There were two new books shoved on top of the other books that had caught my attention. They looked like text books. Being the nosy cousin, I helped myself to see what she’d bought this time. Relational Diagnosis and Dysfunctional Family Patterns and Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.
Obviously she was researching our family tree.
I pulled the fancy burgundy leather book off the shelf. It looked like it was from her therapy days. Not when she was in therapy, but when she was paid to give out advice. It smelled kinda musty. Eew.
I ran my hand over the leather. It was soft and in decent shape. I opened the cover thinking I might find something to help me deal with Mama and almost dropped it.
“Oh, no, you didn’t.”
Caro had defaced a book.
My cousin, the lover of all things bookish had ripped out a handful of pages and taped something wrapped in a monogrammed hankie (CAL) to the inside cover. That something was the exact size as Grandma Tillie’s brooch. My snoopiness paid off big time.
My heart surged with excitement.
Very carefully, I removed my prized possession and unwrapped it. Not a loose gem on it. Perfectly garish. And all mine. I gave it an appreciative smooch.
It was back where it belonged.
“You are one sneaky gal, Carolina Alexis Lamont.”
Chapter Thirty-One
This time I wasn’t taking any chances. I headed home to hide my loot in a secure place. Fluffy’s safe. I tucked away the pin next to Fluffy’s own prized treasures. I have to admit I felt a little cocky for once again being on top. It was going to be a great day.
Mitch and Nikki had left a note letting me know they were out for a morning stroll on the beach. I was about to call the dogs, but realized they were crashed out in their beds. I scribbled a note to the newlyweds that I’d check on the furry kids after noon and scrammed.
With an enormous smile on my face, I sped down PCH toward the shop. I spied Cliff’s Land Rover at Nick’s restaurant. Without a second thought, I cranked the steering wheel to the left and parked.
As soon as I climbed out of the Jeep, the powerful aroma of fried chicken and coffee assaulted my sensibilities. My stomach growled, demanding to be fed. Nick’s was one of the few restaurants in town where you’d find an entree of fried chicken and gravy with waffles on the menu.
It was a nice place with trendy deco and good food. At times a long wait to get into for dinner. Especially during tourist season.
I walked inside and spotted Cliff sitting at the bar, no breakfast. Unless you considered a Bloody Mary the breakfast of champions. I claimed the barstool next to him.
“What the hell do you want?” he growled.
Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I took in his mussed hair and scruffy face. He was wearing the same bowling shirt he’d worn yesterday. Correction. Someone still needed to go to bed.
“Long night?” I asked.
“Whada you care?” He drank deeply, almost stabbing himself in the eye with the celery stick sticking out of his glass.
“I hear you’re in trouble.”
“What do you know about it?” he snapped.
I waved the bartender over and asked for an iced tea. His gaze shifted between Cliff and me but wisely kept his opinion to himself.
“I guess you’re the last to know. It’s well known around town you’ve got a gambling problem.”
An awkward moment passed. The bartender brought my tea, then vanished.
Cliff shrugged. “So I gamble. What’s the big deal?”
“I’d say borrowing money from Batty is a big deal,” I whispered.
His glass slid from his hand, landing upright on the bar. He whipped around and glared at me. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
Lord, he could get angry fast. Imagine how angry he could be at someone he hated. I moved him to the top of my suspect list. “If you’re that afraid of him, why on God’s green earth would you take money from him?”
“I didn’t.”
It took me a second, but I got it. “Ted.”
“This is all Mona’s fault. If she hadn’t gone back on her word, I wouldn’t be in the mess.”
“What part did she go back on?” Fluffy or paying him off in cash?
He motioned for the bartender to bring him another Bloody Mary. “Up until a month ago, she was giving me money.”
“That doesn’t sound like Mona.”
“I had a little leverage.” He leered at me as if I should be impressed with the revelation. “She was leading a fictional lifestyle. You know what I mean?”
Her and sixty percent of the US population. Way too many people living beyond what they could afford. “So you were blackmailing her?”
“Not at all. We had an agreement. Then she stopped paying me.”
“Why? Because you were sleeping with her best friend?”
He blinked, then laughed. Loudly. You know that annoying drunk-guy laugh? Only I don’t think he was drunk. Yet.
“Whoever told you I was boffing Tricia is crazy. I had the real deal, and I couldn’t stand her. Why would I want a cheap imitation?”
Wow. That was harsh. Accurate, but harsh nonetheless.
“So you threatened Mona?” I asked.
A rather charming smile appeared, and, for a moment, I caught a glimpse of what Mona may have seen in him. Then he opened his mouth. “I explained the situation. And out of the goodness of her heart she started paying me again.”
He was so lying. He was trying too hard to convince me.
“How’d she find the money?”
“How should I know? I didn’t care as long as I was getting what she owed me. She still owes me that dog.”
“You’re not getting Fluffy.”
“I’ll sue you,” he tossed out his empty threat.
We both knew he didn’t have the resources to take me on. “What’s stopping you?” I asked.
He glared at me and chugged the rest of his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What about her art?” I asked.
“What about it?” he asked warily.
“Why’d she leave it to you? You live on a yacht.”
