Desperate Housedogs

by Sparkle Abbey

  There were the two entries about Mel and about me. Then there was Walt’s: Walter Cambrian, aw pht, blgr, wdr, snp, LB 23yr, ho

  It was pretty straightforward.

  There was Ollie’s: Oliver Hembry, rck lgnd, sep w-fam, Rhde, arrst 1998 HK, LB 10yr, ho

  He hadn’t seemed too upset by whatever it was Kevin thought he’d had. But then he hadn’t explained the references either. I guessed rock legend, separated from his wife and family, Laguna Beach ten years, and home owner. The other items I wasn’t sure about but could probably find the same way I’d found the background on Sam.

  Ollie was followed by Mandy: Mandy Beenerman, yga ldy, frmr chldr, swt dn, LB 6yr, ho fcls

  Mandy’s I could partially get. Yoga lady, former cheerleader, the “swt dn” notation must have something to do with the affair between her and Kevin, but I couldn’t figure out the abbreviation. Or maybe she did have a substance abuse problem and it was some new hybrid drug. And, though I hadn’t realized they were in any financial trouble, it was possible Andy and Mandy’s home was in foreclosure.

  The next page was Mona Michaels: Mona Michaels, btch Fluffy, sep dh Cliff, ck inv, LB 19 yr, rtr

  Again, this was someone I knew fairly well. I now knew for sure she and Cliff were divorced. The final decree was recent, according to Mona, so maybe Kevin hadn’t updated his notes. I had no idea what “ck inv” might be.

  And then there was one I hadn’t paid much attention to when I’d been through the pages before, Shar: Sharmin Summers, schwartz, tvstr, frm neb, nt 17, LB 3yr, ho

  I had no problem guessing her given name might be Schwartz, and the next two entries could be television star and from Nebraska, but the next one meant nothing to me. Nt? Not much to go on.

  I sighed, frustrated with Kevin’s codes and still unclear on why he would have even made the notes. There were more, but I left them for the time being.

  The last page in the book had a bunch of writing that I’d decided was Latin. I could recognize only a few words. I’d dealt with it a bit in my therapy practice and in clinical diagnosis. But all in all, Latin was not my forte.

  Wait a doggone minute.

  I realized I knew someone who could tell me what Kevin had written and what it meant.

  I called Grey and got Sam Gallanos’ phone number. I could tell Grey wanted to ask why, but I decided I’d leave him wondering. The less he knew, the less he had to deal with deciding whether to share with Mel.

  I reached Sam immediately. He seemed pleased to hear from me so soon, and he said he would stop by the office.

  I resisted the urge to primp. The guy could take me or leave me just like I was. After our lunch, I’d changed into my usual blue jeans, dog hair, and a Laguna Beach Dog Park t-shirt.

  Okay, I’ll admit I did comb my hair and freshen up my make-up.

  And put on perfume.

  I studied the copies I’d made of Kevin’s pages. I went over all of it one more time, but nothing made any more sense than it had before. Kevin had had a ton of dirt on a lot of people, but so far as I knew, he hadn’t done anything with the information. What on earth was he keeping it for?

  I sat at my desk, my chin propped on my hands. It made no sense.

  The intercom buzzed me out of my reverie. “Yes?”

  “Samuel Gallanos to see you, Caro.”

  If I’d thought Paris had drooled over Detective Judd Malone, she was just about panting over Sam. It was just after five, and I’ll bet she was glad she hadn’t bolted at five o’clock sharp.

  I went out to the front desk to get him.

  “So this is where you work?” He looked around the office.

  “Not so much.” I indicated the sitting area. “I mostly work with pets in their own homes. I just hide here.”

  “This is nice.” He looked around the room. “You have impeccable taste, Caro. You do things just right.”

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  He had no idea what that pronouncement meant to me. I’d never done anything “just right” for the people who mattered most to me.

  “Here are the notations I called you about.” I handed him the copy of the back pages of Kevin’s notebook. I’m wondering if you would be able to help me with what the Latin says.”

