A Stitch in Crime (17 page)

There was a little spattering of applause, barely audible above the waves, and Mason took a humble bow. As I looked over the group to check their reactions, something about Adele made me stop. The wind fluttered her orange jacket open, and I saw the pouch purse and realized she’d worn it all during the tai chi session. She didn’t have it on her shoulder, but instead wore it with the strap across her chest. That seemed the way it was meant to be positioned. Wearing it like that, you could do just about anything and have it stay put, including walking onto the beach even if you cut through the plants. I was suddenly sure there was no way the pouch purse fell off of Izabelle by accident.

“How’d I do?” Mason asked as he caught up with me on the way back.

“It was magnificent,” I said with a satisfied sigh.

“I’m glad you liked it. Some people get frustrated because they don’t get it right away, but a lot of the benefit is just doing it, whether it’s perfect or not.”

“See you later,” Mason said with a wink when we got back on the Asilomar grounds. Most of the group was heading toward the dining hall, and Mason was going back toward Lodge to change and get ready for our meeting. There was no way I was going to call it a date.

I didn’t catch up with Dinah until I saw her in the dining hall. It was still a little surprising to see how crowded it was now that Asilomar was back in business. Our group had gravitated toward the same area of the dining hall, though now we took up more tables. I heard snippets of conversations as our campers found seats. Everyone sounded charged up about their workshop. I had wondered if it seemed cold to go on with the weekend as if nothing had happened, but Izabelle had died before most of them got there. And only the crocheters were really impacted.

“So what did you find out?” I said, grabbing Dinah as she came from the food line with a plate of what looked like pot roast with carrots and oven-roasted potatoes. She set her plate down and we went into a corner out of earshot.

“He’s very charming,” Dinah said with a laugh. “I barely had to bat my eyelashes at all before he got into the conversation. I kept trying to get him to talk about himself, but he kept saying he wanted to know about me and the group.”

“What did he want to know?” I asked.

“I guess he must have overheard Adele fussing. He wanted to know if it was true someone had stolen her work. He asked about our group’s program and what kind of workshops we were having. Oh, and that woman he said was his niece? I guess he forgot who he said she was, because this time he said she was his cousin. My guess is she’s his girlfriend, but he’s trying to keep his options open.”

“Really? What about the manuscript? Did you find anything out? Or bring up Izabelle?”

“No, but I’m not giving up. We’re meeting later for a walk on the beach.” When she saw my concerned look, she stopped me. “I’m doing it for you. Just to get information.” She glanced down at her black jeans and tee shirt. She had a long, cream colored scarf wound around her neck and the amethyst earrings. “Do you think I should change?”

“No,” I said firmly, and suddenly regretted asking her to do the information thing. “And be careful. Maybe you shouldn’t go walking on the beach alone with him.”

Dinah swallowed hard. “It figures. I meet somebody I like, and he might be dangerous and has a girlfriend. I have to do something about being attracted to jerks. I guess you’re right about the walk. I’ll change it to a game of Ping-Pong in the administration building.”

“There’s something else,” I said, thinking of what Commander Blaine had said. I just got his name out when Dinah waved me off.

“First of all, there’s nothing between Commander Blaine and me besides a little conversation. Don’t worry, I’m turning over a new leaf. No more jerks or possible murderers. All I’m interested in with Spenser is getting him to talk. Okay?”

I felt a little better. The last thing I wanted to do was end up fixing up my best friend with trouble. We headed back to the table, and when I made no move to get food, she questioned it. I mentioned my dinner with Mason.

“It’s a meeting,” I said before she could give me one of her looks. Dinah knew all about my relationships with Barry and Mason. For now, Barry and I were a couple and Mason was relegated to friend. But it hadn’t always been that way. Barry’s and my relationship had been anything but smooth, and still had its bumps due to our different styles. I liked some notice. He believed in just showing up, and used the unpredictability of his job as an excuse. He had backed off a little, but he still occasionally brought up the idea of us getting married. No matter what he said to the contrary, I thought it was because he had failed at it before and wanted another chance. I wasn’t looking to get married again—at least not now. In the past, we’d broken up once over his attempt to run my life, and again when it came out he had omitted some major portions of his past. There was also the issue with my sons. He and Peter basically avoided eye contact, and my younger son, Samuel, was polite but still treated him like an intruder.

