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Chapter One
I chuckled to myself as I walked into the lobby of the Century City
office building. It was lunchtime and people were flooding out of the
elevators, and I was sure that none of them would guess why I was
there. Not that they even noticed me. They were like a bunch of
zombies staring at their phones and bumping into each other as they
made their way to the doors leading out. It was lucky that the glass
doors opened automatically or they probably would have walked right
into them.
It was my own little secret why I was there and I loved it. I was
leading a double life. No one would think it by looking at me. I was a
fifty-something woman dressed in khaki pants, an untucked white shirt
with a black pullover sweater on top, which was perfect for my job as
assistant manager/event coordinator at Shedd & Royal Books and
More but hardly something Mata Hari would wear.
Another elevator arrived and as more zombies got out, one person
was actually looking up at the crowd in the lobby. There was no
mistaking the broad face with the lock of salt-and-pepper hair on his
forehead. I lifted my hand with a discreet wave to make sure he saw
me without anyone else picking up on our connection. Mason Fields
was a high-powered attorney with a lot of celebrity clients. He never
dressed casually for work, even when he was in his corner office for
the whole day. I didn't know what the color of his suit would be called.
It was a blend of beige tones with some yellow and dark threads
woven in. From a distance it appeared as a warm neutral. I couldn't see
below his shoulders, but I knew it was custom-tailored with a perfect
drape. His shirt was off-white and had a silky sheen from the high
thread count. He wore no tie and the collar was open.
His expression was a pleasant enough smile, but nothing close to
the reaction I used to get when he saw me. I let out a heavy sigh. It
was all my fault. I had been a runaway bride. Well, not exactly. We
didn't get as far as an actual wedding, just planning to get married.
Now I was merely an employee. I ordered myself to snap out of it and
to be grateful that he had been able to set aside our past and appreciate
my skills enough to have me work for him. I had come up with my
title. I saw myself as his private private investigator. My assignments
weren't things like infiltrating a biker gang or anything really
dangerous. I went undercover and did things like pretending to be part
of a cleaning crew to get a discarded plastic champagne flute with a
DNA sample, or hanging out at a playground to see if a nanny was
breaking her nondisclosure agreement and gossiping with the other
nannies about the embarrassing habits of her celebrity employers.
My last job had been to work as a mobile drink and snack server at
the local country club. While I was whipping up some smoothies on
the trailer attached to a golf cart, I took in a golf foursome's
conversation about setting up one of Mason's clients so he could be
ousted as CEO. The group of them ignored me, and if they noticed
anything, it was probably that I was taking a very long time to make
their drinks. They never guessed that my phone recorded their
conversation as an audio file.
Mason walked past me and discreetly gestured for me to follow
him. He eyed the new group of zombies going through the lobby,
concerned someone might notice if it appeared as if we were together.
No one was supposed to know I was working for him.
The only person who had any idea what I was doing was my older
son, Peter. It was ironic because Peter was so embarrassed about my
amateur sleuthing, and yet he had been instrumental in me going pro.
It still made me laugh to think that Peter had asked me to help him
check up on some investors in his new venture. I had done a good job
if I said so myself and saved my son from a lot of trouble.
Peter had stayed connected to Mason, despite our breakup. It was a
long story, but Peter's production company had imploded and Mason,
with all of his entertainment business connections, was helping my son
make a new start.
My success at using my sleuthing skills to help my son had gotten
back to Mason, which made him think about hiring me. Mason had felt
an obligation to tell my son about our arrangement, though I was
pretty sure Peter had done his best to forget all about it. He had enough
on his own plate with his new production company, a baby with a
hostile woman who would have divorced him if they had gotten
married, along with using my converted garage as his office.
Once the grief of losing my husband, Charlie, had gotten
manageable, I had begun a whole new chapter in my life that had
started with getting the job at Shedd & Royal as the event coordinator.
One of the events I coordinated were the meet-ups of the Tarzana
Hookers for social crocheting. They offered friendship and a way to
keep my hands busy. I was spending too much time eating homemade
caramel popcorn. My life kept expanding from there. I looked at my
working as a private private investigator as the cherry on the sundae.
I knew I was supposed to not tell anyone about my side gig, but I
didn't think telling my best friend, Dinah Lyons, about it counted. We
had no secrets. Besides, she would have figured out that something
weird was going on when I suddenly had the temporary odd jobs like
working at that golf course.
