Get Fluffy (5 page)

Once Malone intersected our circle, the uniformed duo fell all over themselves to update him. Apparently, the other two officers had found Mona and Fluffy and had “secured the crime scene.”

I was about to introduce myself when Grey squeezed my hand.

“Detective Malone. Grey Donovan. This is my fiancée, Melinda Langston. She found the victim.”

Malone’s unreadable expression gave nothing away except he was making mental notes of some kind. “I need to ask you some questions. Wait here.”

He didn’t kill time waiting for a response; he just left us standing there, assuming we’d obey. I could see why Caro found him obnoxious.

He was back within a few minutes. He had a brief conversion with the cops who had questioned me, then he made his way over to us.

I told him what I knew, and he scribbled in his notebook. He seemed satisfied, but it was hard to tell. He informed me he’d check my alibi and handed me his business card—in case I remembered something important later. Like what, I had no idea.

And the word “alibi” made me a tad nervous.

I kept my relationship with Caro to myself. If he didn’t know we were cousins, I wasn’t about to bring it up.

“What about Fluffy?” I asked.

Malone looked up from his little black notebook. “What about her?”

“Where are you taking her?”

He shrugged a broad shoulder. “To the ARL.”

I shook my head. Wasn’t he listening to me? I had just explained why that wasn’t an option. “They won’t take her. Call if you want, but you’re wasting your time. Trust me, Don Furry was adamant. There’s no room.”

I felt a twinge of pity for Don as I realized he wasn’t going to get his big contribution after all. Maybe they’d get lucky and Mona had named the ARL in her will.

Detective Malone didn’t look too thrilled to be ambushed by my objections. “Don’t move.” He walked away and pulled out his cell phone.

It had taken him a while, maybe thirty minutes, but when he came back he gave me the once over again. The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. I had a bad feeling. Had he called Don? Surely he confirmed he’d stopped by the boutique.

“Your cousin says you’ll take Fluffy,” he said.

“What?” I sputtered.

He’d obviously known who I was. I could understand why he’d kept that to himself, but why on God’s green earth would Caro throw me under the bus? “I don’t want her.”

Malone looked bored. “I was able to confirm Don Furry was at Bow Wow. As you said, they’re full. That dog would never survive the pound. It’s you or nothing.”

“It’s just for tonight, Mel,” Grey said. He gave me that look I hated. I imagined it was the same one he gave a suspect as he worked them into a confession. I narrowed my eyes and gave it right back.

The missing police officers came trotting down the staircase. “That dog needs drugs. She’s mean.”

Against my will, the image of Mona sprawled on the floor and Fluffy laying beside her popped into my head.

“She’s not mean. She’s protecting her human.” I pointed at Malone. “Tonight only. Tomorrow she goes to the ARL.” I broke away from the Good Ole’ Boys Club and rushed up the stairs, with an audience trailing right behind.

“You can’t go up there,” someone yelled.

“I’ve already been up here.” I pointed out the obvious.

I stopped at the doorway to Fluffy’s room. She was exactly where I’d left her, next to Mona. My heart broke.

She was a dog. How was she ever going to understand she had to bond with someone new?

“This place is a disaster,” Grey said softly.

“Probably a robbery interrupted,” someone muttered.

“Cliff.” I spun around and bumped into Dumbo Cop.

“Who?” the uniforms asked in unison.

“Mona’s ex. Cliff.” I looked past all the police and focused on Grey. “Someone needs to call him. I bet he’ll take Fluffy.” I couldn’t keep the excited desperation out of my voice.

Cliff, the reason I was here in the first place, was suddenly the answer to the dog situation.

“Mona wouldn’t want him to take her dog,” Grey said.

“Legally, Fluffy is half his,” I argued.

“Do you have his number?” Detective Malone asked.

“Not on me. It’s at my shop.” I refused to feel guilty. If Mona hadn’t gone and gotten herself killed, Fluffy wouldn’t have to go to Cliff’s.

Fluffy got up and slowly walked across the room, leaving a trail of dark red paw prints on the hardwood floor. She stood in front of me and nuzzled my hand.

“Melinda. She chooses you.” Grey’s voice wrapped around me and squeezed the part of my heart I’d worked so hard to keep protected.

I didn’t want to deal with this anymore. I didn’t want to do the right thing. I didn’t want to be chosen.

Fluffy rested her head in the palm of my hand, her dark eyes speaking thoughts I didn’t understand. There was that dog language thing again.

