“She doesn’t need any help looking guilty,” he said “We know it, and I’m sure the cops do, too, that she had the perfect storm of motive, means and opportunity.”
“Geez, when you put it that way, it really does look bad for her.”
“Are you sure she didn’t do it?”
“Yes,” I said. “I can’t explain why I know, but I just know she didn’t.”
Once we reached the city side of the Santa Monica Mountains, he drove to Century City. At one time, it had been part of a film studio, but then had been developed into office buildings, luxury condos, a hotel, and shopping and entertainment centers. He pulled in front of a high-rise, made a call and a moment later, the security guard came out carrying a briefcase.
Mason thanked him and put it in the backseat. “Okay, business taken care of, now for food. I was going to pick up some wrap sandwiches and side dishes.”
I told him it sounded good to me. Actually anything sounded good to me. Somehow in all that had gone on, I’d forgotten to eat. I was always up for serendipity in the food department anyway.
The small café was getting ready to close, but the owner seemed to know Mason. I let Mason do the ordering, and a few minutes later, we left with shopping bags of delicious-smelling food.
“One more stop,” he said, heading for Melrose. I knew where he was going before he pulled up to the curb. I didn’t get there often because it was in the city, but it was my favorite cake bakery. Their berry cake was probably my favorite cake in the world. We both went inside and looked at the glass case of cakes sold by the slice. They all looked good, but I still went for a slice of the berry cake. No surprise, Mason got devil’s food.
Driving home, I felt naughty, like being out late on a school night, but at the same time it was fun. Mason lived in the flats of Encino. His house was huge, particularly for one person and a small dog. He’d bought out his wife’s share of the sprawling ranch-style house when he’d gotten the divorce and seemed to enjoy having so much space. I’d actually only been there a couple of times. It seemed like he mostly came to my place or we went somewhere.
Spike was patrolling the door when we came in from the garage. The tiny toy fox terrier seemed to have no concept of his size and took his job as watch dog very seriously. He ran around my feet, keeping me in the doorway until Mason laughed and told him it was okay.
Then he followed us into the kitchen as we carried in the food.
I felt guilty. Although I’d told Mason all about what was going on with Nell, I’d gotten distracted and never brought up finding out about the package. Wasn’t that why I went along in the first place? I quickly mentioned that Nell had remembered that the box of sweetener had been sent to Robyn. Mason picked up on it right away.
“So, you think whoever sent it is the real killer,” he said. “Very good, Sunshine. And it must have come pretty recently,” he added.
“How did you figure that?” I asked.
“Elementary, my dear. Because if the packets were tainted, as soon as she used one she’d . . .”
“Die,” I said, and he nodded.
“Even if they hadn’t all been tampered with, my guess is the ones with the poison would have been positioned on the top,” Mason said as he put everything out on the counter and we made up plates. He’d gotten several kinds of wrap sandwiches, pasta salad, green salad, roasted potatoes and fruit salad. We took our plates of food into the den that overlooked the pool. Mason’s yard was landscaped beautifully, complete with a waterfall cascading into the free-form pool. Lights had been strategically placed to illuminate the lush foliage.
“It happens you’re right about the time frame. Nell said the package had come in the last week,” I said, salivating at my plate of food. I’m sure the food tasted delicious, but I was so hungry, I practically inhaled it. Of course I had room for dessert. I enjoyed every mouthful of the yellow cake covered with whipped-cream icing, along with strawberries, blueberries and raspberries.
“So you want to find out who sent the package,” Mason said with a grin. “Barry wouldn’t help you, would he?” Mason said, and I nodded. “Let me make some calls in the morning.”
I thanked him profusely and he did a little mock bow. “Glad to be of service.”
I was shocked when I saw how late it was and quickly helped him clean up and then he took me home. I hadn’t noticed, but Mason had gotten an extra piece of the berry cake for me to take with me. “I’ll call you in the morning, hopefully with an answer,” he said as he pulled in front of my house. I looked for my keys and was about to get out of the car when I saw my front door open.