On the plus side, Barry could fix anything that got broken. He was hot in all ways, and I admit I had a certain fascination about the world he inhabited. And I cared about him. Okay, maybe it was more like love. And ditto for his son, Jeffrey.

For a time, Mason with his desire for a casual relationship seemed more appealing and without all the bumps in the road, until I’d found out Mason’s definition of “casual” and mine weren’t the same.

I poured myself a glass of iced tea from the pitcher on the lazy Susan in the middle of the table and took a slice of lemon. I couldn’t vouch for the food, but the Asilomar staff did a great job with iced tea. Some of Dinah’s writers had found her and took seats at the table. A man with a goatee held up a journal and said that the class had been so inspiring; he hadn’t stopped writing since he’d left the workshop.

Adele was at the next table, surrounded by crocheters. They seemed to have forgotten completely that Izabelle was supposed to have been in charge. One woman actually approached Adele with a copy of
A Subtle Touch of Crochet
and handed Adele a pen to sign it. This was Adele’s chance at the power position she’d always coveted with the Tarzana Hookers. She was over the top as usual, but other than that she seemed to be doing a good job.

I had stopped back at the crochet workshop later in the afternoon. By then Adele had shifted from how to crochet to embellishments and had opened another of the boxes from Izabelle’s room. This one had supplies, samples, and handouts for a group project. I was surprised to see what Izabelle had planned.

Adele held up two pouch bags, one of which was identical to the one we’d found on the beach. Adele explained she’d had some other projects in mind for the group to do, but since there was yarn and directions for the bags, they would make them as a crochet-along. Adele showed off her red bag with white flowers. The only difference was she hadn’t used the same kind of yarn for the flowers that Izabelle’s directions listed. As everyone got up and began to pick their yarn, Adele said the good thing was that the project was doable in the time they had.

I stood watching as they began making their foundation chains. I longed to go in and join them—just for a while, to set aside being the boss and lose myself in crochet. Besides, the bag was just what I needed. It was just the size to keep my essentials in.

Adele had seen me standing in the doorway. “C’mon in, Pink. You know you want to join us.” I waited for a zinger to follow, but this time none came. She was actually sincere, but I still couldn’t join them. The tai chi was one thing, but there was no way I could sit in on the crochet-along. I was supposed to be in charge of the retreat. It was the downside of being the holder of the rhinestone clipboard.

I noticed the group had brought their projects to the dining room and were more interested in adding rows to the purses than in checking out the food. They were all looking to Adele as their leader. I nudged Dinah, and she watched Adele as well.

“It’s like she’s holding court over there. Lucky for her Sergeant French seems content that Izabelle died from an accidental allergic reaction. Because if you were looking for somebody who certainly gained from Izabelle’s death and had threatened her . . .” Dinah said, letting me fill in the rest of the thought.

“You don’t think she could have—” I watched as Adele signed the woman’s book. “Nah,” I said, answering my own question. “The whole thing with the s’more took planning. Adele flies by the seat of her pants. If she’d done it, she’d have strangled Izabelle with the choker, probably by mistake as she was trying to pull it off of her neck.”

There was much less action going on at the knitters’ table. Jym was passing the salad dressing to the person next to him, and Jeen was shaking her head at a woman across the table who’d taken out her needles and work-in-progress. I don’t know what Jeen said, but the woman quickly put away her work. It was all too orderly for my taste. Adele would have been happy to know that I thought the crochet chaos at her table was far more appealing than what was going on with the knitters.

I was surprised to see that Bennett hadn’t come in. I think his group missed him, too. I saw them look up expectantly every time someone came in. Finally, they started to talk among themselves.

