“The truth will set you free.”
I looked up at her. “Really? The truth will set me free? That’s all you’ve got? A Bible quote?”
She shrugged. “You got a better source?”
“No.”
“Is it working?”
“Not at all.”
Betty pushed her glass to the side and clasped her hands together in front of her. “I know you. You only act like this when you’re protecting someone. I’m not in the middle of this one. Darby’s visiting her dad in Idaho—”
“Nebraska,” I corrected with a grin.
“Sure, sure. You and Grey are Splitsville. You and Carol aren’t talking. So that leaves your crazy mother or saintly daddy. Which one is it?”
“What?” I ignored her incorrect reference to Caro. Did she really know me that well? Was I that predictable?
“You’re not that difficult to figure out. You’re as loyal as a Golden Retriever. You protect those you love, and you only love a handful of people.” Her gray eyes softened, even though there was an edge to her tone.
I blinked. “You’ve got to understand, I want to tell you, but you’re not the best at keeping secrets.”
Betty looked crushed. But it must have dawned on her what I said. She slipped out from behind the table and gleefully grabbed my arms. “So you are keeping a secret. I knew it. Tell me.”
I shrugged off her grasp. “What did I just say? It’s better for both of us if I don’t tell you. You have deniability that way.”
“You’re in some serious trouble if you’re worried about what I know. You need to call that sexy detective.”
“Malone? I thought you wanted me to call Grey.”
She shook her head. “I think this is over his head. He’s good-looking and smart, for an art dealer. But just because he likes watching cop shows doesn’t make him a match for Fark and Lameo. You need to call in the professionals.”
I smiled, laughter edging its way out of my mouth. I loved the names she’d given Finn and Lark. But she had no idea what she was talking about regarding Grey. You couldn’t get any more “professional” than undercover FBI agent Grey Donovan.
I patted her wrinkled hand. “I adore you.”
She shrugged a thin shoulder. “I know. So, are you going to call him?”
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
I grabbed my tea from the counter and took a drink. I was beginning to feel calmer and less anxious.
“You didn’t want to compare notes on suspects last night. Are you game now?” Betty asked.
“Sure.” I settled into one of the recliners. Missy bumbled over and lay next to me.
Excited, Betty grabbed a notepad and pen from the drawer. She returned to the table. “Where do we start?”
“Let’s start with Pepper.”
She jotted Pepper’s name on the pad of paper. As we rattled off what we knew, she made a list of facts. By the time we finished with all the suspects, we had a couple of pages of information.
Betty swiped the pad off the table and move to the couch next to Raider and recapped. “You heard Red argue with Addison and Pepper. He overheard you and Addison argue. He rejected Pepper’s offer to help.”
“And he’s been gossiping about me.” A minor point, but still important.
“Got it.” Betty made a quick note. “Hudson fired Pepper so he could shack up with his lover, Addison. Do we know when they started hitting the sheets?”
I choked back a laugh. I didn’t want to encourage her. “No.”
She tapped the pen against the pad. “He knew you and Addison were meeting, but kept quiet about it. Addison told him Pepper’s secrets, but she didn’t tell him Sunday was hanging out with us this week.”
“I wonder why she kept that from him? It seems like she told him everything else. It really bothers him that she didn’t mention her agent’s visit. He could have outted Pepper, but he gave her a different job instead. So he’s not heartless.”
Betty scoffed. “He was covering his tracks.”
“That’s possible. He knew Addison really well. He was worried there was some type of evidence about their affair in Addison’s tent.”
Betty huffed. “I can’t believe you snooped without me.”
I smiled apologetically. “What can I say? The opportunity presented itself. Let’s get back to the list.”
“Yeah, yeah. Pepper got fired because of Addison. She hates Red. You think Dim Sum had bloody paws. Pepper buys her food pre-made.” Betty looked up from her notes and wrinkled her nose. “What a sneak. She saw Addison at the spa, meeting someone, but won’t tell us who. She’s a scaredy cat when it comes to Sunday, but threatened to expose Hudson’s secret. Oh, and she’s suddenly writing a pet cookbook.”
“And she has a big knife.”
She rolled her eyes. “All chefs have big knives.”
“And she wears the most sensible shoes I’ve ever seen.”
Betty tilted her head. “You really want me to write that down?”
I laughed. “No.”
Missy started to snore. “I’m glad she sleeps with you,” Betty grumbled.
“You get used to it. It’s my white noise now. It helps me sleep.”
Betty rubbed her hands together. “Now, for our new favorite suspect. Sunday knows Addison was being blackmailed, but not by who. She goes on a revenge spree when clients go against her advice, and dummy Addison did exactly that by asking you to write the foreword for her cookbook. When are you going to explain that to me?”
“Soon.” I leaned forward. “She also said Addison didn’t have enemies in the chef community. All we have to do is look at that list and we know that’s a lie. Sunday also said she was Red’s agent years ago and that’s why she calls him Redmond. For all we know, she’s lying about it all.”
“We can’t believe anything that comes out of her mouth, Cookie.”
