“What are you saying?” Tricia asked, a hint of panic in her voice.
“Mona’s broke,” Owen said.
The room erupted into immediate chaos. Chairs oscillated like fans as everyone shouted simultaneously.
Bummer. Don wasn’t going to get his money.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“Impossible. I would have known.”
“Do the police know about Mona’s, ah, financial situation?” I asked.
Owen nodded. “Yes.”
And the questions continued. She was broke? How could Mona have declared bankruptcy and no one knew? What do you mean I don’t get anything?
“It says right here I’m supposed to get five hundred thousand dollars. I can read,” Tricia yelled.
Alex looked confused. “So I don’t get the cars?”
Owen nodded. “The estate must be liquidated in order to pay off her debt and taxes. That’s happening now. Think of it as a high end tag sale. Unfortunately, there won’t be enough assets to cover the amount owed.”
I think Owen Quinn talked so fast because he wanted all the crazy people out of his office.
“What about Fluffy? Does she have to be liquidated too?” I asked. A guardian had to try.
“No, no, no. Fluffy’s not a part of the estate. She has her own money.”
“Yet she,” Tricia’s boney finger pointed toward me, “gets a million dollars? And that Darby gets two million dollars?” Her voice took on a shrill tone with each word.
Owen sighed and rubbed his tired brown eyes. “Those are insurance policies and aren’t tied to the estate. Ms. Becket is the beneficiary of one, and Fluffy is the beneficiary of the other.”
Darby wasn’t present. Because she didn’t know about the meeting or chose to stay away, I had no idea. For whatever reason, it was for the best. She’d have been mugged before she ever left the room.
“And the dog?” Cliff asked, dollar signs flashing in his eyes, temper rising.
“The dog belongs to Melinda,” Owen reminded him.
“Along with her money?” he bit out.
At least she didn’t cut you out of the will. I was more than surprised Mona had left him her art collection. I also found it curious he was concerned about the money and not if he’d retained his visitation rights now that I was Fluffy’s guardian. But I kept my mouth shut and waited for Owen to explain.
Mona’s lawyer sat in his chair and propped his elbows on the desk. “The money belongs to Fluffy, not Melinda. Melinda is the controller of the money, which is in a separate trust Mona had set up years ago. The trust is very specific on how the money is to be used.”
I quickly scanned the papers Owen had handed me. Grooming, food, bodyguard and caretaker. Wow, I got paid. Then I saw the amount and realized why Cliff was shooting me a death glare. Ninety grand a year. Fluffy’s bodyguard got one hundred and twenty thousand.
“If there are no more questions,” Owen stood, excusing us from his office.
I looked up from the legal documents I’d been studying. It looked like we had a missing person on our hands.
“Who’s Fluffy’s bodyguard?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Good news! There wasn’t a missing person because Fluffy didn’t have a bodyguard. Bad news. It was my responsibility to hire one.
I knew the perfect person for the job. I also knew there was no way on God’s green earth I’d convince Grey to agree. I put that action item on the back burner in favor of a different item that needed my attention. Tova Randall.
While everyone had argued and fought over what money they weren’t getting, I’d thought about Tova and the money she wanted, but I wouldn’t give her. Both Owen and Nigel (the family lawyer) had separately recommended that I settle of out court. It was a nuisance suit and would cost more to fight than to just pay her off. As much as I didn’t want to do it, I was beginning to agree.
Tova Randall needed to go away.
Which is how I found myself pulling up to Tova’s pad just before five o’clock. Her place was exactly what you’d imagine thirteen million dollars would buy. Huge, extravagant, and the best view of the Pacific Ocean you’d ever seen, except there were zero luscious flowers in her front yard. A handful of anorexic trees, some bushy ferns and wild grass, but no color.
I knocked on Tova’s oversized double-doors, not exactly sure of what to say, but I knew what I needed to do. The right door swung open.
Tova’s expression went from surprise, to confusion, to finally suspicion. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hands planted on her bony hips (and they were bony; her velour sweatpants were falling down showing off her lower body).
She stood, legs apart, blocking me from casually entering her home.
“I wanted to talk. Can I come in?”
She didn’t budge. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I sighed. “Fine. We can talk out here.”
I got right to the point before she caught a cold. “I’ve thought about it, and I’m willing to pay the fifteen hundred dollars.”
Tova crossed her arms, raising the girls and her top, exposing her bellybutton. “Why now?”
I shoved my hands in my back pockets, biding my time. I knew if I said the wrong thing it was over. “It doesn’t matter. Check or cash?”
She tapped her bare foot and studied me. “Are you trying to buy me off?”
Whoa. Who would have thought she’d be so quick to assess the situation accurately? Back-peddle time. “You accosted me at the Fur Ball demanding money. Now that I’m willing to pay, you’re accusing me of buying you off?”
“You admit you have fleas?” Her eyebrows rose.
“No.” I shifted my weight to one leg. I tried to relax and not grow impatient. “I’m paying you the money.”
“You owe me an apology, too.”
“Excuse me?” I cocked my head to the side. I had to have heard her wrong.
“You made fun of me in public. Twice. You owe me two apologies.” She held up two fingers.
Hello. I can count to two. This was painful. “Tova, I don’t think you understand. I just came by to pay you-”
“Check.”
Oh, my gosh. She was crazy. Why did I come here? “What?”
“You can write me a check while I call my lawyer.” She turned around and started to close the door.
I shoved my foot in the doorway (thank the good Lord for motorcycle boots with Vibram soles), keeping it from slamming in my face. “Hold on. There’s no need to involve attorneys.”
“Did you think I’d drop the lawsuit?”
“Yes. You wanted me to pay you-”
She pointed her finger in my face. “I want an apology. Public.”
What was it with the public apologies? First Mona and now Tova. I leaned back before I followed the urge to swat her finger.
“Look, Tova, that’s not going to happen.”
“I’m still suing you. Unless you want to apologize and admit you have fleas.”
A wave of anger washed over me at my own stupidity. “All I have to do is find one other client who attends Mommy and Doggie Yoga who has fleas, and you’ll lose.”
“That won’t prove anything.”
“It will if they’ve never set foot in Bow Wow. And then your little lawsuit will go down in flames, and you’ll wish you would have taken my fifteen hundred dollars. Especially when I sue you for slander.”
“You won’t find them.” She didn’t sound convinced.
I removed my foot from the doorway. The determination that had propelled me through the last ten years of my life pounded in my soul. “Wanna bet?”
Tova stumbled backwards at the intensity of my stare. She was about to learn the hard way-win or lose, I never back down from a challenge.
Once I’d left Tova’s and had cooled off, I headed for my place looking for Darby. She was gone. So I pointed the Jeep toward Paw Prints. Sure enough, her sparkly blue Fiesta was parked out front.