  Sam settled into one of the chairs looking more comfortable than he should. He pulled a pair of horn-rimmed glasses from his shirt pocket and put them on.

  I sat quietly across from him and watched while he looked through the notes.

  Man, what is it with guys and glasses? Definitely increases the sex appeal. Not that Sam wasn’t already at the top of the hot meter.

  “I don’t know, Caro.” He slid the glasses down on his nose and looked over them at me. “The entries are odd. They don’t make any real sense.”

  “They’re just nonsense?”

  “No, the sentences make sense. But they don’t seem to fit together. This . . . ” He pointed at the words on the page. “Fallaces sunt rerum species. It means things aren’t as they seem. Or, literally, ‘the appearances of things are deceptive.’”

  “Well, I can sure as heck agree with that.”

  “But here’s the thing. All of this is just a series of sayings or adages. Albeit, sort of obscure ones. Some from commonly read texts.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like this one, causa latet, vis est notissima from Ovid. It means the cause is hidden but the result is well-known.”

  “Why would someone write all those out?”

  What the heck? How would Kevin even know all of those?

  “Hard to tell.”

  “They’re just random? They don’t go together in any way?”

  “No, not really. Look, here you’ve got bonitas non est pessimis esse meliorem.” He moved across the room and sat on the arm of my chair. “Which translates to ‘It is not goodness to be better than the worst.’ And then right after it, canis canem edit meaning ‘dog eats dog.’”

  “Dog eat dog?” I understood the concept, but I wasn’t any closer to understanding why Kevin Blackstone would write out a bunch of Latin phrases.

  He put the glasses back on. “And here, de omnibus dubitandum meaning ‘be suspicious of everything, doubt everything.’ Followed by ZTB in ZTB, which means nothing at all to me. And then, alea iacta est. ‘The die has been cast.’”

  “Dang.”

  Sam stood and handed the pages back to me. “Whoever wrote this must have had some purpose in writing it all down.”

  I took the pages and laid them on my desk.

  “Is this about the man who was killed?” He tucked the glasses back in his shirt pocket.

  I didn’t answer for a full minute. It was police business but it seemed I was working harder on a solution than they were. I made a split-second decision. My best friend was in jail and I needed a friend right now. Besides I hadn’t told Malone I’d kept a copy and I’d feel safer if someone knew.

  “There was a notebook.”

  “What was in it?”

  “Personal details about people Kevin had written down. Things about their lives they might not want others to know about.” I sat down at my desk. “I’ve turned the notebook over to the police but I kept a copy of the pages.”

  “You’re not going to show me those are you?”

  “I’m not. Not that I don’t trust you, Sam, but I don’t think people’s personal information needs to be shared unless they choose to do it themselves.”

  “A woman of integrity. I admire that.”

  “Don’t admire too much, Sam. I’m full of faults.”

  “Aren’t we all?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile.

  “Thanks for trying anyway. I appreciate it.”

  “If you’ll make another copy of this,” He indicated the page of Latin. “I’d be happy to write the meanings out for you.”

  “I may take you up on that offer. Thanks for coming by so quickly.”

  “One more thing, Caro.” He stopped in the doorway. “I know you’re worr
ied about your friend, Diana.”

  “I am. I stopped in yesterday and her attorney came by. He must be ninety if he’s a day.”

  “That’s good she’s talking to an attorney. Yes?”

  “Yes, but I have my doubts. Not that he’s not sharp and all, but I think he’s a family attorney. He’s handled her will and stuff like that. I don’t think he’s ever tried a criminal case.”

  “I would like to offer to help. I can get you the name of a good criminal attorney. She should not be sitting in jail while they are waiting for the next steps.”

  “I know, Sam. I’ve offered, but she won’t do it. She wants to stay there.”

  He shook his head.

  “I know, me, too. She’s making me crazy.”

  “If there’s something I can do to help, just say the word.”

  I let Sam out and locked the door behind him since Paris had left. It had felt good to share Kevin’s notes and my concerns with someone who didn’t just blow me off and tell me to mind my own business.

