For Better or Worsted (17 page)

I was suddenly much more interested. Inside, there was a reception area with some seats and a table full of brochures and information about the company. The wall was lined with black-and-white photos. Adele went to the counter and set her bag on it. Before the young woman at the desk got to the counter, Adele was already doing her spiel.

I hadn’t thought about what the Kingsleys’ family business was until now.
Enterprises
could mean anything.

It was taking a while for Adele to get her story out, particularly since she had launched into telling the woman that if the company really wanted to make something that helped people, they’d make crochet kits. The woman looked as if she was waiting for Adele to take a breath so she could jump in and refuse the return.

I began to look over the photographs with new interest. I recognized Jackson Kingsley with his even-featured good looks. He was standing with another man, both in white coats, holding some dark bottles. Underneath, there was a caption saying it was their first product. Kingsley was much younger, but still recognizable. I started to gloss over the man standing next to him, but then I looked again. How could he possibly look familiar? The more I stared, the more I was sure that I’d seen him somewhere before.

I interrupted Adele and asked the receptionist who was in that photograph.

She gave me a suspicious look. I didn’t really blame her. It must seem rather odd to have Adele raising a fuss about one of their products and then me wanting to know the identity of someone in a photograph on the wall.

“That’s Mr. Kingsley, the CEO, president and chairman of the board of Kingsley Enterprises.” She seemed to want to leave it at that, but I pressed her about the man next to him.

“His name is Felix Rooten.”

“What does he do?” I asked. She seemed even more hesitant to answer. “I’m not exactly sure. I think he was in charge of products.”

“I wonder if I could talk to him?” I said. The woman swallowed a few times as if her throat had grown dry.

“Maybe I should get someone else to speak to both of you,” she said, backing away and disappearing into what I imagined was a warren of offices.

I was surprised to see a familiar blond woman come toward us. Margo Kingsley. She didn’t seem to recognize me and looked at both Adele and me with an arched eyebrow.

“This is our VP in charge of customer service,” the receptionist said. Adele spoke first. She just cut to the chase and said she wanted to return the unopened products. The latest Mrs. Kingsley looked past her to me and asked what I wanted. I didn’t think my connection to Thursday would help either Adele or me, so I didn’t bring it up.

“I thought I recognized someone in one of the photos on the wall. I can’t place where I know him from. I thought if I could pop in to his office and say hello, I could figure it out,” I said.

The receptionist leaned in to Mrs. Kingsley. Her eyes went to the photo as she did. Mrs. Kingsley’s expression darkened.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Rooten doesn’t work here anymore.”

Their manner had gotten my curiosity fired up, so I didn’t leave it at that. I asked if they knew where I could reach him. Mrs. VP of Customer Service pursed her lips in hesitation, then must have decided just to be direct.

“I’m afraid nowhere. Mr. Rooten is dead.”

CHAPTER 23

“
WHO IS FELIX ROOTEN?” I ASKED. I HEARD A CHUCKLE
come through the phone.

“How about a little small talk first, Sunshine?” Mason said. I guess I had been a little abrupt. It was just that it was really bugging me that not only had Felix looked familiar and I couldn’t place him, but now he was dead. Words tumbled out of my mouth as I tried to explain my trip to Kingsley Enterprises. I’d called Mason as soon as Adele and I had gotten back to the bookstore. I didn’t like to make personal calls from work, so to make up for it, I busied myself in the yarn department, looking at the samples of the different kits Elise had given me while I talked to Mason. He had access to all kinds of Internet search stuff and people who knew how to use it, so I figured he could help me.

“You went there? Why?” I began to tell him the whole story about Dr. Wheel and Adele wanting to return the diet stuff. “I had no idea what their business was.” Mason was taking it all in without saying a word, though he started to laugh when I got to the part where Adele suddenly seemed to have a mission beyond returning the diet products.

“I should have some information about this Rooten guy in a few minutes.” He explained he’d already passed it on to one of his assistants. “It’s good to talk to you,” he said and continued on about how much he’d enjoyed our lunch. “It finally feels like things are getting back to normal. In no time, Thursday will be living in her own place, and Jaimee will get on with her
Housewives
show, and we can get back to having fun.” He let it hang in the air. I looked at the three sample kits I had chosen to show Emerson. “Are you still there?” he said after a moment. “I was expecting you to make some kind of comment about the prospect of us having fun.”

“It sounds good,” I said.

“Why wait? How about tonight. I have to go to a charity dinner. It would be easier to stomach the rubber chicken and the rounds of speeches and awards if you were there.”

