Nell ignored her aunt’s comment and repeated that we should go to the Crown Apothecary right away. I had to remind her that I
worked
at the bookstore and had already missed the morning trying to get her off the hook. Finally, we arranged to go when I was entitled to take a break. It would give me a chance to pick up my car as well.
“I’m coming, too,” Dinah said. “I’m taking back my position as sidekick.”
Several hours later, the three of us headed to Encino. The Crown Apothecary was in a bank of old stores near Encino park. I’d passed it before and been curious about the name and the fact the sign gave the impression of an old-time drugstore.
As we approached the entrance, I noticed the window of the store next to it was covered with brown paper and had a sign on it that read, “Coming Soon: Apothecary Annex with Soda Fountain.” The store lived up to my expectations. As soon as we stepped inside, I felt like I’d just stepped back in time. It was much smaller than the superstores that called themselves drugstores these days. The walls were lined with shelves holding the usual stuff like bandages and aspirin, along with various sundries. The middle of the store had glass display cases with fancy soap and things like silver shaving equipment. Toward the back, a framed piece of stained glass said “Pharmacy” above a wood-paneled partitioned-off area. I saw the white-coated pharmacist inside his area as he passed by the customer window. Next to the opening, I noticed black metal letters that read “Ty Holzer, Pharm. D.”
“Look at this,” Dinah said, pulling me to a wooden counter along the wall that was lined with glass jars of candy. Everything from Mary Janes to Red Hot dots. Each jar had a scoop, and a supply of clear bags sat at the end of the row. We both laughed at the sign that proclaimed “Penny Candy” and then listed the price in dollars.
Nell didn’t seem nearly as entranced with the place as we were and had started tapping her foot impatiently as Dinah and I looked into a doorway that had been cut into the wall.
Though it was still awaiting finishing touches, it was an old-fashioned soda fountain.
A clerk had been watching us and, when she saw us looking in the addition, stepped next to us. “It’ll be open soon. The new owner wants to make this a full-service nostalgia trip. Is there something I can help you with?”
Nell nudged me. “Molly, do your thing,” she said under her breath.
“I’m trying to track down a package,” I said with my friendliest smile. The story had worked before, so why not stay with it with a slight variation. “It was sent to the
Barbara Olive Overton
production offices.” I didn’t say I worked for the show, only implied it. “It had the return address of this store. It was a box of Nature’s Sweetie.”
Her expression clouded as she led us back to the display of boxes of sugar substitute next to a basket filled with boxes of assorted kinds of tea. “We don’t ship packages. It couldn’t have come from us.” She looked at me intently. “Who did you say you were?”
Before I could stop her, Nell launched into her story how the cops were sure she’d killed somebody with a packet of sweetener and I was this amateur detective who was trying to help get the cops off her back. She looked over her shoulder at me. “Molly, I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but personally I think Aunt CeeCee ought to hire a real PI.”
Dinah almost choked and gave her a dirty look. “I can’t believe you said that. Do you have any idea how many murders Molly has solved?”
Nell suddenly appeared uncomfortable and grabbed my arm. “I’m so sorry. I’m just so worried.”
The clerk appeared uneasy about our interchange and started gradually easing us toward the front. She pointed to a basket of cards with the logo of the store and address. “Maybe someone bought the sweetener here and just used one of those as the return address and mailed it themselves.”
We were almost to the door and I stepped away to stop the clerk’s progress. “Do you keep any kinds of records of who you sold the sweetener to?” Now the clerk really wanted to be done with us.
“We just got the supply in a few week ago. We don’t keep those kinds of records, only how many we’ve sold for inventory purpose.”
I opened my mouth to ask about that, but she beat me to the punch. “Personally, I only had one customer.” The three of us leaned closer to the woman as I asked if she remembered their name or what they looked like.
“A lot of people go through this place,” she said, starting to shrug off my question, but then she stopped. “I do remember it was a man and there was something odd about him. He had this ball of hair growing below his lip. I don’t even know what that’s called.”
The three of us traded glances. Bob?
