTO THE CAMPUS OF WALTER BEASLEY Community College was like driving into the country. Calling it by its full name was really old school. These days everybody called it WBCC (pronounced Wibk). Did it really take so much longer to actually say the letters? I thought all this shortening things was due to texting, which I didn’t get, either. Instead of all that typing, why not just call? It was easier, faster and less prone to misunderstanding. I guess that made me a dinosaur, though these days it was probably shortened to dsaur. The campus of WBCC was set on four hundred acres, most of which was set aside as an agricultural school. So there were fields of crops, livestock, barns and a farm store. I pulled into the parking lot close to the traditional classroom buildings, walked through a forest of tall pines trees to the bungalows and checked my watch. I’d timed it just right. As I stopped at the end bungalow, the door flew open and students flooded out. Dinah Lyons came out last, talking to a girl dressed in what was probably the current fashion, though to me it looked strictly bag lady. Dinah finished with the girl and rushed over to me. As always there was an aura of energy about her.
“Just a little longer, then I give them their finals and send them on their way and we all get to enjoy the holidays,” she said with a happy smile. Dinah taught freshman English to what could best be called reluctant students. WBCC accepted everyone and Dinah got them raw from high school. She had a reputation for turning newbies into real college students—if they survived the semester. She was also my best friend. “I’ve got news,” Dinah said.
“Me, too,” I said. There was a ministandoff as we each urged the other to go first. Dinah won and I told her about my homecoming.
“Geez, not again with your front door.” Then she laughed and touched my arm. “It’s lucky you have a sense of humor. Which I’m sure was sorely tested during your trip with Adele.”
“That’s the truth,” I said with a laugh. Dinah knew all about the difficulties I had with her. Although Adele had been at the bookstore longer than me, and had coveted the job of event coordinator, Mrs. Shedd had hired me instead. Adele had tried to upend me many times. Just when it seemed Adele had finally accepted that I was the event coordinator, Mrs. Shedd decided to add the yarn department and asked me to oversee that as well. I’d be the first to say that Adele was much more qualified to run it than me. She had years more experience crocheting and knew much more than I did about yarn. There was just one stumbling block. Maybe calling it a stumbling mountain was more accurate.
Adele had a problem with knitters. It didn’t matter that I now understood there was a real basis for it from her past. If Adele ran the department, there would be no needles, no knitting accessories or pattern books. No mention of the word knit. All swatches hanging on the yarn bins would be crocheted. Mrs. Shedd was a business woman and didn’t want to leave out customers. So she put me in charge, with Adele as my assistant. “It’s like when I’d first started working at the bookstore all over again,” I said.
“I don’t suppose Adele acknowledges there’s a real reason Mrs. Shedd put you in charge of the new department,” Dinah said.
I choked on a laugh. “Are you kidding? You know Adele; she just thinks she’s gotten the shaft, again.” We’d gotten to my car. Dinah was riding shotgun while I went to pick up the animals. Thanks to spending time with my pets, Dinah was finally becoming an animal person. Before, her idea of a pet had been maybe a goldfish.
“Do I know the neighbor who disappeared?” Dinah said as she pulled on her seat belt and I started the motor of the greenmobile. I called my Mercedes 190E that because of its rare blue-green color.
“You’ve met Emily Perkins. I brought her to a few Hookers’ meetings when they first moved in. Then she realized she wasn’t into handicrafts. Remember that green afghan I brought into the group last week? It belongs to her. She couldn’t even tell if it was knitted or crocheted. Bradley Perkins is the original nice guy. The kind of guy who sees you pulling your garbage cans to the street on trash night and not only comes over to help, but insists on doing it for you. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would disappear.”
“You’re going to find out what happened, aren’t you?” Dinah said as we headed toward the vet’s.
“Barry told me to stay out of it,” I said and Dinah laughed.
“Like that’s stopped you before.”
“I tried going over, but Emily wasn’t there. I’ll try again when I go home,” I said. We pulled into the vet’s parking lot and got out to retrieve the foursome. “Emily is probably a wreck.”