“We should be thankful. Mean and cunning is a dangerous combination.”
I checked her out surreptitiously under my lashes. Yup, she’d been crying. Kindhearted Darby. It was sweet. I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I ignored it.
We found a Dumpster in the back of the parking lot and tossed our obscenely large Fluffy gift inside. I dug out a bottle of hand sanitizer from my bag and squeezed a dollop into my palm.
I’d been watching for Caro since the end of the service, but she must have escaped out a side door. I hadn’t seen the one other person I needed to set straight either.
“Have you seen Tova?” I asked.
“Not since we left the church,” Darby replied.
We doubled back to the front where a group of phony mourners had amassed.
“Let’s drown our sorrows at the Kitty Cat Club,” someone suggested.
For those not in the know, the Kitty Cat Club was the only bar in Laguna where you could catch a drag show on the weekend. Word on the street was the performance was pretty decent.
I was ready to head back to the Jeep, but Fluffy towed me in Cliff’s direction, who was talking on his cell as he trudged toward the parking lot.
“Really? You want to see him?” Fluffy continued to pull on the leash. “Oh, all right.” I couldn’t believe she missed the jerk.
I turned to tell Darby where we were heading, but she was in a deep conversation with Don Furry. Poor guy was probably still upset about the missing ARL donation.
As we approached Mona’s ex, I could hear his side of the conversation.
“I heard you.” Cliff’s words took on a menacing tone. “I don’t have it right now. She didn’t leave me the damn dog.”
I slowed my steps. Fluffy pulled against the leash to walk faster.
“Once I get my hands on that dog I’ll be able to pay you back.” He shoved his hand in his front pocket.
Of course, now he wanted Fluffy. Because he owed someone money? I’d love to know whom he was talking to.
“I just need a couple more days,” he insisted. He swore and hung up.
He whipped around, anger and fear clearly imprinted on his face.
“Hey, Cliff. Nice ceremony. I hope you don’t mind, Fluffy wanted to say hello,” I pretended, as if I hadn’t overheard his conversation.
Fluffy nuzzled his knee, and Cliff absently patted her head. “I want my dog,” he demanded.
Instinctively, I took a step back. “I don’t think so.”
“I have custody every Wednesday.” He wrapped his fingers around the leash. His greedy gaze landed on Fluffy’s collar.
Uh-oh. “That was days ago. You weren’t interested. Besides, you have visitation, not custody.”
Fluffy tensed and pulled back from his grasp.
Cliff narrowed his black coffee eyes and rubbed his unshaved jaw with his free hand. The little hairs on the back of my neck took notice and warned me to proceed with caution.
I gripped the leash tighter. “I know the truth. As Fluffy’s legal guardian, I was supplied with the facts. The real facts.”
“It doesn’t change that it’s a court order. You have to give me the dog. I have to have the dog,” he slurred. He tugged the leash, and both Fluffy and I jumped. Fluffy yelped as I accidentally stepped on her paw.
“Sorry, girl.”
Malone appeared out of nowhere. “That’s in interesting choice of words, Mr. Michaels. Why do you have to have Fluffy?”
Malone glowered at Cliff’s grip. Mona’s ex let go of the leash. I immediately stepped out of his reach, keeping Fluffy close to my side. My mouth felt like the Texas plains.
Beads of sweat popped out on Cliff’s forehead. “Mona owes me that much. We had an agreement.” His voice rose.
“Sounds like she stiffed you. Some people get desperate when they don’t get what they think they deserve,” I said.
Cliff looked wildly between me and Malone. Fluffy growled. This wasn’t good.
“I’m not desperate,” he shouted. “I just want what’s mine. What Mona promised.”
“How much money do you owe?” Malone’s calm voice and demeanor belied the watchful tension he radiated.
“Keep your nose out of my business.” The hatred etched on Cliff’s face made me catch my breath.
With one last sneer, he stormed off toward his Land Rover.
I looked at Malone. “Lord have mercy. He killed Mona.”
