Get Fluffy (12 page)

Chapter Twenty

After Fluffy and I’d stood there like idiots watching Darby ride off with Malone in his unmarked police car, I’d called Grey. Bless his heart, he agreed to call in a really
big
favor.

I raced home and dropped off the dogs, then quickly changed into jeans, t-shirt and ballet flats (much more appropriate attire for hanging out at a police station). While Malone questioned Darby, I either paced or read the flyers on the bulletin board across from the information desk. I was still reeling from Darby’s earth-shattering revelation.

Malone had known about Darby’s true parentage at the funeral. Why hadn’t he talked to her then?

Darby finally appeared in the hallway. I immediately recognized the prominent man with his expensive black briefcase standing next to her. He’d defended more high-profile defendants, and won, than LA had unemployed actors. Grey had gone above and beyond.

Darby looked worn out and wouldn’t hold my gaze for longer than a second or two. I jumped up and hugged her. “Are you okay?” I asked.

She briefly hugged me back. “Yes.”

Her reddened nose and puffy eyes tore my heart. “Can you leave?”

She nodded. Before Malone could stop us, we bolted. We drove to the Koffee Klatch, shrouded in heavy silence. I made Darby wait in the Jeep while I ran inside and ordered our usual—to go. Once back in the Jeep, I handed the drinks to Darby and drove directly to my place.

Both dogs greeted us as we walked inside. Missy, wagging, jumping and drooling. Fluffy, sniffing, observing and dismissing.

I tossed them a couple of treats, then we all sat on the couch. The dogs settled between us, not to be denied human contact. Funny how animals just know when we need them the most.

Fluffy sniffed Darby’s coffee, who was completely unaware of the hairy beggar at her side.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Oh, geeze. Even I could hear the betrayal and accusation in my voice.

Darby averted her eyes and clutched her cup like a lifeline. “There didn’t seem to be a right time.”

“Anytime in the last two years would have been better than today.”

She shrugged, studying the floor. Fluffy continued to study the coffee. “I didn’t know you when I first arrived in Laguna. What was I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, you know that spiteful vindictive lady you despise? She’s my biological mother. No worries though, she refuses to acknowledge me.”

That would have worked for me. But I could see her point. A revelation like that would be awkward to fit into a conversation.

I got a sudden whiff of Missy’s atrocious gas. I waved a pillow in the air and glared at her stinky butt.

“So you came here to be close to Mona?” I asked.

Darby sighed. Her deep breath could have been a struggle for bulldog-fart-free-air, but it was probably because she was about to bare her soul.

“Since I was six-years-old I’ve known my biological mother abandoned me because I was a mistake.”

“That’s not true.”

Darby shook her head sadly as if erasing years of hurtful memories. “You can’t change the truth. To Mona I was a mistake. She left us, me and my dad, when I was a couple of months old. On my twelfth birthday, I secretly started looking for her. She wasn’t difficult to find. When my dad found out, he made me promise I wouldn’t approach her until I was out of college.”

“So you moved here, and then what? Showed up on her doorstep like a long lost relative?” I asked.

She took a drink. Fluffy’s long nose followed the cup to Darby’s mouth. Darby finally noticed Snob Dog was after her latte and pushed Fluffy’s face away.

“I’d manage to get invited to some of the same events or bump into her at the same restaurants.”

“You stalked her?” Little Darby had moxie. While I already had respect for my dear friend, I suddenly had a little more.

“One day I worked up the courage to approach her. She looked straight though me.”

I couldn’t imagine how that had felt. My mama had been the complete opposite. I’d meant so much to her, she’d meddled to the point that she played the horizontal hokey pokey with a Miss America judge.

I set my chai on the end table. Missy took it as an invitation to lay her head in my lap.

“My father had told me that when she left, she never looked back. By the time I realized he was right, I’d met you.” A thin smile threatened the corners of her mouth. “You’d convinced me to open the studio. I was making a life for myself here.”

