A Stitch in Crime (7 page)

“What’s Mason doing there?” Barry demanded. I could picture him suddenly sitting upright and then standing and pacing, probably running his hand through his short, dark hair. And his usual hooded expression was probably blown.

The giggles finally went away. “Mason is one of the presenters,” I began, and then carefully explained that Mrs. Shedd had merely told me she got a replacement tai chi teacher, but not who. “I didn’t know he was coming when I told you to stay home,” I said, wincing. I hoped Barry would leave it at that, but Mr. Detective had picked up on the fact that there was some kind of fun going on. He wanted details. It was useless to try to gloss over it. Barry is very good at interrogation.

“I promise this was just accidental fun,” I said, hoping to pacify him.

“Okay, then,” he said at last. “So, you’ll be too busy with your rhinestone clipboard to spend any more time with him this weekend, right?”

I uh-huhed in answer, and he said there was another reason for the call. “Were you expecting any deliveries?” When I said I wasn’t, he mentioned some sealed boxes on my front porch. “Are you involved in something you haven’t told me about?” he asked in his interrogation voice. I knew he was referring to a special delivery I’d gotten in the past—a dead mackerel with a marzipan apple in its mouth, meant as a warning.

“My life is an open book. No murders. No dead bodies. No warnings,” I said, pleased that it was true. Barry still wasn’t sold on the idea of putting the boxes in the house and wanted to open them, but I convinced him to leave them shut and put them in the garage until I got back. Just before he signed off, his voice softened. “Miss you, babe.”

“Me, too,” I said, and meant it.

The phone call put a damper on things for me. I felt guilty about having a good time and uncomfortable that I’d been caught. I didn’t want to ruin the rest of our little group’s picnic, so I said I wanted to get back to my room and go over the schedule again. Both Mason and Dinah offered to go with me, but I told them to stay and enjoy the fire. It was hard to shake my feeling of responsibility for everything and everyone. It didn’t seem right that I should be giggling around a campfire.

After I had gone only a few steps, the fire pit area slipped into oblivion thanks to the cloud sitting on the ground. All my worry over being in charge had already come back with a vengeance, and I almost walked into the figure ahead of me on the path.

“Bennett,” I said with surprise. “Nora is looking for you.”

I couldn’t see his expression, but it seemed like he was rolling his eyes and shrugging. I took it as a so-what-else-is-new kind of gesture.

“I was playing a solo game of pool.” He gestured in the direction of the administration building.

“Then everything is okay,” I said, putting on my leader-of-the-pack voice.

“Was she giving you a hard time?” he asked.

Why not clear things up? I mentioned her talking about leaving in the morning and being less than thrilled with everything.

“Don’t worry, we’re not leaving in the morning. You have to understand: Nora’s a great manager. She’s always looking out for my best interest and wants me to be treated like a star.” He let out a chuckle. “I, however, know I’m just an actor.” His self-deprecating manner won me over, and we walked the rest of the way to Lodge together. I started to go in, and he continued on the path toward their accommodations. Yes, Bennett was pleasant and reassuring, but I couldn’t help thinking of what Mason had said about actor clients he’d had. They played the nice guy and let their spouse be the hammer.

THE LOUD, INSISTENT KNOCK AT MY DOOR MADE me sit up suddenly. The rhinestone clipboard fell off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. Had I really slept with it? I looked around, trying to orient myself. After a moment I recognized the dark wood-paneled walls and ceiling of my Asilomar room. I’d left the curtains open, and the dim light filtering in implied that it was very early morning. The window was open a crack, and the room had filled with chilly, damp air. More noise came from the door. This time it was closer to pounding. My stomach did a flip-flop. It sounded like trouble.

The floor was icy on my bare feet as I got out of bed. Maybe icy was a bit of a stretch, but it was certainly very cold. The red readout on the clock radio said six thirty. I regretted not having brought a robe and slippers, and pulled the dusty rose shawl I’d crocheted over my nightgown. My shoulders felt warm, but it didn’t do much for the rest of me as I crossed to the door.

