Tova crossed her arms, raising the girls and her top, exposing her bellybutton. “Why now?”
I shoved my hands in my back pockets, biding my time. I knew if I said the wrong thing it was over. “It doesn’t matter. Check or cash?”
She tapped her bare foot and studied me. “Are you trying to buy me off?”
Whoa. Who would have thought she’d be so quick to assess the situation accurately? Back-peddle time. “You accosted me at the Fur Ball demanding money. Now that I’m willing to pay, you’re accusing me of buying you off?”
“You admit you have fleas?” Her eyebrows rose.
“No.” I shifted my weight to one leg. I tried to relax and not grow impatient. “I’m paying you the money.”
“You owe me an apology, too.”
“Excuse me?” I cocked my head to the side. I had to have heard her wrong.
“You made fun of me in public. Twice. You owe me two apologies.” She held up two fingers.
Hello. I can count to two. This was painful. “Tova, I don’t think you understand. I just came by to pay you-”
“Check.”
Oh, my gosh. She was crazy. Why did I come here? “What?”
“You can write me a check while I call my lawyer.” She turned around and started to close the door.
I shoved my foot in the doorway (thank the good Lord for motorcycle boots with Vibram soles), keeping it from slamming in my face. “Hold on. There’s no need to involve attorneys.”
“Did you think I’d drop the lawsuit?”
“Yes. You wanted me to pay you-”
She pointed her finger in my face. “I want an apology. Public.”
What was it with the public apologies? First Mona and now Tova. I leaned back before I followed the urge to swat her finger.
“Look, Tova, that’s not going to happen.”
“I’m still suing you. Unless you want to apologize and admit you have fleas.”
A wave of anger washed over me at my own stupidity. “All I have to do is find one other client who attends Mommy and Doggie Yoga who has fleas, and you’ll lose.”
“That won’t prove anything.”
“It will if they’ve never set foot in Bow Wow. And then your little lawsuit will go down in flames, and you’ll wish you would have taken my fifteen hundred dollars. Especially when I sue you for slander.”
“You won’t find them.” She didn’t sound convinced.
I removed my foot from the doorway. The determination that had propelled me through the last ten years of my life pounded in my soul. “Wanna bet?”
Tova stumbled backwards at the intensity of my stare. She was about to learn the hard way-win or lose, I never back down from a challenge.
Once I’d left Tova’s and had cooled off, I headed for my place looking for Darby. She was gone. So I pointed the Jeep toward Paw Prints. Sure enough, her sparkly blue Fiesta was parked out front.
I went inside and called out for her. I didn’t see her right away, but I spotted Snob Dog sprawled out on the couch.
“Seriously, who knew you were such a couch potato?”
Darby appeared, carrying a large letter-sized manila envelope.
“I thought you were hanging out at my place,” I said.
“I was, until my attorney called.” She dropped the envelope on the coffee table. Her expression strained. “It’s official. I’m a person of interest. I’m not supposed to leave town without talking to the police first.”
“I thought that only happened on TV?”
The stress of the situation played out on her face. “I guess not. I have a packet of paperwork from my attorney that I’m supposed to read through and fill out.”
I opened the envelope and fingered through the papers. Questionnaires, personal information, affidavits-the gravity of the situation made my heart sink.
“Why’s the boutique closed?” she asked.
I shoved the paperwork into the envelope and tossed it back on the table. “I just came from Tova’s, and before that I was at Owen’s. He went over the will with Tricia, Alex, me… and Cliff.”
Darby’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not sure where to start. Why in the world did you go to Tova’s? Cliff was at the reading of the will?”
“Tova’s was a mistake. I don’t want to relive it. The other was a gathering of the moochers. It wasn’t really a reading as much as it was to let everyone know Mona was one hundred percent broke, and, even though we were in the will, we get nothing.”
“You’re in the will? Cliff’s in the will? Did you just say she was broke?”
I nodded and shoved Fluffy aside so I’d have somewhere to sit too. “Somehow she’d managed to declare bankruptcy without anyone knowing, except for her lawyer. I get Fluffy. Mona left Cliff her art. But because she went bust, he doesn’t get it.”
Darby drifted to the table and sat. “I don’t understand. She hated him more than she hated me.”
“The line between love and hate is thinner than we realized. The only people missing from out little faux family gathering were you and Camilla.”
“Owen Quinn called while I was with my attorney. He left a voicemail. Apparently, Mona left me some money. He made it sound like it was a substantial amount. Is it true?” Darby couldn’t keep the tiny seed of hope out of her question. “Or is it like Cliff’s art and gone?”
I watched her carefully, noting her reaction to finding out she was now rolling in the deep end of money.
“She named you as the beneficiary of one of her life insurance policies. Two million dollars. It’s all yours. Separate from her estate.”
Darby sat transfixed. In an instant, she snapped out of it and jumped up. “There must be some mistake. You misunderstood.”
“No mistake,” I said softly. Inside I was jumping with excitement for her newfound wealth, but Darby was having a mini-meltdown.
“I don’t want it.” She started to pace, her voice thin. “I won’t accept it. You take it.”
“What? No way. You deserve it. Besides, she was broke. The only money left is from her insurance policies.”
