“Doggone” Chicken Salad
Barking Good Chicken Salad
“Langston. Let’s go,” Detective Finn’s strong voice reverberated throughout the tent.
Startled, I dropped the notebook. I looked toward the entrance where Detective Finn stood wide-legged. She pointed at me, motioning for me to make my way toward her. I swallowed hard and followed her outside.
Finn kept her back to the sun, casting a half shadow over me. She pulled what looked like pages of pale pink stationery from her inside blazer pocket. I recognized the paper immediately.
“Anything you want to tell me?” she asked.
I cursed silently. “Not really.”
She unfolded a letter and started to read with almost a mocking enthusiasm, “My dearest James, there are certain people who touch your heart in unexpected ways. For me, you are that person. My love for you will always remain strong, especially through our sacrifices for each other. The request that I made to you last night at dinner regarding Melinda—”
“Stop!” I swallowed the sour taste in the back of my mouth. I shook my head. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
Finn folded the letter and tucked it back in her blazer pocket. She studied me relentlessly. “Do you want to explain now? If not, there’s plenty of room in the squad car for two.”
I struggled with where to start and how much to say. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. “Years ago, Addison’s father and my mother had an affair.” I motioned at the paper in her hand. “They penned love letters to each other. Addison threatened to send them to my daddy if I didn’t introduce her to certain people in the community and help her launch her career as a pet chef.”
“That’s it? She threatened to show these to your daddy?”
I sighed. “Back in the day, I was a pageant girl.”
She looked me over from head to toe, taking in my jeans and cotton T-shirt. “Really? The evening gown? Swimsuit? Tiara? Did you win anything?”
Here it came. “Yes. I was Miss Texas.”
Finn wanted to roll her eyes. I could tell because she looked like she was primed for a seizure. I did my best to ignore her condescension and continued to explain, hoping that in the process I wasn’t paving a way to jail.
“During the Miss America competition, my mother was accused of sleeping with a judge to ensure I placed in the top ten. Even though at the time there wasn’t proof of improper conduct, I was disqualified from the competition.”
She whistled.
“Yeah. It was awful. Those letters prove that the judge she slept with was James Rae, Addison’s father. It wasn’t until Addison had arrived in Laguna that I knew the full truth about the situation. I mean, I’d always suspected my mother just let me believe the worst about her because she likes to be the center of attention. Even negative attention.”
She cocked her head to the side. “That’s why you ‘recommended’ Addison for the job here.”
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure if I should explain the rest of what Addison wanted or just keep quiet, so I asked a question instead. “How did you know the letter referred to me?”
“Julia Flowers found them when she tossed Addison’s tent. She read them, put two and two together. Was Addison blackmailing anyone else?”
“You mean besides Pepper and me?” I shrugged. “I didn’t ask where I landed on the blackmail target list. But I have an idea.”
She scoffed. “An idea? Is this when I’m supposed to ask for your help?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. You asked me a question. I answered.”
“But that is the game you play with the Laguna Beach police, right? You just happen to have theories or ideas to share about the case.”
“It’s not a game. I’m not a cop, so people confide in me about things they won’t tell you.” I felt my face warm. Not just because of Detective Finn’s questions, but because I could hear Grey’s voice in the back of my mind telling me to stop talking.
She crossed her arms, skepticism clear on her face. “Okay, I’ll play. Tell me your theory.”
I hesitated long enough to find a way to share my theory without outing Grey. “I think Addison was also blackmailing Asher Knox. The way he tells the story, Addison was his private pet chef, until they had an argument. He was missing a pair of cufflinks. He asked if she’d seen them. She accused him of calling her a thief, and they parted ways. But Betty and I saw the cufflinks he claimed were missing inside his RV.”
She looked bored. “So what. He found them later. Not a crime.”
I shook my head. “He told us didn’t find them. He lied. Why? There was no reason. Unless he had something to hide. Like, those weren’t his cufflinks and Addison had palmed the jewelry as a form of insurance. Here’s the other thing. Craig Sutton’s über expensive watch has suddenly disappeared. He’s been spending time with Asher. Remember that night you and your partner showed up at the campfire? Asher and Craig were hanging out together, and Craig had his watch that night. The next day, poof, his watch is gone.”
A flicker of interest flashed across her face. “Continue.”
“Have you heard about the jewelry robberies in Dana Point?”
“Of course.”
“Asher lives in Dana Point. So does Veronica Scutaro. Veronica told us her gold-bangle, butterfly bracelet was stolen last month. Guess where it is right now?”
I saw the spark of understanding in her eye. “You really do poke your nose into police business, don’t you?”
“Like I said, I don’t mean to. Do you know if Addison’s car is still in storage?”
She sighed heavily, reminding me of Malone after I’ve worn him down and all he wanted was for me to stop talking. “Storage?”
“Ranger Elliott had it towed because Addison had parked in the wrong area. I asked him if she’d ever picked it up. He said he had no idea, it wasn’t his problem.”
She scribbled in her notebook.
“So now you think Asher killed Addison Rae?” she asked without looking up.
