“What can I do for you, MacAvoy? I’m sure you’re not here to purchase a dog costume for next month’s event.”
Betty slid behind Mr. TV and patted his butt. He jumped ten feet. “Hey, that’s harassment,” he yelped.
“He’s clean, Cookie. I patted him down. No recorder.” She brushed her hands together proud of herself. “Whatever we say here is off the record, got it?” she glared at him.
I held back my appalled laughter. “Betty, you can’t go around touching people inappropriately. If he’d done that to you, you’d be upset.”
She eyed him. “Did I offend you?”
He kept his backside away from her. “You surprised me.”
“See, he’s just fine.”
“Listen, MacAvoy. Lately, it seems when you’re around, I have three speeds: on, off, and don’t push your luck. We open soon, and I don’t want you loitering here when my customers arrive. You’ve got two minutes. Go.”
“Is she right, you’re back with Donovan?”
I didn’t understand why it mattered to him or why my reunion with Grey made him cranky. “Surely, you came here for something more important than an update on my personal life.”
“I’m running a story on Colin Sellers.”
“Of course you are. Haven’t you done enough?” I crossed my arms to keep myself from reaching for him.
“Shouldn’t you be thanking me now that Donovan is no longer a suspect? Now that you’re back together.” The last sentence was spoken as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.
“That’s your problem. You have lousy logic.”
He ignored me. “I’d like to get a response from him before the story is live tonight. Any idea where I can find him?”
I sighed. “No idea.”
“From what I hear, he’s your dog sitter.” He sauntered closer toward me. I retreated to behind the counter.
“Mine and a dozen others.”
He pulled out his spiral notebook and flipped pages. He read his notes silently. “I heard his mother disappeared while hiking twenty years ago. He believes his stepfather killed her.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “What does that have to do with me?”
“That’s a strong motive for murder, don’t you think?”
“You know, it was just yesterday you were convinced Grey pushed Mason down the stairs because of a bad business deal.”
He held up a hand. “Hey, I wasn’t the only one who thought he was guilty.”
“Not us,” Betty said. She stood next to me, chest out, shoulders back.
Mr. TV shot her a wary look. I didn’t blame him. I’d worry she’d pat me down again, too.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Quinn Reed lately.” He studied me. “She was Mason’s mistress when he was married to Colin’s mother. What’s her relationship with Colin Sellers now? She has to have an opinion on Colin murdering her husband.”
Darby hadn’t mentioned that nugget of information. Had Colin honestly forgotten to tell her? Or was he still keeping secrets? “I’ve got nothing more to say. Your two minutes are up.”
He looked like he wanted to say more. Betty handed me the phone and recited the number for the police station.
Recognizing defeat, MacAvoy showed decent judgment and tucked tail and ran.
“He has nice lips,” Betty said.
I blinked. “What? Who?”
“That TV reporter. I was watching his lips while all those lies fell outta his mouth. That’s when I noticed, he has kissable lips.”
“I thought you were faithful.”
“Faithful, Cookie. Not blind.”
Chapter Twenty
A COUPLE OF HOURS later I stood in the doorway of Evan Dodd’s understated office, hoping his loose lips would drop helpful information about what Mason might have been hiding. The receptionist was out but had left a note on her desk for me to go through.
I found Evan behind a small metal desk, his long sleeves bunched up to his elbows. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he studied a spreadsheet on his computer, the pale light casting a blue glow to his face. If this didn’t work, I wasn’t sure how to get information out of the nervous bookkeeper.
I knocked on the open door. “Am I early?”
He jerked away from the screen and looked up. It took a second for his eyes to focus on me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He minimized his screen then stood, waving me into his office. “No, no. I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat.” He ran his hand through his dark unruly curls.
I sat in the orange vinyl chair across from him. Spreadsheets and graphs cluttered his desk. I searched for a photo of his girlfriend, but I didn’t see one. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
“My receptionist didn’t say what you wanted to see me about. What can I do for you?” His wobbly voice broke. He cleared this throat.
“I’m concerned my accountant might be skimming off the top. I don’t really know anyone else, so I thought you might be able to give me some advice on what to look for.”
He removed his glasses to clean the lenses. “Who’s your accountant?”
“I’d rather not say. You know, in case I’m wrong, I don’t want to malign his character.”
He slipped his glasses back in place. “Smart. Otherwise an unfounded allegation like that is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Exactly. I’m so glad you understand. Is there an easy way for me to tell if money is missing?”
“You should review your vendor accounts. Make sure you recognize who they are and what type of business you do with them. That’s the easiest way to skim small amounts. Next, double check that your taxes have been paid. You can also make sure there are no outstanding loans you’re not aware of. Your accountant could have taken out a loan in your business name, kept the money, and you end up paying for it.”
I was spellbound. I had no idea how easy it was to take someone else’s money. I hadn’t planned on personally auditing my books when I walked into his office, but I was going to now.
