We quickly found dock B. The Ruthless was easy to spot. At fifty feet, she was one of the larger yachts anchored.
“Cliff, are you home?” I called out just to make sure he wasn’t below deck sleeping. Or drinking, which was more likely in his case.
There was no answer. I grabbed the side of the boat and climbed onto the back. The swaying motion tossed me to the side. It took me a second to steady myself. Once I had my sea legs under me, I motioned for Darby to join me.
We made our way past the deck patio and down into the salon. It wasn’t a huge area, but big enough for a couple of leather barrel chairs, a sofa and a pop-up TV.
Oh, and a wet bar of multiple Scotches that could rival any liquor store.
The rhythmic rocking helped calm my racing heart. “It’s much smaller than the ocean-side mansion, but Mona’s money bought him a nice place to crash.”
“Let’s get this over with. What exactly are we looking for?” Darby’s voice shook, her nerves getting the best of her.
“I don’t know. Anything that proves he’s been gambling or that he killed Mona.”
I started in the galley (I knew that was the name for the kitchen, but that was the extent of my proper boat vernacular), and Darby searched the couple of cabinets in the salon (okay, I knew that too).
“Explain to me again, why the police aren’t doing this?” she asked.
“Maybe they have.”
“Not to be a total wet blanket, but if they didn’t find anything, what makes you think we will?”
I glanced sideways at Darby. “Do you have this sudden passion to go to jail?”
“Of course not.”
“Okay, stop talking and get looking.”
I leafed through a stack of papers on the kitchen table and didn’t see anything except past due bills. I opened drawers and only found flatware and dishes. No real food. Nothing.
We were losing light fast. “We’ll have to turn on a lamp.”
We each tuned on a table lamp in the area we were searching. I quickly moved to one of the sleeping quarters. No photo albums or handwritten notes. Nothing but clothes, sheets and towels. Not even a computer.
“Anything?” I asked, utterly disappointed.
“Not yet.”
Either the police had already been here or Cliff didn’t have anything to hide (I found the latter hard to believe). I opened a small closet behind the door, and something large and heavy covered with a white sheet tumbled onto my foot. “Ow!”
Darby rushed up and peered around me. I peeled back the sheet.
“Why would Cliff store his paintings in a closet?” she asked.
I pointed to the “walls” which were basically windows. “He doesn’t really have a place to hang that type of stuff.”
“True.” She shrugged and went back to her search.
Was that why Mona had left him her art, because she knew he didn’t have a way to appreciate it? Talk about cold hearted.
I continued to stare at the paintings. They looked so familiar. A couple of watercolors and an oil, all three different sizes and different artists. All were dramatic landscapes with excellent contrasting of light and dark. I looked at the signature on the smaller framed oil painting. Thomas Cole.
“I think these are the same paintings Mona had in her bedroom.”
“He has a copy?” she asked from the other end of the yacht.
“This is really confusing. Why would Mona leave him her art, if he already owned the same piece? Can you own the same piece? I wish Grey was here.”
“Mel, I think I found something in a nightstand,” Darby’s excited voice pierced my confusion.
She raced to my side and held out a brown Moleskin notebook. We held it under the light and flipped through the pages. It looked like recordings of betting entries, winnings, losses, names and dates.
What jumped out at me was that losses outnumbered the wins. By a huge margin.
I whistled softly. “He owes a lot of money.”
“But if he owed money, wouldn’t killing Mona be a bad idea?”
“When I called him about Fluffy, he made the comment that Mona hadn’t paid him in a while. What if Mona was paying off his gambling debts to save face, then decided she’d had enough and stopped enabling the louse?” I said.
“Or she couldn’t give him money because she was broke.”
“Exactly. He’d be mad and desperate. Especially if he was stupid enough to take mob money to pay his gambling debts.”
“He could be in serious trouble.”
“I agree. If he thought he’d get Fluffy, and her money, after Mona’s death, that’s a strong motive for murder.”
“Do you think Malone knows about this?” Darby asked.
“If he doesn’t he’s going to.”
“What about the paintings?”
I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a couple of pictures. “We can’t take those with us.”
The Yacht tipped to the side, throwing us against the closet.
“You’re sure you saw someone over here?” a male voice drifted down toward us.
“Someone’s here,” Darby said.
“Hide,” I croaked.
Rooted in place, we looked around. There was nowhere to hide one person, let alone two. We were about to get caught red-handed.
“I’m so going to jail,” Darby cried.
Galvanized into action, I shoved the paintings back into the closet.
“I’m positive,” a soft female voice assured the man.
I immediately recognized that breathy voice. Tova. What the heck was she doing here?
“Mr. Michaels, is that you?” the man called out.
She’d brought company. The boat continued to sway as the two boarded. I held my index finger over my lips. Darby’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head.
I pointed toward the sleeping area, motioning for her to stay there. She shook her head frantically.
“Who’s down there?” he demanded.
“I swear I saw two people,” Tova’s voice drifted into our hiding place.
I’d kill her. We were going to get caught because of dingbat Tova.
“Stay,” I whispered.