“Stay out of it,” he barked.
My heart raced. “I’m not in anything. I’m just telling you he killed Mona.” Then I remembered the argument in the bathroom. “Unless it was Jo.”
“What?” His irritated growl rivaled Fluffy’s.
“You know, Jo O’Malley, the pet psychic. I just overheard her threatening Tricia in the ladies room before the service started.”
“About what?” he asked reluctantly.
“I’m not really sure. If I had to guess, it was about Mona.”
“Don’t guess. Stay out of it.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
Fluffy and I chased after him. It was difficult to keep up in my four-inch Louboutin pumps. “But what else could she be talking about? What if Jo murdered Mona?” I asked.
“Are you and your cousin hard of hearing? Stay out of it.” He didn’t look over his shoulder. Or slow down.
“But what if Mona realized Jo was a fraud and threatened to expose her? People kill each other over that kind of stuff.”
“Cut back on the drama cable shows.”
“You know it’s true. People have killed because their reputations and businesses are about to be destroyed.”
He froze. I ran into his back. Dang, he was buff under that leather jacket. He whipped around. I could clearly see his unreadable face.
“You mean like you and your friend Darby?” he asked quietly.
“You know I didn’t do it. And Darby certainly didn’t have anything to do with Mona’s death,” I denied.
“How can you be so sure?”
Ok, so he’d checked out the cell phone and had probably found a way to listen to her message. This wasn’t looking good for my buddy. “What did she gain from Mona’s death? Nothing.”
He looked like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. “Stay out of this, or I’ll have you arrested.”
I held up my hand. “I’m not a part of it. I’m only here because Mona dictated, from beyond her grave, that Her Majesty attend the service.”
“Stay out of it,” he shot me the evil eye, “or I’ll throw you in jail.”
News flash. I’d already spent a night in jail.
It had happened shortly after The Incident when I was trying to prove I was my own person. Public intoxication had landed me in the city jail for twenty-four hours. Daddy had refused to bail me out. He was stubborn that way.
After a few hours I’d gotten used to the stench. Sleeping on the cold, concrete floor between the other drunks and a hooker named Daisy, I’d realized I could survive just about anything.
Bring it on, Malone. A short stay behind posh Laguna Beach bars doesn’t scare me. But his innuendo about Darby, now that had me worried.
Our little trio regrouped. We meandered toward the Jeep chatting about the funeral and my suspicion that either Cliff or Jo had killed Mona. I sugarcoated the confrontation between Cliff, Malone and me. I completely left out Malone’s suspicion about Darby.
We were guessing how much Cliff owed when, out of nowhere, a black SUV jumped the curb and sped into the church parking lot. It slammed to a stop and parked behind Cliff’s Land Rover.
A nervous Cliff stood next his vehicle. The SUV driver’s window rolled down a crack. I stopped.
“Mel, what’s going on?” Darby asked.
“Hold on.” I strained to hear across the parking lot, hoping to catch a portion of the conversation. I couldn’t hear anything, but I could tell by Cliff’s stiff stance and balled fists he was angry.
From the corner of my eye, Malone appeared
and casually headed in Cliff’s direction. The driver must have seen him, too, and wasn’t interested in a chat.
The tinted window rolled up, and the vehicle squealed out of the parking lot, leaving behind a distraught Cliff and an irritated and suspicious Malone. Oh, and about two feet of tire rubber.
“Cliff’s implicating himself further by the minute,” I said. Darby had nothing to worry about.
Chapter Nineteen
Grey came home the next day. It was a great reunion full of Chinese takeout, foot rubs and a couple of glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon. Darby had been a dear and offered to dog-sit Fluffy for the night. I let her.
Missy, Grey and I camped out on the patio with a devastatingly beautiful view of the Pacific. Grey lived in the Laguna Beach highlands referred to as Top of the World.
I loved experiencing sunset from his place. It was as if I could reach out and skim my fingers along the pastel hues of the sky. I swear there were times I could smell the scent of the setting sun.