  Diana was my business. Now that Kevin was gone, Zeus’s and Tommy Boy’s welfare was my business. Something had upset those dogs and a lot of other dogs in Ruby Point. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like there had to be a connection that I was missing between all those freaked out dogs, Hans/Spike, the missing horticulture worker, and Kevin’s death. I wasn’t going to just drop it until Kevin’s dogs were placed in the best situation as we could find for them and Diana was out of jail.

  I went back to the copies of Kevin’s entries and my notes. Heck, I’d just start down the list and trudge through one by one until I hit pay dirt.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After the bust on Kevin’s Latin quotes, I’d gone through the names again and made note of those where I had appointments coming up. We’d just see what information I could glean while talking dog and kitty issues.

  However, next on my list was someone who’d had a strange reaction to Kevin’s death. Kendall, the dog groomer. I hadn’t found a reference to him in Kevin’s book, but the relationship and Kendall’s reaction sure didn’t sit quite right. So first thing the next morning, I headed to the Divine Dog Spa again.

  “Full Service” the sign on the door said, and it was without a doubt a full-service salon. In addition to regular grooming, the spa offered pet facials, full-body massages, and special vitamin treatments for problem fur.

  As always, it was a busy place. I waited as a Labradoodle named Beau was booked for the “Works,” which was not only the facial and the massage but also a “brightening treatment” and an oral hygiene regimen.

  I waited until Beau was checked-in to approach the desk.

  “Hello, Jade. Is Kendall in today?”

  “He’s in the back with a client.” I loved that the canines weren’t dogs or pets or anything so common. They were “clients.”

  “Do you know when he might be available? I’d like a word with him.”

  “I’ll let him know you’re here but it could be a while. He just got started with Cassie.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  As I sat in the waiting room, I observed the spa.

  Many pet parents dropped their pooches off and came back later to pick them up. I imagined they took advantage of the time to take care of some grooming needs of their own. Perhaps fit in a manicure or pedicure. Still others waited on site for the groomers to finish with their precious fur kids.

  “Hello, Ms. Lamont.” I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t noticed Kendall gallop into the room.

  He dropped into the chair next to mine. Today he was attired head to toe in giraffe patterned pants with a matching shirt. Do ya’ll remember garanimals? Those paired tops and bottoms for kids where you match the animals? Well, that was the look that came to mind.

  Anyway, whatever possessed the guy to think a giraffe print was appropriate attire I couldn’t say. It was definitely a fashion statement. Maybe in his wacked out thinking he felt like it was his trademark look.

  It was certainly memorable.

  “Jade said you wanted to speak to me.”

  “Yes, about Kevin.”

  “What about Kevin?” His eyes darted around the room as if he didn’t want the others to hear.

  I decided to be straight up. “How did you know him?”

  “We were friends.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What, you don’t think Kevin would be a friend to someone like me?” He was going for outraged but it didn’t ring true. There was a slight shake in his voice telling me it was something else—uncertainty, maybe even fear.

  “No, I don’t think you and Kevin were friends.” I turned to look him full in the face so I could gauge his reaction.

  He’d frozen. His dark eyes widened.

  “I think you had a secret, Kendall. Something Kevin knew and no one else did. Now that Kevin is gone you think your secret is safe, but it’s not.”

  He still had not moved.

  “Maybe it’s even a big enough secret that you’d kill to keep it,” I added for good measure.

  “No, no, I would never.” Kendall clamped his large hand over his mouth.

  Potential sign of lying. Not “I did not,” but “I would never.”

  “Kendall?” Jade motioned from across the room.

  “I’ve got to get back to Cassie.” Kendall stood, towering in his hoof-like shoes. “I . . . ah . . . I . . . we should talk.”

  “Name the time and place.” I wasn’t going to get anything else out of Kendall here.

  “The Dirty Bird tonight at seven.”

  Oh, man. The Dirty Bird was the locals’ equivalent of the Sandpiper Lounge.

  “Really?” I wouldn’t have thought Kendall a Sandpiper type.

  “I don’t get off until six. That’s the soonest I can do.”