Adele was tapping her foot when I opened the door. “It’s about time,” she said, shaking her head. My groggy feeling was instantly gone with one glance at Adele’s outfit. The fuchsia of her sweat outfit hit my eyes with a jolt—and who knew they made chartreuse sneakers? She completed the look with a backward baseball cap and a scarf of coaster-size doilies strung together and wrapped around her neck. “Pink, you’ve got a problem. No, it’s more than a problem. It’s a disaster.” She took in my outfit. “You better put on some clothes. You’re going to have to do something. You’re in charge, remember? The big cheese with the rhinestone clipboard. The buck stops with you.”

Adele’s rant was interrupted by a door opening. Dinah stuck her head out. “What’s all the commotion about?”

I pulled Adele into my room, and Dinah followed. No need to alert the whole floor that something bad had happened before I had the details.

“So, what is it?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you. I have to show you. Downstairs.”

Adele tends toward drama, but I couldn’t take a chance. I threw on yesterday’s clothes and shoved my sleep-shaped hair under a beige beanie I’d crocheted recently, figuring I’d deal with the disaster and come back for a shower before breakfast.

Okay, there are some things that can’t be fixed. And for once Adele hadn’t gone for hyperbole. As soon as we stepped outside, I got it. It was like stepping inside a marshmallow. All I could see was white. Even though we’d gone only a few steps from the entrance to Lodge, the building was already disappearing in the white air swirling around it.

Dinah came down the steps a few minutes later, glanced around, and rushed to join us. She’d pulled on some red sweats and covered the wilted spikes of her hair with a black baseball cap.

“Wait for me,” a voice called from behind us. When I turned back, I saw that Sheila had just tumbled out the door. She screeched to a stop, reacting to the opaque air. I couldn’t make out her expression, but I could hear her breath become shallow and ragged. I got it right away. She was feeling panicky, and I could relate. There was something claustrophobic about a fog this thick.

She took a tentative step toward us, eyeing the sky nervously.

“It’s okay, honey,” Dinah said, putting her arm around Sheila when she finally reached us. We all urged Sheila to take some deep breaths, and gradually her features lost their frantic expression. Adele started to reel off information about how bad it was as she dragged us all to the administration building, where the lone TV was tuned to a live report.

A newscaster was standing at a police roadblock. Behind her it looked as if a white curtain had been pulled across the road. “It’s a complete whiteout and has been named the Pacific Grove Fogout,” she said, gesturing to the road behind her.

The redheaded guy at the registration desk began to talk. “It’s a complete whiteout. All the roads are closed around here. You can’t see past the hood of your car.” He shook his head. “We get fog all the time around here, but never like this. I bet it’s because of global warming.”

He pushed a pile of phone messages across the counter. “These are for you—from your retreat people. They’re all stuck, and won’t be able to get here until the fog lifts. Everything—and I mean everything—is shut down, not moving, nothing going anywhere. Not even the park ranger or the security guy could make it in.” He mumbled something about having worked all night, and his replacement couldn’t make it in, either. Then he stared at us, looking a little crazed and his voice verging on hysterical. “We’re stranded, ladies. It’s like we’re on an island with no boat.” He leaned across the counter. “Be careful.”

We went back outside, and when I held my arm out, I could barely see my hand. As we walked down the path, a deer rushed in front of us, appearing as confused as we were.

“Pink, what are you going to do?” Adele said.

I had considered lots of things that might happen during the weekend, but being caught inside a cloud wasn’t one of them. I gave up hope for a hot shower and a change of clothes. Maybe after breakfast. I suggested we move on to the dining hall.

“What are you going to do, Pink?” Adele said again, walking on one side of me.

“Molly will come up with something,” Dinah said from the other side. Sheila appeared overwhelmed by the fog and stayed close to Dinah.

“The obvious thing is to postpone everything until the campers get here,” I said as the bell began to ring, announcing breakfast.

“Good morning, ladies,” an all-too-cheerful male voice said from behind us. Dinah stiffened and moved closer to Sheila. As Commander Blaine caught up with us, I began to see Dinah’s point. He was too eager, too cheerful, and his cargo pants too wrinkle-free. He rushed ahead as we walked up the stairs to the dining hall, grabbed the door, and held it open for us. Did he even notice the fog?