I sighed, realizing the depth of the conflict eating at her soul. “But you were holding out for her to come to her senses.”

“Stupid, huh?”

A sliver of misguided hope clouded her dark eyes. Her pale skin hung on her cheek bones. She’d never appeared as fragile or naive than this moment.

I reached over the dogs and squeezed her hand. “Not at all.”

She cleared her throat and pulled her hand back. “Since I’m spilling all my secrets, I didn’t call Mona about the leash.”

“I know. You’re a terrible liar.” This horrible ache must be what Grey had felt when he’d confronted me about Mona’s phone.

I waited for Darby to continue, but she sat there unsure and embarrassed. Fluffy readjusted, shoving Darby toward the end of the couch.

“Knock it off, you couch hog. You’re not even supposed to be up here,” I said. Fluffy didn’t acknowledge me. Instead, she rested her head on Darby’s leg. Suck up.

“Why
did
you call Mona?”

She picked at the side of her coffee cup, then absently stroked Fluffy’s head. “I don’t know. I’d had enough of her bullying. I felt responsible for her. Then Jo made a derogatory comment during the shoot. I snapped.”

“What did Jo say?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I had a feeling it did. “So you called Mona to
 . . .
what?”

“To tell her to stop punishing you because of me.”

My stomach twisted in jolt of culpability. “Lord Almighty. That didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“It doesn’t matter. She never answered.”

Mona was either already dead or had screened her calls. Darby still looked worried. I had a bad feeling her story was about to get worse.

“Did you leave a message?” I asked.

She looked away.

“What did you say?”

She took a deep breath, then said in a rush, “You’re a mean and ugly person, and if you don’t stop bullying people, one day someone is going to smash some sense into you.”

The reality of the situation hit me. “Oh. My. Word. I delivered you to the police on a gold platter.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Were you really at home that night?”

She nodded franticly. “I swear. My neighbor backed me up. She saw my car in the driveway all night.”

Even I knew that wasn’t a solid alibi. “Once the police check with the security guard, and he confirms he didn’t let you though the gate, they’ll have shift their focus,” I assured her.

I couldn’t continue to sit in the sardine tin any longer. I patted Missy’s rump, and she jumped off the couch.

“About that,” Darby said, stopping me mid-stretch. “Malone said the guard was AWOL from his station around the time Mona was murdered. Anyone could have come and gone.”

“Only if they knew the code
 . . .
” By the guilty look on Darby’s face, I had a hunch I wasn’t going to like the answer to my next question. “Did
you
know the code?”

She nodded slowly. “I’ve had a couple of home photo shoots in Mona’s neighborhood. Sometimes clients forget to add me to the guest list. They’ve provided the code so I could let myself in.”

I grabbed my empty cup and stomped into the kitchen. “Hells bells, Darby. You didn’t tell Malone, did you?”

Darby and the dogs were right on my heels. “I didn’t need to. A client ratted me out.”

As much as I loved her, I was quickly coming to understand I didn’t know Darby. I turned around and crossed my arms. It was time to get down to business. “Why would Mona have you in her cell phone as an emergency contact?”

Missy skidded to a stop directly in front of me. Drool coated her jowls. Fluffy glided past me as if she had somewhere to be, when we all knew she didn’t. Darby stood back from all of us, where she was safely out of arms reach. I’m sure it was obvious I wanted to strangle her out of frustration.

“I don’t know. It feels like Mona’s trying to punish me. But it’s not possible, right? She’s dead.”

I hoisted myself up on the kitchen counter. “Unless you’re being framed.”

She drifted into the kitchen. “By who? I didn’t tell a soul about Mona. She threatened to ruin my father’s business if I told anyone.”

Good grief, no wonder Malone was building a case around Darby. “Did you tell Malone she was blackmailing you?”

“Mr. DioGuardi barely let me say my name. Let Grey know I appreciate the referral, but I can’t afford his lawyer friend.”

I shook my head. “Oh, no. He took your case as a favor to Grey, pro bono.”

