He cleared his throat. “The psychic told Mona Fluffy didn’t like to wear the crown.”
That was it? That’s what had him twisted in knots like a scared virgin on her wedding night?
That wasn’t a big dark secret, which once revealed would save Darby. Well, hells bells. “Trust me, she likes the crown.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.
Even I had liked the crowns. At least in the beginning. But then I realized the crowns didn’t belong to me. They belonged to my mama. And my Aunt Kat. But never me-the one who’d strutted her stuff across the stage like a 4-H calf at the Texas State Fair.
“Was Mona upset? Mad? Did she believe her?” Did she laugh in Jo’s face? Because I sure the heck would have.
A crooked smile tilted the edge of his mouth, and his eyes softened. “I believe her exact words were, ‘Don’t be a stupid cow.’”
I laughed. Now that sounded like Mona. He must have misinterpreted my amusement.
“Mrs. Michaels didn’t have a lot of friends,” Alex explained needlessly. “Her personality was… difficult.”
Difficult. He was endearing, protecting Mona’s ruthless reputation. “You’re very diplomatic. What was Jo’s reaction?”
He tugged at his collar. “They talked quietly most of the time, but I could tell she was upset.”
He was downplaying the interaction between them. I set my mug on the coffee bar and closed the space between us, hoping I was instilling confidence. “How upset?”
“She said, ‘To me you’re dead. I’ve already said my good-byes.’” He recited the words as if he were auditioning for a Shakespearean play.
Jo did it. Jo killed Mona. I knew it. I knew it.
I wanted to jump up and down and clap my hands like a goon. If I’d been alone, I’d have line danced from one end of the store to the other.
I gripped his arm. “Thank you, Alex.”
“It would be,” he cleared his throat and looked around the empty shop, “inconvenient if it got out that I told you this.”
“I understand. I won’t say anything unless I have to. But I can’t let an innocent person be accused of a crime she didn’t commit.”
“Of course not. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I came by to give you this.” He pulled a small electronic device from his sports coat pocket and held it in the palm of his hand.
“What the heck is it?” I asked, looking it over.
“Fluffy’s digital video camera. It attaches to her leather collar.”
“She wore this?”
“Upon occasion.”
“You’re kidding me? How does it work?” I could sell a ton of pet video cameras. A day in the life of your pet would be an instant best seller.
Alex gave me a crash course on the FAQs. It attached to the collar with a special clip on the backside. The rechargeable battery lasted approximately five hours. It recharged and downloaded the recording with a USB cable attached to a computer.
“I found it under the backseat on the passenger side. It must have fallen out of Ms. Michaels purse,” he explained.
It was possible the camera may have recorded something important. Determination exploded in my chest. I wanted to close the shop, go home and watch it.
I knew she couldn’t have recorded the murder, but maybe she had somehow recorded evidence. What if she’d recorded that last conversation between her and Jo? What if that was already downloaded on her computer? Excitement bubbled with each possibility.
I had to get back to Mona’s.
“Please don’t let Mr. Michael’s know that I gave this to you,” Alex asked.
“Sure. Whatever you say,” I answered absently before it registered what he’d said. I looked up and asked, “What? Why?”
“He wanted it, but Mrs. Michaels refused to give it to him.”
Mona could have refused to hand it over because she was mean and nasty. But that didn’t explain why Cliff wanted it.
Before I could ask more questions, the shop door swung open, and television teen star Shar Summers waltzed inside, her Chinese Crested, Babycakes, nestled in the crook of her arm. As God is my witness, Babycakes was one ugly dog. Shar, on the other hand, was adorable. They were both so tiny they could be mistaken for keychain charms.
Pooch and human were decked out in hot pink. Hairless by breed, the pup was wrapped in a pink “fur” coat, which perfectly matched Shar’s faux fur vest. They were also wearing black Uggs, Babycakes sporting the doggie kind.
Only the actress wore pink leggings, apparently that was the imaginary line Shar didn’t cross-pants for her dog. Go figure.
I caught Alex’s horrified look before he recovered and molded a neutral expression to his face. A chuckle lodged in my throat.
“Looks like someone threw up a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, and it splashed all over them,” I whispered.
“Indeed.”
“Excuse me for a moment,” I said, and quickly met the cutesy twosome at the counter. “Hey, Shar. I’m glad you could stop in. Are you ready for your trip to Europe?”