“Uh-oh,” Mason said as Barry jogged down the path to the street.
“Where were you?” Barry demanded. “You didn’t answer your cell phone.”
“It’s my fault,” Mason said, leaning across the seat. “I had to pick up something from my office and then we got some food.” He handed the white box to me. “Don’t forget your cake.”
I got out of the car and fumbled for my BlackBerry. Somehow it had gotten set on silent.
“You can leave now,” Barry said to Mason in an angry tone, and to punctuate it, he closed the front door of the sleek black car.
I knew Barry well enough to understand his seeming anger was a cover for worry.
“I told you that I was going to come over and bring Chinese,” he said when we got inside. I could smell the food as soon as I got in the door. “You could have at least called and told me you were going out.”
Just then the door opened and Samuel walked in. He nodded a greeting to both of us and sensed trouble. Whether it was nosiness or some thought of protecting me, he hung around instead of going into his room. Having an audience made it awkward, and in a stilted tone, I reminded Barry of the interruption during our phone call. “You know how it is. Something comes up with work and all bets are off,” I said.
Barry blew out his breath a few times. He knew what I was saying was correct. Still, he wasn’t happy. “You couldn’t have just stayed home?” he said.
“I wanted to talk to Mason about something,” I said. Before Barry could start asking more questions, I just told him he wouldn’t want to know what the something was.
“What are these?” Samuel said, picking up some condo brochures on the living room coffee table.
Before either of us could answer, Samuel’s cell phone got his attention and he went into his room to talk. Barry picked up the brochures where Samuel had left them. “Everything will be different when we have our own place,” Barry said.
I was too tired to even tell him about my concerns. I took the path of least resistance and just apologized for everything. Who knew the word sorry would have such an aphrodisiac effect? I was too tired to fight, but not to make up.
CHAPTER 11
“I’VE GOT GOOD NEWS AND BAD NEWS,” MASON said when he called the next morning. The morning was overcast, with a silvery sky and flat light. There wasn’t a shadow to be found. I was leaning on my arm, nursing a cup of coffee. It was just regular brew, but what I really needed was the jolt from an added shot of espresso.
Barry and I had spent a lot of time making up, and then he’d gone home and I’d fallen into a dead sleep. This was my second cup of coffee and it still hadn’t cut through my sleepy fog. I yawned and Mason laughed. “Did the detective keep you up all night interrogating you about where you’d been and what you’d been doing?”
“More or less,” I said, reaching for my coffee.
“Hmm,” Mason said in a less happy tone. “Maybe I don’t want to know what was going on. Now for the news. The bad news is my calls about the package came up empty, but the good news is I have a plan for how we can get the information you want. I have everything worked out. I think you’re going to like this. Do you have a suit or something?”
He preceded to give me instructions on what to wear and we arranged to meet in Encino on a street corner. It was all very cloak-and-dagger and frankly kind of exciting. The only problem was it had to be today.
I stopped at the bookstore first just when I was supposed to start for the day. I found Mrs. Shedd putting out some new releases in the mystery section. When I said I needed to take a couple of hours off, her face stiffened. “You need to take more time off?” Mrs. Shedd said, sounding a little frantic. “I’ve always let you make your own hours because I always came out ahead. You spent more time here than I paid you for. But lately . . . Are you trying to make up for it? You know it doesn’t work that way. It’s not like you were putting hours in the bank.” She caught herself. “Oh, Molly, I’m sorry. I know you work far more than I pay you for. It’s just that I was hoping the bookstore would be back in the black by now and I’m worried.”
I assured her the Salute to Chocolate event would be a big draw and that, one way or the other, I’d figure out how to get a sign in the fake book signing. Then when I explained the time off was to help CeeCee’s niece, she totally backed down. “We’re all like family,” she said. “Go on.”