“No. I still think Pepper did it. I think Asher’s a jewel thief. And one more thing. Have you noticed there’s something odd about Red and Sunday? One second they act like they’ve never laid eyes on each other until this weekend, the next minute they’re yelling at each other like a couple of exes. Which doesn’t make sense. Sunday admitted she represented Red years ago. Maybe she’s trying to get him back now that Addison’s gone. But that doesn’t explain why they act like they don’t know each other.”
“Sunday has an alibi. She didn’t arrive until after Addison was killed,” Finn countered.
“That’s what she says to you. Hudson told me she was supposed to have arrived earlier in the day. She claimed to be held up by a conference call. She could have taken that anywhere. Who’s to say she didn’t take that call from right here?”
Finn pushed her lips together, her eyes narrowed on my face. “Speaking of alibis, where were you really when Addison was killed?”
I swallowed hard, knowing Grey was going to kill me, and I didn’t blame him. I met her gaze head-on. “I was waiting for her on the trail. We were supposed to trade the foreword to her pet cookbook for those letters. Addison never showed.”
“What time was that?”
“I was supposed to meet her at two o’clock. I left camp around one-thirty. I was anxious to get it over with.”
She narrowed her sharp eyes. “You understand you told me this without a lawyer present and I can use this against you?”
A jumble of bright white, billowy clouds slowly covered the sun. Lordy, I hoped that wasn’t an omen. “I do. I didn’t do it. You have the letters. I have nothing left to hide.”
“I can’t give these to you. They’re evidence.”
I raised my hands. “I don’t want them. I pla
nned on burning them if I ever got hold of them. Feel free to do the same.” Mama would be relieved to know Daddy would never see the letters.
In for a penny, in for a pound. No sense in stopping now. “About Hudson,” I continued. “I don’t think that was an accident. Addison confided in him. He must have known something about her murder. When I saw him last, he was with Ranger Elliott bringing Sunday her broken luggage. Red insisted he’d spoken to Hudson after that and had asked him to run to town yesterday to pick up supplies for him.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
I shook my head. “But I don’t know what he would have had against Hudson. I guess if you find a grocery list on Hudson, then Red was telling the truth.”
Finn begrudgingly made more notes in her little black book.
“One last thing,” I said.
She looked up. “Do you promise?”
“Red has a temper. It’s legendary. Sunday even mentioned it.”
She patted her firearm. “Luckily for me, I have a gun.”
She was the kind of person who wouldn’t be afraid to use it.
Chapter Thirty-One
I’M HAPPY TO REPORT, I was not arrested. Unfortunately, Detective Finn had more questions, but we were interrupted before she could ask them all. I left her at the kitchen, talking on her cell phone to her captain. I headed back to the RV to catch up with Betty and Grey.
Snatches of sunlight shone on the grass. The campground was eerily quiet. With Hudson gone, most people were packing it in. Unfortunately, the event was a bust.
“Melinda,” MacAvoy called out from behind me. “Wait.”
“No comment,” I shouted, refusing to turn around. Mr. TV reporter was the last person I should be talking to.
He ran to catch up with me. “Cut me some slack, I’m just doing my job.”
I clamped my lips together and continued to hotfoot it toward our campsite. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Can you at least confirm that Hudson was mauled by a mountain lion?”
I stopped and spun around. “Who told you that?”
His green eyes lit up. “So, it’s not true?”
“He wasn’t mauled. That’s all I’ll say. You should really be talking to Detective Finn or Lark.”
He pressed on. “Do they have any suspects? Do they think Hudson’s death is linked to Addison’s murder?”
I sighed. “I have no idea. They ask me questions. They don’t give me details about their case.” I turned to leave.
“I’ve dug into Addison’s life.”
He was killing me. “That’s your job.”
“I’ll trade you information.”
I didn’t bother replying. He was getting to me, though. I really wanted to know what he’d learned about Addison’s life. Yet it wasn’t my place to confirm or deny anything regarding Finn’s investigation. My nosiness only went so far.
“I know about James Rae,” he said.
Well, hell’s bells. That stopped me in my tracks. I slowly pivoted on the heel of my hiking boot. “What did you say?”
He held up his hands. “Hang on. Let’s go to my RV and we can talk.” He looked around, nodding toward the other campers who were hanging out around their sites. “Privacy would be good, don’t you think?”
I planted my hands on my hips and invaded his personal space. “No, I don’t. If you have something to say, just say it.”
He cleared his throat nervously. “Well, after Sunday’s interview, I did a little digging. First, I never really believed you were blackmailing Addison. That’s not your personality. But your reaction was so strong, I knew you were hiding something. From what I already knew about you and from what Sunday had said, I was able to piece together the facts about Addison’s father and your mother.”
He studied me. My heart raced. I waited to feel sick, for the nausea to rise from my belly to my throat. But it never happened. I realized that now that Finn knew, none of it mattered anymore. For the first time in months, I felt great. I smiled and gave him a half shrug. “So now you know what Addison knew. Were you planning on holding that over my head, too?”
