“Oh?”
She shrugged as if downplaying what she was about to say. “He stopped by last week, and they had an argument.”
“About?”
“I couldn’t tell, but neither one of them were happy. There was a lot of yelling.”
“Was that Wednesday?”
“No. Sunday afternoon.”
The day of the Fur Ball.
I lowered my sunglasses and turned toward her. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Kate.”
I held out my hand. “I’m Melinda. My friends call me Mel.”
“I’m glad you stopped by the park today. There aren’t many dogs who can keep up with Crash and Lou Lou.”
Kate seemed like a nice person, and I felt a tad dishonest not telling her about Mona. I grabbed Missy’s leash and clipped it to her collar. “I think Fluffy enjoyed herself. It was nice chatting with you, but we’ve got to go. Fluffy. Come,” I called.
She took one look at me and ran the opposite direction. I hadn’t thought this part through very well. I called her again. She continued to ignore me.
Kate let out an ear-piercing whistle and her dogs immediately came running, Fluffy bringing up the rear.
“Thanks.” I grabbed Fluffy while I had the chance. I attached her lead, regaining control of the situation.
“Remember, I’m the human.” That was becoming a frequent reprimand.
“You might want to suggest to Mona obedience training. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her, but Carolina Lamont’s the best here in town. She’s a pet behaviorist.”
I groaned inwardly. “I’ve heard of her.”
Too bad my cousin couldn’t have helped Mona with her behavioral issues. Maybe she’d still be alive today. And in possession of her precious Fluffy.
I’d just loaded the dogs into the Jeep when my cell phone rang.
“Everybody hold tight.” I frantically searched my bag. “Geesh. Hold on,” I yelled as it rang. My fingers found my phone at the bottom of my bag. Unknown caller. Hmm. Odds were it was a telemarketer. Or my mama. It would be just like her to call from an unlisted number so I’d pick up.
“What do you think, Missy? Should I answer it?”
It was Missy’s turn to ride shotgun. She sneezed, then shook her head, beating herself with her jowls. I wiped her slimy drool off my leg and answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Melinda Sue Langston?”
I squinted at Missy. I’d been had. “Depends. Who’s calling?”
“Owen Quinn, Mona Michael’s attorney,” a high pitched male voice spoke quickly.
“Uh. Yes, this is Melinda.” I couldn’t stop myself from looking in the rearview mirror at the backseat. “Are you calling about Fluffy?”
Hearing her name she looked in my direction. Her eyes fixated on my reflection.
“I need you to stop by my office tomorrow,” he said.
“Why?”
“I’d-prefer-to explain-in-person-would-11:00-am-work-for-you?”
Good grief, he talked fast. I brushed a few stray hairs away from my face. “Where are you located?”
He rattled off an address downtown, not far from Bow Wow.
“Do I need to bring anything? Like a dog?” I eyeballed Fluffy over the top of my sunglasses.
“That’s not necessary. I’ll see you then, Ms. Langston.”
He disconnected, and I was left wondering what his call was really about. Great. Now what?
Grey called late that night. I had every intention of explaining about Mona’s phone and Owen Quinn, the man with two first names. Until Grey said he was leaving town on an art forgery case.
I tossed my boots into the walk-in closet with more effort than needed. “When?”
“I’m taking a red-eye out of LAX tonight.”
I knew better than to ask where he was going. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I could hear flight departure announcements over the phone. He was already at the airport. “How long?”
“I don’t know. A couple of days. It’ll depend on the validity of the lead.”
I ignored the apprehension twisting in my stomach. He promised to call when he landed. I promised to stay out of trouble.
Since I didn’t have a date with Grey, I slipped on my PJ’s and had a date with the TV.
“Stay off the couch,” I said to Fluffy.
She dismissed my order with a shrug and promptly climbed up on my leather couch and made herself at home.
“Down.” I pointed to the floor next to Missy who was curled into a tight ball in her doggie bed, drooling in her sleep.
Fluffy closed her eyes and drifted off into a loud snore.
