Get Fluffy

by Sparkle Abbey

  “Tricia was here?”

  “Si, yesterday. I don’t like her.”

  That made two of us. “I’m sure the police confiscated whatever it is she’s looking for. Don’t worry about Tricia. She’s as empty as the designer handbags tucked in the back of her closet. Back to Fluffy. Have you ever seen her wearing this?” I pulled the dog video recorder from the inside pocket of my leather jacket.

  Camilla crossed herself at warp speed and backed up until she’d pressed herself flat against the wall with a bang. “Take it away,” she yelled.

  Shocked at her reaction, I immediately shoved it back in my pocket. “It’s just a pet recorder.”

  Mona’s housekeeper was visibly shaken. “Mr. Michaels come here for that. Miz Mona refuse to give it to him. He scream at her. She scream at him. She called it her seguro.” Words rushed out of her mouth like an amateur hip hop rapper trying to make a quick buck.

  “What’s seguro?”

  “Insurance.” Her accent thick on the single word. She crossed herself once more for good measure, then fled from the room.

  Hells bells. I had to see what was on Fluffy’s digital video camera.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I had one hour ‘til the reading of the will. I headed back to Bow Wow with more questions than answers. When I’d arrived at Mona’s, I’d leaned toward Jo as the killer. Now I believed it was Cliff.

  I unlocked the shop door. Lately, the boutique was closed more than it was open. I turned on the laptop in my office and rummaged through the desk drawers for a USB cable. I couldn’t find one.

  Within minutes of my return, Bow Wow was full of customers. I abandoned my search and tended to business. I sold a few pounds of Bowser Treats, a handful of doggie sweaters and a tiara. The whole time I was thinking about the video camera tucked in my jacket pocket.

  I’d also overheard gossip.

  Not that anyone was trying to keep it a secret. Most of the talk was inaccurate but close enough to the truth that if I hadn’t been at the funeral, I might have believed it myself.

  Instead of Tricia and Jo fighting in the bathroom, they’d fought in the vestibule. And instead of Cliff being accosted in the parking lot by some random stranger, he’d been arrested by Malone.

  After talking to Camilla, I was pretty sure his visitor wasn’t random or a stranger, but someone from the mob. He was lucky he’d gotten out of there alive. If Detective Malone hadn’t followed Cliff to his car, Cliff would have been batting practice.

  Were the police aware of Cliff’s side venture? It was possible Mona’s death had been a mob hit. What if Batty had one of his boys knock her off to scare Cliff? It was time to call Malone. Lord, I dreaded that conversation.

  The last customer walked out the door as Tricia breezed inside with a humongous Michael Kors tote. And a cloud of Mona’s signature perfume.

  “Make it quick. I have somewhere to be in thirty minutes.”

  “We had a meeting this afternoon. You were closed.” She was all business in her Prada suit as she headed straight for the counter where I was standing.

  “With Mona dead that appointment was canceled.”

  She smoothed the skirt of her dress. “Now it’s uncanceled.”

  “You can’t uncancel an appointment.” Uncancel wasn’t even a word. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “What? Meeting today?”

  “Everything. You, me. I’m not interested.”

  “You will not kick me to the curb because Mona’s dead. She wouldn’t approve.” Tricia flipped her blond hair off her shoulder and tried her version of a Mona glare. She had a long way to go before she’d achieve Mona’s level of bored disdain.

  “I couldn’t give a flying fig for what Mona would or wouldn’t approve. If you remember, I didn’t want to sell your dog line in the first place. How can I market a clothing line by someone who hates dogs?”

  “I don’t hate dogs,” she huffed, eyes lids fluttering in protest. “I certainly don’t hate Fluffy.”

  Who was she kidding? She’d called Fluffy a beast on more than one occasion. If Tricia had a sudden love-fest for Snob Dog, it was because she was worth millions.

