If Hooks Could Kill

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Authors: Betty Hechtman
information. When Fred started talking about Kelly’s brother who had the same dimples and had helped out with props before becoming some kind of surfing champion, North cut him off by asking how long they’d be shut down. Neither of the prop guys knew and finally picked up their coffees before leaving.
    I finally popped the lid on my drink and prepared to go back to the bookstore. Adele sailed into the café as Eric came in the door from outside.
    “Hi cutchykins,” he said as a goofy grin spread over his face.
    “Oh, Eric, you’re such a hero,” Adele said, rushing up to him. She turned to the smattering of people in the café and explained that Eric had been the first responder to the tragedy up the street. “The whole production had to shut down while they process the crime scene,” Adele announced to the café patrons. “But Eric, Officer Humphries to the rest of you, is still working. He’s never off duty.” He didn’t seem to mind her effusive comment about how wonderful he was. If anything he just stood a little taller. She linked arms with him and said that after what he’d done, Mrs. Shedd wanted to make sure he got a complimentary drink and cookie snack.
    It was all a little too sugary for me and I escaped back into the bookstore, still thinking about the conversation I’d overheard. I’d just sort of glossed over the two prop guys when I’d seen them bringing stuff in the yard. It had never occurred to me that Kelly might have a connection with one of them. Maybe I’d spent too much time thinking about mysteries, but I automatically wondered if Fred had told the whole story. Or just enough to throw someone off the track.

C HAPTER 8
    With the production shut down, the bookstore stayed quiet for the rest of the afternoon. Mrs. Shedd probably wasn’t happy, but I was relieved. It was still haunting me that I’d visited Kelly shortly before she’d been killed and I figured it was only a matter of time before word got back to Detective Heather about the timing of my visit. Instinctively, I glanced toward the door half expecting to see her walking in ready to question me.
    And then tussling with the shoplifters. Why had Mrs. Shedd left it up to me? Did she think that came under my title of community relations coordinator? Frankly, I was still shocked by Barry’s reaction, or should I say, lack of reaction. I called Mason, hoping to talk it over with him, but I got his voice mail and had to leave a message.
    With my thoughts still racing, I took advantage of the quiet and headed back to the yarn department where I took out the cowl in progress I’d stowed in the cabinets for times like this. Adele had given me the pattern, anxious that I turn some out for the upcoming sale. I wasn’t so sure about that, but it was a simple and repetitious pattern and was just what I needed. As I sat working the cream-colored cotton yarn, I felt all the tension go out of my shoulders.
    Refreshed, I went back to the customer service booth as customers filtered into the bookstore. After helping a woman find a book listing local hiking trails, I was surprised to see North Adams sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs by the window. He had a book open in front of him, but seemed to be staring into space. After a moment he got up and went outside. I thought he’d left, but when I looked back at the chair, he was in it again.
    Why was the star of
L.A. 911
sticking around the bookstore?
    As I tidied up the customer service booth, I found my eye wandering back to where North was sitting. He had a slight resemblance to Barry—both had close-cropped dark hair and stubborn chins, but North’s eyes were the color of those clear blue mints and Barry’s were an earthy brown. It was odd seeing North as himself. When I’d seen him on the set, he’d had a very different kind of persona. He’d had an air of authority and seemed like someone who could corner a suspect into a confession. He’d become that person when he’d

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