Once the kids took their candies and began to play, we continued our conversation and Dinah repeated her question about why another afghan if she’d already taken him one.
“I’ve been thinking about that. When Emily first told me about Bradley being missing, she said one of the things they had argued about was that the afghan was missing. She had thought he was just angry about everything and had thrown in that comment.” I mentioned how she had said she didn’t even think he liked it. He had been the one to stick it in a drawer. “But suppose he really was upset she had lent the afghan to me.” A thought struck me and it was one of those moments when I knew I had hit the truth. “Someone came into my house right after he disappeared. Suppose it was Bradley looking for the afghan?”
“What about the second time someone broke in?” Dinah asked in a low voice.
I thought it over a moment and realized it was the same night I’d seen the motorcycle in the Perkins’ driveway. The motorcycle Emily denied was there. “That could have been Bradley, too.”
“Obviously Emily didn’t know whatever it is about the afghan that makes it so important or she wouldn’t have lent it to you.”
“Right. She said his sister had made it, so maybe she just thought he wanted another one made by her,” I said. “Like it had some kind of sentimental value like the watch.”
“But it wasn’t about the sentiment,” Dinah said. Her voice started to rise, but she forced it back to a whisper.
In the end we came up with two conclusions. There was something hidden in the afghan and once Emily had it back, she was going to get it to Bradley.
CHAPTER 19
CEECEE CALLED ME AT THE BOOKSTORE THE NEXT day. She wailed on about what a production it had been and how embarrassing for her, but she had gotten the afghan back. She said she would bring it to the next Hookers’ meeting. I didn’t want to wait and said Dinah and I would come to pick it up. CeeCee hesitated, at first anyway. It took a certain amount of bribery for her to agree.
“Did I mention I’d be bringing cookies?” I said. “Homemade butter cookies.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want those cookies to go to waste,” CeeCee said before setting up a time.
I had already spent the morning clearing up the bookstore from the previous night’s festivities and was going to take off for a while since I was working in the evening until closing. Ashley-Angela and E. Conner were at a play date with the neighbors and Dinah had come by to meet me for lunch.
We dropped our lunch plans and flew to my house to make the offered cookies. It took no time as I had mixed the dough up a couple of days earlier and formed logs and put them in the refrigerator. It was the same recipe I used for my showstopper stained glass cookies. When I made those I rolled out the dough and used cookie cutters and mashed up hard candy to make them live up to their name. For CeeCee’s, I just sliced them, sprinkled on some red sugar and baked them. Within a half an hour we were out the door with a plate of warm cookies minus a couple that Samuel had snatched.
I pulled the greenmobile to the side of the road in front of the wrought-iron fence surrounding CeeCee’s property. I got the cookies and we went up to the intercom on one of the stone pillars on either side of the gate. In the old days, the gate was unlocked, but the price CeeCee paid for her renewed success was the need for security.
The pillars were beautifully decorated with pine fronds and red bows. Once we announced ourselves, the wrought-iron gate swung open and we walked onto a path lined with poinsettias. The pathway led through a small forest to the stone cottage-style house, which looked like something out of a fairy tale.
We heard the “girls,” as she called her two Yorkies, before the door even opened. Once Talullah and Marlena got a whiff of the cookies, they ran over my feet and danced on their hind legs, looking up at the plate as I walked into the entrance hall. Two people were hanging more pine fronds on the archway that led into the living room. Even from the hall I could see the tree. It went up to the ceiling. Someone was on a ladder hanging the lights on it. For a moment I watched mesmerized. I knew celebrity-types hired people to decorate for the holidays, but it still seemed strange not to do it yourself.
CeeCee led us into the dining room, which seemed our usual place to meet. She’d already taken the plate of cookies from me and lifted the wax paper off the top. “Molly, these smell delicious.” She had a cookie in her mouth before she set the plate on the table.
The housekeeper came in from the kitchen with a silver tray set up for tea and coffee. She put it on the table. “Rosa, will you get that Neiman’s shopping bag on the service porch?” CeeCee said before taking another cookie and telling us to help ourselves to coffee and tea.
A moment later the woman returned and set the department store bag next to CeeCee.
The actress leaned toward us, not making a move toward the bag. “Okay, ladies, fess up. What’s the big deal about this afghan?”
There was no point in lying, so I told her the truth. Or the reduced version. When I started at the beginning with Bradley disappearing and their argument about the crocheted piece, she waved her hand impatiently. “Too much information. Get to the point.”
“I am sure there is something hidden in it.”
“You know, dears, I played a guest spy in that TV show Retail Espionage. Of course, my character was only concerned about smuggling out the formula for a lipstick shade, but I learned a little about hiding things in plain sight.” She took out the afghan and spread it on the end of the table and the three of us began to look it over.
Dinah fingered one of the white flowers that sat on top of the background. “I wonder how Madison did this?” She tugged at it to see if it had been sewn on, but it hadn’t. “Somehow she crocheted it up from the green squares.” I started to explain about surface crochet, but CeeCee interrupted me.
“Who cares how it was made?” CeeCee said, flipping though the tassel on one corner. “If I was going to stick in some microfilm, it would be here.” She checked the two tassels hanging off another corner. When she came up empty she moved on to the next corner. “I think some of the tassels must have gotten knocked off in transit,” she said, noting that corner only had one tassel and the other corners had none.
“Do you even know what microfilm looks like?” Dinah asked.
CeeCee glanced at the table and flicked off a crumb. “The script didn’t exactly cover that,” she said.
“Bradley isn’t a spy anyway,” I said.
“You have a point,” CeeCee said. The three of us looked at the whole coverlet again, trying to figure out what could be hidden in it. Then we went over every inch and checked each flower, but in the end, we couldn’t find anything.
“It really is pretty, but I think if I was making it, I’d drop the yellow flowers and just go with the violet, red and white ones,” Dinah said. “And I think I’d space them better. It’s kind of strange to have a bunch of flowers in one square and then none in the next one.”
We stared at it until our eyes were blurry and all the cookies were gone.
“Molly, dear, no offense to your abilities as a sleuth, but maybe since her husband is dead and even with all the trouble he’s caused, she really does want it for sentimental reasons.” CeeCee mentioned her confused feeling when her husband died and she found out the financial mess she was in. She rolled up the coverlet and put it back in the bag. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you have something you have to do,” CeeCee said, walking us toward the door.
Dinah and I discussed the possibility of CeeCee being right about why Emily wanted the blanket as we drove to my house. The truth was we hadn’t actually seen Bradley and the elf had only said a man talked to him. It could have been some other man. But who?