“Faker. Where’s a pet shrink when you need her?”
I left snob-dog on the couch and raided the fridge. I grabbed a bag of pepperoni, some Spanish cheese and multi-grain crackers, and made a small feast. I carried my platter of snack food back to the living room in time for the late night talk shows. The saltiness of the crackers and creamy Spanish cheese were the perfect partnership, a late night party in my mouth.
You’d never guess who was mentioned in the monologues.
Yep. Mona Michaels.
Apparently, Entertainment Today, Inside Scoop, and some internet gossip magazine had learned about Mona’s death, and her tragic end had been broadcast to the world.
Ironically, the picture the press had chosen had been taken Emmy night. It creeped me out seeing Mona and Fluffy, side by side, with the same hairstyle and the same choker necklace. Fluffy’s collar. The same one she wore now.
I leaned over and lifted Fluffy’s head. Was that what the robber had been looking for? The collar had to be worth at least fifty thousand dollars. (I’m sure that was conservative.) I’d never seen Fluffy without it, but maybe, whoever had broken into Mona’s didn’t know Fluffy always wore her diamonds. Snob Dog eyed me, annoyed I’d interrupted her diva sleep.
I had to call Malone. I jumped up, dropping pepperoni slices on the floor. Missy stumbled over and made quick work of cleaning up my mess. I ran to my room, rummaged through my bag and found Malone’s business card. I called the number. It immediately went to voicemail. (It was after midnight. I didn’t expect him to answer.)
I left a brief message letting him know I’d stop by tomorrow and that I’d remembered something that might be helpful. I left out the part about having Mona’s cell phone.
Fluffy yawned and stretched. I fingered the diamond heart again. It was possible the police would want it as evidence. Fluffy rested her big paw on my hand. Good Lord, she was a heavy dog.
Okay, first thing in the morning I’d stop by the shop, grab a backup collar. Then I’d make a quick stop at the police station, drop off Mona’s cell and explain about the obscenely expensive collar. Then I’d meet Mona’s lawyer. Maybe he’d have advice about Fluffy. It was possible the meeting was to inform me I had to hand Fluffy over to Cliff.
I felt as giddy as a beauty pageant finalist. Suddenly, tomorrow had possibilities.
Chapter Thirteen
We were on the move. The morning sun peeked through a handful of billowy clouds, teasing us with what was yet to come. The jacaranda trees were no longer in bloom yet somehow still managed to look elegant stretched toward the sky.
Another beautiful day in SoCal.
Have you ever been driving down the road, minding your own business, when suddenly someone pulls up along side of you, waving like a crazed stalker? Me either. Until today. Tricia Edwards was on the loose, and she was following me. I ignored her.
For the second day in a row, there was parking in front of Bow Wow. I nabbed a spot before some idiot could steal it from me. Tricia pulled her Mercedes in beside me, a dozen pine air fresheners swinging from her rearview mirror.
She jumped out of her car, crying erratically and waving her French manicured hands. “I had to hear about Mona from Entertainment Today?”
I swear, she was a What Not To Wear project in the flesh. Her wild, leopard-print dress and wide, studded belt was tighter than plastic wrap around Sunday leftovers no one would ever eat. It hurt my eyes to look at her.
“It wasn’t my place to tell you about Mona.” The dogs piled out of the Jeep. Fluffy rubbed up against me leaving a trail of dog hair on my jeans. I brushed it off as we headed for the boutique.
“Someone should have called me. I was her best friend,” she whined.
Lord, she was trying. I understood she was upset by the death of her friend, but why did she think I should be the bearer of bad news? We weren’t family.
I unlocked the door and strode inside. I flipped on the lights intending to grab a collar and leave, but Tricia followed me, slowing us down. I locked the door to keep out anyone else who might mistakenly believe I was open for business.
“They said you were the one who found her. What happened?”
“Fluffy found her.”