CHAPTER 13
NELL, DINAH AND I MARCHED INTO THE CAFÉ ready to confront Bob, but we all deflated when we looked at the counter and saw Mr. Royal was acting as barista. He’d pulled his shaggy multicolored hair into a tiny ponytail and wore an apron over his long-sleeved green shirt and jeans. He moved with the agility of a much younger man, and I noticed he had a wooden bead meditation bracelet wound around his wrist. Nell got to the counter first.
“Where’s Bob?” she demanded. Dinah and I almost crashed into her. I think the three of us came across as a little frantic.
Mr. Royal looked up from the metal pitcher of milk he was foaming for a cappuccino. “Don’t worry, ladies, I am an excellent coffee mixologist. Any drink you can name, I bet I can make.” I’m sure he was right, too. Mr. Royal had been everywhere and done everything. No doubt tucked in all the other jobs he’d had, he’d probably served up espresso drinks in Rome or something.
When it was clear the question really concerned Bob’s whereabouts, Mr. Royal said he’d be back in a couple of hours. I told Nell not to worry, and that as soon as Bob returned, I’d talk to him.
“C’mon, Nell,” Dinah said, putting her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “Molly has to work.” As a community college instructor, Dinah was an expert at dealing with hysterical people Nell’s age. Dinah gave me a wave and then escorted Nell to the yarn department.
When I looked back there, I saw that some of the group was still around the table.
I started to go back into the bookstore, but Mr. Royal stopped me.
“I wonder if you could give me an update on the Salute to Chocolate event.” He poured the steamed milk expertly into a mug with a couple of shots of espresso, then spooned fluffs of foam on top and finished by swirling a pattern with it. The customer waiting took it and walked away. Was he worried because I’d been missing so much time lately?
I told him all the books we were going to feature had been chosen and I’d been hearing from the different stores in the area. The plan was they would do their own setup. All we had to do was provide them with tables. “Alain Des Plaines is going to have a demo dipping things in his special chocolate blend.” Mr. Royal nodded and then asked me to check the signs around the store.
“There seems to be some graffiti on them,” he said. I promised to check it out first thing and left him to his drink duties.
Sure enough as I checked the free-standing signs we had spread around the store, they all had something scribbled on them. Right next to the photo of Alain Des Plains holding a handful of chocolate bars like they were a fan, someone had made a couple of lines next to a stick figure holding up one of its arms. I glanced toward the kids’ department. Somebody must have escaped Saturday-morning story time and gone wild. But they obviously didn’t know about permanent ink. A little wipe with a damp paper towel and all that was left was a smudge.
Mrs. Shedd saw me working on the signs and gave me a nod of approval. I couldn’t help it, I kept looking toward the table longingly. Finally, with the excuse to myself of needing to straighten up the yarn department, I headed back there.
Adele was standing at the end of the table with a piece of bright quilted material in front of her.
“Hey, Pink,” she said, waving me over. “You have to see these hooks I got on eBay.” I stepped closer and realized the material was actually a holder for the hooks. I’d never thought too much about hooks and had just used the metal or plastic ones that every craft store sold. These were like a different species.
Adele was savoring the spotlight as she took the hooks out one by one and showed them off. They were all made of wood. Some were dark and had fancy shapes on the nonhook end, and some were plain except for the hook. She started rattling off the different kinds of wood they were made out of. Rosewood sounded lovely, but bloodwood?
“Dear, you’re hooks are lovely,” CeeCee said in a dismissive tone before turning to me. “Molly, if Nell said anything to hurt your feelings, I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” From across the table, Dinah did a tiny nod. She must have spilled the beans about Nell’s desire for a real PI.
Nell hung her head. “It’s my life on the line here. That blond detective is out to get me. She’s going to find something, and then bam, I’m arrested.” She got up like she was thinking of leaving and directed her next comment at me. “I decided if that happens, I’m calling your lawyer-friend.”
“Dear, you need to calm down. Molly will figure out something.” Adele kept making loud sighing noises to get the attention back on her hooks. Well, really, on her. I didn’t look, but I’m sure she wasn’t smiling when Rhoda and Elise arrived. Before they’d even reached the table, Rhoda was already taking something out of her bag.