“ACTION,” I SAID UNDER MY BREATH. THIS TIME I really did wish I had one of those chalkboards to clap. Mason and I were standing outside the glass door that served as the public entrance to the
BOO
production offices. I had done what Mason had requested and gone into the back of my closet and found a Chanel-style suit with a boxy jacket and a pencil skirt. I’d pulled out heels and a white blouse. Finally I’d taken my shoulder-length hair and put it in a low ponytail and put on much more makeup than I ever wear.
Mason took a last look at the result of his suggestions and shook his head in disbelief. “I barely recognize you,” he said. “Let’s do it.” He pushed the door open and walked in brusquely, with me rushing after him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Sally. You’re supposed to follow up on things.”
“But I did, Mr. Fields. This is where I sent the package.” I gestured toward the reception counter.
“But did you check to see if it got here?” he said as though he was pushing me in a corner.
“I’m sure it got here.” I tried to say it with a wail in my voice and to look like I was about to cry.
Since it was Saturday, there was only a skeleton staff. Mason had chosen the day deliberately, figuring there was less chance anyone would recognize me as having been there before and more chance we’d be able to get what we were after.
The counter was manned by a young woman dressed the way Nell did, and it seemed a safe bet she was a production assistant. She didn’t seem happy to see us. Who could blame her? We looked like trouble.
It had been no problem to get a pass into the studio. Mason’s connections made that a breeze. All the way over, we’d gone over our story. Mason kept grinning and saying how much fun this was. He’d dressed in his work clothes: a beautifully tailored suit in midnight blue, a creamy white dress shirt and subdued silk tie that probably cost a fortune. Mason had thought out our style of dress. Thanks to dealing with defendants, juries and judges, he knew how clothes altered an impression.
“Think about it, Sunshine, a defendant with a few teeth missing, dressed in baggy jeans and an old tee shirt versus the same guy with a full smile, wearing a suit and tie,” Mason had said. “Our suits give off an air of authority. Watch, nobody will question we are who we say we are.” Now, I saw that he was right.
“What am I going to do with you, Sally?” Mason bellowed. “The client insisted that he was told the package never arrived. And now you’re admitting that you never really followed through.” He slammed his fist on the counter in supposed anger. Both the girl and I jumped. Then he continued to berate me. I began to slump as if the weight of his words were pushing me down. I stole a glance at the girl behind the counter. She gave Mason a dirty look, and when she glanced toward me, her expression said she felt sympathetic.
“Can I do something to help?” she said. I looked up at her as if she’d just thrown me a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. Mason had coached me on how to react. I stepped closer and dropped my voice, giving the impression she and I were now a team and he was the enemy.
“Look, I just need to prove to my boss that a package arrived here. Otherwise he’s going to fire me.”
She gave Mason another dirty look. “How’d you send it? Messenger or mail?” She held up the clipboard that I knew listed the things delivered by messenger. A little
uh-oh
went off in my head. We hadn’t considered this. I struggled to think of what to say, but my cohort didn’t hesitate. He took the clipboard from her hand and fluttered through the pages for a moment, then dropped it on the counter.
“It’s not on here.” Then he looked skyward as if this Sally was just too incompetent for words. “Don’t tell me you mailed it.”
Mason was doing too well at being obnoxious, and I wondered if there was a whole side of him I’d missed. But then he caught my eye and winked. I remembered that among Mason’s other talents, he could speed-read. I picked up on his cue.
“You said you were trying to cut expenses,” I said in my wailing voice. For a second I thought Mason was going to lose it. His mouth had started to quiver and slide into a grin, but he forced back the grim expression.
The girl leaned across the counter and whispered to me, “You can check the log in the mailroom.”
I threw her a grateful nod and she took me back into the inner sanctum. Mason, still in character, gave off an impatient snort and started to cycle through the messages on his BlackBerry.
I recognized the corridor that led through the offices from my previous trip. Most of the doors were closed and it was very quiet. Talia’s office still had the temporary sign. The large room the production assistants worked out of was almost empty. There was just one person off in the corner working on something. Just beyond was the mailroom. I felt my heart beating faster as we went inside. She handed over a clipboard with a stack of papers attached. I knew the window of time I was looking for and went right to those sheets.