“I can’t. Don’t you see? This will only convince Malone I killed Mona.”
I hadn’t thought about that. For the first time, I was unsure if I should comfort my friend or just let her wear herself out.
“I don’t accept it.” Darby raised a fist into the air and yelled at the ceiling, “Why did you hate me so much?”
“I don’t think you get to decide,” I said with a half smile.
She wiped her hands on her skirt and shared a shaky grin of her own. “Yes, I do. I respectfully decline. I choose to remain poor. Let’s change the subject. Alex came by and took Fluffy for a ride. She was happy to see him.”
I loved her spunk. There was no way I was letting her refuse that inheritance. Mona owed her that much. For now, I followed her lead in subject changing and glanced at Fluffy, who was now stretched out on the rug. “It must have been exhausting, being chauffeured around.”
“I hope you don’t mind, I told Alex to drop her off here when they were finished. I left Missy at your place. She seemed to enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“Don’t let her fool you. She’s just recharging,” I said.
I followed Darby further into the studio and helped her put the props away.
“I saw Tricia leaving Bow Wow. What did she want?”
I quickly filled her in on how Tricia had demanded Fluffy, had practically thrown Cliff under the bus for murder, and had claimed she was on a date the night Mona was murdered. “She completely clammed up when I asked her about Jo. I’m going pay Ms. O’Malley a surprise visit. Maybe she’ll tell me what they argued about.”
“There’s no need. Leave it alone.” She tossed a handful of oversized plastic sunglasses into a wicker storage basket.
“What does that mean?” I grabbed a pair of neon green glasses from the basket and slid them on my face. “We’ve got to find a way to clear your name before Malone arrests you.�
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Darby rolled her eyes at my attempt to lessen the tension. “My lawyer has hired a private investigator. You need to stay out of it before you get hurt.”
I pulled an electric blue boa from the shelf and draped it around Darby’s shoulders. “You’re watching more television than I am. I can’t get hurt by asking questions,” I said.
“Yes, you can.”
I wrapped a purple boa around my neck and struck a pose. “You think whoever killed Mona will come after me?” I’m sure I looked ridiculous with my clown glasses and boa, but I’d made Darby smile, and that’s all I cared about.
“It’s possible. You’re a dork.”
“We are going to clear your name, and you’re going to keep that money,” I promised.
The front door opened and in sauntered Jo. Speak of the devil. I couldn’t believe my luck. Once again, Jo’s red hair looked like an untamed beehive from the sixties.
“And it starts right now,” I said under my breath.
“Hey, Jo. Missed you at the will reading this afternoon.”
She looked at me like I was a Hollywood hooker. I hated to burst her bubble, but she’d be working the opposite corner.
“Hello, Melinda,” she replied as if she were bored by my very presence. She turned her attention to Darby. “I came by to pick up my head shots. You said they were on a CD.”
Darby yanked off her boa and tossed it in the storage basket. “Sorry, we were just cleaning up. I’ll get them.” She paused, looking between Jo and me with concern. “Behave,” she muttered in my direction.
I slowly removed the glasses. “I guess you and Mona weren’t as buddy buddy as you thought.”
Jo dropped all pretenses. “What do you want?” Her foghorn voice boomed throughout the studio.
I yanked off the boa and stuffed the props in their proper places, then turned my undivided attention to Jo.
“I left before you and Tricia could finish your argument in the bathroom at the funeral. Fill me in on what I missed.” The time for finessing and coddling was over. Besides, it wouldn’t take Darby but a few minutes before she was back.
“No.” She spun around and marched toward the front of the studio, the soles of her boots squeaking on the cement floor.
I followed. “Let me tell you what I think you argued about. I think Mona decided you were a fraud and was going to out you, but someone killed her first.”
She whipped around. “Are you accusing me of murder?”
I’m sure the Lassie tattoo under her sleeve was snarling at me.
I guess I was accusing her of murder. “Did you kill Mona?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Her last outgoing phone call was to you.”
“How do you know?” She frowned, and for a second I could have sworn fear flashed in her eyes.
Jo was suddenly seeing me in a whole new light. Maybe even as a threat. I’m not sure that was good, but I pushed it out of my mind and continued my questions. “Why did she call you?”
“She wanted to meet.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, Melinda. Someone killed her first. Look, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” She plastered a sneer on her face.
“Then fill me in. I’m all ears. Wait, don’t tell me. You had another dream?”
Her body stiffened. “As a matter of fact I did.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it. Did Fluffy predict another murder?”
“No. I saw Cliff with Tricia.”
I was suddenly confused. “What do you mean?”
“Cliff and Tricia were having an affair.”
It was as if we were living a soap opera. What was next, Mona was going to reappear alive. Maybe it was all a bad dream?
“Do you have proof?” I asked.
“I don’t need proof,” she answered coolly.
“You can’t convince me Mona believed you just because you say you had a dream.”
Darby came rushing out of her office, face flushed and out of breath. “Here you go. Sorry it took so long, I…” she looked between us. “What’s going on?”
“I was right. Jo has information that might help clear you.”
Darby looked skeptical. “Oh?”