I knew,
I knew
, I’d regret what I was about to do the moment I spoke the words. I pushed out a resigned sigh.

I was taking home a dog I didn’t really like to a dog I loved.

I whirled around, hands on hips, eyes narrowed. Defenses and attitude back in place. “For one night only. Got it? Tomorrow she goes home with Cliff.”

“Fine,” Malone agreed.

Thinking back on it, he didn’t really agree it was just for one night.

“It’s going to be okay.” I patted Fluffy’s head and stroked the few non-sticky parts I could find.

“Oh, girl, there is no way you’re getting into my Jeep covered in blood. We’ve got to call Armando. You need some TLC.”

I looked up and caught my reflection in the antique mirror across the room.

“Holy cow, we both need some TLC.”

Chapter Eight

Malone was more than a little touchy about the number of civilians who’d already tromped through his crime scene. I patiently explained, for the third time, Armando was the only stylist allowed to touch Mona’s dog.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about
Almando
. You’re not poking around potential evidence.”

I snickered because I knew he’d gotten the name wrong on purpose. Hanging out with the guy for the last hour, I’d realized he was a lot like Grey.

“You can stand guard. Make sure I don’t touch anything. I only need his phone number.”

“I can arrest you instead.” There was no doubt in his tone. I had crossed the line.

Yup, he was a lot like Grey. Except Grey loved me and overlooked my flaws. Malone, on the other hand, had zero patience for me.

We were at a stubborn impasse. Unfortunately, he had the law on his side. I turned my back on Malone and dug out my cell from the bottom of my black Alexander Wang tote.

I had waited for an hour while Fluffy was “processed” before she was officially released into my care. She wasn’t getting into my Jeep without a shampoo, blow out and a trim to even out the chunk of hair the police had snipped for evidence.

If I couldn’t have Armando, I’d take Jade, the senior stylist at Divine Dog Spa. Everyone, human and animal, loved her. She was presumptuous, bold and one of those rare stylists who actually had great hair. To top it all off, she possessed the most endearing British accent.

It was that adorable accent that disguised her acid tongue. Most people were so enraptured with the tone of her voice they didn’t pay attention to the meaning of her words. It could be minutes, or days, until you realized she’d just verbally spanked you
and
your dog.

I had Jade’s number in my contacts and quickly reached her.

“I need your help.” I gave the
Cliffs Notes
version of the current events.

“Mona’s dead?” she squeaked.

I caught my breath as the reality of the situation hit me again. “Yes.”

“I just love a good scandal. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Her excessive willingness to help wasn’t about her concern for Mona. It was all about getting her hands on Fluffy. And morbid curiosity.

“I’ll tell the security guard—”

Malone walked in front of me and cut me off. “Salinas,” he shouted at the rookie cop guarding the front door. “If one more person shows up uninvited, arrest Ms. Langston on the spot.”

I practically dropped the phone. “What?”

“Get off the phone, or I’ll bag it as evidence.”

Man, Mr. Personality he wasn’t. “Fine. I get it. Jade, I’ll have to bring Fluffy to you.”

I ended the call and shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, feeling somewhat reassured Malone wouldn’t go digging around without a search warrant.

My back was up against the wall. There was no shampoo, no doggie conditioner, no detangler. And no professional on her way.

I’d be damned if I’d let Detective Malone get the best of me.

It seemed my best ideas came from the precipice of desperation. I hunted down Fluffy and coaxed her out of the house. I snapped on her leash and led her to the driveway.

That’s how we ended up in Mona’s fountain.

Girls Gone Wild, doggie style.

“I know this is your first time, but don’t be afraid to splash a little.” I led Fluffy slowly, giving her ample opportunity to roll around and become miraculously clean without having to touch her.

Her head hung, and her eyes lacked her typical sparkle. She wasn’t a dog gone wild type. No splashing. No chomping water. She was nothing like Missy, who’d be prancing and eating water as if it were goose pâté on a gourmet dog biscuit.

Truth be told, Fluffy looked a touch embarrassed to be bathing where all the neighbors could see her. And another thing—once wet, she resembled a skinny greyhound.

“Hey Salinas,” I yelled out, “can you ask Malone for a towel?” I looked at my soaked jeans. “Make that two. Oh, and Fluffy’s hair brush.”

He shook his bulbous bald head. “The house is a crime scene.”

I was seriously going to yell the next time someone spoke the words “crime scene.”

“I think it’s obvious what killed Mona, and it wasn’t a dog brush or a couple of towels.”

