“We weren’t as close as I’d thought. She didn’t tell me her agent was coming.” There was an edge of indignation in his voice.
“I haven’t decided if Sunday is telling the truth or not about that.” I had a feeling both women were liars. It was a matter of filtering out the falsehoods to find the facts.
“Do you think I killed Addison?” he asked, out of the blue.
“No,” I said automatically. “But you may know who the killer is, and don’t even realize it.”
He thought about that for a minute then yanked open the passenger door on the driver’s side. “Pepper has her own secrets she’d like to keep buried.”
“Like what?”
He dragged two Louis Vuitton bags—one large, overstuffed rolling suitcase, the other a duffle bag—from the SUV. “She hasn’t always been the renowned chef she professes to be.”
I closed the car door and held out my hand for the duffle bag. Instead of handing it to me, he plopped it on top of the rolling bag and started back to camp. I rushed to keep up with him. When he got mad, he walked a lot faster.
“In what way?” I asked.
“She’d buy prepackaged food or hire a caterer and pass off the meal as her own creation, serving the entrees in her dinnerware.” It was too dark to see his face, but judging by his tone, he sounded outraged.
Could Pepper be that conniving? I could see a single woman in her twenties, who wanted to impress her date, trying to pass off take-out as a home-cooked meal. But a supposed chef resorting to that level of trickery? I was almost speechless. Of course, I had more questions.
“How do you know this?”
“Addison told me.” He was really worked up now. “She had proof too. That’s why I fired Pepper.”
Well, I wasn’t the only one whose secret was being held in Addison’s corrupt hand.
“But you gave her the other job. The dog show.”
“It was safer. She doesn’t have to cook in front of a crowd like she would here. She couldn’t run out to Whole Foods and bring back a gallon of gourmet potato salad and think that would fly this week. The dog show is basically a catering gig.” He lugged the suitcase over a curb. Suddenly, one of the wheels popped off.
“Dang!”
“I got it.” I ran after the wheel, barely able to see it in the dark. I scooped it up and brought it back to where Hudson stood, flashlight pointing at the busted luggage.
“Omigosh. What happened?” The rolling suitcase had somehow exploded.
Hudson stood frozen at the side of the roadway, expensive women’s clothes scattered around his feet. He pulled his fedora off his head and slapped it against his leg. “Why do you women insist on overstuffing your luggage?”
I shrugged and handed him the broken wheel. “We like choices.” I bent down and immediately started to gather her apparel. “Check this out? I bet you didn’t expect to see a Yankees ball cap in Sunday Hill’s luggage.”
“She is from New York. You didn’t expect a Dodger’s cap, did you?”
Guys could be so clueless. “I wasn’t referring to her team choice. She doesn’t come across as someone who wears ball caps.”
He crammed his fedora on his head. “None of that matters. How are we going to get all this back inside there?”
“We have bigger issues to worry about. Who’s going to tell Sunday her three-thousand-dollar piece of luggage is broken?”
He gulped.
“How good are you at rock, paper, scissors?” I asked.
Chapter Fourteen
LUCKILY FOR US, Ranger Elliott finished his rotation early. I guess we were all behaving.
He took one look at our luggage malfunction and promised he had exactly what we needed. Hudson and I stuffed what felt like a department store worth of clothes back into Sunday’s suitcase, and Ranger Elliott loaned us a bungee cord to anchor it shut. Perfect. Just like he promised.
The guys dropped off the bags at Addison’s, er, Sunday’s tent. I returned to the RV. Betty had left a note that said she and Raider were off to the campfire and she promised to save me a seat.
Missy greeted me, drooling and wagging her tail. I was equally excited to see her. After a few minutes of a loving rubdown, puppy kisses, and a good scratch behind the ears, Missy expected a treat. I rummaged through the cupboards and found Betty’s stash of dried apple rings.
While Missy devoured her treat, I grabbed a hoodie from my duffle bag. It had gotten a little chilly after the sun went down. I checked to see if I needed to charge my cell phone. I still had forty percent of my battery left. Plenty for photos.
As I slipped my cell in my back pocket, I realized I still hadn’t called my mama back yet. It wouldn’t matter that it was already after ten o’clock in Texas. Her feelings were going to be hurt, she’d think I was ignoring her, and she’d be certain I was punishing her for some fabricated misdeed.
The conversation with my mama would be emotionally draining. I was already tired. I sighed. I’d call her first thing in the morning. Tonight, I wanted to enjoy s’mores.
I grabbed the leash and called Missy. “Are you ready to go, girlfriend?”
She snorted and spun in a circle. I snapped the lead onto her collar and we tumbled out of the RV. The campground was aglow by the light of the full moon. A soft hue of shining lanterns cast a dim orange and red light across the lawn, while the white canvas tents seemed to be illuminated from within, creating the illusion of extra-large nightlights. It was beautiful.
I flicked on the flashlight, looking for anything that slithered as I took Missy on a short walk to do her business before joining the others. Not that I really needed additional light to see where I was going, but I wanted the extra reassurance. So far, no one had reported seeing any snakes or mountain lions. I sure didn’t want to be the first.