He sneered, “She had a twisted sense of humor.” He slid off the stool and threw a handful of bills on the bar.
“Is that why you killed her?” I asked before he could get away.
He didn’t bother to even look at me. “She was my cash cow. Why would I kill her?”
That was a very good question. “Maybe you weren’t planning on it. It just happened.”
He looked at me in complete seriousness. “Nothing just happened with Mona.”
And with that he waltzed out of Nick’s as if he didn’t have a care in the world. If the mob was after me, I’d be changing zip codes faster than you could say lily-livered pond sucker.
I’d just stepped outside when I heard someone call my name. It was Darby strolling down the PCH sidewalk with Fluffy.
I watched the two come toward me. Apparently Darby woke up this morning thinking she was impersonating Annie Hall in her wide legged trousers, white long-sleeved t-shirt and brown scarf tied around her neck like a tie.
For all their differences, Fluffy and Darby fit together. Her Highness was in go mode, prancing along side Darby. I had to give Fluffy credit for not tugging on the lead. Impressive. It also gave me an idea.
“Why in the world do you have her?” I asked as soon as Darby was within ear shot.
“I stopped by your place when Bow Wow never opened. I was worried.” Her face was flush from the brisk walk. For a moment she looked like the Darby I met two years ago. Fresh from the midwest without a care.
“And then what? Her Highness raced out the front door, hopped into your little Fiesta, and demanded that you take her for a walk?” I laughed, thinking about Fluffy riding around Laguna in a Ford. So different than her Jag.
“Not exactly,” she hedged. “She doesn’t seem to l
ike your brother.”
I greeted Snob Dog with a pat. She shook off my show of affection.
“Did he guilt you into taking her?” I asked, offended on my friend’s behalf.
“I offered. I’m getting used to her. Was that Cliff driving off?”
“Sure was. He freely admitted he had a gambling problem and was indebted to a certain group of unsavory characters.” We fell into step. The Koffee Klatch was behind us, but there was a Starbucks up the street. I could still get my chai.
“Did he explain about the paintings?” she asked.
“No. But Grey’s working on that angle for us.”
“Grey?” she asked, surprised.
I filled her in on last night. She was also impressed I’d gotten Tova to drop the lawsuit, even if I had to pay her off in the process.
We were standing in line waiting on our Starbucks order when I asked, “How about the three of us visit a certain pet psychic? Mona’s last call was to Jo. I want to know what they talked about.”
“What if she won’t tell you?” Darby asked.
“Then I’ll ask her why she’s blackmailing Tricia.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was partly cloudy with a chance of clearing Darby’s name. I know, lame. The whole sleuthing gig was going to my head. But I could feel it in my bones. Today we’d dig up some clue to change the direction of Malone’s investigation. I still needed to call him.
To be honest, there was never a time I’d thought I’d step foot in Jo’s business. In fact, I hadn’t known she even worked out of an office building. I just assumed she’d worked out of her home. Imagine my shock to learn she had an office suite right off Forrest. It was so professional of her. So unexpected.
Our little trio squeezed through the door, Fluffy leading the way. This wasn’t her first visit. She wasn’t tense or showing the need to sniff around and investigate. Unlike me.
Jo stomped down the hallway with a supersized mug in her hand. “What do you want?” she barked.
I felt Darby flinch.
I couldn’t stop looking at Jo’s hair. Somehow it managed to be a rats nest and stringy simultaneously. It looked horrible. Actually, she looked bad from head to toe. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her shoulders sagged. Her whole demeanor was broken. Blackmailing people must be tiring work. Maybe Malone had already paid her a visit.
I pulled myself together. “We want a reading. Or whatever you call it.”
“Bull.” Her foghorn voice belted out the one syllable word. She pointed at Fluffy. “You brought the dog. This is a test.”
Apparently we were diving right in. “You can look at it that way if you want. But if you can convince me you’re legit, what better advertisement is there?”
“I don’t do séances.” She tilted her chin, daring me to challenge her.
“Neither do I.” I shot her my beauty pageant smile.
She rolled her eyes, disgusted.
Hey, that smile had won me a crown or two back in the day.
Jo brushed some crumbs off the front of her black t-shirt. “Fine. But you have to do what I tell you.”
I looked at Darby, and she nodded. “Agreed,” I said. Okay, I crossed my fingers behind my back.
We headed down the hallway to her miniature Dr. Phil office. A very long uninviting couch, a couple of overstuffed chairs, end tables. And boxes and boxes of tissues stashed within reach throughout the room. A staple for when you tell your clients they’re going to die.
“Sit,” Jo ordered.
Fluffy immediately sat on my foot. “Not you, girl.” I patted her head.
“Do we take the couch or chairs?” Darby asked.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Jo replied with a vague wave of her hand.
Darby looked uneasy and headed straight for the couch. I followed her lead. It wasn’t my first choice, but hopefully we weren’t staying long. Lord have mercy, it was like sitting on plywood. I’d better not have any splinters in my butt by the time we left.
Fluffy paraded over and inched herself up against Darby. I shot a I-see-how-it-is glare at Snob Dog. I swear she smiled back.
