I looked at the twenty in my hand. “I really don’t know about the gambling.”
His blue eyes widened as he ran his hands through his spiky, blond hair. “Look, I don’t want to get into trouble. How about you forget we had this chat? Keep the cash.” He moved to push past me, but I blocked his path.
“Whoa, there. I didn’t say anything about trouble.”
The front door opened. We both turned to see who’d walked inside. Well, surprise, surprise. If it wasn’t Mr. TV himself. I had a lot to say to him, but not here. There was no sense stirring up more gossip than was already brewing around town.
MacAvoy wore the same grey blazer as he had yesterday, but today he had on black jeans and a black T-shirt. Interesting. He dressed like Malone now? They say imitation is the best form of flattery.
Mr. TV’s gaze bounced between Sven and me. By the curious look on his face, I thought he’d join us, but instead, he strode straight to the counter and waited in line. But that didn’t stop him from watching us like a neighborhood busybody.
I turned my back to the nosy reporter and spoke quietly. “Is there betting at every race?”
Sven shrugged. “Sure. Like I said, it’s not a big deal.” He inched away from me, eager to escape my questions and return to his customers.
He didn’t strike me as a typical wiener race fan. As far as I knew, he didn’t even have a dog. “How’d you learn about it?”
“Friends. Online.”
Translation: his gambling buddies. “Who’s Rodney? Is he a local?”
“He’s from the valley. He’s watched too many gangster movies, but he wouldn’t harm a fly.”
Against my better judgment, I said, “I’ll find a way to get your bet placed.” I was curious about the gambling, and there was no better way to nose around than by placing a bet.
“I’ve got customers.” Without another word, he rushed back to his station, apologizing to everyone in line for the long wait.
I shifted my drink and bakery bag to the same hand so I could shove the twenty in my jeans pocket.
Don’t you hate it when everyone knows more than you? Granted, Sven wasn’t everyone, but he certainly knew about a covert activity I didn’t know existed in my own community.
Did it have anything to do with Richard’s death? At first blush I wouldn’t think so, but there’s only a handful of reasons people kill—love, hate, revenge . . . and greed. I was looking forward to meeting Rodney.
I sipped my chai as I walked past MacAvoy. I felt his determined stare fixated on my back. It was farfetched to believe he’d followed me to the Koffee Klatch. But I knew this wasn’t the last time today our paths would cross.
In fact, I was counting on it.
I WAS IN THE MIDDLE of ordering paw-wear when the front door of Bow Wow Boutique opened. I looked up from my computer screen to see a woman in a black, belted, silk dress stroll inside. Valerie Andrews. Ugh. Betty’s daughter stomped in my direction.
“Hey there, Valerie.” I tried my best to be chipper.
“Hello, Melinda.” She narrowed her stormy eyes on my face as she dropped her three-thousand-dollar purse on the counter with a thud. “I need your help. My mother has lost her mind.”
There were many times when I felt as if my mother had lost her mind, but I knew better than to make that announcement to someone outside of our immediate family. “What seems to be the problem?” I hedged, unsure what Betty had shared with her daughter about the recent events.
“I’m sure you know about the dead body Mother found yesterday.”
I cleared my throat. Actually, I had found the body. Not that it mattered. Although it was obvious, Valerie wasn’t used to being corrected.
“This is a problem,” she continued without waiting for a response. “I can’t have my mother traipsing around town talking about dead bodies and claiming that she’s a murder suspect.” She fiddled with the long delicate gold chain hanging around her neck. “I’m on numerous boards of prominent organizations. Her actions could have irreparable repercussions. Not to mention how her behavior is affecting my reputation within the community. I’ve tried to talk some sense into her, but she refuses to take my feelings into consideration.”
I hadn’t had much interaction with Valerie, but after each experience I’ve learned I liked her less and less. What kind of person puts their reputation above their mother’s welfare? Not someone I’d choose to spend a large quantity of time with, that’s for sure.
“Aren’t you worried about Betty?” I asked.