The tension that had surrounded us the last time we were together was gone. Tonight it was about reconnecting, and I loved it.
“So how was the funeral?” he asked, stretched out on a chaise lounge in jeans and a sweater.
From my matching chair, I rolled to my side so I was facing him. He turned his head in my direction. His intelligent green eyes watched me lazily. I set my wine glass on the flagstone.
“Crazy. Jo and Tricia were arguing in the women’s bathroom. Cliff demanded that I give him Fluffy. Malone threatened to throw me in jail. And Caro had the audacity to show up wearing my brooch.”
“What did you do?”
“I wanted to rip it off her chest-”
He chuckled. “Why did Malone threaten to toss you in jail? Again.”
“Oh.” I smiled sheepishly. The night grew chilly. I tugged at the bottom of my sweater to cover my behind. “He thinks I’m poking my nose into his investigation because I told him either Jo or Cliff killed Mona. I’m leaning toward Cliff.”
“Last week you thought he was a loser.”
“He’s still a loser. But I overheard him talking on his cell phone. He owes someone money, and, from the sound of it, it’s a lot. Then he threatened me because I wouldn’t give him Fluffy. And when Darby and I were leaving, we saw him involved in a super intense conversation he didn’t want Malone to hear.”
The air that had been relaxed and calm now sparked with a new energy. The length of Grey’s body tensed, down to his bare feet. “Stay away from him. Let the police handle it.”
I didn’t want to ruin the mood. “Let’s change the subject,” I suggested.
Grey rotated to his side and reached for me. He kissed the back of my hand, adjusted my sapphire engagement ring. “When were you going to tell me you had Mona’s phone?” his voice was deceptively gentle.
I withdrew from his grasp, uncertain of how much he knew and how much was a guess. “You knew?”
“It’s my job to notice details. Why are you keeping secrets from me?”
My pulse quickened. I sensed his uneasiness at broaching the subject. It was time to clear the air. I quickly explained everything, including Darby’s number being programmed into the phone. “I wanted to talk to her before I turned the phone over to Malone. I knew if I told you, you’d want me to give the phone directly to the police.”
“You didn’t confide in me because you didn’t trust me.” His jaw was so rigid it looked like it was about to splinter. He was hurt by what he thought was my lack in confidence of him.
“It wasn’t about me trusting you,” I picked my words carefully, wanting to be truthful but not cause further upset. “I knew you’d be angry if I kept the phone. And I didn’t want to lie. I’m sorry. I do trust you.”
“But you don’t want me telling you what to do.”
That was the truth staring us both in the face. I brushed the hair away from his forehead, looking for an excuse to touch him, to reassure us both. “You’ve always known that about me.” I shot a quick self-deprecating grin at him. “That says more about me than you.”
It was silent except for Missy’s snoring and the cricket concert. The mood shifted again as we found our footing.
“Why did Darby call Mona?” he asked.
It was difficult to look Grey in the face and answer. “I’m not sure. When I asked, she made up a story.”
“She lied.”
I nodded, not wanting to speak the words out loud. But it didn’t make it untrue. My friend had lied to me.
He sighed, and I felt him let go of whatever emotion he’d been grappling with. Grey never held a grudge. “Mel, do you think she had something to do with Mona’s death?”
“No.”
“She lied to you.”
“I know. But I’m certain she had a really good reason. Maybe Mona was holding some secret over her head. I lie to her every day about you. I can’t be too upset at her. Not yet anyway. I did promise you’d help if she needed a lawyer.”
“Melinda.”
“What? You can’t recommend someone?” I smiled, knowing he’d do what he could. That’s who he was.
He flopped to his back. “Let’s hope she doesn’t need my help.”
“Can we change the subject for real? How was your trip?” I asked.
“Educational.”
Whatever that meant. “Did you bring back any fake art?”
He looked at me funny, as if it was his turn to make a crucial decision.