Missy’s nose led the way. Wouldn’t you know it, she headed straight for MacAvoy’s RV. After some hemming and hawing, she chose a spot next to the back tires. I know. I’m awful.
Once she was finished, we followed the faint sound of affable chatter coming from the campfire. To get to the firepit, we had to pass the spa where Betty had discovered Addison’s body. The tent was no longer guarded by the police or barred with yellow crime scene tape. Over dinner, someone had mentioned the spa would reopen tomorrow. Would anyone actually show up for a massage or mani-pedi?
I wanted one quick peek inside. Since we were alone, it was the perfect time to check it out. I guided Missy toward the entrance past the enormous planter of orange snapdragons. I reached for the canvas door when my cell phone rang. I jumped twenty feet. Missy barked.
“Good grief.” I checked the caller ID. I’d managed to catch my breath, only to have my heart explode out of my body for a completely different reason.
“Grey,” I whispered.
Hearing his name, Missy barked excitedly, spinning in circles, tangling her legs in the leash.
Why was he calling? We hadn’t talked in weeks. We’d made a clean break. Or, at least as close to a clean break as we got.
Something had to be wrong. My pulse echoed in my ears. I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey, is everything okay?”
Well, not the best greeting, but it’s all I had at the moment. I waited, listening for anything familiar that I could grab hold of that would reassure me.
“You tell me. Is everything okay?” At first blush, he sounded even-toned. Neutral. But I knew him as well as I knew myself. I heard the underlying tension he was working to hide.
I walked away from the spa, following the lighted pathway created by the hanging Moroccan lanterns. There was plenty of light, so I turned off my flashlight.
“I’m fine. I’m with Betty at the ARL event.”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling. It’s all over the news about what’s going on u
p there.”
Apprehension. I recognized it immediately.
I punched up the volume on the phone. “You’re talking about Addison’s murder.”
“Yes. Why didn’t you call?” His frustration was clear.
My heart broke all over again. Even when I wasn’t around, I aggravated him. Hold on a second. If he was annoyed, didn’t that mean he still cared? I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to show a smidge of vulnerability. “I-I started to. I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms after our last conversation.”
“Mel,” he said on a sigh. I could see him in my head, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.
A reluctant grin tugged at the side of my mouth. “You can’t blame me.”
“I . . .”
I waited for him to finish whatever he was about to say, but he didn’t. “I’m still mad at you about the brooch. I can’t believe you gave it to Caro.” Crapola. Me and my big mouth. Why, why, why did I bring that up?
“It was the right thing to do.”
“Well, now it’s lost.”
“What are you talking about? I gave it to Caro myself.”
I pivoted on my heel and walked toward the spa again. “Betty fat-fingered it from Caro’s. She brought it here to give to me in some grand gesture, and somehow lost it within hours of our arrival.”
“Caro’s going to kill you.”
“Me?” I picked up my pace. “First of all, I’m not the one who lost it. Second, if you hadn’t given it back to Caro out of some misguided sense of fairness, none of this would have happened.”
“I didn’t call to argue,” he ground out.
I stopped behind the spa tent. I had a knot in my stomach. “I didn’t answer the phone to have a fight.” Lord knew we did enough of that the last few weeks we were together. Missy dropped to the grass, panting. I turned on the flashlight to quickly sweep the area for creepy, crawling, and slithering animals before I sat next to her. I reached down and stroked her back. “Let’s change the subject.”
“Did you see the evening news?” he asked.
“No, I’ve been a little busy. Why? What has MacAvoy done now?”
“He reported live from Laguna Hills Regional Park campground an hour ago. Why aren’t you aware of this? I find it hard to believe Callum MacAvoy hasn’t been sniffing around you and Betty since this happened. I have no doubt the two of you are inconveniently in the middle of everything.”
Lordy, wasn’t that the truth? The last thing I wanted was to admit I was sticking my nose into a murder investigation. Or that I was a suspect in said murder investigation. Or that I was looking for my mother’s letters to her lover. Not that he wouldn’t have been sympathetic about the latter, because he would.
“Oh, he’s been following us around, but there are plenty of other distractions. Betty and Raider won the Toss Across game, I helped the program director gather the contents of a busted suitcase, and there’s a campfire tonight. So, what did Mr. Nosey TV Reporter say?”
“Not much, which I found unusual. There was a promo promising an exclusive interview tomorrow with Addison’s agent and close friend.”
“That’s Sunday Hill. Trust me, she’s not Addison’s close friend. I met her earlier today.” I laughed lightly. “MacAvoy might be a little presumptuous on the outcome of that interview. Sunday was very clear she’d only answer questions she approved. After spending less than ten minutes with her, I imagine that’s going to be one short interview.”
He chuckled softly. My grip tightened. His laughter was like a kick in the stomach. I lay on my back and gazed into the night sky. I imaged Grey lounging on his back deck starring at the same stars.
Man, I missed him. I wasn’t ready to end the call yet. It felt so bittersweet to hear his voice. “What time is this interview?”
“Six o’clock news.”
Prime time. MacAvoy had to be ecstatic.
“You and Betty are okay?”