I’d gone with him to something similar in the past, and it had been fun, but Dinah and I had sleuthing plans. So I tried to say no without telling him why. There was no way he would take it well that I was questioning what his daughter had said.

“Dinah and I made plans to have an evening together.”

“That’s fine. Just bring her along,” he said. I wasn’t expecting that and didn’t have an answer at first. Then I said that neither of us wanted to have to get dressed up and hoped he’d drop it. But he didn’t. Suddenly he turned into Mason the Interrogator.

Where were Dinah and I going? What time were we meeting? I tried to laugh it off. “You almost sound like you don’t believe me,” I said finally.

Mason let down his defenses. “Sorry, I just thought you might be meeting the detective.”

“If I was, I would tell you. Remember, we’re all just friends.”

Mason let out a laugh. “Is that what he’s saying? At least I’m up front with my intentions.”

Inwardly, I sighed. Being able to keep both Barry and Mason at arm’s length might have just been wishful thinking on my part.

“I’ve always said you and I are after the same thing. A casual relationship not leading to anything more,” Mason continued.

“But I like things just the way they are now. I can go out with Dinah or whoever and not have to answer to anyone.”

“I’m a patient man, Sunshine. I know you’ll come around.” I thought he was going to say good-bye, but instead he told me he had the information on Felix Rooten. “I don’t see anything here that shows how your paths would have crossed,” Mason said.

He read me the notes his assistant had made. “Felix Rooten was the product supervisor at Kingsley Industries for a long time.” Mason made a surprised sound. “No gold watch for him. I’m surprised they have his picture. He was convicted of embezzling from the company and went to jail.”

“Well, I couldn’t have seen him at the wedding, that’s for sure,” I said.

“Excuse me,” a voice said behind me. “I really need some help with this sock yarn.”

“Do you want to know the rest of it?” Mason asked.

“It’ll have to wait,” I said, turning to a woman holding several skeins of yarn. “I have a customer.”

* * *

D
INAH WAS WAITING OUTSIDE THE BOOKSTORE WHEN I
finished my day. She was bristling with energy and excitement. “You have no idea how I need this. My freshmen class is particularly bad this semester. They’re all addicted to their phones. I insist they turn them off, but they still need to have them in view.” Dinah had on a camel-colored blazer over some black jeans. It looked like she’d re-gelled her short salt-and-pepper hair into the spiky style that gave her a contemporary fun look.

I looked down at my outfit and suddenly felt underdressed. I was still in my work clothes. As usual, I was wearing khaki-colored pants and a shirt. Today’s was a teal blue, and I had added a crocheted cowl in a complementary shade of blue.

In anticipation of the evening chill, I’d brought along a shawl in beautiful shades of blues, greens and lavenders that Sheila had made for me.

“C’mon, Watson, time to talk to Ben and see what we can find out.”

“What’s the name of the restaurant where he works?” Dinah said as we walked to the greenmobile.

“You don’t know what I had to do to get the information out of Mrs. Shedd,” I said. “Apparently he gave the Storybook Cabaret as a reference, but said he didn’t want anyone to know he worked there. I can see his point. Just like not wanting to admit to working as a robo server at the wedding. I’m sure he tells people that his profession is writer not waiter.”

“But he’s working in a public place. It’s pretty hard to stay incognito,” Dinah said. We got into the car and I headed down Ventura Boulevard to Sherman Oaks.

Neither of us had been to the Storybook Cabaret, and we weren’t sure what to expect as I handed my car over to a valet. I remembered the place as being an old-time supper club, but the freestanding building had been redone to look like a castle, complete with a drawbridge over an inky-looking moat. Inside it was dark and noisy. A woman dressed like Alice in Wonderland was manning the reception booth.

Before I could speak, Alice asked if we had a reservation. When I said no, she gave me an ominous shake of her head and said there was a two-hour wait. I looked around the interior of the restaurant hoping to catch sight of Ben, checking each male face that went by with a tray. He wasn’t the Great Gatsby, Prince Charming or Tom Sawyer. But in my sweep, I noticed the bar.

“How long for the bar?” I asked Alice.

“Immediate seating,” she said, holding out her arm in a welcoming gesture.

“It’ll give us a chance to figure something out,” I said as we walked along the edge of the restaurant to the long bar. We went to the far end, away from the other people seated there.