I laughed softly. “You know I only call it that because it’s your cover.”
The “trips” were his cover for leaving town, but his art gallery, ACT (the acronym stood for Art Crime Team. Clever, huh?), was the real deal. He excelled at plucking new artists out of obscurity and launching them into the spotlight. If he ever retired from superhero status, he had a whole other career waiting for his undivided attention.
He sat up, straddling the lounge chair. His body vibrated with action and his eyes full of life. “Actually, I did bring back real ‘fake art.’”
I sat up too, hugging my knees to my chest. “Forgeries? Can I see them?” excitement bubbled as I realized he was talking about work. His real work.
“They may be commissioned copies. No, I can’t show you.”
“I thought that was illegal.”
“You can have a replica,” he explained. “You can’t pass off a replica as the original.”
“Is that what was happening?”
“That remains to be seen.”
I regarded him seriously. He looked as if he’d been set free, and I felt off kilter, unsettled. I couldn’t pinpoint the emotions swarming inside. “Why are you suddenly sharing with me?”
He shrugged. “You were interested. I’m trying.”
I gently moved my wine glass from the ground to the side table between our chairs. I joined him on his lounge and snuggled up against him. My heart hammered against my chest.
“I love you, Grey Donovan.”
“I love you, too.” There was no smile in his voice, just honest sincerity.
I rested my head on his chest and could hear the pounding of his heart.
“I was serious about Cliff,” he spoke into my hair. “He’s dangerous. Stay away from him.”
It was a cool Sunday morning, and the early fog rolled in like the smoke from Granddad Montgomery’s cigars. Missy and I had just wrapped up a Doga class (yoga with your dog and way more intense than Mommy and Doggie Yoga) on Main Beach. A light transparent mist settled on my arms. I felt refreshed and ready for the day.
Fluffy was still with Darby. Dressed in my yoga clothes and my hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, Missy and I zipped over to Darby’s rented cottage. Her place managed to be both whimsical yet practical. It fit her personality perfectly.
I left Missy in the Jeep with the windows down. She’d managed to get half of her stocky body out the window, panting with excitement. She seemed to like Fluffy.
I rounded the corner of the walkwa
y, brushing past a cluster of lofty periwinkle delphiniums. I knocked on the kelly-green door we had painted last summer. It swung open; a surprised Darby stood on the other side. With Malone.
It may have been Sunday, but I had a sneaking suspicion they weren’t heading to church. She was still in her hot pink sweat pants and matching hoodie, and he was in his normal Detective Malone uniform.
I had either really good or really bad timing. Depending on which side of the door you were standing on.
“Hey.” I smiled, unsure of what to make of the two of them together.
Darby stepped toward me, then abruptly stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really, sorry, Mel,” her voice hitched on my name.
My heart plummeted. “What’s going on?”
“We’re headed downtown,” Malone offered.
Oh. My. God. This couldn’t be happening. “Is she under arrest?”
“No.”
His one word answer didn’t eliminate my anxiety, especially when two fat tears slid down Darby’s cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“O-kay,” I dragged it out waiting for someone to fill in the blanks. No one bothered. “Because of the phone?” I prodded.
Malone looked at me. It was the same look he had at the funeral. “And other things.” His voice was void of emotion.
“What other things?” I urged.
His face remained unreadable. Darby’s was a mixture of fear and devastation. I wanted to reach for my friend, but Malone’s posture clearly communicated that wasn’t happening.
“I-I…” she shook her head and whispered, “You tell her.”
“We found Darby’s birth certificate in Mona’s safe,” Malone said.
I was more confused now than when she’d opened the door. “Why in the world would she have your birth certificate?”
Darby’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Because… she’s my mother.”
I gasped. Holy crap.
That was one Texas-sized secret.
Chapter Twenty
After Fluffy and I’d stood there like idiots watching Darby ride off with Malone in his unmarked police car, I’d called Grey. Bless his heart, he agreed to call in a really big favor.
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