Jo warily settled on a chair. She let out a pent up breath, closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders a couple of times.
“Why were you blackmailing Mona?” I asked.
She sighed and shot me a death glare with one eye open. “You’re not very good at this. You agreed.”
I shrugged. “I crossed my fingers.”
Jo opened both eyes. She looked tired, almost as if I’d finally broken her lying spirit. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“I told you I didn’t kill Mona. I wasn’t blackmailing her, either. Tricia and Cliff were having an affair.” She continued to stick to the same story.
“That just doesn’t make sense,” Darby insisted, stroking Fluffy’s head, which was now resting adoringly on Darby’s lap. The sweet girl from Nebraska refused to believe a good friend would commit the ultimate betrayal. Man, I loved her spunk.
“Look, Jo. I know you’re hiding something. What is it? Where were you the night Mona died?” I asked.
“I was here. Alone.”
“No one’s going to believe you. Spill it. What are you hiding?” I said.
She rubbed her hands on her jeans. “Mona fired me,” she finally admitted.
“I know.” Her head shot up, shock clearly stamped on her face. “Tricia told me. Do you want to fill me in on the bathroom argument yet?”
“Why, it sounds like Tricia’s already talked enough for the both of us.”
“She’s going to file a police report. She claims you accosted her in the parking lot last night and are blackmailing her.”
Jo swore. Darby covered Fluffy’s ears.
“She is such a blabbermouth,” Jo complained.
“So it’s true?” Darby asked, wide-eyed.
Jo sat forward, nostrils flaring. “No, it’s not true. I’m not the one who was blackmailing Mona,” she insisted.
No, that was Cliff. The cad boasted about it at breakfast. “But you admit to blackmailing Tricia?”
She looked at Fluffy. “I told you. She was having an affair with Cliff.”
I shook my head. “Not according to Cliff. I believe him.”
“You’ve talked to Cliff?” Jo looked shaken. She drummed her finger on the arms of the chair.
I shifted my weight, not exactly comfortable with the wild look developing in Jo’s eyes. “A little over an hour ago. He was full of info.”
Jo sprang from the chair. Darby gasped and laid a protective hand on Fluffy.
“I’ll be right back,” Jo said with a forced smile. “I just remembered I didn’t set the phones to forward to voicemail.” She raced out of the office like a bat from you know where.
I don’t know who she thought she was fooling, but it didn’t take a medium or a psychic to know she was ducking out. I could hear the back door creaking as she tried to quietly and slowly make her escape.
“She’s running.” I shouted.
Fluffy barked and charged for the door.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I grabbed Darby, she grabbed Fluffy, and we rushed out the front door. We hid behind a huge black Caddy SUV parked on the street and waited for our escapee. Sure enough, Jo charged out of the backyard without a backwards glance in our direction, wearing dark sunglasses and a leather vest over her t-shirt.
Game on, sister.
The three of us followed up the busy street, weaving around people when needed, sometimes hiding behind them, not wanting to give away our presence. It may not be prime tourist season, but people flocked to Laguna year round.
Jo bobbed around a young couple walking their Great Dane. She glanced over her shoulder. I tried to hide behind the tree, but it was too late, she’d spotted us. Crapola.
Jo picked up speed and was now almost running. I wish I knew where she was running to.
“She did it. She killed Mona.” Darby sounded out o
f breath. From the realization we knew who killed her mother or from the spontaneous cardio exercise, I couldn’t tell. I was concentrating on not letting Jo out my sight as we got closer to PCH.
Once Jo reached the corner she cut left. I couldn’t see her. Suddenly, there was an ear-piercing scream mixed with the blare of a bus horn.
“No, no, no.” I yelled.
I hauled it around the corner trying to catch up to Jo, leaving Darby and Fluffy behind.
A small crowd had gathered in front of the bus, people pulling out their cell phones.
The bus doors swung open, and a short frantic man scurried into the crowd.
“She ran into the street,” his panicked voice rang in the air. “I couldn’t stop. You saw it, right? Someone tell me you saw her run out in front of me.” He yelled at the crowd gathered around the bus. He was the bus driver, Denny, according to his plastic name badge.
He charged up to a young kid standing on his skateboard and grabbed a handful of his shirt. “You saw it happen. She ran out in front of me.”
The kid pushed him away. “Dude, you ran over the pet psychic.”
Denny suddenly collapsed in a heap onto the sidewalk.
Ambulance and police sirens screeched toward us. Unfortunately, I think Denny would be the only one benefiting from the ambulance headed our way.
“Why would she dart in front of a bus?” someone in the crowd asked.
“I think someone pushed her,” a shaky female voice commented behind me.
“Check out that tattoo. Do you think she got it locally?” someone else said, clearly impressed with Lassie (may she rest in peace).
The kid on his skateboard prodded Denny with his foot. “Is he dead, too?”
My stomach was in knots. I looked over at Darby. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t. She looked like she was about to puke.
My stomach clenched. How in the world was I going to explain this to Grey? The first police car roared up to the crowd and parked in a way to block traffic. What a mess.
Get Fluffy Page 18