  As she stood rooted in front of me with her superior attitude, I remembered something Camilla had said. “Speaking of Mona, what were you looking for at her place yesterday?”

  Tricia dropped her bag on the counter. “You’ve spoken to Camilla.” She spread two extravagant dog dresses in front of me. “She’s a hysterical mess. I don’t trust her for a minute.”

  I picked up the lavender ballerina dress. It was absolutely adorable. Damn. “So you accused her of stealing?”

  Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

  “What do you think she took?”

  “The signed contact between Mona and me.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “Shouldn’t you have your own copy?”

  She blinked a couple of times, surprise fighting her Botoxed forehead. “I misplaced it. I’d asked Mona for a copy, and she said she’d make me one. I never got it. You’ve obviously snooped through Mona’s belongings, maybe you saw it.”

  I didn’t believe her for a doggone minute. “I’m sure either the police or Owen have Mona’s legal documents.” I had no idea what I was saying. I was making stuff up as I went along. I didn’t even know if her so called contract even existed.

  My gut said Tricia was hiding something, and I wanted to know what. I picked up the second dress, a cute denim with pink flowers and crystals, perfect for Shar’s Babycakes. It dawned on me Tricia had been using Mona to get her business off the ground. Without her, Tricia would have to find a new investor.

  “Did Mona owe you money?” I asked.

  She snatched the dog dress from my hands. “What are you talking about?”

  “Most contracts involve money changing hands. You’re looking for the contract, minutes before the reading of the will.”

  Tricia packed away her samples haphazardly. “You do realize it’s not a reading like you see on TV? Owen will give you a copy of the paperwork, you’ll sign a release, and that will be the end of it.”

  I didn’t know that. I had imagined everyone sitting around while Owen read off who was getting what and who wasn’t getting what they thought they deserved. Apparently, it wasn’t so dramatic. I watched Tricia with renewed interest. How many will readings had she been to that she was so well versed in the procedures?

  “Thanks for the heads up. Your samples are charming. What were you and Jo arguing about at the funeral?”

  Her shrewd brown eyes turned on me. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It’s not, but you should tell me. I don’t trust Jo, and I can’t believe for a minute Mona actually believed Jo could predict the future.”

  “You’re wrong. Mona did believe. And it turned out she was right.”

  At some point Tricia had to stop living in the land of denial. “Did you ever stop to think maybe Jo had something to do with Mona’s death?”

  “That’s ridiculous. If anything, Cliff and his brother are responsible for Mona’s death. They just wanted her money.”

  Hello, pot. Was she listening to herself? She wasn’t any different than Cliff and his brother. She wanted Mona’s money, too, although she probably wasn’t dumb enough to borrow money from the mob.

  “Cliff constantly harassed her for cash for himself and Ted.”

  I nodded. “Batty.”

  “So you’ve heard.”

  I wasn’t about to throw Camilla under the bus. “Stuff like that gets around. Why would they hook up with the mob?”

  She looked at me with a smug smile. “You don’t know as much as you think.”

  “But as Mona’s best friend you do.” I appealed to her vanity.

  “The Michaels brothers like to drink and gamble.”

  Again, Captain Obvious. Even my Mama knew about Cliff’s “vices.” “I’ve never asked you this before, but where were you when Mona was killed?”


  Tricia snapped her bag shut. “I’ve already given a statement to the police. Since you’re not the police, I don’t have to answer.” Contempt oozed off her tongue.

  I didn’t believe for a minute she was the killer, but her reaction confirmed my earlier gut feeling she was hiding something. “You’re right, you don’t have to. But since you don’t have anything to hide, why wouldn’t you?”

  “I was on a date.”

  That wasn’t what I thought she’d say. “With who?”

  “No one you know. My private life is not open for discussion.” A sense of false bravado shrouded poor Tricia. She just didn’t have the same tone of contempt as Mona.

  She was so hiding something.

