“Am I glad to see you,” I said to Dinah, giving her a hug. “It’s been another one of those mornings.” She was wearing one of her many linen pants and tunic-top outfits, always with one of her trademark long skinny scarves. She had started winding more of the scarf around her neck and leaving less to twirl in the breeze. She said it was to hide the signs of crepey skin. I couldn’t see what she was talking about, but she assured me that it was there. She had dropped in the bookstore on her way back from the community college.
The effects from the earlier coffee drinks had worn off and I was ready for another jolt of caffeine, but even more important, someone to talk to.
“Your welcome was just what I needed after my morning,” she said as we headed to the café. “All I can say is that I’m glad the semester is almost over. This bunch of freshmen have been the most difficult. They argue about everything and have asked for do-overs of tests when they claimed they’d had a late night. And speaking of late, they take the start of class as a suggestion and wander in over the whole hour. But the most difficult thing is that they’re sure they already know everything and what I’m teaching them is outdated. They should be able to make up words, use emojis in their papers and write in text talk. Writing is another issue. When I insisted that they turned in a handwritten assignment, they argued that nobody handwrote anything beyond an autograph anymore. Their papers were illegible. Thank heavens I have one student in that class who actually listens and has handwriting I can read.” Dinah looked around the interior of the café as we went to the counter. “She may stop in here. She wanted to drop off an extra-credit essay. Extra credit,” Dinah exclaimed. “Who hears of that anymore.” She turned to me. “She’s older than the rest of them, which probably explains it. She wrote a paper about a film she worked on.”
We took our drinks to a table in the corner, where we had some privacy. I’d barely hit the seat of the chair before I started to vent about my morning.
“I was chased out of my bedroom by a guy in shorts waving a screwdriver. Peter hired him to put together the crib and the guy was in a hurry. Peter and Samuel were fussing. At least Samuel took over Marlowe’s care until Beth got there so I could rush to the bookstore,” I said.
“Too bad Barry’s out of the picture. He would have had it together before your two sons finished arguing.”
“Don’t even say that,” I said with a sigh. “Even though it did cross my mind.” I took a sip of my drink. “But that was only the beginning.” I mentioned Rick Carlson stopping by.
“He doesn’t really think you oopted Daisy,” Dinah said.
“Oopted?” I gave her a puzzled look.
“Sorry. It’s their new word for killing or dying. I think it comes from video games.” She let out a disgruntled sigh. “I tried researching it and couldn’t find anything, but several of my students persist in using it anyway. Now they’ve got me using their made-up words.” She poured some more of the steamed milk and coffee into her cup. “The point is he can’t really think it is you. What’s your motive?”
“He seems to think I lost it because Daisy was a prima donna,” I said.
Dinah let out a laugh. “If that were true, you would have oopted Adele long ago.”
I chuckled as I nodded in agreement before getting serious. “He brought up that Daisy had been overheard saying that I was trying to kill her. It was all because I got her the wrong smoothie. Her assistant told me which one to get and I must have gotten it mixed up.”
“Oh,” Dinah said, wincing. “I’m sure Daisy just meant it as a euphemism and it probably showed in her voice, but hearing just the words without her intonation is different. So they really are investigating it as a homicide.”
“I think Rick Carlson is going by his cop gut,” I said. “I’m worried that his instinct has decided it’s me and he’s going to keep badgering me, thinking I’ll confess.” I took a sip of the coffee. “I’m not sure if they have proof there was poison in her drink.”
“Cop’s gut,” Dinah said with a disparaging shake of her head.
“It’s ridiculous how even Barry would decide he knew who a killer was without hard evidence. He said it was based on all his years of being a homicide detective and that he’d developed an instinct.” I let out a chuckle. “It sure bugged him when I ended up proving his gut was mistaken.” I glanced toward the entrance of the bookstore to make sure nobody was looking for me. “Actually, I have found a much better suspect for Detective Carlson,” I said, and Dinah leaned forward in anticipation of what I was going to say next. I told her about Leslie Bittner.
“She’s got motive,” I began. “I’m sure it was no picnic working for Daisy. But what struck me was how excited she was about taking over the podcast. She wants to hire a host, but the podcast will belong to her. She expects to use Daisy’s notes and outlines. She also had opportunity. She’s the one who reminded me to get Daisy’s smoothie. Maybe it wasn’t that I got things mixed up, but that Leslie deliberately told me to get the wrong smoothie.” I paused for a moment and considered what the problem could have been with the first smoothie, remembering how Daisy had reacted. “I bet Sherlock would deduce that Daisy was deathly allergic to something in the first one I got, like maybe soy.” I thought back to the night of. “Leslie was milling around with the others when the cup was sitting on the table and could have dropped something into it when she realized I had gotten Daisy the right smoothie.”
“You mean like a pill or something?” Dinah said and I shrugged.
“I wonder if a pill would dissolve fast enough,” I said. “But pouring in a liquid would be pretty obvious. I’ll have to think about it.” I felt much better talking about it to someone. “And now I have to create a display of Daisy’s books. Mrs. Shedd tried to soft-pedal it, but Daisy’s death has kicked up the demand for her book. It’s my job to figure out a sign to go on the table that reminds people that she just died at the bookstore, but without saying it.”
“I should turn it over to my students. They’d probably say something liked Oopted Here and point an arrow toward where it happened and then stick in some emojis of a coffin.”
“There’s a coffin emoji?” She took out her phone and showed me one.
When we parted company, we both felt better for having been able to vent. I put together the display table of Daisy’s books and the sign simply gave her name and said Recent Bookstore Guest.
By late afternoon I needed to recharge and went back to the yarn department for some crochet therapy. Anyone who needed me could find me, and since handling the Hookers was really a bookstore event, crocheting really counted as working. I had taken out the granny square striped blanket. I was working it the long way and it took up a lot of space. But since I was there alone, it was no problem.
The being there alone did not last long.
“Pink, there you are,” Adele said, seeming agitated as she came up to the table. “You have to help me.” I let out a sigh and prepared for the rest of it. I never knew with Adele. She was so overly dramatic about everything. “I got a call about someone interested in Queen Adele putting on a party.” I assumed she had pitched the parents when they’d picked up their kids from story-time. Before I could say anything, she continued. “I have to go to her house and tell her the details of the party.”
“That sounds like good news to me,” I said.
“Of course it’s good news, but other than my costume, I don’t know where to start. Probably some food.” She was half talking to herself but then she looked at me. “You’re the event specialist, what do I need?” There was a definite dig when she said event specialist. Even after all this time, she was still upset because I’d gotten the position and she hadn’t. At the same time, she expected me to rescue her. I was considering leaving her to deal with it on her own, but then she told me who had called her. “It was that woman who came to the Hookers the other day. She said she was part of that mommy group you’re going to.”
“You mean Lily Langford?” I said.
“That’s the one. You probably know what their house looks like.” Adele looked at me expectantly and I knew I had to come up with something.
“Yes, you’ll need food, decorations and something for the kids to do,” I said. “You need to have a theme. Let me think about it for a moment.” Adele’s expression had brightened.
“Get back to me when you figure out something. You probably should write it all down and figure out how much everything is going to cost. Then I can add on my profit.” Adele prepared to make a dramatic exit. I was trapped and had to help her seem professional.
I looked down at the crochet project regretfully as I packed it up to work on later. Adele had set the meeting with Lily for two days from now. I had the next day off from the bookstore and added coming up with a plan to the list of things I had to take care of.