I brushed past Darby and skittered toward the stairs. “Hello,” I called out. “Are you looking for Cliff, too?” I stumbled into a doughy-faced kid who looked like he was fresh out of security training school. The name tag sewn to his uniform read, “Bruce.”
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice breaking on “you.” He cleared his throat.
“Where’s Cliff?” Tova asked at the same time, clutching a wicker patio chair as the boat continued to rock.
Obviously, she wasn’t surprised to see me. “I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for him. I needed to talk to him about Fluffy.”
“Dressed in all black?” Bruce eyed me with a large amount of skepticism.
“I had a yoga class.”
“Mel has bad fashion sense. Everyone knows that.” Tova’s lame explanation was the least of her problems. Each time the boat swayed she’d stumble, struggling to find her sea legs.
“You know her?” Bruce asked Tova.
My eyes narrowed in Dingbat’s direction. Was it my imagination or was she looking slightly green? “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’m thinking about buying a sailboat, and Cliff offered to help me,” Tova’s voice quivered. She gulped a couple of times.
“Really?” I glanced at the death grip she had on the chair. “You’re not exactly dressed for yacht shopping.”
My comment allowed Bruce the opportunity to openly gawk at Tova. His eyes devoured her model shape tightly wrapped in a short tweed skirt, draped t-shirt that more than hinted at her cleavage, and a pair of suede knee-hi boots.
I didn’t believe for a minute she was in the market for a yacht. “Why are you following me?”
Her eyes widened. “I-I didn’t.”
Bruce’s face flashed from outraged to injured.
“You followed her? Are you playin’ me?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped abruptly. “I-I came by your place to talk about, well, you know…” She swallowed and swayed slightly. “I saw you and-” she covered her mouth.
“Bruce, you’d better get her off Cliff’s yacht. She looks like she’s about to throw up.” I interrupted before she ratted out Darby. And she really did look like she was about to puke.
He forgot all about me as he helped Dingbat Tova to dry land. I waited until they were a few yards down the dock before I called out to Darby.
“Coast is clear. Quick, turn off the lights, and let’s get out of here.”
She bound up the stairs, and we jumped off the yacht. “Where did she come from? Why is she following you?”
“I’m sure it has something to do with my visit with her earlier today.”
Tova and I were going to have words later.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was completely dark, with only the full moon as a flashlight. It had taken us mere minutes to rush to the Jeep and race back to Laguna. I wasn’t sure what had happened to Tova, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out tomorrow that somehow her getting sick would be my fault.
“I can’t believe we made it off Ruthless without getting into serious trouble. I don’t ever want to experience that again.” Fear laced Darby’s words. Under the streetlights I could see her flushed cheeks.
“Definitely a close call.” Unlike my best friend, I liked the adrenalin rush. I felt like I could run a marathon in record time. “You put Cliff’s notebook back where you found it, right?” I asked.
“Yes. Are you going to call Malone tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
Speaking of calling, my cell rang just as we entered Laguna city limits. I fumbled around in my purse, not wanting to miss Grey’s call. I was running late to dinner. I glanced at the number as I answered. It wasn’t Grey. I turned on my hands-free.
“Hey, Mama,” I kept my voice light.
“Why haven’t you called?” her voice cracked with tension.
“I did. I left a message.”
“You could have tried again. I raised you better than that.”
I kept my eyes on the road and pressed the accelerator harder. “I sent you a text.”
“You should have standards, Melinda. Texting promotes bad spelling and bad grammar. I heard about your little friend. Did you know she was Mona’s daughter?”
Apparently the tabloids had caught wind of Darby’s parentage. I glanced at “my little friend,” who was exerting great effort to not hear my speaker phone conversation. “I had no idea. What about you?”
“I knew Mona had a child, but I had no idea whether her unfortunate offspring was a boy or girl.”
The passenger-side tire blipped off the shoulder for a brief second. Darby scrambled for something to brace herself.
“What is it with y’all?” I shouted. “How many more secrets are going to come out before this is over?” I could feel Darby’s stare.
“Everyone has secrets,” Mama’s voice sizzled with exasperation.
“What do you need, Mama?”
I could hear the faint sound of drumming fingers. “Did you find your brother? Do I need to call the FBI? The National Guard?” she asked as I pulled into my driveway.
There was a car I didn’t recognize parked behind Darby’s Fiesta across the street. It couldn’t be Tova’s. It was way too modest.
“Mama, hold on a second. Darby, do you know whose car that is?” I whispered.
There was just enough light from the street lamp that I could see her shake her head. “No.”
I had a bad feeling. “Lord have mercy,” I muttered.
“Melinda, what’s going on?”
“I said, just a minute, Mama.” I took a breath. “Please.”
My heart raced as the driver’s door opened, and the inside light flicked on. A tall, dark haired man stepped out. Then the passenger door opened, and a leggy brunette joined him. Their doors closed in stereo, filling the quiet neighborhood. He said something to her over the top of the car, and she smiled. My stomach dropped.
“Mama, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Melinda, what-” I disconnected as she continued to talk.