“Thank you. You’ve been informative. Seriously. I had no idea.”
He folded his fingers together and leaned in. “It’s easy to trust the wrong person.”
It was the opening I needed. “Is that what Mason did? Trust the wrong person?”
He blinked. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ve been thinking about the painting and Quinn’s insistence that she audit her own books. At first, the only thing that made sense was that Mason was keeping money from Quinn.”
“I’m sure you understand I can’t confirm or deny that statement.”
“Like I said, that’s what I thought at first. Then I learned Mason didn’t take the painting with him. He had it delivered here. Not to his home.”
Evan swallowed. “That’s true.”
“According to Bree Young, his mistress, it’s because he was planning on leaving Quinn. But then something happened, and Mason decided to return the painting. Only it wasn’t the same one Grey had sold him. I believe Mason had no idea he was trying to pass off a copy as the original.”
Evan’s gaze darted around the room looking for a quick escape. Unfortunately for him, I was seated between him and the door.
“If the painting was here, the only way that exchange could have happened is through you.”
He remained silent. But judging from the panic in his eyes, my supposition was right or awfully close. All those years of listening to Grey talk about white-collar crimes had paid off.
I pressed on. “Like you just explained, taking money in small amounts is easy to explain away. With someone like Mason, who had a bulging bank account, I’m guessing you’ve been skimming off the top
for years.”
“You need to leave.”
I was just getting started. “But like all criminals who get away with their crimes, you got comfortable, greedy. You saw an opportunity to swap a three-hundred-thousand-dollar painting for a copy worth one-tenth of its true value. How’d you manage that? You’d have to know someone.”
He must have realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it with a snap.
“Am I close?” I asked.
“Well, this is embarrassing.” He loosened the collar of his dress shirt. “I—I can explain. My girlfriend has a bad spending habit. I borrowed a few thousand to cover her debts last year. I paid it back the following month. No one was the wiser.”
Ha! I was right. “That was the problem, wasn’t it? You got away with it so you tried it again.”
He reddened. “Maybe a few more times. Anything I may have borrowed, I’ve returned.”
“Everything?”
“Almost everything,” he admitted, his face a bright scarlet.
I assumed he was talking about the painting. “You know, my Grandma Tillie used to say, ‘If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.’ I can’t offer you any better advice than that.”
“If I’d have known Mason was going to change his mind and sell that wretched painting, I would have never switched them. But it was too late. I’d made the deal and couldn’t back out. Black-market art is dangerous and not at all profitable. I only got ten percent of fair market value.”
From what Grey had said, the only way to make money off stolen art work was to sit on it for years or trade it for other black-market items.
“Mason had to have been upset when he realized what you’d done.”
His eyes widened. “He was livid. I’ve never seen him so angry. He threatened to turn me over to the police.”
“So he attacked you, and in defending yourself you accidently pushed him down the stairs.”
“What?” He jumped up. “I may be a thief, but I am not a murderer. You think I’d kill Mason for money?”
I scoffed. “People have killed for less. And from what you said, it sounds like you needed it. I’m sure you were terrified all your misdeeds were about to be found out if he called the police.”
“Well, he must have changed his mind. The police have never questioned me about it. Besides, I wasn’t the only one who needed Mason’s money. Talk to his mistress, Bree Young.”
“You knew about her?”
“Of course. Who do you think cut her monthly checks?”
“Good point.”
“The day before Mason was killed, he broke up with her and she wasn’t happy about her free ride dumping her on the side of the road.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I CALLED GREY and asked him to meet me so I could share my information about the bookkeeper and the painting. He suggested we meet at Main Beach. After circling the parking area, I finally found a spot. I slipped on my sunglasses and headed to the boardwalk looking for Grey. I spotted him sitting on a bench near the sand volleyball pit. He looked relaxed in his jeans, t-shirt, and sunglasses. He noticed me at the same time and waved me over.
“Thanks for meeting me here. I was at the ARL when you called.” He handed me a fresh fruit tart from the French restaurant behind us.
“You know, since we broke up, I’ve lost six pounds. I didn’t realize you fed me so often.”
A lazy smile pulled at his mouth. “I noticed.”
I took a bite of the tart and closed my eyes, savoring the flaky crust. “This is so good,” I said around a mouthful of dessert.
“What were you doing at the ARL? Are you ready to foster again?” As long as I’d known Grey, he’d fostered hard-to-place large dogs. His availability was determined by the case he was working on. He was an excellent foster parent.
He nodded. “I let them know I’m available. There are a couple of guys I might be a good match for. A chocolate lab and a boxer.”
I smiled. “You know I’m going to be partial to the boxer.”
“I was sure you would be. So what did you find out?”
I licked custard off my fingers. “Like we suspected, Evan was embezzling. He swears he’s paid back everything he’s borrowed, except for the difference in the paintings.”
“Do you believe him?”