I jumped off the counter, slid my arm over her shoulder and led her into the living room. The whole situation got me thinking about Caro. Seriously, if she could survive “helping” the police, I would too. She’d dug around on her own and called in Malone once she’d put the pieces together.

Of course, she’d also had to fight off a psycho hit man at gunpoint, but I wasn’t about to get myself in that situation. I’d learn from Caro’s miscalculations.

Chapter Twenty-One

Darby stayed overnight in the guestroom. (Get this, Fluffy had slept with her. Maybe she could sense they were mourning the same person. Or maybe Fluffy was still trying to steal Darby’s coffee.)

Once we’d eaten breakfast and had walked the dogs, I’d convinced Darby to take the day off. There was no telling how much of what had happened last night had made its way into the gossip mill. One more day out of the spotlight seemed like a good idea. And I needed a dog-sitter.

It was a hair down kinda day. Dressed in Burberry Brit skinny jeans and an Armani Collezioni stretch silk top, I pulled on my motorcycle boots—ready to kick some booty. I grabbed my leather jacket from the hall closet and headed to Bow Wow.

I blew through the shop doors by ten-thirty, giving me a solid thirty minutes before I opened. I ran an inventory check on the computer, restocked a few shelves, started the complementary coffee brewing and checked my cell messages.

I had three voicemails, one from Owen, one from Mama, and the last one from Alex, Mona’s chauffer. Owen’s message was short, simple and swift. Be at his office today at three to discuss Mona’s will. Mama’s was short and explosive. Call her. Immediately.

Alex’s message was puzzling. He was stopping by the boutique to give me something. First, how’d he get my number? Second, what in the world did he have that I’d want? Mona had better not have a secret dog in hiding.

I’d hung the last of the large dog hoodies when my cell rang. Caught up in the task, I yanked the phone out of my jeans back pocket and answered automatically, “Bow Wow Boutique.”

“Melinda, are you at work already? Did you talk to Mitchell?” Mama’s voice boomed in my ear.

“Yes.” I cradled the phone against my shoulder and pulled a stack of pink small dog sweatshirts from the box. I’d already bought two for Missy. On the backside it read, “I Heart Mom.”

“And?” Mama asked, out of patience.

I hesitated and grimaced. “He was talkative.”

“I knew it. Oh, Melinda.” She sounded frantic. “I’ve left message after message for him for two days. He hasn’t returned a single call.”

I picked up the empty box and carried it to the counter. “Short of flying to Vegas, Mama, what do you want me to do?”

“Call his friends. Call his boss. Find him.”

Why she couldn’t do any of that was beyond me. Mitch was fine. He was probably doing what I typically did when she called, ignoring her. On the other hand, if there really was an emergency, and I blew off my brother because our mama was a drama queen, I’d never forgive myself.

“I’ll see what I can do.” I hung up before I changed my mind. I tossed the phone on the counter. Hopefully she’d forgotten the threat of a surprise visit.

How was I supposed to search for a brother who didn’t want to be found while clearing Darby’s name? And I still hadn’t dealt with Tova and her frivolous lawsuit.

Within minutes of opening
Bow Wow for business, a distinguished older gentleman wandered inside. He was of average height and average build. His receding hairline framed a familiar face I was having a hard time placing.

“Hello, Ms. Langston.” His salt and pepper moustache smiled.

It was Mona’s driver, Alex. His khaki pants, buttoned-down shirt and tweed sports coat threw me. Normally, he wore all black, including a cute little driver’s cap.

“Hi, Alex.” I met him in front of the dog bowls and treat jars. He held out a strong hand, which I quickly accepted.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Trying to understand Mona’s dog. Do you have any advice?”

“Unfortunately, no suggestions. I would consider it a favor if you’d allow me to take her for a ride from time to time. She so enjoyed being chauffeured around town. Of course, you are welcome, too.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll pass. Fluffy, on the other hand, is yours anytime you want. If you’d like to stop by for a visit today, she’s at my place, with Darby.”