He blinked. “No. Not at all.”
I nodded as if considering what he was saying. “So why bring it up? What have you accomplished other than ticking me off?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I admit, I totally handled this wrong. All right. I’m going to lay all my cards on the table.”
I coughed out a constrained laugh. “I doubt that, but I’ll pretend along with you.”
He sighed. “I was telling you this to build trust. I know your secret. I’m not going to tell anyone. You know, you’re a hard person to get close to.”
I shook my head. “Not really. All it takes is sincerity and no ulterior agenda. I haven’t seen anything remotely like that from you.”
“Fair enough. I’m a reporter. My agenda will always be to get the story.”
“That’s too bad. I can’t help you with that.” I walked away.
I ARRIVED AT THE RV and neither Betty nor Grey was there. The dogs were ecstatic to see me. I took them outside for a quick potty break—one at a time. As I walked Raider around for him to find a place to do his business, I noticed Betty had already disconnected the water hose and sewer. She wasn’t kidding about leaving.
I didn’t mind going home, but I didn’t want to make Finn mad. Once both dogs had relieved themselves, I scribbled a quick note to Betty and Grey, informing them I went to the headquarters tent to make sure I could leave. I felt like I was finally off Finn’s main suspect list. I didn’t want to do anything that put me back on it.
I hustled to the tent, hoping they followed the same protocol as when Addison had been killed. The grassy area was still absent of guests and dogs. Instead, a group of uniformed police officers stood in a loose huddle, talking. It was a shame really that what had started out so promising had turned into a nightmare.
The fire truck, ambulance, and a police car were still parked on the roadway. I wasn’t exactly sure why the fire truck had arrived, unless the firefighters were needed to recover Hudson’s body. I shuddered, thinking how awful Hudson’s last moments must have been.
I rushed up the stone pathway for what I hoped was the last time. I zipped inside, only to find it empty. No homicide detective. No crime scene techs. I wondered where everyone was. Could they be on the trail at the actual crime scene?
I was about to leave when a man wearing a ball cap suddenly stood up. It looked like he’d been under Hudson’s desk. I watched him set the box of Addison’s belongings on the desk and search through them.
“Hey, get out of there.” I charged across the tent, intent on stopping him.
The man spun around. It was Red. He had ditched his black apron for a Yankees ball cap. I recognized the hat from Sunday’s luggage explosion. Did this mean Sunday and Red were an item?
Red slid the box away from me. “You keep popping up where you don’t belong. Why aren’t you leaving like everyone else?” His eyes flashed with anger.
I blinked in surprise at his hostility. He was making me nervous. “Where’s Detective Finn?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” He picked up the box and started to walk off with it.
I grabbed his arm to stop him. “You can’t take that. It doesn’t belong to you.”
With more force than needed, he pushed me away. I stumbled against Hudson’s desk.
He must have realized his mistake. “I don’t like to be touched.” He tightened his grip on the box. “This belongs to Sunday. She won’t care if I look through it. I loaned Addison some items. I’ve come to claim them.”
Like what? Her makeup? What was in the box that he could want so badly? I ran through the items one last time: brush, apron, jewelry, wallet, books. There wasn’t anything in
there that belonged to him. What was he up to?
“How do I know that’s true?” I didn’t want to call him a liar outright.
“It doesn’t matter. Learn something from Addison’s death. Keep your mouth shut before someone shuts it for you.” He started digging through the box again.
Holy Shih Tzu. All the breath left my body. The police hadn’t ever released the cause of death of—probable suffocation. I tried to step away toward the exit, keeping my eyes on him.
“Where is it?” he yelled.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for.” I tried to keep my voice calm, even though my heart was bursting out of my chest. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time I’d been in the presence of a killer.
He focused his crazy eyes on me. “The USB drive. It’s not here. What’d you do with it?”
I slowly shook my head. “I haven’t seen a USB drive,” I lied.
Why would Red want Addison’s flash drive? One by one, I started to fit the pieces together. Pepper’s explanation about not being able to copyright recipes, only the wording and the art of plating. The recipe cards we found in Pepper’s trash for “Pawfect” Chicken Salad. Red’s notes in his chef book with a list of recipes titles, including “Pawfect” Chicken Salad.
“Did Addison steal your ideas?” I asked.
Beads of sweat popped up on his top lip. “Damn straight she did. Tried to pass them off to Sunday as her own. But Sunday knew better. She’d seen them before.”
Speaking of Sunday, she barged inside. “What the hell are you doing?”
At first, I thought she was talking to me, until I saw Red flinch.
“She knows,” he bellowed.
I shook my head. “I don’t.” I wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but by the look of outrage on his face, I was going to deny everything.
Sunday marched across the hardwood floor. She slammed her oversized tote on the desk. “You’re an idiot, Redmond. I’m so tired of cleaning up your messes.”
“No one asked you to.” His petulance was surprising.
My gaze swung between them. I half expected Red to stick his tongue out at Sunday like a four-year-old. And Sunday looked like she wanted to pinch some sense into him.
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