Two women and a man were standing in the entrance, blocking our way as we came inside.

“Are any of you with the Shedd & Royal creative weekend?” a woman in lavender pants and a white sweatshirt with lavender trim asked.

Adele gave me a nudge to the front. “She’s the one you want to talk to.”

The woman said they had arrived late the night before. “It was terrible finding this place in the dark and with the fog coming in.” Then she brightened. “But we’re here now, and we can’t wait for the workshops to begin. Where do we register?”

Adele nudged me again. “Pink, you better break the news to them.”

“News?” the other woman said.

“Have you looked outside?” I mentioned the fog, the messages from the other campers, and finally my plan to postpone the start of the activities until everyone could get there.

The woman in the lavender pants appeared displeased with what I said. “So the workshop presenters can’t get here?” she said.

“No, they’re all here,” I said.

She seemed upset with my answer and turned to the man. “Edward, do something.”

Edward straightened and cleared his throat. It turned out he was a lawyer, and he gave me some legal mumbo jumbo about implied contracts and we had to perform or we’d be in breach. He threw the word
sue
around a few times. I knew it was probably just hot air, and that even though Mason didn’t practice that kind of law, he could still probably outlawyer Edward. But did I want three unhappy campers? Three unhappy campers who might spread the word around Tarzana that I had ruined their weekend?

“Well, of course you’re right.” I explained that I’d made the plan to postpone when I thought no campers had arrived. “But now that I know you’re here, we’ll have some workshops today.” They seemed satisfied and hadn’t picked up on my mention of
some
workshops. I said I would get them their orientation packets after breakfast and sent them over to tables by the window.

Izabelle came in on a cloud of floral perfume. Before I could mention the table for our group, Adele had already stepped in and was guiding Izabelle to our corner. I heard a snippet of conversation as Adele moved her head around to show off her earrings. Something about their being made with double picot stitches.

“We might as well sit down,” I said, stepping in from the entrance.

“Who are they?” Sheila said. She started to point, then caught herself and gestured with her chin.
They
were a man and woman at a table in the far corner of the room.

“That’s the guy I saw in the hall when we first got here. He looked so angry, all I could think of was that if looks could kill, I would have been dead,” I said. Sheila sucked in her breath, and I said I was just trying to be clever. “I don’t think he was angry with me. He just glanced my way. I don’t even know who he is.”

I hadn’t noticed that Commander had left us until he rejoined us and grabbed my arm.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, leading me toward the kitchen. I knew Dinah wanted to stay at the table, but true-blue friend that she is, she followed along.

When we got to the kitchen, Commander pointed to two women sitting by a counter, leaning on their elbows. Only now did I realize that there had been no food smells when we walked in. One of the women explained they worked cleanup and knew nothing about cooking. They lived nearby and had been able to walk to Asilomar. None of the cook staff could get there.

“I have an idea,” Commander began. “I just wanted to get your okay first.”

When I heard it involved his getting breakfast, I couldn’t say yes fast enough.

I stepped back into the dining room and announced there would be a delay of breakfast, then went back to the kitchen to help.

A short time later, I returned and invited our group to get their food. It turned out the two employees were good at helping once they were told what to do. Commander had a wonderful recipe for a breakfast casserole. It was amazing what he’d done with some eggs, bread, green onions and shredded cheese. Dinah and I had found fruit to cut up for salad and made pots of coffee. There was orange juice, too. We’d set up the food buffet style on the stainless steel counter.

Everything smelled delicious, and the small group began to help themselves.

“Well, Sunshine, good job with breakfast,” Mason said as he picked up a plate. I was still getting used to his outfit. I was accustomed to seeing him in finely tailored suits or high-end casual wear. The white cotton pants and kimono jacket over a long-sleeve knit shirt seemed out of place on him along with the black cotton shoes. As usual, a lock of his warm brown hair had fallen across his forehead, giving him an earnest look as he put some food on his plate.