I motioned for him to follow me to the coffee bar. “Coffee? Tea?” I offered. Southern hospitality was hard to deny.

“Coffee. Black. I heard about Ms. Darby. It’s true then?” His steady voice wasn’t judgmental, more that he was verifying a rumor.

I poured a mug of coffee and handed it to him. “It’s true,” I said. “There’s proof.”

He nodded, but there was something in his eyes that made me a little uneasy.

“The birth certificate,” he said.

“Did you know about it?”

“Not at all. Ms. Michaels was a private person. One did not cross the line between employee and employer.”

“I see.”

I filled my mug with hot water and tossed in a lemon. “Were you with Mona the day she died?” I asked, trying to put my finger on why the alarm bells were ringing in my head.

He sipped his coffee. “Unfortunately, Monday was my day off. I was playing the ponies with friends in Los Alamitos.”

“Did you win?”

“A couple hundred.” He flashed a self-conscious smile.

The Los Alamitos Race Track was about thirty-five miles northeast of Laguna. Depending on traffic and time of day, the drive was approximately forty-five minutes to an hour.

That wasn’t enough time to whack Mona and still make it to the track without being missed. It was doubtful Alex would find his name on my suspect list. Time for a new line of questions.

I know, I know. I promised Malone I’d stay out of his investigation. At the time I gave him my word, I had no intention of getting involved. But that was before Darby was suspect numero uno. I knew in my heart she was innocent. If I didn’t find real evidence to point Malone in a different direction, my best friend was about to find herself arrested.

So I did what I do best. I jumped in with both feet, eyes wide open.

“Do you know who might have wanted to hurt Mona?”

He shook his head. “The police questioned me. I’m afraid I didn’t have much to tell them.”

“What did you tell them?” I asked.

“Ms. Michaels and her ex exchanged words the week she died. Subsequently, she avoided his calls. Now that I’ve had time to reflect, she was acting quite peculiar really.”

“How’s that?” I leaned closer, practically begging for anything that might clear Darby.

“She began to spend a significant amount of time away from the house. Upon occasion, she’d asked me to drive without a specific destination.”

“Come on now. You went for a joy ride around Laguna?” Please, this wasn’t my first rodeo. You couldn’t waste more than thirty minutes driving around town.

“San Diego and LA mostly,” he said.

As my Daddy would say, “he was as serious as the business end of a .45.” How crazy was Mona? Did she think she was being followed? Was she hiding from someone? Or maybe she was really that shallow and bored, and craved adoration even from perfect strangers.

“You never stopped. She didn’t get out? No one got in and drove with you?” I asked.

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulder as if to say he couldn’t explain her either. “It was always Ms. Michaels and Fluffy.” His forehead wrinkled. “There was this one time, the pet psychic came along.”

Now we’re talking people. “Did you tell the police?”

“I didn’t recall until now,” he reminded me.

“When was Jo with you? Where’d you go?”

“I believe it was right before the Fur Ball. We picked up the psychic at her business, then drove to San Clemente. I dropped them off for approximately an hour.”

For someone who didn’t remember all of this important information until thirty seconds ago, he suddenly seemed to have total recall. “Where did you take them?”

“I don’t recollect.”

I spoke too soon. “Please try, Alex. It could be important. Where did you go?”

His intelligent brown eyes clouded with disappointment. “I’m sorry, Ms. Langston. I truly don’t remember. I do keep a log at the garage. If you really think it’s important, I can look up the information and get back to you.”

“Please do. Did you hear their conversation?”

He shifted his weight. “You understand, part of my job is to
not
hear what my employer says.”

This is what I was picking up on. He didn’t want to seem disloyal, but he’d sought me out for a reason. “Sometimes you can’t help it. Maybe what you accidentally overheard could help find her killer.”

His lips thinned, and he turned a wee bit pompous. “I signed a confidentiality agreement. I should not have shared what I have.”

He was making me crazy with his back and forth. “Normally, I’d agree. But your boss is dead. She was murdered. I’m sure she’d rather you help find her killer than to keep quiet because of some standard contract every employee in southern California signs.”

