It was a candid picture of Cliff and the man who’d attended the funeral with him. “Why were they arguing about him?”
“I don’t snoop in Miz Mona’s business.” She said pointedly, her tears drying up as quickly as they’d started.
Yeah, yeah. She was talking about me. “You don’t have to stick your nose into someone business to overhear an argument. People yell when they fight.”
Apparently, that was all the prodding she needed to spill her guts. “Mr. Michaels, Cliff, wanted Miz Mona to give his brother money. He says Mr. Michaels, Ted, owed a bad man lots of money. He said Miz Mona better do what he said or she’d be sorry.”
Foreboding shimmied down my back. “Did you hear how much money he owed or to who?”
She shredded her tissues into confetti and said quietly, “I heard the name. Tommy ‘Batty’ Coppola.” She crossed her herself and whispered to the ceiling again.
Holy Batman.
If I believed crossing myself would protect me, I’d do it, too. Ted Michaels owed money to the mob. That changed everything.
Tommy’s nickname was “Batty.” Not because he was crazy, although he was, but because he was never without his bat. The bat he used to break knee caps, hands or heads. Whatever he felt like at the moment.
Camilla wasn’t keeping mum because of Mona, but for her own protection. It was all coming together. I handed the picture back.
“What are you going to do now? Do you have plans?” Like hot footing it to Brazil?
She shook her head. “I don’t have new job yet. Do you need housekeeper?” A hopeful smile landed on her round face.
“No, thanks. I’m good.” I hopped up and motioned toward the hall. “Do you mind if I look through Mona’s stuff?”
“La policia take most of it.”
She led me to what I would call the library. Or office. The built-in bookcases and desk were a dead giveaway. Most of the shelves were empty. Half packed boxes haphazardly littered the room along with files and loose papers.
“Does she have a computer?” I asked.
“Si. They take it.”
Of course they did. And whatever Fluffy’s home camera may have recorded.
“Does Fluffy ever wear a different collar than the one she’s wearing now?”
Camilla stopped fidgeting and looked at me uneasily. “I pack all her belongings. It’s not my fault you not take everything.”
“I’m not blaming you for anything. Stop talking crazy. Where’s the stuff I left here?”
“Mr. Quinn take care of it. I don’t steal.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
Okay. Someone had obviously accused Camilla of thievery. “Who accused you of stealing?”
She pitched forward, her face scrunched up in disgust. “Miz Edwards accused me of hiding Miz Mona’s important papers. I didn’t do it.”
“Tricia was here?”
“Si, yesterday. I don’t like her.”
That made two of us. “I’m sure the police confiscated whatever it is she’s looking for. Don’t worry about Tricia. She’s as empty as the designer handbags tucked in the back of her closet. Back to Fluffy. Have you ever seen her wearing this?” I pulled the dog video recorder from the inside pocket of my leather jacket.
Camilla crossed herself at warp speed and backed up until she’d pressed herself flat against the wall with a bang. “Take it away,” she yelled.
Shocked at her reaction, I immediately shoved it back in my pocket. “It’s just a pet recorder.”
Mona’s housekeeper was visibly shaken. “Mr. Michaels come here for that. Miz Mona refuse to give it to him. He scream at her. She scream at him. She called it her seguro.” Words rushed out of her mouth like an amateur hip hop rapper trying to make a quick buck.
“What’s seguro?”
“Insurance.” Her accent thick on the single word. She crossed herself once more for good measure, then fled from the room.
Hells bells. I had to see what was on Fluffy’s digital video camera.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I had one hour ‘til the reading of the will. I headed back to Bow Wow with more questions than answers. When I’d arrived at Mona’s, I’d leaned toward Jo as the killer. Now I believed it was Cliff.
I unlocked the shop door. Lately, the boutique was closed more than it was open. I turned on the laptop in my office and rummaged through the desk drawers for a USB cable. I couldn’t find one.
Within minutes of my return, Bow Wow was full of customers. I abandoned my search and tended to business. I sold a few pounds of Bowser Treats, a handful of doggie sweaters and a tiara. The whole time I was thinking about the video camera tucked in my jacket pocket.
I’d also overheard gossip.
Not that anyone was trying to keep it a secret. Most of the talk was inaccurate but close enough to the truth that if I hadn’t been at the funeral, I might have believed it myself.
Instead of Tricia and Jo fighting in the bathroom, they’d fought in the vestibule. And instead of Cliff being accosted in the parking lot by some random stranger, he’d been arrested by Malone.
After talking to Camilla, I was pretty sure his visitor wasn’t random or a stranger, but someone from the mob. He was lucky he’d gotten out of there alive. If Detective Malone hadn’t followed Cliff to his car, Cliff would have been batting practice.
Were the police aware of Cliff’s side venture? It was possible Mona’s death had been a mob hit. What if Batty had one of his boys knock her off to scare Cliff? It was time to call Malone. Lord, I dreaded that conversation.
The last customer walked out the door as Tricia breezed inside with a humongous Michael Kors tote. And a cloud of Mona’s signature perfume.
“Make it quick. I have somewhere to be in thirty minutes.”
“We had a meeting this afternoon. You were closed.” She was all business in her Prada suit as she headed straight for the counter where I was standing.
“With Mona dead that appointment was canceled.”
She smoothed the skirt of her dress. “Now it’s uncanceled.”
“You can’t uncancel an appointment.” Uncancel wasn’t even a word. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“What? Meeting today?”
“Everything. You, me. I’m not interested.”
“You will not kick me to the curb because Mona’s dead. She wouldn’t approve.” Tricia flipped her blond hair off her shoulder and tried her version of a Mona glare. She had a long way to go before she’d achieve Mona’s level of bored disdain.
“I couldn’t give a flying fig for what Mona would or wouldn’t approve. If you remember, I didn’t want to sell your dog line in the first place. How can I market a clothing line by someone who hates dogs?”
“I don’t hate dogs,” she huffed, eyes lids fluttering in protest. “I certainly don’t hate Fluffy.”
Who was she kidding? She’d called Fluffy a beast on more than one occasion. If Tricia had a sudden love-fest for Snob Dog, it was because she was worth millions.
As she stood rooted in front of me with her superior attitude, I remembered something Camilla had said. “Speaking of Mona, what were you looking for at her place yesterday?”
Tricia dropped her bag on the counter. “You’ve spoken to Camilla.” She spread two extravagant dog dresses in front of me. “She’s a hysterical mess. I don’t trust her for a minute.”
I picked up the lavender ballerina dress. It was absolutely adorable. Damn. “So you accused her of stealing?”
Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“What do you think she took?”
“The signed contact between Mona and me.”
That didn’t make any sense. “Shouldn’t you have your own copy?”
She blinked a couple of times, surprise fighting her Botoxed forehead. “I misplaced it. I’d asked Mona for a copy, and she said she’d make me one. I never got it. You’ve obviously snooped through Mona’s belongings, maybe you saw it.”