She looked genuinely surprised for a moment. Shocking, because I’d always assumed she was a Botox disciple.
“It’s true? Mother really is a suspect?”
Obviously Betty hadn’t mentioned she’d threatened the dead guy with a handgun. “The police talk to everyone. It would help if Betty would tell them exactly where she was when Richard was killed. And even better if we could find her gun.”
Her face paled. She pressed her blinged-out hand against her chest. Every finger sported a large colored gem. Valerie didn’t follow the “less is more” rule.
“I thought she was exaggerating. You know how she is. Why wouldn’t she tell the police where she—” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you say gun? What gun?”
“The one your husband gave her?” I meant to word that as a statement, but the confused look on her face caused me to end on a questioning note.
“Duane did not give her a gun.”
I locked my computer. Ordering would wait. “Are you positive? He doesn’t own a 9mm Berretta Nano?”
Her bejeweled hand gripped the leather strap of her purse until her knuckles turned white. “Yes, he owns that model. But it’s locked away in his safe. In his study.”
I had a strong suspicion Betty had been involved in a few things her daughter wasn’t aware of. “Um, I don’t believe it’s there anymore. I’ve recently seen that gun. Betty was pointing it at Richard shortly before he was found dead. He’d been shot.”
Valerie blinked rapidly, her face suddenly colorless. “My mother’s a murderer,” she wailed. “I’ll never be asked to chair the children’s charity committee for the women’s club. Oh. My. God. She’ll die in jail. What will I tell my sister?”
I scooted around the counter and guided her to my office at the back of the store where she could sit before she collapsed and knocked over a display of dog treats.
“Betty isn’t going to jail,” I stated. “Not if I can help it. She didn’t kill anyone.”
“But you just said she shot him.”
Holy crap. This woman could not talk to the police. She was too easily confused. “No. I did not. Pointing and shooting are completely different. Where’s Betty? She was supposed to come in to work an hour ago.”
“She said she had some errands to run this morning. You don’t suppose she’s hiding evidence?”
She hopped up from the chair and started to pace. “Melinda, you have to help me. My mother doesn’t listen to reason. She does what she pleases, regardless of my wishes. She’s been very sneaky lately. Comes and goes at all hours of the day. She won’t let me inside her cottage.” Valerie skidded to a stop and grabbed my arms, squeezing them tightly. “Last night, I thought I’d heard her making some strange cat-like sounds. She insists I’m hearing things. She told me to make an appointment with an audiologist. She has to be hiding something. Help me find out what.”
The only thing less appealing than helping Valerie was shopping with my mother. I shook off her hands. “Have you asked her what she’s hiding?”
“Of course. She tells me to mind my own business.”
That sounded like good advice. “I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”
“Talk to her. She likes you. Although, God knows why.” She eyed me up and down, assessing my worth. Her scrutiny hardly stood up against my mother’s disapproving eye.
I wasn’t looking for a dog fight, but Valerie had to know she held some responsibility for the way Betty acte
d.
“I have talked to her. I adore your mother. The best thing you could do is to show her she still matters. Stop bossing her around. Stop undermining her worth. You’ll find she may actually take your advice.” So sue me, I lied. I didn’t believe for one second Betty would do anything her daughter told her to.
Valerie turned glassy-eyed. “At least promise you’ll look out for her. She has always had a tendency to run into trouble, which has escalated since she’s met you.”
I was about to explain Betty didn’t need my help to find trouble, when the bell for the front door chimed.
“Excuse me, I have a customer.” Valerie stared at me, blank-faced. I turned her around and ushered her into the shop. “I’m not leaving you alone in my office. Let’s go.”
“But you didn’t promise,” she whined.
I was finished making promises.
“Hello,” I called out. “Welcome to Bow Wow Boutique.”
Much to my surprise, Gia and Zippy, each wearing designer jogging suits, stood inside in the shop. Gia didn’t look happy. I’m sure her emotional state had nothing to do with the fact that she’d pulled her hair back into the severest bun I’d ever seen. I was certain her hair would rip right off her scalp at any moment.