“Do you know them?” Darby asked, watching from the side mirror as they crossed the street to the driveway.
My heart was beating in my throat. I swallowed past it. “The good looking idiot in the suit is my brother.” I turned off the engine when I realized it was still running.
“I’ll be going,” Darby said, clambering from the Jeep.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
We got out, and I waited for bad news to meet me in the driveway. Darby immediately made a beeline for her car. She waved as she drove off without a backwards glance. Coward.
My brother, who hasn’t hugged me since the day he left home, wrapped his arms around me and squeezed, lifting me off my feet. Not an easy task.
“What’s wrong,” I managed to force out.
“Nothing.” He let go and stepped back. “You look good, Mel. Were you at an exercise class?”
I felt a tad awkward in my yoga getup with these two dressed for a date at the symphony. “Something like that. You’ve been off the Mama radar. What’s going on?”
His lopsided smile was forced, as if he was nervous and unsure of his reception. “Nikki, this is my little sister, Melinda.”
Nikki was not southern. My bad feeling metamorphosed into relief. A wave of giddiness washed over me. Mitch was fine. He was more than fine.
And Mama was going to throw a Texas-sized fit.
Nikki held out her slender hand, which I quickly accepted. Her grip was firm but not competitive. Impressive. Even in the dark I could see she oozed exotic beauty.
She tipped her head sideways and offered a genuine smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I hope you don’t mind we showed up unannounced. I told Mitch we should have called first. It looked like you were in the middle of something.”
An intimate look passed between them that spoke volumes. She was chastising Mitch.
“Excuse us for one moment.” I grabbed my brother by the arm and dragged him toward the front door. I looked back one last time at the woman who probably wasn’t a Vegas showgirl. Knowing my brother, she’d graduated from Brown, top of her class. But that wouldn’t matter to our Mama.
I held back the smile that was itching to escape. “Mitchell, tell me.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I wanted you to be the first to meet my wife, Nikki Langston.”
“Oh my gawd. Mama’s gonna have your hide,” my southern accent had landed. I let out a Texas whoop my Daddy’d be proud of.
I was so out of Mama’s crosshairs for a good six months.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It’s funny how some things just work themselves out. Being the wonderfully supportive little sister I am, I relinquished my house to the newest Langstons and ordered Mitch to call the folks. It was time to break the horrific news-there would be no Dallas wedding.
Not only that, Nikki’s full name was Nicole Rosa Isabel Espinoza Langston. I couldn’t wipe the gratified smile off my face. If I hadn’t been in the middle of my own ridiculous drama, I would have hopped on the first plane to Dallas to witness Mama’s meltdown. Trust me, there will be fireworks of epic proportions. And for once, I wasn’t the target.
Don’t misunderstand, it’s not Nikki’s nationality that will throw Mama into a conniption fit, it’s the competing heritage traditions. In Dallas, charity events, parties and weddings are a reflection of your reputation.
Mitch had every reason to be wary of Mama.
Now that my brother’s alien behavior had an explanation, it was time to concentrate on the rest of my life, which was spiraling down the crazy drain.
My best friend was still the number one suspect in the murder of a local pseudo-celebrity. I was still guardian of a h
igh maintenance dog. And I was still being sued.
I did what any semi-sane person would do. I headed for The Top of The World. I followed the twisting curves higher and higher, the night breeze dancing through the palm trees.
Unlike Tova’s desert landscaping, Grey’s had curb appeal. A potpourri of impatiens, cosmos and petunias with a handful of mini palm trees as accents. I pulled into the driveway and shut off the Jeep. I faced my four-legged passengers. Missy, who rode shotgun, knew exactly where we were and was eager to show Grey some love.
“Missy, you already know the rules.” I turned to Her Highness. “Fluffy, here’s what you need to know. Stay off the couch. Stay off our bed. Grey bought you a bed. Use it.”
Fluffy sat at attention, her long nose pointed toward Missy, but her eyes questioning me.
“She’s not allowed on the couch or bed either.” Sheesh. I hadn’t realized dogs could experience sibling rivalry.
Missy pranced in the seat, anxious to unload. I reached over to release the harness just as she sneezed. Bulldog drool shot out all over the inside of the Jeep and onto me.
“Yuck.” I pulled out a box of tissues from the middle console and wiped her sticky chin. Behind me, Fluffy rubbed her nose with her paw. She’d also been a causality of Missy snot.
I gently held her narrow face and cleaned her off. She watched me, not sure what I was about. “There you go, girlfriend.”
I scratched the top of her head and kissed her lightly. Fluffy licked my cheek, then turned away as if embarrassed.
I winked at Missy. “Well, well, well. Looks like Her Highness is warming up to us.” I rubbed Missy’s head and gave her a few kisses, too, not wanting her to feel left out of the love fest.
“Alrighty then.” I wadded the tissues into a ball and shoved them back into the console. “Let’s hit it, ladies.”
I slung my Louis Vuitton travel bag over my shoulder and raced the dogs up the stone walkway. We’d made it halfway to the house, when the front door swung open.
“I see you brought friends.” Grey’s deep voice made me feel a little dizzy.
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