“Food or just liquid refreshment?” the bartender said in a strangely formal tone as he approached us. I glanced at him. The lighting was very dim, but he appeared nice-looking in a model sort of way. He was dressed in a black shirt and black slacks. Without waiting for our answer, he stepped closer to the bar. “We’re having a special on Bloody Marys,” he said with a strange emphasis on the bloody part. His face was caught in the light coming from the recessed lamps in the ceiling, and it began to sparkle with iridescence.

“You’re in a costume, too,” I blurted out. “I didn’t notice at first. But who are you supposed to be?”

He let down the aura he’d been trying to project and took something out of his shirt pocket. The recessed lighting glinted off a crochet hook, and he had a pretty sad-looking swatch of red yarn coming off it. “I told them, even with the fish-scale powder it was too subtle.” He gestured toward his sparkly face. “I’m supposed to be Anthony, the vampire who crochets,” he said before reeling off the titles of the books in the series. I stopped him and told him we were familiar with the books and that I worked in a bookstore. He instantly seemed to relax.

I turned to Dinah. “I wonder if Elise knows about him,” I said. The bartender overheard. “If you mean Elise Belmont, she’s been here, a lot. She even made this for me, though management said it isn’t part of his official costume.” From below the bar, he produced a long black-and-white striped scarf with a bloodred tassel. I asked him if he knew how to crochet.

“Anthony” rolled his eyes and said no. “This is just a job until I get my big break. I’m reading for a new sitcom next week,” he said, letting go of the weird speech pattern. We both ordered boozeless Bloody Marys, and he gave us a basket of peanuts to go with them.

“Do you know a waiter named Ben?” I said as Prince Charming brought a tray of food to some people at the end of the bar. The bartender surveyed the restaurant and pointed in a discreet manner. I almost choked when I saw which of the costumed waiters he’d pointed out. Now I understood why Ben wasn’t worried about being recognized. He was dressed as Pinocchio, complete with the pointy hat, shorts, tunic and long nose. Dinah and I exchanged stifled grins, thinking of how serious he was at the bookstore.

“I wonder if his nose will grow if he doesn’t tell the truth,” Dinah said under her breath.

“Could you call him over?” I asked the bartender. “I’d like to say hello.” The bartender shrugged and waved Pinocchio over. When Ben saw it was me, his eyes got big.

“Ben, I know it’s you,” I said. Though to be honest, if “Anthony” hadn’t pointed him out I don’t think I would have.

“Ah, hello, Mrs. Pink,” Ben said with a look of doom. “I hope this doesn’t make you change your mind about adding the adult writing group. I assure you, nobody knows it’s me.”

“I’m not here to out you,” I said. “I had Anthony here call you over because I want to order some food to go for my houseguest, Thursday Fields Kingsley.” I watched him for a reaction, and there was a long pause as if he was thinking about something. I didn’t wait for him to come up with an answer. “I know you worked as a server at her wedding.”

“Right,” he said, “I did work that wedding.” He looked up at me, almost poking me with the long nose. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention either of my jobs to anyone. They’re only temporary. Like I told you, I have a bunch of things in the works, and if I get a go on anything I have out there, then this all ends.” He made a sweeping glance across the restaurant. “But in the meantime . . .” He handed me a menu.

Before I opened it, I tried to get the subject back to Thursday and asked him if he knew her.

“I just do my job and never pay much attention to the guests.”

“So I guess that means no,” I said, and he nodded in agreement.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but . . .” He pointed to the menu he’d handed me before giving “Tom Sawyer” a nervous glance. “For now, I need this job and I’m getting the evil eye from my boss. So if you could order the food.”

I looked down at the menu. “I think I’ll get Thursday a burger. I wonder which one I should get,” I said, noting that there was a long list of them. By now, Ben was in a hurry to get back to his station. He tapped his finger on one at the bottom, and I ordered it to go.

“I guess that was a bust,” Dinah said a little while later as we walked across the drawbridge to the street. The smell of the burger and fairy-tale fries wafted up from the to-go box I was carrying.

“Not at all. Ben tipped his hand. No matter what he says, he knows Thursday very well,” I said, not able to contain my smile. While we waited for the valet to bring the greenmobile around, I opened the food container and lifted the bun. Dinah still didn’t get it until I explained that Thursday had been very quiet about her food choices; even her father didn’t know she was a vegetarian.

“But Ben knew to get her a veggie burger,” Dinah said. “Excellent work, Sherlock!”

“Yes and no,” I said. “It doesn’t make me happy to know they’re lying. And it’s one thing to know they know each other, but it’s another thing to prove it.”