“Hi, Gia. I’m surprised to see you here.” I couldn’t stop staring at the way the sides of her face were yanked back into a poor man’s facelift. It looked painful, yet at the same time impressively effective.
“In all the chaos yesterday, Zippy’s favorite blue ball has gone missing. He can’t win today without it.” She rattled off the brand name.
“I have a few left. It’s very popular item. Let me grab you one. Feel free to look around,” I called out over my shoulder.
“I’m in a hurry. Richard may be . . . gone, but that doesn’t mean Zippy can’t keep to his schedule.”
What type of schedule could he have? Eat, sleep, do his business, play. Rinse and repeat. Wasn’t that the universal dog schedule?
“I’ll be right back.” I made my way toward the front of the store and grabbed one of the many blue treat balls in a woven sea-grass basket. Valerie followed right on my heels.
“Melinda, I’m not leaving until you promise,” she hissed.
I lowered my voice. “That is the recently widowed Mrs. Eriksen. At this moment, she has no idea who you are. If you leave right now, you won’t have to kiss her butt apologizing for you-know-who’s behavior yesterday. I’d think you’ve already done enough of that. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Valerie stiffened, then pasted on a smile I’d seen on a thousand other faces—a disingenuous airbrushed smile that only fooled the person giving it.
“I understand.” She nodded briskly.
“Thanks for stopping by, Valerie.” I opened the door, letting in the fresh air. “I’ll let you know when your order comes in.”
“I look forward to hearing from you . . . soon.” She breezed through the doorway and outside.
I may have let go of the door just a tad too quickly, tapping Valerie’s backside as she walked out. My bad.
I joined Gia and Zippy next to a display of dog breed charms. “Is this what you’re looking for?” I handed her the ball.
She squeezed it a couple of times, then bent down and let Zippy sniff it. He snatched the toy from her hand and ran. She had him on a short leash—he didn’t get past the rack of flying discs. Undaunted, he collapsed to his belly and gnawed on the ball. His soft floppy ears got in the way of his ability to grip the toy with his paws.
“Looks like he likes it. Is there anything else you need?” I asked.
She pointed toward the register. “I love those red sneakers you have in the showcase.”
“Would you like to see them?”
She chewed her perfectly polished nail. “I really don’t have a lot of time,” she hesitated. “I guess if we’re quick.”
Not one to pass up a sale, I motioned for her to follow me. “Zippy’s fine. Leave him there.”
I pulled out the sneakers from behind the locked case. “Aren’t they adorable? The canvas body is very soft, and the soles are nonslip.”
“I love them.” She didn’t bat an eye at the fifty-dollar price tag. She placed them on the counter. “What about those?” She pointed to a pair of black boots with a zippered front.
I smiled, sensing a large sale within the next couple of minutes. “These are my favorite. Although confession time, I am partial to motorcycle boots.” I hiked up my jeans and kicked my leg, showing off my own black boots.
Suddenly, Gia had plenty of time to waste. She weaved from one side of the store to the other, her face flush from stacking item after item on the counter for me to ring up. When she wasn’t looking I tossed Zippy a couple of treats. He was a very well-behaved pooch.
While Gia shopped I asked, “You mentioned Zippy has a schedule. I’m curious what type of schedule a dog like him would have? Practice runs? Push-ups?”
“It’s important that he practice the fifty-yard dash, keep hydrated, and stick to his feeding schedule, which is twice a day during the off season and three times a day during racing season.” She fingered a sunflower-yellow bathrobe. Meeting her requirements, the robe was tossed on top of the growing pile of merchandise. “He has a very strict diet. Racing on a full stomach slows him down.”
Oops. I glanced down at Zippy. He hadn’t left a crumb of evidence. Good dog. I lifted my finger to my lips, swearing him to secrecy. He shook his head, his ears slapping the sides of his long nose. I guess I was on my own.