  Because it’s Laguna, and we’re a stone’s throw from LA, I have to admit, my first thought was she was dating a married man. Why else would she want to keep him a secret? The name of the game in her social circle was to be seen with someone higher on the social ladder than yourself.

  What if Mona knew who Tricia was dating, and it was a scandal waiting to break? Maybe that’s what Tricia was really looking for. Not a contract, but proof of her private life.

  Like pictures she didn’t want anyone else to see.

  If someone had told me I’d feel sorry for Mona, I’d have thought they were crazy. But with each day I was learning she was one of those unfortunate people who wouldn’t know if someone was her friend or if they saw her as nothing more than a cash cow.

  It had to be a miserable existence.

  Tricia wanted Mona for her name and money. That wasn’t a motive for murder. With Mona dead, Tricia didn’t have a backer. Cliff and his brother wanted Mona to pay off their gambling debts. If she was dead, she couldn’t cough up the cash. It seemed they didn’t have a motive either.

  Unless Mona had cut off Cliff’s money, so he killed her out of anger. Maybe that’s what Kate had heard them arguing about? What if Mona hadn’t changed her will right away, and Cliff thought she was worth more dead than alive? That was certainly a motive for whacking his rich ex-wife.

  After further thought, I’d given up on the mob hit. Mona was killed with a trophy, not a bat. She had to have been killed in of a moment of passion. If it had been planned, the killer would have brought a weapon.

  That left Jo. Jo wanted Mona for… I hadn’t figured that part out. What did Jo want? To make a name for herself? If Mona Michaels was a believer, wouldn’t that draw a larger client base? But Jo had stupidly predicted Mona’s death. So if Mona didn’t die, people would believe she was a fake.

  I was missing something. Jo needed Mona alive and dead. Unless Jo was in cahoots with Tricia. Or Cliff. Now that would be something. I needed to talk to Jo. But first, I was about to find out the biggest motive of all.

  Mona’s will.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was a gathering of the crazy people.

  “This-isn’t-how-we-typically-handle-estate-disbursements-but- these-are-rather-unusual-circumstances,” Owen Quinn talked at warp-speed. He looked like a miniature action figure sitting behind his chunky cherry wood desk.

  There were four of us: Tricia, Alex, myself, and the surprise guest of the afternoon-Cliff. We were seated in Owen’s corner office with an ocean view. Our swivel leather chairs formed a semicircle around his desk as if it were a campfire. Instead of singing Boom Chicka Boom, we waited to hear if our lives were going to be enriched by Mona’s wealth.

  Boy, were we in for a rude awakening.

  “Each of you is named in Mona’s will.” Owen stood. At least I think he did; he was vertically challenged, which made it difficult to know for certain. He passed everyone a handful of papers with red “sign here” tabs sticking out the right side. So far Tricia’s description of the meeting was dead on.

  He paced behind his desk. “Now, as you can see, Ms. Michaels left all of you something-”

  “It says she left me her cars.”

  That was Alex. He’d acted as if we barely knew each other. I played along for now.

  “The housekeeper didn’t bother to show. Does she get to keep the money?”

  That was Cliff. The cad.

  “I don’t see Melinda’s name. Why is she here?”

  I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, that was Tricia.

  “Melinda was named Fluffy’s guardian,” Owen explained.

  “She really gets Fluffy?” Tricia whined, spinning her chair in my direction.

  “Very well played, indeed.” Alex muttered under his breath. He seemed to approve of my guardianship. Maybe he’d trade me, the cars for the dog.

  “I should get Fluffy,” Cliff bellowed.

  “Mona left the ARL three million dollars?” Tricia complained.

  Don Furry would be ecstatic to learn he’d get his donation after all.

  “Please don’t get caught up in what Mona left you. Or didn’t leave you. Okay? The reason for this meeting is to inform all of you she filed for bankruptcy a month ago. She had no assets. Only bills.” Owen’s oversized eyebrows danced with each word, his impatience with us evident.

  “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 hu
ndred 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.”