The rest of dinner went by without incident. I reminded everyone about the evening’s activities and then hung around until all the retreaters had finished. Dinah stopped off at the administration building for her Ping-Pong match with Spenser, and I went on to the communal living room of the Scripps building. Commander was already setting up board games along with a bowl filled with scraps of paper with entries for charades. People started coming in. There was lots of talking and upbeat expressions, as if they were ready to have a good time. Even if I hadn’t been able to prevent Izabelle’s death or solve the mystery yet, at least the retreat seemed to be going ahead successfully. That should count for something.

Some of the arrivals gravitated toward the games area. Jeen and Jym arrived and brought some of the knitters to the chairs arranged by the fireplace. Adele and Sheila had the crochet group with them when they walked in and they made their own little area. A couple more showed up and joined their group. I hung around for an hour or so. I was glad to see both groups of yarn people spent their time working on blocks for the blankets, though living up to Mrs. Shedd’s commitment still seemed like a long shot.

I hurried back to my room to change out of the sweats I’d put on for tai chi. Mason had said the resort where we were having dinner was casual, but still I didn’t think the jeans, turtleneck, and corduroy blazer I’d been wearing were appropriate and went for the outfit I’d brought for the last night party. I’d have to wear it twice, I thought, pulling out the black jeans that promised to lift my butt and make my stomach look washboard thin. I added the white shirt and black pullover sweater and left the shirttails hanging out. Tossing on a burnt orange scarf I’d crocheted on a big hook in cotton yarn, I headed out to meet Mason.

NO MATTER HOW MUCH I HAD TOLD MYSELF THAT I deserved a break, that the retreaters were all adults, and that the activities for the day were all basically over, I still felt guilty about leaving. I was glad it was dark and the walkway was empty as I headed for the parking lot near the Asilomar entrance. Still, I walked off the edge of the path, staying in the shadow. Mason was leaning against his rental Explorer as I approached. I was sure I heard him chuckle.

“C’mon, the coast is clear,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper as he slipped around to the passenger side and opened the door.

“So you saw me,” I said in a disappointed tone. Here I thought I’d done such a good job of hiding. He was quick to reassure me that even though I was visible on the way to the car, probably nobody was paying any attention, and even if they were, would they really care?

“What if something happens while I’m gone?” I opened the car door and started to get out. “I better not leave. Already there’s been a fog emergency and a death. Haven’t you ever heard that things travel in threes?”

Mason put his hand on my arm. “It’s only for an hour or so. Besides, you missed dinner. Have you eaten anything since the first night?”

My stomach rumbled in answer and I pulled the SUV’s door shut.

I must admit that as we drove out of the Asilomar gates, I felt my shoulders unhunch. Sheila was right about me having tension in spades. As we got a block or so away, I started to feel a giddy sense of naughtiness. Dinah had promised to keep an eye on things and I had my cell phone.

Mason knew his way around the area and pulled up to an entrance gate. Once we’d paid the fee, we entered the Seventeen Mile Drive, which was in the privately owned town of Pebble Beach; hence the gate and entrance fee. At night there wasn’t much to see besides spots with clear views of the dark ocean and lights in the mansions set back from the road.

I knew more than saw that we were passing through the Del Monte Forest, and somewhere out in the darkness the Lone Cypress sat on the edge of a rock, catching the constant breeze.

“Well, here we are,” Mason said, steering the car in a driveway. Before he’d completely stopped the car, a man in a white uniform stepped out to open the door and take care of the car.

We walked under a large overhang and into a low building.

“Nothing against Asilomar,” Mason said. “I like the rustic quality and camplike atmosphere, but a little luxury is nice, too.”

No pool or Ping-Pong tables here. The lobby we walked through was all thick carpet and lots and lots of comfortable chairs and sofas. The clothes were all high-end casual. No sweatshirts or baseball caps. Mason had explained that the resort had a world-famous golf course attached to it and any kind of spa facility you could imagine. “And the rooms all have telephones and televisions,” he said with his trademark chuckle.