“Girls, I’m glad you’re still here.” She stopped between CeeCee and Nell. “I know you want your niece to get into crochet,” she said, looking toward CeeCee. “And I know you keep resisting.” Rhoda was usually very matter-of-fact, but this time she was literally flushed with excitement. “Wait until you see what I’ve come up with.”
She urged everyone to sit down. It was a hard sale with Adele.
“Rhoda, I know you mean well. I know you all mean well, and I really like the way you all care, but like I told you before, why should I start making something when I know I’ll never finish it?” Nell said.
“This is different,” Rhoda said. “I call it impatient crochet.”
Nell actually smiled when she heard the title. “Well, that sure describes me.” CeeCee nodded in agreement.
Adele was practically jumping out of her seat. She and CeeCee still hadn’t worked it out about leading the group, and she was upset that Rhoda was directing all her comments to CeeCee. “You should have explained it to me before you brought it to the group,” Adele interrupted.
CeeCee sighed. “Adele, will you stop making a scene. None of us need an okay before we bring something for the group.”
Rhoda thanked CeeCee and continued. “My Hal thought it was a great idea. The whole point of this kind of crochet is not to make a big production out of it.” She emptied her canvas bag on the table, and a bunch of small colorful items fell out. Everyone started to grab something and look at it.
“Not only will this work for Nell, but for the things we’re making for the donation box. These items would be great to give for a Hearts and Barks bazaar.” She held up an eyeglass holder. It was black with a bright orange fabric lining and a multicolored yarn corkscrew as decoration. There were cell phone holders and some small change purses. “The key is in the finishing.” Rhoda pointed out the silver heart-shaped button on the coin purse. It
made
the purse, as did the flower with a bead in the center on the cell phone holder. “They all start out the same.” Rhoda explained she was going to demonstrate with a big hook so we could see how it worked. She made a chain of large loops with some terra-cotta-colored yarn and then went back across them, making single crochets in the front loop. When she got to the end, she held it up. “Here’s where the trick is, girls.” Instead of going back over the row she’d just made, she made an extra single crochet in the last chain and, starting with that same chain, made a row of single crochet stitches in the other side of the chain stitch foundation. When she reached the end, she made two single crochets, saying that the extra stitches on both ends gave it shape. Then she kept going around. In no time, she began to make a tube.
Personally, I was mesmerized and couldn’t wait to try it. Something about the terra-cotta tube jostled my memory and I blurted out that it made me think of something I’d seen in the box of Robyn’s stuff.
“What was in there?” Nell asked. Rhoda stopped her lesson and everyone turned to me. Well, not Adele. She’d taken out one of the wooden hooks and some cotton yarn and was trying to mimic what Rhoda had started.
“She had a crocheted cactus. It even had a pot that was that color,” I said, pointing to Rhoda’s yarn.
“She did?” Nell said. She thought it over a moment and I described how it had white flowers on the top of the cactus.
“There were some kind of initials on the bottom,” I said.
“Somebody was signing their work,” Adele said, holding up what she’d done. She seemed distressed that everyone was paying more attention to the talk about the segment producer’s yarn plant.
Nell’s eyes suddenly showed some recognition. “I remember the cactus now. I made some joke about it once since she didn’t have a window, it was the only kind of plant she could have. She didn’t even crack a smile. That was crochet?” Nell sounded genuinely impressed. “I guess making something like that wouldn’t be as fast as this, huh?” she said, pointing at Rhoda’s demonstration piece.
“Don’t worry about making anything that complicated yet.” CeeCee pushed a hook and a ball of cotton yarn toward Nell, while Rhoda handed out sheets for everybody with instructions and patterns for the pieces she’d brought in. She’d added suggestions for ways to personalize each piece.
I took some extra. I knew Sheila and Eduardo would both love the idea. Eduardo had been missing so many of our get-togethers I was really beginning to wonder what was going on with him. I knew he was trying to branch out from modeling. He’d been concerned about the kind of offers he’d been getting. Sheila said she’d heard Eduardo asking the owner of Luxe for some advice about owning a business.