“I promise. We’re fine. Betty has worked her magic and made friends with just about everyone here.”
“Men and women? You’ll need to keep a close eye on her, or you’ll end up hosting a dance party tonight.”
“Tell me about it.” I laughed. “Believe it or not, she’s narrowed her potential love interests to a fellow guest and MacAvoy. Oh, you’ll love this. Betty insisted we come up with some kind of signal so I’d know to stay away from the RV if she had a man inside.” Missy started to snore, loudly.
“Is that Missy?” Grey laughed. “Is she right by the phone?”
“Yeah. She misses you,” I said softly. I wanted to tell him I missed him, but I had the feeling he already knew by the longing in my voice.
“I miss her, too.” He cleared the huskiness from his voice. “What signal did you and Betty come up with?”
“Nothing. She is not going to get busy with anyone this week.”
An awkward silence weighed on us. “So, I take it you’re in town,” I said.
“For now. I just finished a case.”
It was strange. My usual curiosity to get every detail about his cases was absent. I wondered what that was about. “So you’ll be in town for a while then?”
“Yes.”
If he was going to be in town for a while it was probably better to hear from me than the media that I was a suspect in Addison’s death.
“I should probably tell you—”
“Hey, Mel,” Veronica shouted across the grassy area. She was coming from the direction of the campfire. “Are you going to have s’mores? Betty’s been worried you might have found a dead body without her.” Veronica laughed.
“Grey, hold on a second.” I sat up and covered the phone with my palm. “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I yelled to her. I waved good-bye then returned my attention to Grey. “I’m back. There’s a campfire tonight . . . Betty’s waiting . . .”
He cleared his throat. “I’ll let you go. I’m glad to know you’re okay. I know you don’t want to hear this, but stay out of it. You’re not dealing with Malone.”
He had no idea how right he was. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up before the words “I love you” fell out of my mouth.
Here’s the funny thing about my conversation with Grey. A part of me wanted me to skip the whole event, race home to tell him I was sorry, and convince him to try again. Yet there was a small part of me that was relieved he wasn’t here. I was either protecting my heart, or I was a coward.
I guess only time would tell.
I started to stand when a large brown rabbit raced out from the back of the tent. Missy jumped up, barking, ready to give chase. I held tight to her leash, commanding her to stay. She stopped tugging on the lead, but continued to bark.
“Enough. Stop. Stay.” I caught my breath. “Where’d he come from?”
Assured Missy wasn’t going to run off, I investigated where the bunny had come from.
I shined the flashlight at the spa tent and noticed the edge was unfastened, allowing just enough space for a dog or smallish-sized person to fit through. How long had that opening been there? What did it mean, if anything?
I got on my hands and knees and tried to shove my body into the tent through the opening. It took some effort, but I was able to squeeze inside. Missy scampered in behind me.
I stood, brushing off my jeans. I pointed the light around. Two massage tables draped with white sheets were situated side by side on one side of the tent. On the other side sat a couple of chairs, foot tubs, and tables for mani-pedis. I moved across the tent, the wooden floor sturdy under my feet. Missy sniffed around the massage tables.
The tent was supplied with lavish handmade soaps, fluffy towels, white robes, and a basket of slippers. It smelled like cloves and cinnamon. I could se
e why Betty wanted to get a massage.
The inside was smaller than I thought it would be. Intimate. This wasn’t a place you’d go to meet someone you barely knew. My gut told me Addison had to have known her killer fairly well. Someone she’d have trusted.
Big mistake.
Chapter Fifteen
AFTER MY CONVERSATION with Grey, I was feeling happier than I had in weeks. I know, I know. It didn’t mean anything. One phone call, showing concern because I happened to be camping at the same park as a deranged killer, didn’t mean he still loved me. But it could.
The s’more feast was well underway by the time Missy and I arrived. Even MacAvoy was there with his cameraman. They were acting suspicious, not really engaging in conversation, their gazes roaming the crowd. I’d need to keep an eye on those two. No telling when they’d decide to film “b-roll,” which in reality would be a ploy to capture any drama on film.
The servers were back, dressed as butlers, minus the white gloves. They bustled around the bonfire, loading guests’ roasting sticks with gourmet marshmallows: mint chocolate chip, red velvet, toasted coconut, espresso bean, and my favorite—chai tea. A table had been set up behind the chairs with a spread of hazelnut, orange, dark, and milk chocolate candy bars, homemade graham crackers, and a medley of red wine. A small section of pupcakes for the canines were regulated to a back corner of the table. This meal was all about the humans.
I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a handful of candid photos. I thought it might be fun to print them off and hang them up at the boutique. I spotted the Swansons drinking red wine and chatting with Pepper. Apparently, Pepper was no longer in hiding. I took a couple of more pictures. Their pooches were stretched out under their respective owners’ chairs, snacking on pupcakes.
Missy and I scooted around the fire pit and toward the table. I grabbed a couple of treats for her and an orange-flavored, dark-chocolate bar for me. I inhaled deeply. I loved campfires. Rich yellow and orange flickering flames. The smell of woodsy smoke. The crackling, sizzling hisses.
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