I followed Mason outside the tall building and waited while he
looked for someplace private to conduct the rest of our business. Once
part of the Twentieth Century Fox Studios, Century City was now an
enclave of high-rise office buildings with fabulous views, luxury
residential units, a hotel and a high-end outdoor shopping mall. It was
considered a posh area, but to me it seemed like a lot of concrete that
felt stark and impersonal.
The morning clouds were just beginning to melt. The weather
people called it June gloom and made it seem like news even though it
happened every year. The mornings were cool and gray before the sun
came out and made the afternoons hot. I was glad for the sweater but
knew I would be taking it off soon. We moved away from the entrance.
Since I had already given him a report on my last job, this meeting was
just to pay me. He handed me an envelope containing cash so there
would be no paper trail.
"That should keep you in yarn for a while," Mason said, glancing
at the envelope in my hand. He knew all about the Tarzana Hookers
and that the group met in the bookstore's yarn department. I always
felt the need to explain why a bookstore had a yarn department. These
days the more things to draw in customers, the better. Once I had
learned how to crochet, it hadn't taken long for me to fall in love with
yarn and buy way too much of it. Honestly, I had enough of a stash to
last me for the rest of my life. I had discovered the hard way that it
was a lot faster to buy yarn than it was to make something with it.
I nodded at Mason as if what he paid me was like my mad money.
Actually, I would have done it for nothing, though the cash was
coming in handy. I had my late husband's insurance money and what I
earned at the bookstore, but, well, I had a whole menagerie of dogs
and cats who cost a bunch in food, vet bills and toys. Both of my sons
had sort of moved back home. Samuel was a budding musician with a
job at a coffee place. It didn't pay enough for him to afford his own
place. Peter had taken over the former garage and there was the matter
of his daughter, Marlowe. She was a toddler now, and since both of her
parents had careers that took up all their time, she spent a lot of her
time at my house. And she needed all kinds of stuff. No more babies
sleeping in an empty drawer and having fun playing with an empty
box. Maybe she didn't absolutely need all of it, but after having two
sons, it was fun to buy things for a girl. I was sure that someday she
would appreciate all those dolls I had been amassing. In the meantime,
I was enjoying them. Who knew there was a Barbie detective?
I couldn't really say that my mother and her singing group, the She
La Las, added any expenses. They were working again and had put
together an oldies show. They performed their one hit and did covers
of other songs from the time. The big news was they were being
featured on an upcoming PBS special dedicated to Girl Groups Over
the Years. I was sure by now they could do their dance moves in their
sleep, but they were insistent on practicing to the extreme. My parents
lived in a retirement center that didn't have a place for them to work
on their act, so they used my living room. It came in handy that the
"girls" and my father were at my place a lot as they looked after
Marlowe when I was at work.
And I felt bad about screwing up the name of their hit. It was "My
Man Dan." What had I been thinking calling it "My Guy Bill"?
My house had been too quiet after Charlie died and now it was the
opposite, but I liked that it was filled with life and even the
commotion. I was glad to be able to take care of everything and
everyone, even if it had altered my plan for a new chapter in my life
that had included living alone.
I still laughed when I remembered how Peter had hounded me to
downsize after Charlie died. He kept pushing the idea of my selling the
house and moving into a condo. It was lucky for him and all of them
that I hadn't listened.
"Thanks," I said, putting the envelope in my bag. I wondered if I
should tell him how much I loved feeling like a woman of mystery, but
it seemed better to keep anything personal out of it.
I was glad I hadn't said anything when Mason acted as if it was all
business. "You really have been a help with oddball things that no one
else could handle." His tone was impersonal and I started to move
away, thinking we were done, but he stopped me. "There's something
else. I have a new assignment for you." He looked around the walkway
that led to the Century City Mall. It was barren except for some
concrete planters filled with succulents. "I thought we could talk about
it over lunch," he said. I knew that he didn't want anyone in his office
to know about me. They had an investigative staff who took care of the
firm's regular needs.
My mind went back to the old days when he would spirit me away
from the bookstore and we would go somewhere wonderful for a long
lunch. There was that restaurant in Topanga Canyon that had most of
the tables outside overlooking a creek. And then there had been that
picnic at the bluff in Malibu where we watched a pod of dolphins play.
I was thinking over some of the other atmospheric places we had gone
when he threw cold water on the image and suggested a fast casual
place in the outdoor mall. But then it was a business lunch and he was
now my boss.
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