The dogs and I wound through the shop while I looked for a Fluffy collar. Holy cow, there were so many choices, how did anyone decide when they were in a rush? I needed to rethink the way I laid out the accessories. Maybe I didn’t need so many choices. Tricia clip-clopped behind us, never letting me forget she was there.
“You realize Jo was right,” she pronounced.
“About what?” I asked distracted.
“The dream.”
I turned to face her. “What about it?”
“Fluffy appeared to Jo in a dream and told her Mona would die.” Tricia explained.
“And Mona believed her?” I asked, the skepticism in my voice undeniable. Was it bad I wanted to smack some sense into Tricia?
“Of course.”
“Jo’s a fake. Is there something I can help you with? I’m not really open.”
“I’ve come for Fluffy.” Tricia held out her privileged hand assuming I’d fork over the dog leash.
I stopped in mid-step. “Not to get personal, but are you on drugs?”
“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.” Her greedy brown eyes flashed with impatience.
Funny how quickly her tears had dried. “You don’t even like dogs. Why would you want Fluffy?”
“I was Mona’s best friend. She’d want me to care for her.”
I wasn’t convinced that was true. “Cliff’s equal owner. If anyone should get Fluffy, it should be him.” Except Mona had bitterly fought Cliff for custody, and then Cliff dropped the bombshell that he didn’t want the dog. A slight wrinkle in my otherwise sound logic.
“Mona would rather die than let Cliff have Fluffy,” Tricia stated.
I tilted my head sideways. “Interesting choice of words.”
Tricia’s flushed. “Well, it’s true. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was the one who killed Mona.” Her grieving sadness had been replaced by catty accusations.
“Because of Fluffy?”
“Of course. He called Mona day and night, begging for money. He was always broke.”
“And you know this how?” Maybe he was looking for the collar? But if that were the case, wouldn’t he just take Fluffy when I’d called him? Better yet, why not take the collar?
“I’m Mona’s best friend. I know everything.”
I looked at Tricia. “I’m sure you don’t need my advice, but I wouldn’t go around accusing Cliff of murder. That could get you into a lot of trouble.”
“I’ve done no such thing.” She reached for the leash. “Give me the dog, and we’ll be out of your hair.”
Fluffy inched closer to me and sat on my foot. Ouch!
As much as I didn’t want Fluffy, it seemed Fluffy didn’t want Tricia.
I studied Tricia’s standoffish stance and demanding outstretched hand, ordering me to relinquish the dog. She was probably the only one who wanted the high maintenance hairball.
I was too stubborn for my own good. I didn’t appreciate being told what to do. And I really hated it when people assumed I’d do what they wanted because it was convenient for them.
There was a sudden banging on the front door. Tricia and I both jumped. The dogs immediately barked in alert and lunged toward the door. I grabbed their leashes and tied them to the counter.
“I’m closed,” I shouted.
An older man hammered his fist against the door then waved an envelope in front of him.
The dogs barked louder.
“Enough. It’s fine,” I reassured the dogs. “I’m closed,” I hollered over the noise.
He continued to beat down the door undeterred, and the dogs continued to bark.
The world had gone crazier than Uncle Wiley’s pet coon.
I marched to the door and unlocked it. I opened it halfway and opened my mouth to explain I wasn’t open.
“Are you Melinda Sue Langston?” his gruff voice shot out.
I was beginning to hate my name. “Yes. But I’m not open.”
The dogs were still going at it in the background.
He handed me the envelope. “You’ve been served,” he said, then fled down the street.
“What? Hey, get back here.”
“You’re being sued?” Tricia asked with a disturbing girlish giggle.
“Calm down. It’s not a Lifetime movie of the week.” I ripped open the envelope.
Sure enough. I was being sued. By Tova Randall. Seriously, how does this happen?
“Tricia, I have to go. We’ll talk about Fluffy later. I have somewhere to be.”
I shoved the envelope in my bag and grabbed a thick, black, snake- skinned collar with rhinestones.
“But-but, Fluffy,” she stammered.
I grabbed the dogs and pushed Tricia out the door.
“Grab a martini at the Dirty Bird. We’re done.”