He cleared his throat. “The psychic told Mona Fluffy didn’t like to wear the crown.”

That was it? That’s what had him twisted in knots like a scared virgin on her wedding night?

That wasn’t a big dark secret, which once revealed would save Darby. Well, hells bells. “Trust me, she likes the crown.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.

Even I had liked the crowns. At least in the beginning. But then I realized the crowns didn’t belong to me. They belonged to my mama. And my Aunt Kat. But never me—the one who’d strutted her stuff across the stage like a 4-H calf at the Texas State Fair.

“Was Mona upset? Mad? Did she believe her?” Did she laugh in Jo’s face? Because I sure the heck would have.

A crooked smile tilted the edge of his mouth, and his eyes softened. “I believe her exact words were, ‘Don’t be a stupid cow.’”

I laughed. Now that sounded like Mona. He must have misinterpreted my amusement.

“Mrs. Michaels didn’t have a lot of friends,” Alex explained needlessly. “Her personality was
 . . .
difficult.”

Difficult
. He was endearing, protecting Mona’s ruthless reputation. “You’re very diplomatic. What was Jo’s reaction?”

He tugged at his collar. “They talked quietly most of the time, but I could tell she was upset.”

He was downplaying the interaction between them. I set my mug on the coffee bar and closed the space between us, hoping I was instilling confidence. “How upset?”

“She said, ‘To me you’re dead. I’ve already said my good-byes.’” He recited the words as if he were auditioning for a Shakespearean play.

Jo did it. Jo killed Mona. I knew it.
I knew it.

I wanted to jump up and down and clap my hands like a goon. If I’d been alone, I’d have line danced from one end of the store to the other.

I gripped his arm. “Thank you, Alex.”

“It would be,” he cleared his throat and looked around the empty shop, “inconvenient if it got out that I told you this.”

“I understand. I won’t say anything unless I have to. But I can’t let an innocent person be accused of a crime she didn’t commit.”

“Of course not. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I came by to give you this.” He pulled a small electronic device from his sports coat pocket and held it in the palm of his hand.

“What the heck is it?” I asked, looking it over.

“Fluffy’s digital video camera. It attaches to her leather collar.”

“She wore this?”

“Upon occasion.”

“You’re kidding me? How does it work?” I could sell a ton of pet video cameras. A day in the life of your pet would be an instant best seller.

Alex gave me a crash course on the FAQs. It attached to the collar with a special clip on the backside. The rechargeable battery lasted approximately five hours. It recharged and downloaded the recording with a USB cable attached to a computer.

“I found it under the backseat on the passenger side. It must have fallen out of Ms. Michaels purse,” he explained.

It was possible the camera may have recorded something important. Determination exploded in my chest. I wanted to close the shop, go home and watch it.

I knew she couldn’t have recorded the murder, but maybe she had somehow recorded evidence. What if she’d recorded that last conversation between her and Jo? What if that was already downloaded on her computer? Excitement bubbled with each possibility.

I had to get back to Mona’s.

“Please don’t let Mr. Michael’s know that I gave this to you,” Alex asked.

“Sure. Whatever you say,” I answered absently before it registered what he’d said. I looked up and asked, “What? Why?”

“He wanted it, but Mrs. Michaels refused to give it to him.”

Mona could have refused to hand it over because she was mean and nasty. But that didn’t explain why Cliff wanted it.

Before I could ask more questions, the shop door swung open, and television teen star Shar Summers waltzed inside, her Chinese Crested, Babycakes, nestled in the crook of her arm. As God is my witness, Babycakes was one ugly dog. Shar, on the other hand, was adorable. They were both so tiny they could be mistaken for keychain charms.

Pooch and human were decked out in hot pink. Hairless by breed, the pup was wrapped in a pink “fur” coat, which perfectly matched Shar’s faux fur vest. They were also wearing black Uggs, Babycakes sporting the doggie kind.