I nodded. “Agreed. We’ve got to add Asher. Addison was his private pet chef until he fired her. Either he lied about Addison stealing the diamond cufflinks or he killed Addison and took them back.”
Betty tsked. “Such a shame a man that sexy could be a killer.”
I just realized he could have been the one who tossed Addison’s tent looking for the cufflinks. “You have to stop hanging out with him. Either way, he’s dangerous.”
“What about Dudley Do-Right?”
I looked at her questioningly. “Who?”
“That mean ol’ Ranger Elliott. He argued with Addison about her car parked in the day use area and then he got all bossy and towed it. That’s when Addison threatened to report him to his superiors for a reason only they knew about.”
I wondered what Addison could have had on Ranger Elliott. That he didn’t like dogs? That he had a fetish for towing guests’ cars? The whole thing was odd.
I stood up, ready to get moving again. There were things to do.
“We need to talk to Hudson about the brooch.” I guzzled the rest of my iced tea before placing the glass in the dishwasher.
Betty jumped up. “If he doesn’t have it, are we gonna talk to Dudley Do-Right?” She snickered.
I sighed. I never called him that in front of her. “You know you can’t say that to his face.”
She held up her right hand. “I swear on a stack of Bibles, I’ll never say that to his face.”
I laughed. I loved how she repeated exactly what I’d said. “Let’s take the dogs for a quick walk to relieve themselves before we leave to talk to Hudson and Ranger Elliott. We’ll come back and get them for lunch.”
Betty’s face lit up at the mention of food. “I wonder what’s on the menu today.”
“Whatever it is, I bet it’s delicious.”
I was guessing Red made one killer sandwich.
Chapter Twenty-One
THE REST OF THE morning passed quickly. We still hadn’t seen Hudson. I don’t know why, but I was a touch worried that no one had seen him since last night. It didn’t feel right.
We hiked up to the park entrance and found Ranger Elliott in his plain green uniform, sitting in his shack watching the Dodgers game on a small TV.
I knocked on the sliding window.
Ranger Elliott looked up. He made his way to window and slid it open. “How can I help ya ladies?” There it was again, that hint of laughter in his tone.
I pulled off my sunglasses. “I hate to interrupt, but I was wondering if anyone has turned in a fruit basket brooch.”
He blinked in obvious confusion. “Say that again.”
Betty pulled off her white sunglasses placed them in her handbag, then pushed me aside. “We’re looking for a brooch. You know, a pin, like your grandma wore.” She pointed at her chest. “It’s a gold basket filled with colored gems in the shape of fruit. It’s gawdawful ugly, but it has a lot of sentimental value.”
He shook his head. “No one has turned in a brooch.”
I blew out a long breath of disappointment. My heart dropped. I didn’t want think about the possibility of never finding the brooch again. Or how I would ever explain this whole mess to Caro. I rested my glasses on the top of my head.
“If someone does turn it in, will you call me?” I gave him my cell number.
He pushed his hat back. “Where do you think you lost it?”
I looked at Betty for an answer.
She immediately got defensive. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean to lose it. It fell out of my pocket. I don’t know where. I didn’t know it was gone until I was looking for it.”
He nodded. “O-kay. If someone turns it in, I’ll give you a call.”
He asked me to describe it in detail, one more time. I spared no details. By the time I was through, Ranger Elliot had drawn an exact replica of the brooch.
He looked up, perplexed. “You want that back?”
I tried not to take offense. I knew it was ugly. But it was mine.
Betty pushed her lips together. “I told you. It has sentimental value. Her granny left it to her. Or her granny could have left it to her sassy cousin, Carol. Either way, possession is nine-tenths of the law, and right now it’s in Cookie’s possession, so it belongs to her.”
I frowned. “Actually, it’s not in my possession, that’s why we’re here.”
Betty waved me off. “Details. Details.”
Ranger Elliott glanced at the ballgame on the TV. He was finished listening to us bicker, and ready to get back to the Dodgers.
“One last thing,” I said. “I was wondering if you’ve seen Hudson this morning. I’ve been looking for him for a while and haven’t seen him yet.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t.”
“Isn’t that odd? That he hasn’t been out making rounds with you?”
“Not really. If he has a busy day scheduled, I won’t see him until it’s time for me to make my evening rounds, verifying the daytime guests have left for the evening.”
Betty rammed her pocketbook into my side. I cut a side glance at her. “That was unnecessary,” I said under my breath.
“It was an accident.” The twinkle in her eye told me otherwise.
I shifted my weight away from Betty and returned my attention to Ranger Elliott. “Like Sunday Hill and Addison Rae?” I leaned in as if we were about to exchange office gossip around the water cooler. “We heard that Addison was parked in the day parking lot and refused to move.”
He adjusted his hat nervously. “Unfortunately, that’s not uncommon. It happens.”
“I also heard you two argued when she refused to park in the overnight lot.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “There was no argument. I had her Range Rover towed,” he snapped.
Wow. That was an expensive car for an up-and-coming chef. “No wonder she wasn’t happy about it. How did she get it back?”