  He’d misunderstood my question. The time was fine. It was the location I’d questioned. Live music, lots of people, hard to hear.

  Before I could suggest an alternative, he’d hurried across the room to consult with Jade and get back to his appointment.

  Fine. The Dirty Bird, it was.

  I had some errands to take care of and then I’d meet him at the Sandpiper if that’s what it took. I called the office to check my messages and headed back downtown. I had two more calls from new clients, a reminder about Dogbert’s appointment at the vet, and a call from Zane at “Glitter” letting me know that Grandma Tillie’s brooch was ready.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  In my experience, only blood relatives have the ability to make you completely lose your good sense. I pride myself on my good sense. Most everyone who knows me will attest to my rock solid sanity. Ex-husband excluded.

  But when I found out Mel had picked up Grandma Tillie’s brooch from “Glitter,” taking full advantage of the fact that Grant was out of town on business, using Grant’s young nephew who didn’t know our history . . .

  Well . . . I went a little nuts.

  Mel had waltzed right into the store, in broad daylight, bigger than Dallas, and claimed to be my cousin. (Well, that part wasn’t a lie, I guess. She was my cousin. But I tell you right now if you could disown cousins, I would do it today.)

  She told that poor young man she was picking up the brooch on my behalf, paid for the repairs, and walked right out with it.

  We must have missed each other by less than ten minutes. Gloria at the store had left me a message the repairs were done and I’d hot-footed it over to pick up my brooch.

  Now it was in the hands of a jewel thief.

  I drove through downtown like an Indy champion, squealing my tires, and double-parked in front of the Bow Wow Boutique. I walked in and directly through to the back room. Then I dumped Mel’s black Alexander Wang bag upside down, spilling the contents onto her desk, not even caring that some of it rolled on the floor.

  I picked the “Glitter” box out of the mess, turned on my heel, and walked right back out of the store.

  Mel
had been with a customer, and I know she didn’t see me until I she saw my backside headed out the door. By the time it dawned on her what I’d done, I was already in my car and pulling away.

  A parking ticket flapped on my windshield as I put the car in drive.

  Those crafty parking enforcement people are everywhere.

  Melinda ran outside and motioned to one of the parking enforcement ladies who was just getting out of her little tiny hybrid “Parking Services” vehicle. Probably the same woman who’d just written me a forty-dollar ticket.

  Mel gestured and pointed in my direction, but I was long gone.

  Long gone, baby.

  Like I said, it takes a blood relative to cause a person to act like a complete lunatic.

  I decided to run by home and change. I’d wanted to put the brooch in a safe place anyway. No more carrying it around in my purse.

  I’d bought one of those stand-alone safes and put it in my closet. I punched in the numbers I’d programmed, swung open the door, and placed the box inside.

  There you go, Melinda Sue. Not so easy to get your sticky fingers on now, huh?

  I looked through my closet for my True Religion jeans. I would already stand out at the Sandpiper, but I wanted to blend in with the crowd as much I could. At least until Kendall got there. I didn’t think “blend-in” was in his vocabulary. I pulled on my jeans, donned a blue and white striped tank top, added some big gold hoop earrings, and I was ready to go.

  After feeding Thelma and Louise, I took Dogbert for a short walk and then climbed back in the Mercedes and headed downtown.

  Ah, the Sandpiper. The bar is a true dive for the local crowd, and I mean that in the fondest way. Nothing pretentious about the place.

  “Hi, Mike.” I paid my five-dollar cover charge at the sticker-plastered door and wondered if it was reggae night. I hadn’t been to the local hole-in-the-wall for probably a year but it hadn’t changed. The smell of old wood, spilled beer and late night parties hit me as I walked in. It was the kind of place where everyone knew your name—at least by the end of the night, anyway.

  The bartender studied me. I imagined what he saw was the prescribed Laguna Beach body whipped into shape by regular workouts. If he was really observant he might have noticed the expensive highlights, the designer jeans, and the years of beauty pageant posture that allowed me to cross the room without flinching at the stares.