Evening Bags and Executions(60)

She’d told me she and Belinda were going to be partners in the business, which made me wonder if maybe they’d been partners in Lacy’s murder.

I took the Lake Avenue exit off the 210 and drove north, then hung a right on Poppyfields Drive. This was an older, upscale neighborhood of really nice homes with mature trees and well-tended landscaping. I squeezed through the narrow street and parked, got my official L.A. Affairs portfolio, climbed the steep sloping driveway, and rang the doorbell.

“Back here!” someone called. “We’re back here!”

I followed a pathway to the tall wooden gate at the side of the house and pushed it open. A woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt waved me closer. I figured her for about thirty-five, with blond curly hair that she had, apparently, neglected to brush today.

Then I realized why. Beyond her in the yard, four children—all under the age of five, I guessed—ran around, yelling and screaming for no apparent reason. Two dogs—a little black-and-white one and an even smaller brown one—were barking and chasing the kids.

“You must be Haley from the party company,” the woman said. “I’m Maeve.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, even though it wasn’t.

“And these are my little darlings,” Maeve declared, sweeping her hand toward the children and dogs. “I want to have the party out here.”

I was afraid of that.

“So the party is for . . . ?” I asked.

“Daphne and Demetria. They’re turning four,” she announced.

“Are they two of the kids, or the dogs?” I asked.

She threw back her head and laughed like people did when they didn’t often have adults around to talk to.

“My daughters—twins.” She gave me a proud smile and paused, waiting for me to say something about how fabulous I thought her kids were.

I couldn’t think of anything.

“So, what did you have in mind for the party?” I asked.

Maeve started talking and I made notes, but only a few of her words penetrated the screaming and barking. The kids spotted us and ran over, circling us at a run. The dogs followed, yapping and jumping up and down. One of the little girls fell and started a whole different kind of screaming. Maeve scooped her up and kept talking.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“That’s everything I need to get started,” I shouted.

“It is?” she shouted back.

Jeez, she’d already told me she wanted clowns, pony rides, a bounce house, and a magician. What else could she need for the kids’ party?

“I’ll be in touch,” I yelled, and headed for the gate.

I was tempted ask her if I could use her bathroom so I could tie my own tubes, but I just wanted to get the heck out of there.

I got in my Honda and drove away.

How come I wasn’t assigned a really cool party with fabulous food, a great band, and some hot guys?

I wasn’t loving this whole event planner thing. But I had to work somewhere. Even with my job at L.A. Affairs and at Holt’s, I’d managed to keep up on my college courses—even though I’d ditched class a lot lately—but my degree was years away. I didn’t know how long I could hold out at L.A. Affairs. I’d have to figure out something.

Since it was time for my lunch hour—not really, but oh well—I drove to Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena and parked behind Vroman’s Bookstore. I’d already failed Rigby’s Beatles pop quiz today and I couldn’t afford to get another question wrong.

I went inside and—wow—the place was huge. Two stories with books absolutely everywhere. All kinds of other cool stuff, too. I asked the guy at the counter, and he took me to the shelves that held books about the Beatles.

Yikes! There were zillions of them. I didn’t have time to look at each of them, so I grabbed the one with the thickest spine—if it was the biggest it should have the most info, right?—paid for it and left.

Jeez, this book was heavy, I realized as I crossed the parking lot. It would probably take a really long time to read.

I got out my cell phone, did a search, and downloaded everything I could find about the Beatles on iTunes and YouTube. I ordered all of the movies and documentaries made about them. I figured I could watch them all at the office—it was work related, technically—and use the book for a quick reference if I needed it when Eleanor or Rigby called with a pop quiz question.

Just as I was getting in my car thinking I could hit Macy’s down the street for the Enchantress evening bag—I absolutely had to have it to go with the gorgeous cocktail dress I’d bought for Sheridan’s party—my cell phone rang. I was relieved to see that Marcie was calling. This hadn’t exactly been the best day of my life and I was anxious to talk to my BFF. She always made things better.