He shrugged, a vindictive gleam in his eye. “I don’t think she did.”
“Is that why she threatened to report you to your superiors?”
“That was an empty threat. There was nothing to report. She insisted I take her to pick up her vehicle. It’s not my responsibility to provide her transportation to the storage facility. She could have had someone pick it up for her, if they were willing to pay the fine.”
Let’s just say he wasn’t someone to go out of his way for you if he thought you were abusing the system. And from what I knew about Addison, that was her motto. Who would she have asked for help? Hudson? Sunday? “Do you record license plate numbers?”
“Only when I call for a tow.”
“By any chance, can I get her plate info?”
Ranger Elliott shook his head. “No. Good day, ladies.” He slid the window shut and returned to his game.
Betty blinked. “That went well. Especially that last part, when he shut the window in our faces.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
AS WE POWER-WALKED back to camp, I shared my theory that Addison’s vehicle was either still in storage or Sunday had picked it up as a favor for Addison. That would explain why Hudson didn’t know Sunday would be here for the week. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.
Betty pumped her arms energetically, her purse swinging like a birthday piñata as we walked down the side of the paved road. “Nice try, but that doesn’t explain the luggage,” she huffed.
“Unless at the last minute, Sunday took that opportunity to keep an eye on Addison. We know she doesn’t like it when her clients go rogue and ignore her career advice.”
A red Chevy Cruz slowly passed us. Betty waved at the driver. He smiled absently and gave a half wave in return. He looked like a nice man. A much more reasonable potential love interest for Betty than Asher, Malone, or MacAvoy.
“Who’s that? He looks familiar.”
She looked at me, her sunglasses engulfing her small face. “Craig Sutton. You asked me about him last night. You need to work on your memory. Do you need to borrow my Sudoku puzzle book? A puzzle a day can help your faulty memory.”
I lifted my glasses to make a face at her. “I was preoccupied thinking about my lost brooch.”
“Ha! You’re a terrible liar. If you would have been listening at the campfire last night, you would have heard Craig say his Lhasa Poo had an appointment with Jade at Divine Spa. Lhasa Poos can be high-maintenance on hair care. If their hair gets too long, it mats.”
That seemed to be a constant theme for pooches with double-coated hair. I wondered why his dog didn’t get a cut from the groomer at camp. Unless Jade considered that “cheating.” Knowing her demand for excellence, that was a definite possibility.
I shot a sly smile at Betty. “Are you going to ask him out?”
She made an ugly face. “He’s happily married. I’m not that kinda girl.”
Sweat trickled down the middle of my back. I lifted my ponytail, wishing for a breeze of any kind. It had to be in the mid-eighties already and it was only noon. It wasn’t normally this warm in June. This was more like August type of weather.
I sighed. “I could really go for another iced tea right now.”
“I’d rather have a beer.”
I chuckled. A tipsy Betty would be entertaining, but more than any of us could handle.
The walk back to camp had worked up our appetites. We headed straight for the round kitchen yurt, hoping to get in lunch before the obstacle course competition started in a couple of hours.
There were a half a dozen tables set up inside the yurt, the rest set up outside in the sun. We noticed Veronica and Harry were there eating lunch with Pepper and Dim Sum inside.
“Girls, over her
e.” Veronica waved us over to the table. “I’ve been looking for you two.”
I settled my sunglasses on the top of my head, giving my eyes a minute to adjust to the light inside the tent. Pepper looked up from her plate of BBQ chicken and spinach salad without acknowledging us. Ever since Betty and I had created our suspect list, I was looking at people in a more critical light. And the pet chef in sensible shoes seemed to have the strongest motive to kill Addison.
We sat next to Veronica. Betty placed her sunglasses and handbag on the table. She patted her thigh for Harry to join her. He jumped from Veronica’s lap into Betty’s. She loved him up, telling him what a handsome boy he was.
I reached across the table to let Dim Sum sniff my hand before petting him. I noticed immediately he’d been bathed and nails trimmed. Interesting.
“Pepper, we missed you this morning,” I said.
She swallowed a mouthful of salad. “What are you talking about?”
Was she really that clueless? Or was she that cunning?
Betty sniffed, not buying the forgetful act. “Asher’s RV. Where you invited yourself for a tour.”
“Oh, that.” She shrugged, unconcerned. “I overslept. I stayed up late working on a new project.”
I wasn’t buying that excuse for one minute. Did she dump her garbage while sleepwalking?
“Are you writing a cookbook?” Veronica’s face brightened with excitement.
Pepper bristled, dropping her fork on her plate. “How do you know about that?”
A blush crept into Veronica’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop. When I was in your tent, I saw a stack of recipes and foodie photos on the table next to my cell phone.”
Pepper quickly regained her composure. “I don’t remember leaving those out. I’m usually more careful.”
“Do you worry that someone will steal your ideas?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It’s difficult to copyright recipes. A recipe is just a list of ingredients and how to prepare them. Chefs duplicate each other’s work all the time. It’s the way a dish is plated, or the way it’s described in a cookbook that can be copyrighted. That’s when the claws come out.”
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