Her TV series, Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo, about triplets who perform magic, was filming an episode in England. Just for clarification, there weren’t triplets, just Shar, playing triplets.
She covered Babycake’s ears, one of the few parts on his miniature body with hair. “Shh. It’s a surprise. Baby doesn’t know we’re taking a widdle twip.”
I cringed at her baby talk. I never understood why people insisted on talking down to their baby, let alone their animal. Especially people with small dogs.
I lowered my voice, “I have your special order in the office. I’ll grab it.”
I wanted to get back to Alex as quickly as I could. I hurried to the storage area and immediately found the plush white box containing the $35,000 doggles Shar had commissioned. (No, that’s not a typo. Let me spell it out-thirty-five thousand dollars. For sunglasses. For a dog. Hello!)
I hadn’t been gone for more than two minutes, but that was enough time for Alex to escape my questions. Dang.
I set the box on the counter and slid it to Shar. “Here you go.”
“I’m not sure I should open it in front her.” She pushed out her bottom lip and looked at me expectantly.
As if I’d ever let myself be manipulated by pouting. Sheesh. There was no way I’d hold that dog. Last I’d heard she’d not only bitten Caro, but she’d bitten Detective Malone, too.
Thinking about Malone made me think about Mona, which made me think about how often Cliff’s name popped up. He could have killed Mona. He had motive and opportunity. And it would have been easy for him to get into the gated community without drawing attention.
Then there was Jo. Like Darby, Jo couldn’t have gotten into the neighborhood without the guard letting her though or without using the access code. Did Jo have other clients in the neighborhood? Could they have given her the access code?
“Well?” Shar asked, pulling me out of my mental-sleuthing.
It was time to get rid of Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Two so I could bop over to Mona’s and find her computer. “How about, I open the box and hold it above Baby’s head?”
She looked lovingly at her pooch, then nodded. “I guess so.”
I pried open the box, showcasing rimless sunglasses with diamonds in the shape of hearts on the pink lenses. I held it just above Babycakes’ head like I said I would.
A soft growl started at the back of her throat (uh, the baby dog, not the baby girl). I remained calm, but I had zero confidence teenage blondie could handle her itty bitty doggie.
“Are you sure that’s the right shade of pink?” Shar asked.
Baby’s almond eyes stared me down. “Positive. Pink Bubble Gum.” I closed the box and moved out the line of biting.
Shar whipped out her pink Coach wallet and handed me her black credit card. I rang up the doggles, then handed the receipt and bag to Shar.
“I put a couple of sweet potato treats in the bag.”
“Thanks, Mel.”
I foll
owed them to the door, locking it as soon as their baby feet hit the sidewalk. I quickly hung the closed sign before more business wandered inside. I was a woman on a mission. I’d clear Darby’s name and, in the process, find out who hated Mona so much they killed her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sun had quickly burned off the morning clouds. It was noon, and the day promised to be full of sunshine and hope. I headed to Mona’s without calling, fingers crossed Camilla would be apron deep in recording Mona’s possessions. By now the security guard didn’t bother to stop me and passed me through. At some point I’d been promoted to resident status.
Is that what had happened the night Mona had died? Had he waved through a murderer? Or did they live in the community? I made a mental note to talk to the guard on my way out.
I parked in Mona’s circular driveway. I marched up to the door, and knocked as I opened it.
“Camilla? It’s Melinda. Are you here?” I yelled out, closing the door behind me.
She came rushing downstairs. “Why you here? Fluffy OK?”
Camilla looked really comfortable hanging out in Mona’s house in her black t-shirt and designer jeans. Uh, hello? Since when did housekeepers wear two hundred dollar jeans?
Instead of the “butler did it,” could it be the housekeeper did it?
“She’s fine.” It probably wasn’t smart to let on I suddenly considered her a possible suspect. “Did you hear about the will?”
“Si, I got phone call.”
The meeting at Owen Quinn’s was in three hours. I needed to hurry this up. I peered over Camilla’s shoulder searching for what would be a logical office for Mona.
She looked over her shoulder too. “What?”
“So, you’ll be there? At the meeting.”
She shook her head. “No. My sister’s leaving town. I taking her to airport.”
“She can’t take a taxi?” If I was broke and thought I might be on the receiving end of a windfall of cash, my sister would be finding her own way to the airport. Okay, not really. But if Camilla didn’t attend the meeting, how would I know for sure if she was guilty or innocent?