I shook my head. “No. He said he had no idea Mason was going to try and sell the painting. Evan had switched it with the fake, and when Mason figured it out, he went ballistic. Threatened to turn him in. Evan thinks he changed his mind because the police never darkened his door.”
Grey watched the ocean beat the sand. The sound of the crashing waves carried to where we sat, which I found relaxing. I waited for him to share whatever he was working out mentally.
“He reported the theft to the FBI,” he finally said.
It took a minute to register everything that one sentence communicated.
“That’s why he had your phone number. He must have just called you.”
“I don’t think he knew he’d be meeting Agent Donovan. I arrived at the store around nine thirty that morning. The door was locked. I knocked, but no one answered. I thought either we got the time mixed up or he had changed his mind. Damn. I was hoping that talking to him about the painting swap would lead to a break in the counterfeit purses case.”
I sagged against the wooden bench. “Instead, he ended up dead and you a prime suspect. I don’t understand. Weren’t you taking a big chance on exposing your role with the FBI by meeting him?”
“We had a plan. If he cooperated with the FBI, we’d protect him.”
“That’s a big if. The minute you stepped in the store your cover was blown.”
“Only if I immediately identified myself when I saw him. There was no need—” He stopped abruptly. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“I guess it doesn’t.”
We sat in silence again. In the old days, this was when I’d reach out and squeeze his hand. Tell him he was amazing and that the case would still be solved, even without Mason Reed.
“You should stop by the shop tomorrow morning, around ten,” I said. “We’re holding a small thank-you brunch for the Angels with Paws donors. If you wanted to flex your muscles, you can come by at six tonight and help set up tables.”
He glanced in my direction. “You sure you want me there? People will talk.”
I smiled. “Most of our murder suspects will be there. Let’s hope they talk, and we can prove one way or the other if Colin murdered his stepfather or not.”
IT WAS ALMOST seven o’clock. Grey, Betty, Agent James, and I rearranged merchandise to make room for four tall cocktail tables the catering company had delivered for the following morning’s event.
“I didn’t realize we’d have to destroy our shop for someone else’s party,” Betty complained, dropping a basket of tennis balls against the wall.
“No complaining. We have plenty of help.”
Betty scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed, we’ve been ditched.”
I did notice. At some point Grey had slipped outside with my new intern. I sure hoped Grey only shared information and wasn’t attempting to gather it. I had a strong suspicion Agent James wouldn’t hesitate to report Grey for involving himself in the investigation after he’d been told to stay out of it.
Betty and I put a black tablecloth over the last table. I looked around the shop, pleased with what we were able to accomplish in thirty minutes. We’d managed to strategically place the tables in areas of the room without the need to move displays and racks of merchandise. Even Betty’s pawlish and treat jars were still in their ideal spot near the register, ready to be picked up for an impulse buy.
Grey burst through the front door with a broad smile and a bounce to his step. A bounce
I hadn’t seen in almost a year.
“What’s with you all the sudden?” I returned his infectious smile.
He grabbed me by the waist and swung me around. “Whoa there, Cowboy.” I laughed, gripping his broad shoulders.
“My turn, Handsome.” Betty held out her arms waiting for her turn.
Grey set me down and pressed a quick kiss on my mouth. “I’m back in the game,” he whispered in my ear.
My heart leapt for joy. “I’m happy for you.”
On instinct, I hugged him. I caught my breath as his strong arms wrapped tightly around me. It felt so right. But I couldn’t think about it now. We had a party to plan and suspects to gather.
“Oh, someone’s getting lucky tonight,” Betty shouted.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Agent James standing next to the coffee bar. I felt bad for him. The crestfallen look on his inexperienced face spoke volumes. Grey was back, but Agent James was out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
IT WAS THE MORNING of the open house, and I was feeling lucky. No, I didn’t get lucky. I just had a feeling that good things were going to happen that day. Especially after Grey’s big news the night before. I could feel we were close to solving Mason’s murder.
Bow Wow Boutique was buzzing with goodwill and laughter. The caterers had provided a large spread of scrambled eggs, bacon, scones, and fresh fruit. The donors had made quick work devouring the breakfast food as they came and went. I even spied a handful of guests scoring a doggie bag to take with them when they left.
I’d set up the coffee bar and added iced tea as an option. A carafe of orange juice and champagne flutes had appeared out of nowhere. I silently thanked the caterers for their extra touch, and filled a glass.
All in all, about fifteen donors were in attendance. Not bad for a last-minute invitation. I was certain the good turnout was because they loved Ella Johns. She had a way of inspiring loyalty in others.
Ever the gracious hostess, Ella fluttered around the room in her lilac cold-shoulder dress, expressing her sincerest appreciation to each person for their support. She’d pulled her short auburn hair into a side-swept bob, perfectly framing her elegant face. Ella’s surprise guest was her newest seizure response dog, Chip. The energetic Golden was the hit of the gathering.
The Dogfather Page 18