“Either you can tell her, or I will. She deserves to know since she’s the one the police are trying to pin Mona’s murder on,” I said.
Jo plucked the CD from Darby’s hand. A feline smile spread across her mouth. “She already knows,” she purred, (as well as a foghorn could) and scampered out of the studio.
I was getting used to the feeling of being blindsided all too well. Once again, Darby had some explaining to do.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was hard to trust Darby when she kept more secrets than Grey. At least Grey had a legitimate reason. The same could not be said for Darby.
Once Jo had ambushed me with her newest Cliff factoid, there was no stopping me from my own field trip. Darby, still convinced I could somehow be harmed, volunteered to be my wing woman.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” It had to be the third time I’d made the proclamation.
Apparently, Jo had “accidently” let it slip during the photo shoot that she’d had a vision of Cliff and Tricia together.
We sat in my Jeep in the Dana Point Marina parking lot and watched Cliff’s unattended yacht docked in the west basin. We’d pulled in at six o’clock. Sunset was in thirty minutes. We didn’t have a lot of time.
Most people were heading to the restaurants for dinner. If it was a little darker, I’d feel more comfortable climbing aboard. Or, as Darby called it, breaking and entering.
Darby raised her binoculars and focused on the yacht. “I thought Jo was lying. Why would Cliff and Tricia be having an affair?”
“For Cliff it would be a way to get back at Mona. Did you ever consider Tricia might be the reason for Mona and Cliff’s break up?” Rumor around town had been Mona had caught him with another woman.
She lowered the binoculars. “Best friends don’t steal each other’s husbands.”
“Those are your midwestern morals talking. Line up ten couples you know from Orange County, and I bet you a minimum of six couples have cheated on each other at some point.”
She shook her head. “I refuse to believe it.”
A couple who looked like they hadn’t seen the light of day since the inauguration of the first President George Bush wobbled past us in matching nautical outfits. The old man squinted through his glasses into the Jeep, checking us out. I smiled and waved, hoping he’d realize there was nothing to see and keep plodding past us.
“Look at Caro,” I said. “Her ex had cheated before they’d celebrated their second wedding anniversary. Heck, for all she knows he had never been faithful.”
Caro and her ex-husband, Geoff, had met in college while pursuing their psych degrees. (Just the way he spelled his name screamed pretentious butthead. You’d think someone as smart as Caro would have seen that red flag, but she hadn’t.)
They’d started a counseling practice together, and before you could say, “It’s all your mother’s fault,” Geoff had taken up with a client. After a public scandal big enough to rival my own public humiliation, Caro and Butthead had lost their licenses.
It doesn’t get much worse than that.
“That doesn’t explain Tricia,” Darby argued.
“She wants to be Mona so badly, she’d take her leftovers. Sad, but true.”
My cell chirped from inside my purse, cutting off whatever argument Darby was about to voice. I grabbed my phone and saw it was a text from Grey. He wanted to meet for dinner. I quickly tapped in my reply and hit send.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Grey wants to make me dinner.”
“Are you going to tell him what we’re doing?”
I assumed she meant breaking onto Cliff’s boat, not debating couple faithfulness in the OC. “Yes.”
I turned on the satellite radio and
flipped stations before settling on classic rock. Queen’s I Want To Break Free reverberated around us.
Darby drummed her fingers on her leg. “I can’t sit here any longer. Are we going aboard or not? If we wait too long, it will be dark, and we won’t be able to see a thing. Either that or Cliff will come home.” She grabbed the door handle.
I really liked the song and thought it was quite fitting for the situation, but for sanity’s sake I turned off the radio. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
We hopped out of the Jeep and quickly made our way toward the dock. I’m sure we looked ridiculous dressed in all black like cat burglars… or yoga escapees. We were sporting our yoga garb.
A chill hung in the evening air. We casually strolled past the trendy shops and headed for the area Camilla had described when I’d called her earlier for Cliff’s slip number.
As we neared the dock, I could see we’d have to pass through a chain-link security gate. “Camilla failed to mention we needed a key to get to Cliff’s boat,” I said softly, looking around for a different way to reach our destination.
The older couple who’d shuffled past the Jeep earlier suddenly emerged from the other side of the gate, leaving the dock area. I quickly grabbed the gate before it shut, denying us access.
“I saw you resting in your car,” the old man wheezed. “What’s a matter? Did you girls work too hard at your calisthenics?” He chuckled, then erupted into a coughing fit strong enough to shoot his dentures across the marina.
“That’s what you get.” His wife pounded his frail back with an aged hand. “Leave those poor girls alone.” She bobbed with every swat, shaking the lopsided bun of white hair pinned precariously on the crown of her head.
“Do you need help?” Darby asked.
A well-practiced apologetic smile pulled at the old woman’s orange lipstick-stained mouth. “He’ll be fine. He gets excited when he sees a pretty girl.”
Darby insisted we watch them as they slowly made their way to a park bench. Once they were seated, I let the gate slam behind us.
“We’re in,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”
It was a clear evening, and a large number of boats were still out on the ocean. Water slapped against the wood pier. I inhaled the ocean air, savoring the delicate salt sting as my lungs filled.
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