Gia’s dilated eyes widened as she looked at the stack on the counter. “I think I got a little carried away.” Her normally commanding voice sounded small and a little unsure.
“Everything is returnable. If you get home and decide you don’t like an item or you’ve changed your mind for any reason, bring it back for a full refund.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Do you have a shop in Laguna Hills?”
“No.”
She slowly handed me a credit card. I caught a quick look inside her bag. She carried a purple water bottle that looked like the same one I’d seen Richard carrying yesterday. “Does Zippy only drink bottled water?”
She followed my gaze. Realizing I could see inside her purse, she closed it with a loud snap. “No, he does not only drink bottled water. It’s my vitamin water.”
Yeah, I didn’t believe her for a second. She didn’t have bloodshot eyes, and she wasn’t slurring her words, but there was something about her body language that suggested she was lying. That and the fact that she had completely overreacted to my question.
“Why does Lenny Santucci hate you? You said that at one time he was your number-one fan? What really changed that?”
She stiffened. “I told you. He’s a jealous loser.”
I tapped her credit card on the Formica counter. “Nope. He hates you and he hated Richard. That’s more than jealousy.”
She eyed the card, biting her bottom lip. “Lenny tried to pass Pickles off as an offspring of Chip.”
“Chip?”
Her eye-roll was so dramatic her lashes actually stuck together momentarily. For a second, I thought I might have to peel them apart for her. “Chip Ahoy. He’s the ultimate champion. He retired from racing five years ago. Lenny claimed Pickle carried Chip’s bloodline. Richard knew he was lying and threatened to discredit him.”
Now that was a motive to hate someone. “Is Lenny from around here?”
“Up north. Redding or someplace boring like that.”
“Did you see him around the time Richard was shot?”
She sighed. I was clearly wasting her time with all my questions. “I had more important things on my mind when I was looking for Richard than noticing if Lenny was following me around like a sick puppy. Are you going to ring me up?”
“Sure thing.” I slid her credit card through the reader, expecting an approval.
Denied.
Holy moly. I looked up and plastere
d a fake smile on my face. “The machine’s been acting funny lately. Let me try this again.”
“Wait. Try this one.” Gia handed me a different piece of plastic. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt.
I rubbed the magnetic strip on my jeans before sliding the card through the machine.
Not only was it denied, but I was also instructed to call the bank.
Hells bells.
Chapter Twelve
GIA AND I STARED at the silver plastic card in my hand. This could play out one of two ways. I call the bank and receive a verbal approval after Gia answers a couple of simple questions. Or I call the bank and the charge is denied. And possibly be asked to confiscate the card. Judging by the way Gia worriedly nibbled on her bottom lip, verbal approval was the unlikely outcome.
She caught my eyes dead-on. Her fake lashes were as thick as Grandma Tillie’s fur coat and looked equally as heavy. I knew what she wanted me to do. The tension was broken by a ringing cell phone.
“That’s me.” I grabbed the phone and answered without looking to see who was calling.
“Hello.” I didn’t exactly turn my back on Gia, but I tried to give her some privacy. If she decided to put some, or all, of the merchandise back, I wasn’t going to draw attention to it.
“Hi,” Grey’s deep voice filled my ear.
My pulse quickened. “Hi. I, um, didn’t realize it was you.” I tucked my hair behind my ear.
He chuckled. “Removed me from your contact list already?”
An easy smile spread across my mouth. He was back. “I thought about it. Are you at the gallery?”
“For a while. I thought you might want to grab lunch. Unless you’re at the race.”
I stole a glance at Gia. She was digging through her purse, apparently not ready to walk away from her mountain of dog paraphernalia.
“Not yet. I’m finishing up at the shop. Then I’d planned on heading over. Hagan asked me to come back and set up the boutique booth again. Are you coming to the dog park?”
Silence on the other end. Had he hung up? Or was he trying to come up with a decent excuse as to why he didn’t want to come to the race? Most importantly, when had I started to sound so pathetic?
The Girl With the Dachshund Tattoo Page 8