Officer Salinas puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “There may have been a robbery. We have to account for everything. I can’t do it.”

Of course he couldn’t. Cops were such pansy rule followers.

I looked over at Grey who was leaning against his favorite toy, his brand new Mercedes SUV. I was disappointed he’d opted out of the Roadster. Grey said he needed something to transport his “art” more than he needed speed. I suggested he get both; he could afford it. He rejected that idea as “too extravagant.”

We lived in Orange County. “Extravagant” was our zip code.

Fluffy shook, sending streams of water everywhere. My anxiety level was at its max.
Breathe in. Breathe out.

Grey watched me squeeze water from my t-shirt while he talked on his cell phone. At some point he’d slipped off his suit jacket and had rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows.

“Grey,” I called out, pointing at Fluffy who looked like a giant wet rat.

He nodded and wrapped up his call, then moved to the back of his car and popped the trunk.

He pulled out a beach blanket and brought it over, covering Fluffy. “I always imagined she was bigger under all that hair.”

Fluffy shivered for a few seconds as she burrowed into the soft flannel material. My heart broke for Grey when I realized the blanket was Colbalt’s, Grey’s foster Weimaraner.

Last month, the Weimaraner rescue agency in LA had found a permanent home for Colbie. Grey had been heartbroken. Both Caro and I had warned him he’d ultimately want to keep the dog, but Grey hadn’t heeded our advice. This was one instance I wish I’d been wrong.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked as I rubbed down Fluffy.

“It’s not important.”

Code for, I can’t tell you.

“Can you believe Malone wouldn’t cough up a measly towel?” I asked, willing to change the subject.

“Heartless,” he deadpanned.

“Did you see that painting in Mona’s room? The one above her bed?”

He nodded. “Thomas Cole. She has, had, a lot of valuable art.”

“If you find something by Cole, I want one.”

“He’s not cheap.” He changed the subject. “Now what?”

I looked at Fluffy—dejected and wet—cocooned in a red plaid blanket. I sighed, thinking of everything I needed to do. “I’ve got to get home to Missy. I called Darby and asked her to stop by the house, but I got her voicemail.”

“I can pick up Missy.”

“Thanks. Because of Malone, we’ve got you-know-who to account for also.” I nodded toward Mona’s pride and joy. “Fluffy’s not so fluffy anymore. Jade offered to make a house call but Malone nixed that idea.”

“I’m sure he did. Drop off Fluffy. While they fix her, we’ll grab a bite from Gina’s.”

My stomach growled thinking about my favorite pizza—pepperoni, meatballs, Italian sausage, and bacon. “The Godfather and Ricotta sticks.”

Grey grabbed my shoulders and kissed me hard on the lips. “It’s a date. I’m glad you called.”

I shrugged, surprised at the sincerity in his voice. “Who else would I call?”

“With you, I never know.” Grey climbed into his SUV and drove off.

I loaded Fluffy and myself into the Jeep. I grabbed a snood from the glove box and pulled it over her head, but it was little protection. I tightened the blanket around her and fastened it with an old plastic hair clip I’d found with the hood.

I called Jade and gave her a heads up that we were on our way. I shot a sideways glance at Her Highness. Her hair was going to be tangled beyond repair. If Jade was smart, she’d call in reinforcements.

As we weaved our way out of the neighborhood, I noticed that other than the police vehicles the streets were empty. It was unusual for this time of evening. I swear I caught a few nosey bodies peeking out their mansion windows with binoculars.

I rolled to a stop at the security gate. The guard who’d waved me in earlier was still manning his station.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Mona by now,” I said, squeezing the steering wheel. I wasn’t sure what to say.

He nodded.

“I’ve got Fluffy for the night.” I motioned in her direction.

He looked around me. His unibrow rose when he saw Fluffy’s sad hound dog expression on her regal face.

He pushed up his bifocals. “Ms. Michaels would appreciate knowing her Fluffy is with someone who cares so much.”

I wrinkled my nose. I wouldn’t go so far as to categorize myself as someone who cared, but I wasn’t about to argue with him. His eyes were red rimmed, like he’d been crying. No need to add to his distress.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” I waved good-bye and drove off. I glanced in my review mirror and watched as he pulled his cap over his face.

He had to be the only person in town who’d shed a tear for Mona Michaels.

That’s when I thought about Tricia.

I didn’t envy the person who had to tell her that her best friend was not only dead, but murdered.