“Taxi?” she asked confused.
“You’re not leaving town, too, are you?”
She laughed lightly, wiping her hands on her jeans. “No, no. I take my sister to the airport. She’s flying to Kansas.”
“Camilla, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Miz Melinda. Come with me.”
I followed Camilla to the sunroom and kept my eye out for an office. I positioned myself onto the settee across from her. “Did you know Darby Beckett was Mona’s daughter?” I asked.
She shook her head, her brows furrowed in concern. “No. It was big surprise. Do you think there are more children?” She asked the last part in a whisper.
Good grief. I hadn’t thought about that possibility.
I studied Mona’s former housekeeper with a critical eye. Was she curious, or was she more devious than I’d given her credit for? Maybe she thought if there were more offspring she’d get a smaller slice of the money pie.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Did Mona and Cliff argue last week about Fluffy?”
She shook her head automatically. “No.”
“No, you don’t know, or no they didn’t?”
“No argument.”
“Are you sure? Think carefully. Did Cliff stop by unannounced or call?”
She scowled. “No. He never come here. Once she kicked him out,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, “he never be back.”
She was lying. Kate, from the dog park, had been very clear-Cliff had been here, and they’d fought. Unless Kate was lying. Or maybe she didn’t know what Cliff looked like and just assumed the man Mona had argued with was Cliff.
But what other man would Mona have fought with? Alex?
Was Alex lying?
What if they were all lying?
I rubbed my temples. I was giving myself a headache. I leaned in closer. “You’re certain, Cliff was never here?”
She shifted her weight, mirroring my posture. She stared at me, freakishly unblinking. “Si.”
Camilla was lying. Was she hiding behind the same confidentiality agreement as Alex? Could she be protecting Mona? Or herself? Where was Camilla the night Mona had died?
“The police think Darby may have had something to do with Mona’s death,” I said, trying to work in a way to ask for an alibi for the night of the murder.
“She killed Miz Mona?” She crossed herself and looked to the ceiling.
I caught myself wanting to look at the ceiling, too. “No. That’s why I’m here. She cared about Mona.”
“She loved Miz Mona?” Skepticism tinged her question.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but she did care.”
She considered my words before she spoke. “Miz Mona was mad about a letter from her lawyer,” she offered.
“From Owen Quinn? Do you know what it was about?”
“I don’t snoop,” she said, full of indignation.
I’m sure if she did know, she’d never tell. If word got out that she was into Mona’s business, Camilla wouldn’t find another job within five hundred miles of the OC.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you do. Did,” I corrected myself. “I thought Mona might have confided in you.”
“No, no, no. She not like me.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I wanted to ask outright if she’d killed her, but my gut told me it wasn’t her. If so, she’d have thrown Darby under the bus without hesitation. But that didn’t explain why she lied about Cliff.
“I’m just curious, where were you when Fluffy and I found Mona? I called out your name. I expected you to pop out of a room any moment.”
She shook her head. “I not live here. Monday night my day off. All staff have Monday night off. Miz Mona liked to be alone.”
“Do you know Kate?”
“The dog walker? Of course.”
“When was the last time Kate walked Fluffy?”
“The day of the Fur Ball,” she answered automatically.
Kate was telling the truth. “I met her at the Bark Park. She said Cliff was here that day, and he and Mona argued.”
Camilla didn’t say anything. She pushed her lips together, telling me they were sealed. She fought her own silent war.
I reached out and patted her knee. “You can tell me. Mona isn’t here to punish you for telling the truth.”
Out of nowhere, the water works spewed like a geyser. Fat salty tears spilled out of her eyes and splashed onto us both. Holy cow.
“I lied,” she wailed. “Mr. Michaels was here. He come a lot. They argue about the other Mr. Michaels. Miz Michaels make me promise not to talk about it.”
She pulled out a wadded used tissue from her pocket and eventually found a section to blow her nose. And blow her nose. And then blow it one more time. Eew.
“The other Mr. Michaels? Cliff has a brother?” I guessed.
“Si. Mr. Ted.”
“Do you have a picture of Ted?” I had no idea what he looked like.
“Si.” She got up, still sniffling, and rummaged through the antique buffet table’s drawers. She pulled out a frame that had been shoved into the back and handed it to me, then returned to her seat.
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.”
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